"Tak, Tusind Tak" 

    By Bryan Odeen

Long ago there was a dream 

to learn and serve and live deeply 

Built a foundation for our formation 

not knowing where the dream would lead. 

Chorus 

Tak, tusind tak for the past, 

for the ancestors 

and the stories that we have! 

Tak, tusind tak, for today, 

And the lessons that we carry on our way! 

So today we gather still 

To make community be real 

Our past and future coming together 

Still sharing what our hands have built. 

Chorus 

So the journey will continue 

Long after we are gone 

And the future will still have space, 

Maybe they will sing along.

Note: This was the theme song for the 2025 Danebod Folk Camp that Marilyn Gift writes about below.

Harvest Sermon: Say A Little Prayer and Count Your Blessings One by One

By Anne-Grethe Krogh Nielson

He wrote, “I much prefer autumn to spring because in the autumn one looks at heaven – in the spring at the earth.” Kierkegaard wisely observed that during spring we are constantly looking at the green sprouts, the blooming flowers, the signs of new life, while in Fall we look to the blue heavenly skies. In that direction we look further with faith and appreciation–with prayer and a sense of blessing.

I once read some advice for preaching sermons on harvest season when you’re not a farmer: "Don’t pretend to be a farmer if you are not. Preach from what you know and how your experiences and relationships have shaped you."

Well, I am certainly not a farmer, but I am a farmer's daughter. My father was a farmer and both of my grandfathers were farmers, and according to our ancestry book I am part of a long line of farmers that date back to Denmark in 1500. So I might not be a farmer, but I have farmers' blood in my veins and, as a result, I love the season of harvest. 

As a child, I found nothing better than when the blue August and September skies were endless and high– when the air was fresh and smelled of grain, hay, and earth and when we were allowed to jump in the hay, hold the golden grains in our hands and slip it through our fingers and eat grains from the abundance of harvest.

The taste and smells of harvest are strong and intoxicating. The smell of grain and hay is one of the loveliest smells to me: It reminds me of autumn, work, and family. Images of golden fields, culled fields, stacks of hay and grain. It's a reminder of happiness, blessings, and prayers. 

I am holding some wheat straws. You can smell and taste it, and you know it is part of the bread we will share later.

There is also something sad about harvest, grain, and flour. It tells the story of a summer now gone. It is the story of us and our lives, that we too will wither like the grass and grains. But it is also hope. It can be shared with the hungry. It points us to a new season of Fall and winter with light and presence, and then a new spring and new summer, a new harvest.

Life never just ends. . . Maybe that is something we need to remember and live by. We may be afraid of dying and the day of doom, but we are told that life does not stop; it continues. In our daily lives, a little child is hope that stretches far into the future, further than we can see and imagine. Jesus himself says that he is like a grain of wheat, lain into the earth to die so that give new life that may sprout and grow. 

I am old enough to remember placing hay stacks on the wagon to transport them back to the farm. I will not pretend that I did any of the hard work, lifting and stacking. I was just a child. But I witnessed it and knew the importance of doing it correctly. If done otherwise, the stack would fall from the wagon as it travels along rocky or hole-filled paths and it would not be much fun being a small girl sitting on top of the stack! 

Life can be rocky, uneven, and filled with holes. Sometimes, the road will sway dangerously. Strong foundations need to be laid. We have to try to give our lives the foundation of faith so we can mange holes along the way. It is about sowing and harvesting love, compassion, our fundamental faith, and joy and having them ingrained in our hearts.

The marvelous Sir Elton John and Brandi Carlile close their song with these words:

There is such a fine line between faith and apathy

Pain can put you on your feet or bring you to your knees

If you are locked inside the end of days and darkness pulls your mind

Bend the bars and hold the fire let every corner shine

That why we are gonna get up 

and let a little light into the world

And sing into the darkness like a Sunday morning bird.

So, let us sing into the today, despite the fear and the division of our times, like strong Sunday morning birds full of hope, full of faith, and love. May we be filled with the bluest skies of October and faith. 

Let us say a little prayer and count our blessings one by one.

Amen

Bridging Hygge and the Grundtvigian-Nudge at Danebod

By Steve Olsen

The Danebod Folk School: There it stands in Tyler, Minnesota, like a sentinel overlooking miles and miles of verdant cornfields; the skyline punctuated by silos and wind turbines. The well-manicured lawn, stone monuments, and Danish flags flapping in the wind spread their open arms in welcome. But who would come here and why? It is probably not someone seeking adventure, romance, or gambling.

It is early afternoon and here they come, first one or two cars then groups. The weary travelers exit their vehicles, stretch a bit and secure their hats against the prevalent but fresh prairie winds.  Those who are repeat attendees look around for assurance that everything is about the same as when they left last year. Soon they recognize a friend and are engulfed in extended interaction trying to catch up on the highlights of the last year. For those who are “first timers,” the reaction is often, “Is this the right place?” perhaps accompanied by that internal thought, “What on earth did I get myself into? I’m out of my comfort zone.” Their perception is spot-on, and the Danebod Folk Meeting Planning Committee accepts these reactions as challenges each year when planning the meetings, lectures, and other activities.

Each year, the planning committee reviews feedback from the surveys sent out just after everyone gets back home after the previous four-day session and, each year, we are gratified that the ratings are so affirming and the suggestions so helpful.  The planning committee is faced with an awkward dilemma as we attempt both to endorse and challenge two gently opposing Danish pillars of social interaction – Hyggelig versus the Grundtvigian-Nudge, better known as the Folk School pillar, Lifelong Learning. Hyggelig smothers us with the familiar, the soothing candles, cookies, and laughter of close friends while the

Grundtvigian-Nudge gently challenges us to expand our understanding of the world, to enhance our abilities, to try new things, and to get up and start moving. This is the inviting challenge which we both wrestle with and enjoy.

It is affirming to us on the planning committee when we receive such feedback as “I was going to skip the lecture on poetry, but I am so glad I didn’t. The lecture opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at the world.” Or “I could care less about robots, but that lecture revealed a body of knowledge that I knew nothing about.” Participants at the Danebod Folk Meetings come with many expectations. We hope that you will bring yours to the next opportunity for Lifelong Learning next August at the Danebod Folk Meeting where we will tempt you with a whole new roster of lectures, activities, and, of course, Danish food. This is our invitation and a Grundtvigian-Nudge.

[Henrik Bredmose Simonsen (above) can be contacted at: hbsimon@mail.dk]

"I had the pleasure of interviewing some of the participants about being part of the Grundtvigian tradition in the USA," writes Simonsen. "Their description of the relationship to Denmark differed considerably. Some had a clear answer as to what lay in the word "Grundtvigian," while for others it was a question of having grown up in Danish-American small towns with names like: Viborg, South Dakota; Askov, Minnesota; Danevang, Texas. . . They knew the Danish traditions and the Danish world view. As one of them said most tellingly, 'We lived it, we never put it into words.'"

Educating the Appalachians with the Danish Folk School: The Life and Legacy of Olive Dame Campbell

by Madison Morrison

students. Still small in size, the school family of 18 would crowd into a farmhouse dining room to share their meals and their knowledge. From laundry and needlework to farm work and cooking, all activities were considered vital to a young person’s education. As time went on, the school fostered practical farm skills, craftsmanship, and community-building that helped Appalachian families thrive. By learning various trade skills, families earned supplemental income outside of their farming practices. The work of the school also preserved the craft and songs of Appalachian families. Rather than using education as a means of replacing the traditions and values of Appalachians, the folk school’s philosophy empowered and preserved Scotch-Irish culture.

“If the teaching is to enrich rural life,” wrote Campbell in a school newsletter, “it must be rooted in a deep belief in the country; not perhaps as it is, but as it may be: its power to satisfy; to offer a full life.”

Campbell’s strong belief in enriching rural life while honoring its culture is what allowed the school and its occupants to thrive. Today, the John C. Campbell Folk School celebrates its 100th year anniversary and while the school deserves to be celebrated, the woman who poured her lifetime into building it equally deserves celebration. 

For further reading:

Campbell, Olive Dame. Appalachian Travels: The Diary of Olive Dame Campbell, edited by Elizabeth McCutchen Williams, The University Press of Kentucky, 2012.

DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH – Olive Dame Campbell’s 1922 Letter on Danish Folk School Training

Making History: John C. Campbell Campbell Folk School

A Conversation with Chris Spicer about Folk Schools

by Maddie Benton

This fall, as we consider the significance of the Danish folk school and its impact particularly in America, I spoke to Chris Spicer, the former leader of the Folk Education Association of America. Spicer offered insights about the folk school and its continued significance and role in the modern community. 

Spicer shared stories about his involvement in the folk school community, which he first learned about as an undergraduate. His experiences at Berea College, where the Folk Education Association of America began, and his interest in environmental education eventually led him to a position at John C. Campbell. He later became the leader of the Folk Education Association of America, an association he describes as a diverse mix of people and programs committed to experiential education. 

I asked Spicer if he could define folk schools, and he laughed and said, "No." Given the diversity of folk schools, his reaction is understandable; they are nearly impossible to describe with a single, concrete definition. According to the Folk Education Association of America, folk schools began in Denmark around the mid-nineteenth century, modeled after Grundtvig’s idea about the importance of closing the “rift between life and [traditional forms of] learning.” In the early 20th century, folk schools began to form in the United States. They seek to unify “an individual . . . , cultural . . . , and democratic identity” by helping their

members learn “not just about…skills but also about human empowerment and educati[on] for participatory democracy…to inspire change for education and communities." Spicer elaborated on this definition by describing some of the central tenets of folk schools. Though he acknowledged folk schools are often characterized by their “non-competitive” atmosphere and lack of exams, Spicer instead defined them according to what he called “educational principles.” He noted that they are centers of “collaborative learning” where students are focused on “learning not only with people but also about other people” and “how to be . . . good civic-minded and democratic participant[s] in society,” echoing the FEAA’s motto of “learning for life.” Folk schools, according to Spicer, focus on educating the whole person to train them to meaningfully contribute to their communities.

Spicer’s definition highlights a key piece of the significance of folk schools: by educating the whole person, folk schools equip people to enter democratic discourse. Indeed, the folk school model is credited with transitioning Denmark to democracy. Though they are a fascinating piece of Danish-American history and culture, they are more than just an artifact and still play an active role in shaping the community today. Spicer noted that folk schools are particularly helpful in helping communities overcome prejudices. Because folk schools involve learning about the people you study with, they involve learning about those who are different from you and, as Spicer put it, crossing “social, racial, and political divides” to overcome “deep and long historical differences.” The folk school’s emphasis on educating the whole person means that it is uniquely equipped to bridge these gaps and equip people to engage in democratic conversation. Though they are a fascinating piece of Danish-American history and culture, they are more than just an artifact and still play an active role in shaping the community today.

Finally, though some might consider the folk school model dated, Spicer discussed the way that modern technology has helped strengthen the folk schools. In the last twenty years or so, the folk school as seen a remarkable resurgence, one that Spicer largely credits to new technology. The internet has introduced people to the idea of folk schools and allowed them to learn about them in ways that was not common in America before the internet. Particularly thinking about the challenges and benefits of AI, Spicer notes that it can serve as a tool to connect people to the folk school. The folk school’s work of holistic education is not negated by AI, Spicer suggests, because AI as we currently understand it only touches on the “intelligence” “component of the human experience.” Folk schools are uniquely designed to “maintain humanity in a highly technical world,” a goal that AI simply cannot achieve. 

Ultimately, my conversation with Spicer proved a useful reflection on the significance and continued legacy of the folk school in America. As we celebrate the 100th anniversary of John C. Campbell, where Spicer began his own journey, we can reflect upon and appreciate the rich and storied history of the folk school, while also looking forward with eager expectation to the ways that it will confront new challenges of promoting democracy and adapting to technology. The folk school provides a useful model as we strive to be well-rounded human beings who seek to better love God and one another.

Meet the  Church and Life co-editors

Ana Wright

I am a senior English major at Samford University, with minors in Biblical Studies and Music. I chose this path of study because I believe that the stories people tell and the songs that they sing offer windows not only into their individual lives, but also into the cultures and times they inhabit. I am fascinated by the interconnectedness of language, culture, and religion, and in our increasingly globalized modernity, I think it is more important than ever to honor and celebrate cultures that are different from our own. By studying and sharing stories and songs, I hope to expand my perspective on the beauty and diversity of humanity and better understand what my own place within it is as a writer, musician, and lover of God and people.

I was born and raised in the backwoods of Alabama, in the same house that both my father and grandfather were raised in, and I grew up listening to family legends and running wild in the woods around our property. This fostered a deep appreciation for rootedness and the importance of place in shaping identity and worldview.

My mother, however, is descended from one of the earliest settlers of The Bahamas, where she was born and raised but left behind when she married my dad. Watching her continually adapt to the culture of Alabama while still treasuring her own heritage has shown me both the impact of being uprooted from one’s place of origin and the importance of remembering and sharing stories to preserving one’s cultural identity.

I am incredibly grateful, therefore, for the opportunity to contribute to Church and Life, not only to learn more about Danish folk tradition and the Danish-American community, but also to get to play a part in sharing meaningful stories and celebrating Danish culture, because I know how important such things are. I have much to learn from the Grundtvigian tradition, and I hope that through this experience I will learn how better to live a truly simple life, with a merry heart.

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