When the dignitaries from the east have been settled in the parlour, word arrives of the boat arriving from the west. “A big devil of a boat, oh, excuse me, the biggest Coast Guard ship on Åland. From the station at Storkubb, a real destroyer. Does thirteen knots. Going like hell out there on the sound, oh, beg your pardon.”
The priest would like very much to be up on the hill watching the party from Mariehamn come flying across the water—the Åland governor and the dean with their wives, reporters, plus the priest from Föglö and Fredrik Berg and his wife, picked up in Mellom—but his role today is too dignified for that, so he makes his excuses to the group in the parlour and he and his wife receive their guests on the dock. The newcomers are effusive and hearty. The governor is charmed by the pastor’s young wife, while the dean gets his first impression of his new ecclesiastical colleague, truly a pleasant meeting! Apple and Goody stand nearby in a cloud of flies and watch and, out on the bay, the clatter of motorboats steadily increases. The congregation is on its way to church early in order to get a good seat. Cecilia is watching Sanna and Lillus, at a comfortable distance but still close enough to see all the people. Sanna is deeply offended at not being allowed to attend the installation even though she has promised to be quiet and good. She could sit with Grandma and Grandpa and Lillus could stay outside with Cecilia. Like all of Sanna’s arguments, it is sensible and well thought out, but Mama has decided otherwise, so that’s all there is to that.
Consequently, Sanna does not get to see her father standing before the altar surrounded by the dean and the priests from Mellom and Föglö, who read the words of the Bible and lay their hands on Papa’s head as he kneels before the altar. The bishop says, “God hath given thee all them that sail with thee.” That means that the parish of Örland is his, and he is theirs. Nor does she get to hear the organist sing his showpiece “A Precious Thing to Thank the Lord” while accompanying himself on the organ with one hand, but when they all leave the church, it’s more fun. Cecilia and Sanna and Lillus go up to the attic, and when Cecilia opens the window they have a good view and can hear what people say.
It must have gone well in there, for everyone is happy and talking cheerfully. The congregation pours out first and then they stand and wait, dividing themselves into two groups so that Papa can guide the bishop to the coffee table outside the parsonage. Behind them come the dignitaries and the guests and Grandma and Grandpa and Mama. When she gets there, she makes a sharp survey of the coffee table and then hurries quickly and, she hopes, unnoticed, to the kitchen. Several well-briefed coffee ladies stand at the ready. Gaily and graciously, they pour coffee for the bishop and his wife and wish them bon appetit. There are great heaps of sandwiches, and more are brought out on trays, and when the bishop, his wife, the assessor, and the governor have seated themselves, the congregation can help themselves. There are planks laid on sawhorses where older people can sit, the younger sit on rocky outcroppings or on the grass. It’s like when the children of Israel made camp in the wilderness, Cecilia tells Sanna, and manna came from heaven. “Coffee and sandwiches,” Sanna translates, and Cecilia runs down to the kitchen and brings some sandwiches and juice up to the attic. Fortunately, Lillus has fallen asleep, and Cecilia and Sanna stand by the window and drink their juice and eat sandwiches while the children of Israel laugh and talk below them.
When they are finished eating, the church choir performs. They have to wait a moment for the priest and his wife, who come running, and then they sing with all their might. They begin with “Bright Clouds Sailing”, and anyone concerned that the wind will carry away their voices can stop worrying. They sing “Great is God’s Mercy” and “Imagine When the Mists Have Vanished”, and when they are done, the bishop stands at the top of the steps so his voice will carry. The Örlanders are experts at public speaking, so they appreciate the fact that he makes himself heard, although to tell the truth, the content is a little too general and sounds like any other sermon, all about Christian upbringing and the importance of piety at every level, whereas the congregation longs to hear what he thinks of the Örlands and the lovely weather and whether he didn’t feel a little giddy when the Coast Guard cutter really opened up.
The lean assessor follows his bishop and he too delivers a discourse on how impossible it is to hide from the living God. All too true, and everyone present can also agree that the majority of human beings wander a path of affliction, captured in the iron grip of sin, but would it have been out of place to say a few words about the Örlands and about how people here wander the path of salvation, at least today? The vicar himself lightens the atmosphere after the final choir performance by signalling that now the celebration is over. He thanks the congregation for making the day festive and unforgettable with their singing and by their very presence. “Now we part for today, but I hope we shall see one another again every Sunday. Getting to Church Isle can be difficult, but the church awaits you with open arms.”
That means they should be off, for only the guests are invited to dinner. Among them are the Örland church council and vestry, but the rest of the lay people start moving towards the church dock, where their boats are tied up in multiple rows. It goes quickly after all the sitting, and soon the bay echoes with the clatter and sharp detonations of motors cranked to life. Cecilia and the little girls go down to the dock with all the others, and as they’re coming back they run into Fredrik Berg, the priest from Mellom, who understands that these must be the parsonage children. Cecilia knows that normally Sanna hides and Lillus cries when any stranger comes too close, but there’s something about Fredrik Berg—maybe the fact that at home he is often mentioned as Papa’s good friend—which makes them stare up at him with delight. As they approach the parsonage, Mama and Papa see with astonishment that Lillus is sitting on Fredrik’s arm and beaming, while Sanna holds his hand, talking for all she’s worth.
“Quite the ladies’ man,” says Papa, and Mrs Berg, who appears for once at a party instead of just toiling in the kitchen, in black (although she has now learned something from Mona), adds, “Yes, that’s the way he likes it. One around his neck, one holding his hand, one in reserve.”
They’re all in good spirits, relieved perhaps that the heavy programme is over and that an easier socializing lies before them, among friends and colleagues. Food will be welcome as well, to tell the truth. The long dinner table has been set on the grass below the stairs. The sun is shining, there is still no wind, an uncommonly lovely afternoon. There is a buzz of conversation, the new vicar and his wife are beaming with happiness, nearly everything has gone off without a hitch. The food is on the table.
And now the event takes off! When they’ve all found their seats and tucked in and rejoiced in the day and the company, there breaks out a feast of speechifying that will live in memory. Cecilia has taken the girls’ food up to the attic, and while Lillus gobbles down her mashed potatoes and gravy and adorns her whole person with the prune whip dessert, Cecilia and Sanna stand at the window and listen.
Papa speaks first, welcoming everyone and thanking them for making the day so festive. He extends especially warm thanks to the bishop and his wife, to the governor and his wife, to his visiting fellow priests and their wives, and to his parents. Above all, he speaks of his love for Örland Church and its parishioners, who have won his heart and boundless respect. “We will grow old here,” he promises. He speaks beautifully, and everyone looks appreciative and pleased. Sanna applauds enthusiastically. Cecilia thinks Sanna should have been allowed to sit at table, smart and sensible as she is.
Papa’s speech opens the floodgates, and the fireworks begin. The bishop responds by saying how delighted he is that the Örlands have their first permanent vicar since time immemorial, a young, hearty pastor, passionate in spirit and faithful to the Lord, and at his side a wife to stand with him through all of life’s vicissitudes. The congregation could not have chosen a better way to manifest its support for this young couple than with its song and its presence here
today. It is a sad fact that Örland parish often winds up beyond the edge of narrowly drawn maps, but today’s celebration has, at one stroke, established it as a central and valued member of the diocese. He pauses for a moment and then, with a slight bow to the governor, he expresses his gratitude to the representative of civil authority for showing such a kindly interest in the affairs of the church.
This is sufficient to bring the governor to his feet. He assures those present that it was a great honour for himself and his wife to be invited. It has been an unforgettable occasion. He has met old friends and made new acquaintances. It is a dear sight to see the people of the outer islands dressed for a celebration. Surrounded by such goodwill, the vicar of Örland can count himself truly fortunate. It is a pleasure for him to take this opportunity, on behalf of all the guests, to thank the host and hostess and the elected representatives of the parish for this perfectly wonderful day.
Then Uncle Isidor speaks. His voice quavering, he begins by conveying greetings from the entire family and the members of his former parish. “Dear nephew,” he says. But he has become emotional in his old age, and his voice breaks. He starts over. “Dear nephew. To see such a young man find his calling and win his place in the world—it fills us all with inspiration and gives us hope for the future.”
The assessor, who is the next to speak, reveals his earlier prejudice against the fishermen and fisherman-farmers of Örland when he says that this day has given him an entirely different picture of the Örland Islands and its laity. This is a smiling countryside with gifted and affectionate people. The hymns were memorable, and what collections! This poor parish actually leads the collection statistics for Åland. And what can one deduce from this? That the vicar is to be congratulated for such a congregation, and that the congregation is to be congratulated for having received a vicar who can bring out their best qualities.
Still amazed, he sits down, and then Sanna’s idol rises, Fredrik Berg, in sparkling good humour. For him, this has been a splendid day. All these people have had an intoxicating effect on him. He has spoken to the bishop and the dean and has met the governor and had long conversations with the organist and Adele Bergman and chatted about shared concerns with the priest from Föglö. Now he knocks them all out with his wit. Out here in the outermost archipelago, he begins, conditions are so special that people have to come up with their own solutions to problems and make their own independent decisions. Against this background, the distinguished gentlemen present may perhaps see fit to look with indulgence on the creation, on their own initiative, of an island deanery, where clerical concerns can be aired and mutual decisions reached by means of telephone conferences. As dean of this illegal deanery, it is the speaker’s particular joy to be able to take part in the consecration of his esteemed fellow clergyman as vicar. “My dear fellow priest!” he concludes. “Your name, Petrus, puts you under obligation. On the rocky cliffs of the Örland Islands you shall build your church, and here you shall carry the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”
The whole table applauds enthusiastically, and Sanna up in the window claps and claps and wishes that Uncle Berg would look up just once, but he doesn’t. He looks quickly at the people at the table and then down at the tablecloth and tries not to smile. His wife appears to like him better than she did earlier in the day when he ignored her completely and seemed not to care that she knew hardly a soul.
Priests are good at talking, and there is no one with a clerical collar under his chin who doesn’t feel called upon to say a few words. The bishop and the dean of Åland rise at the same moment, but the dean must yield to the bishop, who takes the words from his mouth. “The Archipelago Deanery comes as a complete surprise to me,” he says in an authoritative tone, but smiling, so everyone will see that he is mocking the gravity of his office. “But after due consideration I am prepared to give it my blessing. Everything that contributes to harmony is a benefit to the diocese.”
The priest from Föglö wants to know how to join, but Fredrik Berg is strict and says that he must first give up his bus connection to the Åland main island. The Föglö priest won’t do that, but he very much wants to belong to the archipelago group. This gives the dean of all Åland’s parishes his chance, and he extends a chivalrous invitation to the new group to attend all future meetings of the Åland deanery. He salutes the new vicar on behalf of all his fellow Åland clergymen.
Now all the priests have had their say, and it is admirable that father Leonard has been able to restrain himself all this time. Of course Petter has known all along that Papa will have to open his mouth at some point, and now he smiles from fear and looks down at his plate. Papa! No nonsense now, he wants to say, but Leonard has already started, as usual without the slightest idea of what he will say but with complete confidence that it will be excellent. “My dear son!” he begins. “If I, young and undecided, like a reed in the wind, sailing along between the Scylla and Charybdis of temptations, if I had been told then that my eldest son would become a priest and vicar, maybe a dean one fine day, I would have laughed out loud. Me, a free-thinker, with a son who’s a priest! I can truthfully say that God guides our steps in mysterious ways. Spiritual breezes blew my vessel past hidden rocks and into the bay where your mother waited. I give all the honour and credit for your becoming what you’ve become to her, not to myself.” And so on, mostly about himself, his own inconstancy and restlessness, whereas even as a child, his son showed himself to be calm, responsible, a rock. “Which, by the way, another speaker today has already referred to, quite rightly. Consequently it is perhaps forgivable that on a day like this, an old father can feel like a youth, who still has much to learn, compared with such a son. Or like an old ram in a herd of which the shepherd is his son. Perhaps it is meant to be so, as generation follows generation. Humble and chastened, my wife and I this day thank God for our son, who has given us such joy.”
Here he actually stops. Petter gives him a friendly nod and mouths thank you, and the whole table applauds. “Original, fantastic,” they say to one another. Meanwhile, the organist is collecting himself for the speech he’s to give on behalf of the Örlanders. He is nervous and begins in a thin, strained voice and gets a frog in his throat. It is hard for him, usually so humorous, to find the light-hearted tone that prevails around the table. It feels like some kind of upper-class mannerism and it makes him more serious than he’d meant to be. Adele looks at him, knows how nervous he can get, even though he manages everything so well.
“Dear Petter, dear Mona,” he says, now in a normal voice. “Young and lively and irresistible, you stepped straight into our hearts. In the beginning, we didn’t dare to believe you’d stay. Today, we dare to express the hope that we won’t have to change priests for a long time to come. We’ve been given a spiritual guide who understands us, a man who is not only educated but who also possesses great practical competence. In this poor little parish, he can make a real contribution, God willing, a life’s work. For example, we’re working to build a bridge to Church Isle. The foundation has been laid, thanks to the help of a generous Swede, and our vicar himself heads the volunteer effort that began last winter. But more money is needed. Perhaps there is someone at this table who can help us move ahead. This kind of work is one of the chief activities of a priest out here, while at the same time he must preach the word and administer the sacraments. Two tasks of great importance, and we hope that you, Petter, will remain our vicar for years to come, and you, Mona, his tireless helpmate.”
He sits down, and the former verger, retired but in service again on a day like this, rises, beaming as only an old man can, and insists that in the course of his long life he has seen the local priest change so many times that he’s lost count. “Now our only wish, Petter, is that you remain with us.”
It is now so late that the little girls must go to bed. Sanna is very, very tired after her intense participation in the drawn-out events of the day. Lillus, who has taken several naps in the course of the afternoon, is wid
er awake but still willing. While the speeches continue outdoors, they come down the attic stairs. There are people working in the kitchen, and Cecilia takes the potty into the bedroom along with a bucket of water so they can wash their hands and faces at the washstand. Then they sit in their beds while Cecilia says their evening prayers with them, adding on her own initiative a thank-you for the beautiful weather, which made the day so lovely. Sanna falls asleep almost at once, while Lillus sings and speaks. Cecilia wonders how much she’s understood of what has happened and what she thinks about it. She herself feels a bit superfluous. In the kitchen, they’re preparing coffee and cakes that the pastor’s … the vicar’s wife has made in baking pans. Wild strawberries mashed with sugar with a layer of whipped cream between the layers, topped off with sweetened whipped cream. When the cakes are carried out, there may be some left on the baking sheets, and anyway they’ll need help with the dishes, so she leaves the door ajar and heads for the kitchen.
She stops for a moment in the hall and listens—such a merry babble, and such happy, loud voices. The whole crowd draws its breath when the cakes are put on the table. Delighted cries. Is there no end to his hospitality? Is there no limit to what can be stuffed into a dean’s belly? The bishop helps himself first. With all his authority, he urges the others to be cautious—the cakes are so tall that no matter how thin a piece you cut, your plate will overflow.
Cecilia can see the vicar’s wife in her mind’s eye, smiling and saying, Oh, it’s nothing. They have eaten and eaten all evening long, and now they’re still eating, as if they were trying to make up for the shortage of food all through the long war. Adele sits lost in thought, trying to figure out how much food she would have to order if this whole bunch lived on the Örlands.
The temporal side of the event has also been a great success, and out in the kitchen by the dishpans, the Marthas are in high spirits. When the vicar’s wife comes scurrying in to ask if they don’t need to take a break, sit down, have a cup of coffee and taste the cake, they say yes indeed but they’ll soon be done and then the coffee will taste extra good. “It went really well,” says Lydia Manström, who is working in the kitchen as a Martha even though she has every right to sit at the table like a Mary, that is to say, as a member of the vestry. Quietly she wonders if they’re never going to leave, and the vicar’s wife laughs and says she thinks they’ve started to discuss it. The long-distance guests have their transportation all arranged—the Coast Guard cutter is waiting patiently. Mona is exhilarated and happy even though she’s so tired she’s reeling. But now she must go back out again, because she can hear that people are starting to stand up, singing their thanks before they leave the table, and Petter is already on the steps asking for her. And so they stand arm and arm and say farewell to their guests, although they’ll be going down to the dock to say farewell again, so hard it is for all of them to part.
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