"It is White Out Here" (Det er hvidt herude)

by Steen Steensen Blicher, 1838

These words and the encounter with Jesus led Peter and Andrew, James, and John to immediately leave their work and follow Jesus. We can try to rationalize this call story. Maybe they were already zealots or were really bad at their jobs. Maybe they were mad at their families and ready to run away. Paul’s words are helpful here: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 

They met Jesus and were transformed by the power of God from fishermen into disciples. To the world, they were foolish, but they knew that following Jesus was the only way to be saved. So, what did they follow Jesus to do?

Proclaim the kingdom, certainly. They also followed Jesus into the work of healing. 

“Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.” 

I think that is still how God is being revealed today through the calling of disciples to proclaim the gospel and to perform the ministry of healing. This healing isn’t just about physical health. Disciples of Jesus are called to heal every sickness among the people. We are called to be agents of healing for the sickness of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and xenophobia—the sickness of hatred, greed, violence, and poverty. 

Ultimately, I believed that followers of Jesus are called to be healers of the sickness of despair.

Craig Loya, Bishop of Minnesota, wrote these words yesterday about what is happening there:

The greatest danger we face right now is not the very real threat to our safety. It’s not even the erosion of democracy. The greatest threat we face as a nation is the assault being waged on hope. We must not give in to despair.

Healing despair is heavy work. It is work that cannot be done alone. It is work that takes the whole Body of Christ. 

Nadia put it this way, “None of us [is] equipped for all of it—but each of us is equipped for some of it.”

God is revealed not through lone-ranger disciples but through a community, each carrying some bit of the work to heal the world. The work of healing is needed in the powerful places, the expected places, and the places on the margins. The forgotten places where daily life seems to keep going.

For some, it may look like giving our time, skills, and money to organizations that are light bearers and healers in our community. 

For others, it may be teaching our young people how to be kind and brave. 

For some, it might be creating art, telling stories, writing poetry, so that we don’t forget what is beautiful in the world. 

For all of us, it involves prayer. And for some of us, it means advocacy and protest. None of us can do it all, but all of us can do something. Carry what you can. Give what you are able.

Jesus says, “Follow me.” 

Follow me so that you are never alone. 

Follow me to light and life and hope. 

Amen.

The Rev. Kelley Hudlow is the Instructor of Preaching at Bexley Seabury Seminary. She also serves as an associate rector at All Saints Episcopal Church in Homewood, Alabama. She lives in Birmingham, Alabama, with her spouse, Dr. Shanti Weiland, a poet and English professor; Brother Juniper, a ginger corgi; and Julien, a ginger cat. This sermon was first delivered on January 11, 2026, at All Saints Episcopal Church in Homewood, Alabama.

In August, my husband and I packed our airline-approved bags, placed our dog in his carry-on sized carrier, and left our home in California to move to Copenhagen. My husband had just been offered a position as a visiting researcher at Aalborg University (based at their Copenhagen campus), and I took the opportunity to pursue my research interest in N.F.S. Grundtvig and his educational model.

My interest in Grundtvig developed during my time working as a program manager at the Office of Public Scholarship and Engagement at the University of California, Davis, where I was researching the history of social and educational reform in the U.S. and came across the name Grundvig in the context of the Highlander Folk School in Tennessee. I was surprised that I had never learned about this influential reformer from Danish history, whose educational reforms and social vision seemed to align well with those of American social reformers from the early twentieth century. My Ph.D. is in History, and my dissertation focused on 19th-century female social reformers, including leaders of the women’s rights, abolition, and common (or public) school movements in the United States. In recent years, my research has become more focused on educational reform history, and I now have the opportunity to pursue my interest in Grundtvig’s particular approach to educational reform from his home country for at least the next year (and hopefully longer, if all goes to plan). This is the story of my transition to Denmark, and the incredibly widespread influence of Grundtvig that I have noticed in everyday experiences here.

We arrived in Copenhagen in early August—a wonderful time to explore Denmark, bask in the beautiful Danish summer, and build some memories of the warm sun and long days to draw upon for comfort during the dark days of winter. Shortly after my arrival, I started meeting regularly with Grundtvig expert, Anders Holm. A professor of church history at the University of Copenhagen, Anders is widely acclaimed for his knowledge and publications on Grundtvig, and has even published a book (which has been translated into English) introducing readers to Grundtvig and describing Grundtvig’s international influence. Anders kindly agreed to be my supervisor for a proposed Marie Curie postdoctoral grant, a prestigious fellowship based in Europe that provides researchers the opportunity to pursue research on a topic of their choice for two years at a European host institution.

We proposed a project that will focus on tracing the similarities in the educational reform message of Grundtvig and that of American Progressive-era education reformers, including John Dewey, Jane Addams, and Francis W. Parker. Like Grundtvig, these American reformers advocated for a holistic educational model that would prepare students to participate in democratic society, instead of focusing on narrow disciplinary study and rote memorization. 

While Grundtvig’s vision of democratic, holistic education has been examined within the Danish context, its potential connections to American educational reform have received little direct scholarly attention. This project would use new AI-assisted text transcription tools to analyze Grundtvig’s writings alongside those of American Progressive-era reformers. These AI-assisted tools have made Grundtvig’s writings (and handwriting) more accessible to scholars by “learning” to read his written papers and turning them into text-searchable digital documents. I hope to learn to utilize AI transcription technology as part of the project, in addition to gleaning insights on the potential impact of Grundtvigian educational ideas across transatlantic contexts.

The application process for Marie Curie fellowships is notoriously long and tedious, and I appreciate Anders’s patience and willingness to dedicate so much time last summer and fall to navigating the application forms with me. As part of developing the application, Anders lent me books and suggested relevant people I could reach out to in the effort to learn more about Grundtvig. Of course, learning about Grundtvig must involve more than just reading about him, but also experiencing his continued legacy in Denmark as well. So, I started exploring Copenhagen, with an eye to learning more about Grundtvig in the process. 

I joined a badminton association soon after arrival in Denmark. Badminton was a sport I had loved playing in gym class in high school, but I rarely got the opportunity to play the sport outside of that limited period, as it just isn’t well-known in the United States. Luckily, it is one of the most popular sports in Denmark, and the Danes are world champions in it—Denmark frequently medals in this sport in the Olympics. This association has been a wonderful way to get to know people from my neighborhood, and has motivated me to stay active, even as the days grow shorter. The prevalence of associations in Denmark is a legacy of Grundtvig and is arguably one of the ways Danes have become such a trusting, peaceful nation—the shared activities they regularly participate in create opportunities for dialogue and connection, something sorely lacking today in the United States. In an increasingly online and self-isolating world, Denmark’s strong history of associations shelters its citizens from some of the social consequences of our anti-social moment. In early September, the Grundtvig Forum, a Copenhagen-based organization dedicated to honoring the history and legacy of Grundtvig, held their annual festival of learning and reflection, called Himmelblå (blue sky). This festival included almost a week of singing, lectures by scholars and church leaders, tours of historic sites relevant to Grundtvig, and more singing. All events were held in Danish, and my Danish skills are still very limited, so I attempted to use Google Translate to provide a real-time translation of the speakers, and while I only partially caught the meaning, the feeling still came through. At the beginning of each session, we sang Grundtvig’s hymns as group. Hymnals were provided, though it was clear that many attendees knew most of the songs by heart.

Community singing is a big part of life in Denmark, and it’s not just an activity for children! My local “kulturhus,” or community center, holds weekly community singing sessions where people can come together to sing familiar Danish songs, typically about nature, friendship, and the finicky weather. I have experienced the Danes’ love of singing together in various contexts now, and it is clearly another legacy of Grundtvig, the prolific hymn writer. 

The “lectures” I attended at the Himmelblå festival were much more conversational than the traditional presentations I am used to attending in the U.S.—a very Grundtvigian approach to the speaking model. The talks varied in topic: One that I attended featured a pastor, speaking to the past and future of the Danish Church. Another discussed happiness in Denmark (which has repeatedly been named the happiest country in the world). The speaker emphasized the importance of community to creating happiness—and credited the prevalence of associations or clubs in Denmark with orchestrating community here. 

As the winter approaches, I am trying to appreciate the positives of this cozy (or “hyggelig”) season. I’ll try to do as the Danes do: Create opportunities to get together with friends, preferably with candlelight, coffee, and sweets. I’ll continue participating in my association (thankfully badminton is an indoor sport!) and I’ll invest in some warm clothing that allows me to spend time outside each day (a dog is a great motivator for this). As I await news on the results of the Marie Curie grant application with crossed fingers, I can now take the time to appreciate Grundtvig’s influence in the daily life I live in Denmark.

Idrætshøjskolen 1960

by Lois Knudsen Lund

In 1960 at age 19 and after one year at Grand View College, I decided to join my parents (Ellen and Joe Knudsen) and my sister Sonja to Heidelberg, Germany, for the fall semester of my sophomore year. My father was on sabbatical leave, and I was to enroll in the university to further my study of German. I had taken several years of German in high school and one at Grand View. However, it soon be clear that I was out of my league, and I began to skip classes. I finally confessed to my parents, and we decided I should spend the rest of my time at a Folk School in Denmark.

We had lived in Denmark for six months when I was ten, and I knew some basic Danish. I had already mastered “rødgrød med fløde” (red pudding with whipping cream) and other important phrases, so I thought I could survive immersed in a Danish environment. My father was friends with the forstander at Idrætshøjskolen (Sports Folk High School) in Sønderborg, so I was allowed to enroll late for the fall term. The focus of my session was on gymnastics, primarily training adults to teach pre-school children. The gymnasium had first-class equipment and a swimming pool half the length of an Olympic-sized pool. Academics were part of the curriculum, but not the main emphasis, so this was a good fit for me.

We were three American and one Canadian young women and two young men from Flensburg, Germany, that made up the foreign student group. We participated with the Danish students in all classes but one, Basic Danish Language. One day we were discussing Australia, and I decided to practice my Danish and share my knowledge of some history. I proceeded to explain that in the mid-1800s, the English introduced rabbits for hunting. They soon multiplied and became a major agricultural and environmental pest. I said that the kinesisk (Chinese), not kanin (rabbit), were running wild in Australia and the government had issued hunting and poisoning methods to irradicate them. Needless to say, it was a while before I volunteered again in class.

On the evening of Thanksgiving, the six of us foreign students decided to ride our bikes to town and have a beer to celebrate the holiday. The next day the forstander announced over the loudspeaker that any students who recently had drunk alcohol should report to the auditorium.

Sundays were open house, and students could visit each other in their rooms in the afternoon. Apparently, some of the students had been drinking during these visits, and the staff thought this had become a problem. The six of us sheepishly went to the meeting. After a lecture on drinking, the forstander asked us what we had done. We explained that we had had one beer in town the previous night. Trying not to smile or laugh, he dismissed us with no penalties.

Our days were filled with basic classes on physiology and the importance of healthy bodies; on gymnastics, mostly floor exercises; and swimming and diving. The lectures were mostly above my understanding of Danish, the diving off high boards daunting, and the gymnastics mostly tolerable. Despite these challenges, I much enjoyed learning new skills. We sang every day, and I remembered the songs from my time as a child visiting relatives and ending the evening in song. Lunch time was particularly important for me. The forstander would stand in the middle of the dining room and flip letters to us, some sailing the length of the room. I eagerly awaited letters from my friends at Grand View, especially Gordon Lund who was my boyfriend and would become my husband.

Idræts is in Sønderborg in Jutland on the border of Germany near Lillebælt, a strait between the island of Funen and Jutland. We took many walks along the shore, and one time I suggested we sing “The Danish Hiking Song,” a song my father had translated. My friends looked puzzled, so I sang the two verses. They had never heard of it, and once again I felt naïve and out of touch with the Danish culture as I thought I knew.

I left the school at the Christmas break. It was time for me to return to Grand View and spring semester. But, first, I had an invitation to join a Norwegian friend for her school’s New Years’ weekend holiday of skiing. I took a taxi to the ferry at Frederikshavn where I would sail to Oslo, Norway. When I left the cab, the driver asked if I was from Sweden. I was a Scandinavian in his eyes, albeit Swedish, not an American trying to speak the language. This was my crowning moment. I could go home proud of my experiences and accomplishments.

If doing research on the monarchy, he does not deal with current issues so that he has “the full freedom to write whatever he considers the truth about that matter.” (One of the best parts of his job, he noted, is getting invited to the royal parties. He even has his own historiographer uniform!)

Møller also described how he “curates” an “archive . . . of autobiographies.” Autobiographies play a central role in Denmark because, when people receive an award in Denmark, they “hand in their autobiography in order to document that they actually deserve being decorated.” Møller is in charge of managing over 40,000 of these autobiographies, which tell stories of people from all walks of life.

When I asked Møller about the significance to present and future generations of the position of Historiographer, he mentioned the autobiographies. They play an important role in contemporary genealogical studies, and he “can provide many people with the autobiography of their grandfathers,” allowing present-day Danes a glimpse into their histories. The autobiographies Møller is curating now will “be of great benefit to future genealogists.” 

After I finished interviewing Møller, he had a question for me. He asked whyChurch and Life wanted to interview him. When I explained that the publication seeks to connect readers with Danish culture, Møller mentioned that I should include his email address in the article, and that readers should reach out to him if they have Danish ancestors who have received a Danish medal or order.

Here is Møller’s email if you are interested: jfm@kongehuset.dk.

My conversation with Historiographer to the Chapter of the Royal Orders Jes Møller offered an opportunity to explore how Denmark seeks to honor its past and preserve its present. In many ways we aim to do the same cultural work as Møller withChurch and Life, connecting our readers to Danish history and culture.

Did you know that there is a flourishing Danish folk school in South India? 

I recently spoke to Dr. Reghu Rama Das, the principle of the Mitraniketan People’s College (MPC) in Kerala. The MPC was founded in 1996 in cooperation with the Association of Danish Folk Schools, and it is part of a larger nonprofit organization called Mitraniketan that includes a primary school, an agricultural center, a technology center, and a women's development program. Reghu was excited to explain how the MPC is using the folk school education model in conjunction with these other projects not only to enrich the lives of individuals, but also to transform the entire community.

In Reghu’s words, the mission of the MPC is to “promote rural leadership through education programs; To build leaders so that they will become active citizens in the community.” Many of the students who attend the school are from rural backgrounds, and the programs at Mitraniketan give them access to employment opportunities they would not otherwise have. This allows them both to improve their own living conditions and to help develop their local communities. As Reghu put it, “education is not for the individual’s development alone. It is not for the family’s development alone. It is for the community. An educated person should be an active member in the community.”

This is a reminder to mark your calendar for the Danebod Folk Meeting in Tyler! New friends are made, old friends reunited. Teachers and students learn from each other. 

These are some of the foundational tenets of the Danish folk school tradition and the annual Danebod Folk Meeting. At the 2026 Folk Meeting, August 19-23, professionals and participants will come together for three and a half days of mutual hands-on learning.

This is your opportunity not only to hear from experts on topics such as economics, political campaigns, and new methods for learning with Legos, but also to let your voice, questions, and curiosity be heard! All events, from lectures to leisure, are designed for maximum interaction and engagement.

Don’t let another season go by. Mark your calendars today, and join us in Tyler for three days of lively discussions and experiential learning!

Contact me, Anita Young, for information: 612-860-8070.