Olsok

Pastor’s Epistle—July, A.D. 2016 C

While shopping for groceries a few weeks back, I ran into some friends in the parking lot who had just returned from several weeks’ vacation in Norway. They hadn’t even been home yet, but couldn’t wait to give me the souvenir that they’d picked out just for me. It was a little rubber figurine, a replica of a famous statue found at Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim, Norway. It was, in fact, a tiny St Olaf. And you could pull him apart at the middle to reveal a four gigabyte flash drive.

Think of Olaf the loveable snowman from Disney’s Frozen, or of Rose Nylund, the Golden Girl from St Olaf, Minnesota. Think of all those Ole and Lena jokes you’ve grown up hearing, or of the world famous concerts of the St Olaf Choir. All of these were named after the same guy, Olaf Digre Haraldsson (digre here meaning “stubborn”, and often translated as Stout). Olaf was born in AD 995, and has his own saga in the Heimskringla, the book of medieval Norwegian kings.

He started out as a Viking, battling his way all throughout northern Europe. At one point he turned mercenary and fought for the English king, helping to drive the Danes out of London. Olaf’s collapsing of a fortified bridge over the Thames is thought to be the origin of “London Bridge is Falling Down”. At some point he was baptized a Christian and made claim to the Norwegian throne based on his descent from Norway’s first king, Harald Fairhair. Fairhair had fathered an awful lot of kids, so this was a pretty common claim. The reign of King Olaf II was brief, however, as he was slain in battle with Canute the Great—another Christian Viking of royal blood, who ruled as Emperor of Denmark, England, and Norway.

Before he died, Olaf experienced a powerful religious conversion, renouncing his former ways of violence and cruelty. After his death, miracles were reported around his body, and he was canonized as a saint—the last saint, in fact, shared by the Catholic Church in the West and the Orthodox Church in the East. His bones were laid to rest in Nidaros (today Trondheim), which he had made his royal capital. During the years of Danish rule, Olaf became a figure of national resistance: in death he was declared “perpetual king of Norway”, the father of his country. The cult of St Olaf spread with the Norsemen to England, Orkney, Iceland, Greenland, all the way to the American Midwest. Even the Russians, once Vikings themselves, revere the memory of St Olaf.

But here’s the kicker. Most images of Olaf—be they paintings, sculptures, or little rubber figurines hiding flash drives—come with pretty standard imagery. Olaf is tall, regal, and vaguely serene. He holds in one hand a particularly long axe, and in the other a cross-topped globe. Most notably, he is pictured standing upon a dragon: a dragon, oddly enough, that has St Olaf’s own head. This represents his old self, his cruel Viking self, before Olaf the Stout became Olaf the Holy. The greatest conquest of King St Olaf II was his conquest of himself.

Saints are not made saints by flawless character and blameless life; they do not pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Saints are simply sinners who have been forgiven and raised to new life by the unmerited grace of God. All of us have a dragon inside, an ancient serpent coiled up in its own cruelty and greed. But in baptism we are made new—made saints and kings and conquerors in Christ—made holy not by merit but by sheer divine mercy.

Olsok, St Olaf’s Day, is July 29th. Let us remember, if we will, our fellow sainted sinner raised to new and eternal life in Christ Jesus. And may we join him and all the saints at the wedding feast which was no end.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.