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Splendid Are the Heavens High/ Dejlig Er Den Himmel Blå

          by N. F. S. Grundtvig, translated by J.C. Aaberg

Splendid are the heavens high,

Beautiful the radiant sky,

Where the golden stars are shining,

And their rays to earth in clinging,

Beck'ning us to heav'n above,

Beck'ning us to heav'n above.

It was on the holy night,

Darkness veiled the stars so bright;

But at once the heavens hoary;

Beamed with radiant light and glory,

Coming from a wondrous star.

Coming from a wondrous star.

Sages from the East afar,

When they saw this wondrous star,

Went to worship and adore Him,

And to lay their gifts before Him,

Who was born this midnight hour.

Who was born this midnight hour.

Guided by the star, they found

Him whose praise the ages sound.

We, too, have a star to guide us,

Which forever will provide us

With the light to find our Lord.

With the light to find our Lord.

And this star as bright as day,

Which will never lead astray

With its message so appealing.

Is the Word of God, revealing

Christ to us as Lord and King.

Christ to us as Lord and King.

Link to the Danish melody

Grundvtig, N. F. S., "Splendid Are The Heavens High," Songs of Denmark, Songs to Live

By: A Danish American Heritage of Music. Translated by J.C. Aaberg, Compiled by Joy Ibsen, Ibsen Lenef, 2005, page 78.

The song, as presented here, is reprinted from Songs of Denmark. It is meant to be sung on Epiphany, celebrated January 6th, which traditionally marks the end of Christmas. For readers of Church and Life, the context of the song's composition is significant: Grundtvig wrote it in early December 1810, when he was in the middle of a serious personal crisis. His father had asked him to come home to become his assistant pastor at Udby, and he was experiencing major swings between days of peace and days of deep depression and spiritual struggle. He was unpredictable to his friends, who watched anxiously over him. After he realized his hubris and felt renewed zeal for the church, Grundtvig wrote this song as his first conscious attempt to articulate his renewal and, simultaneously, to renew the tradition of Danish hymn writing. Fittingly, this song's illustration of Epiphany aligned with his personal epiphany of Christ in his life.

The hymn was originally written as a children's song that tells the story from the Gospel of Matthew about the star that heralds the birth of a new king for the Jews. However, while Grundtvig originally penned nineteen stanzas, he later cut it down to seven, which accounts for the lack of direct address to children. Today, the hymn commonly contains seven stanzas. The five stanza form used here is an abridged version of the hymn.

Nu bæres lyset frem, stolt på din krone . . .

The lights go out, and a hush falls on the room as a solo voice rings out. A hundred people hold their breath as a door opens in the corner and flickering candlelight is seen. Ten or twelve teenage girls dressed in white, their lovely faces just barely visible above the candles they hold, emerge from the storage room hidden behind the fireplace.

Rundt om i hus og hjem, sangen skal tone . . .

The girls walk two by two through a gap in the circle of onlookers and slowly curve around a small fir tree in the center of the room, which is decorated with handmade paper stars, woven hearts, and carved figures. They join the song with English lyrics and end in a single circle, facing the tree.

Power of light is great–warmth, peace on earth create . . .

Her head crowned with a wreath and four flaming tapers, the leader of the procession steps forward to light a small candle on the tree. The rest of the girls follow suit, and when the tree is fully lit, they turn and share their flame with the circle of onlookers as someone starts singing "Silent Night." Soon, everyone is singing, lighting each other’s candles, and feeling that sense of togetherness inherent to Christmas, candles, cold nights, and hygge.

This is how my Christmas starts.

Back in the 1970s, my parents and my dad’s brother were involved in starting an exchange with Denmark that focused on dance and gymnastics as inclusive forms of community recreation. Our little community in East Central Kentucky, along with several like-minded individuals in similar small communities around the USA, found connections with the tiny country of Denmark that have made a lasting and positive impact across the world and through generations of people. It’s impossible to know for sure how many people participated in the Danish-American Exchange, housed at Berea College in Kentucky from 1973 until 2017, but I’m sure it’s in the thousands.

Perhaps the impact is most clearly seen at the Danish American Yule Fest at the Berea Folk Center, a community center designed to look like den Ottekantede Forsamlingshus on Mors in Northern Denmark. On the first Sunday evening in December, we gather with anyone who wants to participate, eating yummy winter treats, telling stories, and singing carols in English and Danish. We close the evening with a Santa Lucia procession and the sacred act of singing "Silent Night" together by candlelight. It is a holy time, and it stays with us throughout the rest of the year.

The impact of the exchange can also be seen in April, when a group of nearly 100 teenage students from a Danish efterskole visit Berea with their teachers–all of them staying with private host families in the area. The task of arranging activities and host families for the group falls to me, and I’m certain that if I lived anywhere else it would prove completely impossible. However, thanks to five decades of private hosting and exchange with Denmark, we have a culture of openness here in Berea that is rare in other places.

The Danish word "fællesskab" is a good description of what has made our community different and, in my estimation, happier than the typical modern community. Directly translated, "faellesskab" means “togetherness,” but it’s more than that. It’s the philosophy of togetherness–the practice of being in community with each other. It crosses the boundaries of religion, politics, age, education, and socioeconomic status; it calls us together as humans who enjoy singing, dancing, reading, listening, walking, playing tennis . . . or anything else you can think of. With fællesskab, each activity has an added element of relationship, usually in the form of community singing or facilitated discussions over a shared meal or snack. Like the word "hygge," fællesskab is a distinctively Danish phenomenon that the rest of the world ought to adopt as standard practice. I know I’m glad my community did.

Indeed, the power of light is great–warmth, peace on earth it creates.

Glædelig Jul!

Danish Christmas Louisiana Style

          by Maddie Benton

Talking to Martin about the Danish Christmas Party helped me remember the Danish origins of some of the Christmas traditions my family celebrates. To me, they just feel like an ordinary part of the holiday season even though we aren't Danish. As Christmas time approaches and we prepare to get “hygge os,” it is a perfect time to celebrate and remember all of the traditions that make Danish Christmas special. If you want to host your own Christmas party to celebrate the season, some of Martin's recipes are included below.

Merry Christmas!

As the season ticks on and snow begins to fall, the time has come once again for Royal Copenhagen to continue one of its longest traditions. Each year, two new plates grace the market, one branded under Bing & Grøndahl and the other under the Crown of Royal Copenhagen itself. This tradition has brought striking blue-and-white designs to homes in Denmark and beyond, representing an important tradition in the 250-year history of Danish porcelain.

The origins of Danish Christmas plates are steeped in legend. One tall tale claims that aristocrats used to gift their servants painted wooden platters at Christmas. The servants, delighted by this presumably unusual display of generosity, would proudly display these platters on their walls to brighten up their drab living quarters. This is nothing more than a tall tale, though it speaks to a desire to make this tradition ancient. In truth, though, the tradition of Christmas plates is so long-lived because of innovations that could only have been created near 1895, when Bing & Grøndahl released their first plate.

To understand the origins of Christmas plates, we need to rewind a few years. Around 1880, Bing & Grøndahl and Royal Copenhagen (then known as the Royal Porcelain Manufactory) were bitter rivals, but they were both struggling to stay in business. Their designs were uninspired, sales were sluggish, and competing with French, German, and English wares was difficult. A bold new direction was needed for both companies with young, ambitious leadership. Luckily, two candidates proved up to the task. Bing & Grøndahl hired Pietro Krohn, who would go on to establish the Designmuseum Danmark, while Royal Copenhagen settled on Arnold Krog. Both men were on the cutting edge of the art world and had seen the development of a radical style of New Art.

This is the secret to Christmas plates. Unlike other commemorative plates from the period, Christmas plates are textured, with the image carved into the mold. This relief design can then be spray-painted instead of brushed on – the lower parts of the plate turn out a darker blue. An artist can go in and scrape away any excess, resulting in a piece that has the allure of hand-painted work without the errors that can result from an unsteady brush.

Harald Bing was not entirely certain whether Hallin’s passion would pay off, and so he ordered only 400 plates for the first year. He didn’t need to worry, though.  They were a smash hit and quickly became a staple of B&G’s annual catalog. Royal Copenhagen would take a few years to catch on, but in 1908 they would issue their own Christmas plate using Hallin’s method. Even though the two companies have now merged, they have issued a plate in the style they each developed every year since, without fail.

No other studio anywhere in the world has turned Christmas plates into such a long–lived tradition. Many have tried – my own family owns a Royal Vienna Christmas plate–but none have succeeded. It is not entirely clear why Danish Christmas plates have proven uniquely popular. Even as new materials were introduced, new design philosophies took hold, and market tastes changed, Christmas plates have endured. Generations of Danes, Danish-Americans, and others have hung these plates. Some buy specific years, recording their own family history through art. Others collect as many as they can. Others only buy ones with dogs, or cats, or deer. In short, there is something in these plates for everyone.

As the holiday season continues and families gather, we hope you will enjoy these icons of Danish design. And, if you would like to see the first ever Christmas plates alongside eighty-three other spectacular pieces of Danish design, consider taking a trip out to MoDA. We’d love to see you!

Happy holidays!

"Danish Ceramics: Beyond Blue and White," on display at the Museum of Danish America until April 20, 2026, features 85 objects from 1775 to today. The display represents the largest retrospective of Danish ceramic art in a generation, including never-before-displayed pieces by some of Denmark’s greatest artists.

An Argentine Christmas Collage

          Images shared by Andrés Albertsen

N.F.S. Grundtvig – A Real Santa Claus?

          by Anders Holm

One might think that Christmas is a fun time for a Grundtvig scholar. Not only can you, with a bit of goodwill, say that the old codger resembles—or resembled—Santa Claus, especially in his later years, with his long beard and shaggy hair. Danes sing his hymns during Advent and Christmas, and he has appeared in children’s Christmas calendars on several occasions. So isn’t Grundtvig simply delightful and festive?

Well, yes, it’s amusing—but also a bit exhausting, especially if you believe that Christmas and work should be kept separate, at least for those of us who aren’t clergy. The worst part is that Grundtvig Studies needs to be published before the end of the year, which means that the editor does a lot of hard work in December. (Grundtvig Studies is the scholarly yearbook of the Grundtvig world, published since 1948. Have a look at this link: GS.) Surely other yearbook editors know the pressure of getting everything done at the end of the year.

Being a Grundtvig scholar is both captivating and daunting. It’s captivating because studying Grundtvig automatically brings you into contact with many aspects of everyday life. He was a pastor, historian, poet, hymn writer, politician, public educator, mythologist, translator, philosopher, and more. In his vast and sprawling body of work, he commented on nearly everything—probably too much—from the origins of Anglo-Saxon words and church liturgy to agricultural issues and financial relief for the poor. I’m personally convinced that being a Grundtvig scholar has led me to work across more fields—both within and beyond theology—than I otherwise would have.

At the same time, it is daunting. Grundtvig is everywhere. Just open a Danish newspaper, and you can be sure he would have had an opinion on most topics: freedom of speech, Danish identity, religious freedom, international relations, or education policy—all issues he addressed in the context of his time.

Even in spring of 2016, when I was in the U.S., in Alabama, on a Fulbright fellowship studying religion and politics, I couldn’t escape him. In the middle of an event at the White House, then President Obama suddenly mentioned "the great Danish pastor and philosopher Grundtvig who, among other causes, championed the idea of the Folk School Grundtvig’s influence on the Civil Rights movement."

A question that always triggers anxiety for a Grundtvig scholar is: What would Grundtvig—the national symbol—have said? The press often calls to ask. Of course, I can safely reject the question with the researcher’s detached caveat and say that his worldview can’t be transferred to our time. That’s often wise, given the limited room for nuance. But ultimately, such battles are lost. If Grundtvig research isn’t relevant to the present, it’s meaningless.

In my view, the relevance lies primarily in the many principled discussions sparked by Grundtvig’s viewpoints and his overall contributions as a poet, theologian, and public educator. Grundtvig significantly impacted Denmark—and in some ways the rest if the world as well.

He’s often worth engaging with because of his ability to delve deeply into issues, but it’s equally liberating that, as a scholar, you’re obligated to abandon wrong-headed or irrelevant ideas when necessary. 

Grundtvig is certainly not a Santa Claus who always delivers the answers you want or need. On the other hand, like other great and influential thinkers, you can often learn a lot from his mistakes.

And so, in response to his mistakes, you might actually encounter the most “Grundtvigian” thing that can be said about being a Grundtvig scholar: The world evolves. 

That was Grundtvig’s view too, and he frequently changed his stance throughout his long life. Reality is more important than ideas, he believed. That’s why it goes against both his and scholarship's purpose to use his statements as substitutes for independent thought in our time, when various answers are needed. This is precisely where the Grundtvig scholar must tread carefully.

The Bittersweet Spirit of Christmas in H.C. Andersen’s Fairytales

          by Ana Wright

He is given a place of honor in the living room and decorated splendorously, just as he dreamed. He is soon disappointed, however, when everyone becomes occupied with other things, and rather than being the center of attention, he fades into the background of the evening’s festivities.

The day after Christmas, he is relegated to the attic, where he reminisces about his former life in the woods, longing for the day when they will take him back outside. Several months later, he is rediscovered when the attic gets cleaned out, but rather than being restored to his woodland home and friends as he hoped, he is chopped into pieces and burned. “It was all over with the tree,” Anderson says, “and so it is with the story. That’s what happens at last to every story –all over, all over!” (134). Indeed, the tree spent his entire life longing, until all at once his life was over, before he felt that he had really begun to live.  

Indeed, although the Little Match Girl dies, this story is not a tragedy. Despite her situation, she never once complains, but simply makes the most of what she has, and is content. In the end, although no one on earth pays her any attention, she ends up in heaven with God, her suffering exchanged for eternal happiness.

In "The Fir Tree," however, we encounter precisely the opposite perspective. In this tale, a young tree, despite his friends’ exhortations to “rejoice in your youth out here in the open” (130), longs to “get away” and become a Christmas tree, full of “glory and splendour” (129). At last, one Christmas, his longing is fulfilled, and he is delighted!

Two Recipes and Some Etiquette Tips from Martin Hjortsø

Brown Christmas Cookies (Brunkager)

Ingredients:
32oz flour

13.3 oz of butter or margarine

8.8 oz syrup

13.3 oz sugar

2 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp ground cloves

1 tsp cardamom

3.5 oz coarsely chopped almonds

1 copped bitter orange peel

1 chopped candied lime

0.7 oz potassium carbonate, (or baking powder or baking soda)

Instructions:

Boil almonds briefly, cool, remove skins and chop. Melt together syrup, sugar, and butter and add species, almonds and candied peels. Stir the potassium carbonate out in a bit of water (to prevent clumping) and add when the sugar-butter mixture reaches boiling. (Stand back! Ammonia will be released). Let the mixture cool a bit before working the flour into it. When the dough is lukewarm, roll it into cylinders approximately 1.5 in. in diameter.

Let sit overnight in a cool spot. Slice with a sharp knife and bake at 350F.

Instructions:

Mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl using a spoon or hand mixer. Heat up a frying pan with butter or oil. Use a spoon to form the meatballs. If you dip the spoon in a glass of water before you form a meatball it will be easier because the meat will not stick to the spoon. Fry the meatballs for about 5-10 minutes depending on the amount of heat you give them. It is best to flip the meatballs often in order to give then an even crust.

Renée Showalter-Hanson

September 11, 1948 - October 7, 2025

Renée Showalter-Hanson, 77, died peacefully at her home in Minneapolis on October 7, 2025. 

She was preceded in death by her parents, Laurence and Miriam (Rodholm) Showalter and her brother Scott, and she is survived by her husband Robert, her daughters Laura (Joe) and Emma (Frank) and her beloved granddaughter Madeline. 

Renée grew up on the south side of Chicago and attended Grand View College, the University of Iowa, and the University of Minnesota. Following in her mother's footsteps, Renée became a Special Education teacher and taught in Cedar Rapids, Iowa before spending 35 years with Wayzata Public Schools making contributions to students' lives at Plymouth Creek Elementary and Wayzata East Junior High.

She loved reading, volunteering, hiking on the North Shore, celebrating her Danish heritage, and spending time with her granddaughter. Renée had an incredible ability to build meaningful connections wherever she went. Her warmth, generosity, and kindness will be deeply missed.

Annette Andersen

July 13, 1934 — November 11, 2025

Annette O. Andersen passed away at her home, surrounded by her family, on Tuesday, November 11, 2025, having attained the age of 91 years, three months and 29 days.

The daughter of Neils J. and Nadjeschda M. (Lynge) Overgaard, Annette was born in Guthrie County, Iowa. She attended Kimballton Public School through the eighth grade and then Elk Horn High School. In 1952, she married Keith W. Johnson in Kimballton. They lived and farmed in Sharon Township. Keith passed away in 1978. In 1983, Annette married Eigel “Andy” M. Andersen on the family farm near Kimballton. The couple made their home in Omaha, NE, and later retired to Kimballton. After Andy’s passing in 2001, Annette purchased her childhood home outside of Kimballton and moved there—a place that held special meaning for her.

Annette was a devoted member of Immanuel Lutheran Church in Kimballton. She was also a member of the Progressive Danes, Historical Society, Danish Brotherhood, the Museum of Danish America, Audubon School Board and 4-H, for which she was a leader. She taught Danish folk dancing to generations of adults and children. She enjoyed traveling, folk dancing, sewing, framing, genealogy and doing handiwork.

She was preceded in death by her parents; husbands Keith Johnson and Andy Andersen; a son in infancy Karl William Johnson; twin girls in infancy Lois Ann and Lisa Marie Johnson; sisters, Ardis Petersen, Elsa West and Eva Leistad; and sister-in-law, Carol Overgaard. She is survived by her children: Susan (Jeff) Edwards of Audubon, Linette (Randy) Hadley of Urbandale, Kurt (Barbara) Johnson of Audubon, Kris (Michelle) Johnson of Austin, TX; grandchildren: Matthew (Tracy Deutmeyer) Edwards, Kellie (Dave) Geater, Brett Edwards, Jessica (David) Northwick, Rebecca (Shawn) Hunt, Larissa (Jason Coellner) Hadley, Alec Johnson, Dana Johnson (Porter Reim), Ruby Tai (Brian Guappone) Johnson, Benjamin Johnson, and Hannah Johnson; 13 great grandchildren; sisters and brother: Karma (Howard) Sorensen of Elk Horn, Egon Overgaard of Walker, MN, and Ebba Johnson of Omaha, NE; stepchildren: Michael Andersen, Erik (Patricia) Andersen, Linda (Mark) Griffith; many nieces, nephews, other relatives and friends.

Visitation with the family greeting friends took place on Sunday, November 16, 2025, from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m., at the Ohde Funeral Home in Kimballton. Funeral Services were held on Monday, November 17, 2025, at 2:00 p.m. at the Immanuel Lutheran Church in Kimballton.

Memorials may be directed to the Museum of Danish America in Annette’s name.

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