Blog 3304, 22 April 2024, Monday
Dear friend,
Once a month, the third Sunday, some Seattle Finns gather at our home church, St. Andrew’s, and have a Finnish Lutheran service. I’d been there once, I promised I’d come back, and never did. Well, yesterday I was back. We were nineteen, 18 Finnish speakers and one English only. It was I, but to prove my integrity I arrived 20 minutes late when I thought I was coming 40 minutes early. Sometimes I am utterly inept, usually it’s only partly inept. Sunday, it wasn’t a smooth entry.
The sermon was in Finnish, but the pastor handed me a sheet of paper with the sermon theme in English. Shortened greatly, here was the story upon which the pastor based her sermon: A shepherd had a large flock of sheep which he had to take across a fast-moving mountain stream. The shepherd dragged the bigger ones, carried the little ones, and all crossed but one, who stood on the far shore. The shepherd then moved the entire flock back across the stream, gathered the reluctant sheep, and crossed a third time, this time with all the sheep. With all the sheep accounted for, he called the sheepdog who refused to enter the fast-moving waters until the shepherd waded back across and dragged the dog by its collar. The pastor then asked the congregation to think of a time when they crossed such waters, and who helped them cross. I got about 1% of the sermon, I can’t tell you how she handled the story.
I can’t explain why I’m glad to be a Finn, it certainly isn’t pride. Maybe being Finnish makes me freer to laugh at myself, life, and sermons than other nationalities do. We’re kind of a sweet people who have fewer tastebuds, or maybe we just have a stranger sense of humor. “My wife asked me to get a quart of milk, and if they have eggs, get six. I brought six quarts of milk home because they had eggs.” One of the keys to Finnish humor is to keep a straight face whether you get the joke or not. There are many examples of Finnish humor on the Internet.
I was obviously one of them, most remembered me from my one visit, several knew my name, I remembered one, Greg, the pastor’s husband. But my time with them was fun, a little goofy (a national characteristic) and after the service they all spoke English with twinkling accents that made my heart swoon, a sound of my childhood. There was one 17-year-old boy who has already received his military induction invitation, they expect him to show up just after his graduation, 13 months from now. Usually, they have a six-month training program for all males, then they’re in the national reserve where they’ll remain until they are 50, or 60 if an officer. Thanks to Mr. Putin, there’s a new sense of urgency in the country. I learned a lot Sunday, gratefully I did not hear how the sermon story was used. I was happy to be with them. I’ll be back, but not next month. I’ll be in Canada. Love,
Jeannmarv Written and Posted: 7 a.m., Monday
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