Note: Dr. Peter Buhrmann is the director of the Association of Folk Schools in Germany. His office is in Berlin and, being that he is a Danish citizen, he travels regularly between Denmark and Germany. In the following piece, Buhrmann recounts his visit to John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina, in September of 2024.

It takes me by surprise every time! At the John C. Campbell Folk School, which I was fortunate enough in September of last year, it hit me when I walked into one of several classes I visited that day. In the Broom-Making Class, a focused group of people formed a circle with their chairs. They were looking at their brooms, but also at each other. There was talking, sometimes laughing. Someone would help someone else: Maybe a finger was needed to hold down a broom straw, maybe some piece of advice was needed. Before my visit, I had no knowledge of broom-making at all – I thought a broom was something you brought at the hardware store. At John C. Campbell, I found myself looking at previously unimaginable versions of brooms of different lenghts and made of different materials. And I understood that a certain valuable and specific aspect of culture and heritage was being kept alive in that class. In the room was a shared sense of what everyone was doing. After a few minutes, I noticed that this feeling of togetherness was what the class was really all about. Everyone shared a common interest; everyone was interested in each other. 

I have been working with Folk Schools for the entirety of my professional life. For 12 years I was principal of a Folk School in southern Denmark, and I have worked with Folk Schools on an international, European level. For the last 5 years, I have been the director of the Association of Folk Schools in Germany. In this position, I have seen at least a hundred Folk Schools. 

Still, I was naive enough to expect a Boom-Making Class that morning at John C. Campbell to be about broom-making. It wasn’t. And I remembered again that it is the internal strength of Folk Schools that they surprise you every time. What appears to be a class on brooms is actually about very basic and important inter-human relationships. The class could have been on just about any topic. Being together, focusing on a common topic, transporting knowledge—these things make up the idea of enlightenment that Nikolai Frederik Severin Grundtvig, the founding father of the folk-school concept, was talking about way back in the middle of the 19th century. 

In 1839, in one of his most famous songs, titled "Er lyset for de lærde blot" (which is translated above), Grundtvig declaired, “Oplysning være skal vor lyst, / er det så kun om sivet," which I translate as "Let enlightenment be our desire! Is it then only about the straw?“ How fitting that Grundtvig’s famous words came to me after visiting a broom-making class!

It definitely isn't only about the straw. John C. Campbell offers many different classes like Calligraphy, Printmaking, Basketry, Blacksmithing, Woodworking, Clay, Dance, Drawing and much more. In the Calligraphy class, I was impressed with the enthusiasm for a topic so unusual with participants so dilligent in perfecting a skill so delicate, while elsewhere  people are sitting in front of computers instead of using their hands. In Blacksmithing class, I felt like I was walking right into medieval times. It was noisy, hot with intense fires, and the smell of metal was everywhere. 

The most identifying theme at John C. Campbell is probably woodworking. At the History Centre, a bench is exhibited that signifies the founding of the Brass Town Carvers. One day, Olive Campbell, the wife of John C. Campbell and the founder of the folk school, had noticed a group of men “idly whittlin” with their pocket knives.

Denmark is flat and the highest point is 500 feet above sea level, so traveling to the mountains is always a treat for a Dane. John C. Campbell is set in the Appalachian Mountains of western North Carolina. We drove up from Birmingham, Alabama, which sits in the foothills of the Appalachians. As the hills grew higher and higher, I got more and more excited. The hills at Brasstown near the school are covered in trees and even though the day was hot, I thought I could feel the approaching fall. The dirt roads, the trees, the views, the small towns—it all came together as we drove across a small bridge onto the campus. The school is a cluster of many smaller buildings, or studios, as they call them. This means that you go in and out of the buildings all the time when you walk around campus. I kind of lost the sense of inside and outside. The surrounding landscape became an integral part of the school. And it was very beautiful. When I was talking with people inside, I would seize upon even a momentary change of topic to look outside to make sure the hills were still there.

Denmark may be the birth place of the Folk Schools, or "folkehøjskolen," as we call it. But the folk schools around the world are very different. And John C. Campbell is certainly different from any folk school that I have seen in Denmark or Germany. The language, the people, and the culture are obviously different. But still, the focuses on the social aspect of being together, on enlightenment, and on the connection between the mind, the hand and the heart is repeated every time. No matter how different the schools seem to be on the surface, I was once again reminded of this defining trait at John C. Campbell Folk School in September of 2024.

Sermon on Luke 12:32-40 at Iglesia Luterana Paz y Esperanza, Willmar, MN

By Pastor Andrés Albertsen (andresa@vinjechurch.com)

What do we expect from the future?

And another question: What difference does what we expect from the future make in the way we live today?

Some people expect nothing good. Maybe because of the news, because of past experiences, or because of the hardness of this world, they feel that the future will only bring more problems.

Others, on the other hand, literally expect what the first Letter to the Thessalonians says:

The voice of command will be heard, the voice of an archangel and the sound of the trumpet of God, and the Lord himself will come down from heaven. The dead in Christ will rise first; after that, those of us who are still alive will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever.

But today’s text gives us another option—a different vision. It assures us that the Father, in his goodness, has decided to give us the Kingdom. And if the Father has already decided to give us the Kingdom, that means the Kingdom—Jesus Christ himself—is already among us.

And how does Jesus come among us?

He does not appear surrounded by armies or seated on a golden throne. He comes in another way: in the one who is hungry, in the one who is thirsty, in the stranger who seeks a place to stay, in the one who has no clothes to wear, in the sick person, in the one who is in prison.

In a story Jesus tells in the Gospel of Matthew, the King speaks to those who cared for all these people and says, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; receive the Kingdom that has been prepared for you since the creation of the world.” And what is the reason? Jesus himself says, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” That is to say: Jesus comes to us in those who need help. And serving those people is serving Christ himself.

But the teaching does not end there.

If we look carefully, we will see that there are already people meeting

those needs—people caring for others, defending the weak, working for peace, protecting the planet God has given us. We are not alone in this task. And it is not foolish to try to make a difference.

Each of us can contribute our part. And when we put our efforts together, the difference will be even greater.

And something else: at this moment—or at some other moment in our lives—you or I might be the ones who need the help of others. And there is nothing wrong with that. It is part of life. In those moments, we must learn to ask for help with humility and without shame, and to receive it with gratitude.

Because there are two dangers that threaten us:

To become cynical, the kind of person who no longer believes in anything and no longer cares about anything, or to fall into despair that paralyzes us and sinks us into sadness.

But today, Jesus offers us a better way. He calls us to live attentively, like those who expect something good, like those who know the Lord is present here and now. He invites us to be prepared and to keep our lamps burning, ready to recognize him in the face of the one who needs us.

Amen.

Prayers

Lord Jesus Christ,

You tell us not to be afraid of what the future holds, not to worry about tomorrow. But you know how hard it is for us to follow your words. We worry about so many things—our families, our friends, our situations. Some of our worries are big, and others are small.

We bring you our big worries: about our health, our happiness, and our safety—for ourselves and those we love. We bring you our deep concerns for the world we live in and whether it has a future. We bring you our sorrow over the way people are treated—people who are exploited, tortured, helpless, or abused. We bring you our grief over a world torn by conflict and war, and a world that lives in fear, without a clear hope for the days to come.

Father God,

We know that you care about every part of our lives. So we also bring the smaller things that trouble us—the things that keep us awake at night, the things that only you know. We pray for a world that often lacks joy, is too busy to enjoy what you have made, and too distracted by survival to truly live.

Living God,

Reach out to all those who face the future with fear and uncertainty. Assure them that you are with them, even when the path ahead feels dark and their lives seem out of control. Remind them that you are the one who can bring healing and hope, even in the bleakest situations.

Lord,

We need your love. We need your hope. We need your peace, your joy, and your salvation. We offer our prayers in faith, trusting that you listen and answer.

Amen.

Andersen was also socially awkward, not least according to Charles Dickens, whom he visited in 1857. After a lengthy correspondence Dickens unwisely wrote that Andersen could pay him a visit, if he was ever in England. Needing no second bidding, Andersen arrived at Gad’s Hill, Dickens’s country home, in June of that year for a fortnight. “My visit is for you alone,” he wrote. “Above all, always leave me a small corner in your heart.” Andersen stayed a full five weeks, until he at last sensed that he was no longer welcome. He cried on his departure, and afterwards sent along an apology note: “Kindly forget the unfavorable aspect which our life together may have shown you of me.”

Let us remember him best as the writer of immortal fairy-tales, loved in every Danish household to this day. And let us remember the wonderful apocryphal story about Andersen’s casket, namely that he wanted holes bored in it at eye-level so that he could see who attended his funeral – and who didn’t!

See Andersen, Hans Christian. The Diaries of Hans Christian Andersen, translated by Patricia L. Conroy and Sven L. Rossel, Seattle and London, 1990.

Madison Morrison

Note: Madison Morrison is one of three Assistant Student Editors who will be serving on the staff during the fall semester. Below, she introduces herself.

I am an English major at Samford University with a special interest in Philosophy and Biblical Studies. As the author of two faith-based newsletters on Substack, I enjoy exploring how faith and culture intersect with one another in the modern day.

Having spent half of my life in the sunny state of California and the other half in Georgia, I embody a blend of two vastly different cultures. This background is, in large part, why I am eager to explore how Danish- American culture and community traditions are preserved in America through Church and Life. I have a deep appreciation for how two places can shape a unique perspective on life and the world. 

I hope to tell stories that translate the vivid life and culture that exists beyond the page as I contribute to Church and Life.

His reasons for this change were, first, that while he could read and write Danish well enough, he could express himself in English better and, second, that he wanted the contents of Kirke og Folk to reach a broader audience. Another change initiated by the DIC and Hansen early on was that the publication would appear once each month on the 15th, rather on the 10th and 25th. In the early years, issues were sent free of charge to about 750 individuals, but within a short time that number grew to 1000.

Whether or not you can read Danish, the archive is full of unexpected treasures. The first editor, Holger Strandskov, explained in the very first issue that Kirke og Folk was intended to be a link "on this side of the Atlantic" to replace Dannevirke, a popular, privately published paper for Danish immigrants to America that ran from 1882 to 1951. In the first issue, Strandskov asks rhetorically, "What do we have to bring to contribute to such a magazine?" His answer:

We have a wealth of spiritual forces to draw from, if only we open ourselves to and be filled with the abundance of life. We are not poor if we will draw forth and make use of all the spiritual values that God has given us, the individual as well as the church.

Paul Wilkman took over as editor between October of 1952 and April of 1959 to help Strandskov who was already a full time priest and the editor of Lutheran Tidings. Wilkman began his seven-year tenure with a brief appeal for "good wishes" and a request that the magazine be regarded as a "cooperative effort" on the part of readers and the editor. He closed his brief editorial statement by reminding readers that the magazine would no longer be sent free, but would cost $1.50 a year (10 Oct. 1952, page 8).