"laestadian, apostolic, gay, lgbtq, ex-oalc, ex-llc, llc, oalc, bunner" LEARNING TO LIVE FREE: With the Lapps in the High Mountains

Saturday, June 08, 2013

With the Lapps in the High Mountains

Those of us from the OALC are familiar with the words of Lars Levi Laestadius, as his sermons are read from the pulpit each Sunday. The facts of his life are less familiar, however. When I was growing up, he was called "the Prophet," and I childishly assumed he was a figure from long ago, perhaps even Biblical days. It came as a surprise to discover that he was a contemporary of my great-great-grandfather Erik's, and the two men knew each other living in Pajala, where Lars headed the parish from 1849 to his death in 1861. Erik was a year younger, and Lars evidently recorded Erik's family events in the parish records.

I wish I could talk to grandfather. What did this revival offer to him that was missing in the church? In its ascetism, did it give his poverty dignity? Did Laestadius, as a highly-educated half-Sami preacher, give the lie to racist myths of inferiority? Did his fire and brimstone bring freshness to church ritual? Did he encourage stolid Nordic men to hug and express emotion?


I wonder if either man would recognize what the revival has become today. Until last Sunday, when I happened to be present during a home service at OALC relatives, I had not experienced "the movement," or liikutuksia, ritual for decades. It was just the same as I remembered, with the familiar phrases, vocalized grief, and assurances.  It bore scant resemblance, however, to the loud, lengthy ritual described in Emile Demant-Hatt's account of her stay with a Laestadian Sami family in With the Lapps in the High Mountains, A Woman Among the Sami, 1907-1908:
Ponderously and with great feeling, the serious Laestadian farmer read the Laestadian sermon from the book on his knee. At long last he was finished, closed the book, and sat unmoving for a few some minutes. Suddenly his face muscles began to work convulsively. he turned burning red, then tears began to fall down his cheeks. He started to sob and implore, “Jumala.” The others sat silently, as if they were waiting, with downcast eyes. Then the old women began to sob in the same spasmodic way; they moaned and cried out to God. Gradually everyone was infected, both young and old, men and women. The peaceful, sun-filled tent was transformed in the space of a few minutes to a painful place, where human souls were whipped by remorse, fear, and guilt. Men and women sobbed and rocked their torsos back and forth. Then they got up on their knees and embraced each other by turns while crying imploringly. 
Tightly embracing, with their hands on one another’s shoulders, their shoulders swayed like trees in a storm. Add andagassii Ipmal (“God forgives!) sounded out, in all tones and rhythms. (That’s to say everyone has his own peculiar rhythm and outsiders recognize the “melody” —who it is who sobs—even though there are a hundred people in ecstasy at at time.) In spite of barely understanding a word or grasping what was going on, I was infected by the general nervous excitement. I got the shivers and had to leave. 
Outside lay the Sunday-still landscape, in peace and quiet, while the small gray dwelling shook, and wild shrieks inside cut through the stillness out over the mountains and wildnerness. It was a long way to God in the high reaches of heaven. It took powerful means to be heard and to be forgiven from up there. That was why the horrific chorus grew in wildness and strength. 
The ecstasy can last two to three hours, until they’re completely exhausted. It can also happen that someone faints. But people gather their forces quickly through the heavy eating and drinking that follows immediately after. And light their pipes and the talk goes on as if nothing had happened. On Sunday afternoon you’re especially grateful for a crumb of distraction, since nothing that resembles work must be undertaken. There are many strict rules for what you can and can’t do on holy days. Preferably you should read from “the book,” but not everyone can, or feels like giving their time to such an occupation; instead they chat and drink coffee. You mustn’t sew or plait wool yarn or spin sinew thread. You mustn’t use sharp tools, such as axes, knives, or scissors. But after six in the evening all prohibitions are dropped. The holy day is over.
Over a hundred years later, as I waited for my Laestadian kin to finish their liikutuksia, I thought of this passage and Demant-Hatt's evident discomfort with all that emotion. I was not uncomfortable. These were my loved ones, and the ritual so familiar. Instead I felt peripheral, like a visitor to a foreign country, gazing at the crumbling frescoes in an ancient cathedral—or listening to the reverberations of a gong in a Buddhist temple. Here on this blog, we've talked many times about the benefits and problems with Laestadian absolution, but I found myself moved—at that moment—only to appreciate, not evaluate.

My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways (Isaiah 55:8) came to mind. It was not an unpleasant feeling, quite the opposite.

What do you think of the origins of liikutuksia? Why were people like my great-great grandfather attracted to Laestadius' revival?

14 comments:

  1. I remember some of the more emotional liikutuksia sessions years ago when I was still young. At the time we did not know what it was all about but it seemed quite frightening to us. When I grew up and began to have questions about Laestadianism I began to lump the liikutuksia and the Laestadian practice of personal confession into the same lump. Both seemed to be cathartic types of emotional releases for stoic Finns who had been brought up in dulled down, emotionally repressed upbringings. In general, expressions of spontaneous joy were frowned upon as well as feelings of disappointment while growing up. However, the liikutuksia provided a sanctioned religious outlet for the release of joy and the confession of sins provided a sanctioned outlet for the expression of negative emotions and feelings. The reason the liikutuksia seemed to rise up spontaneously within the group was that everyone was cut out of the same emotional block of Finn wood. Just my thoughts... Old AP

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  2. Ooooh, Old AP, I like your explanation! I SO remember any spontaneous action or emotion being immediately squelched. I was reprimanded frequently for bursting into song, for instance.

    No wonder they needed that Sunday-sanctioned outlet! However, when I was growing up, years ago, I recall weeping and wailing taking place mainly on Communion Sunday since one could not go before God without a clear conscience. The other Sundays were rather quiet. So, one had to wait a Whole Month for release. No wonder they were such a crabby bunch for the most part.

    SISU

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  3. If you can get your hands on a copy of "Connecting and Correcting, A Case Study of Sami Healers in Porsanger" by Barbara Helen Miller, it discusses liikutuksia and the spread of Laestadianism in Norway. I appreciate the author's skepticism toward the idea of Laestadian "ecstasy" being a remnant of Sami shamanism.

    SISU, when I was leaving the church I admitted to an OALC relative that sometimes I had "made up stuff" to confess and "faked my sorrow." She was shocked and told me I was lying. That was a surreal moment. Finally I was telling the truth and it was rejected!

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  4. SISU, the weeping & wailing is due to the fear of taking communion in an 'unworthy manner' (aka having unconfessed sins on your conscience) and thereby crucifying Jesus for a second time and then also being guilty of a willful sin. If some one avoids taking communion they become a point of gossip since it is automatically assumed that they must have some unconfessed sin bothering their conscience. So it is easier to 'fess up on communion Sunday to avoid having to 'fess up later on for having taken communion in an unworthy manner. Worse yet, if some one does not take communion they will certainly be 'reminded' of this fact and everyone will want to know what the reason (unconfessed sin) was for abstaining. So it is better to get the whole emotionally burdensome experience done with on communion Sunday. Old AP

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  5. I thought everyone had figured out how to homogenize those confessions into a very generic "need forgiveness for being such a poor Christian, so many lusts and desires, so much wrong thinking, so cold hearted, mumble, mumble, mumble (to cover anything else)".

    It used to amaze me how some people could turn on a faucet of tears and wail loudly. I always wondered how much was just for show -- "see, I am not only a less worthy, more sinful person than you are (because that seemed to be a sort of contest), I can also proclaim it most loudly".

    Perhaps I am in too cynical a mood today.

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    1. When I visited an OALC service for the first time a few years back, I was surprised at how loudly the guy sitting on the pew in front of me was confessing to his wife. You couldn’t help but overhear. (Is that by design?)

      Apparently, in the past week, he had been impatient, short tempered, and not a loving husband, among other things.

      An amusing aside: My mother was raised a Catholic, and hated going to the confessional. She tells this story about finding herself with a chatty priest who struck up a long conversation about something she’d said. She was worried about what people would think of her, given how much time she was spending in that little booth! Other times she couldn’t think of anything to confess, and had to get creative.

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  6. No, CVOW, you're not too cynical. I remember thinking that on more than one occasion. And the loudest ones were often the most gossipy and critical of everyone. I'm not sure what that says.....SISU

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  7. CVOW, I had to chuckle when I read your description of what is basically the general Laestadian confession of the, "need forgiveness for being such a poor Christian, so many lusts and desires, so much wrong thinking, so cold hearted, mumble, mumble, mumble (to cover anything else)".
    As I got a little older I realized that the confessions were all pretty much about the same old stuff which made me wonder that if everyone was essentially guilty of the same old crap then there was not much point in a select few having to flog themselves while they enumerated their sinful minutiae. Years later I discovered that the so-called 'dead faith Lutheran churches of the world' had pretty much the same sort of public confession of sin as part of their liturgy in their hymnals. Their confessions seemed more encompassing and they actually seemed quite a bit better and no one had to wail and castigate themselves (or 'mumble, mumble, mumble (to cover everything else)' during their time of confession. The congregation just seemed to accept the pastor's pronouncement of absolution and they went about their service.
    Maybe Laestadian's need to adopt a general oral confession that includes a 'Mia Maxima Culpa' to ensure that every sin is covered. Old AP

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    1. CVOW and Old AP, you two guys are great. Who cares about our little disagreements; I am always delighted to read your comments here.

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  8. We love your research and comments too EOP. Keep them coming. Old AP

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  9. LLLreader remembers: The very best confession that was offered to me was, "Forgive me for being offended when I saw you wearing lipstick in town." Hard to know where to go with that one. I do remember his smirk.

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    1. Hahahahaha laughing at my desk at work! Y'all are a riot.

      -Pebbles

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    2. LLLreader...I will bet you that he was also one of those guys who was with his church buddies down at Carrows on Saturday night talking about goosing one of the waitresses. Old AP

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  10. A thought that came to me was regarding the personal experiences Lestaudius had after the untimely passing of his child in the 1830s. To me it was like he had fled to sea and a storm came and he was cast in the deep water like Jonah only to be swallowed by a whale and after he was spit out he began to seek what he might do. It almost appears by many bible stories that when the Holy Spirit is determined to use someone's voice he ends up doing it no matter who or what resists. Peace of God to all of you

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