The Conversion of Iceland is Slow

by Thomas Buck
Since the British occupation of Iceland just over three months ago, many Catholics in England must have been wondering what sort of a land, spiritually, their friends and relatives there are now defending.
When I came to Iceland some time ago I had only the vaguest ideas as to the country and no idea at all of the position of the Faith. Since then I have been gradually revising hasty first impressions, but the general conclusion I reached when first 1 came remains: that a miraculous work has been accomplished by the Catholic community here in less than a century, and it is a work that will endure.
Outwardly it is exemplified in a beautiful concrete cathedral, dedicated to Christ the King, and a modern Catholic hospital and school, all in Reykjavik, the capital, where as yet the missionary fathers have been principally working. But the neighbouring little town of Hafnafjordur shows the gradual pushing outward of the Faith in its small well-designed church and its own school and hospital.
Success Story
The Catholic school in Reykjavik is the only one there not owned by the State and has about forty Catholic children in attend ance. The rest are non-Catholics; a varied collection included the Prime Minister's daughter, the children of a Lutheran minister and also of journalists on the Icelandic daily Morgunbludid. The hospital is sun by a community of twenty-four nuns and was built five years ago.
Behind this achievement is the story of perseverance and success in the face of unique problems. A century ago Iceland had not a single Catholic. The break at the Reformation for many reasons was complete : there was no underground current of Catholicism flowing as there was in England before Catholic Emancipation, ready to burst into an open stream on the first occasion. The rigours of the arctic had destroyed every church, and in the minds of the people the faith was dead.
In 1858 a missionary priest, Father Baudouin, came to Iceland from France, alone to begin the conversion of the island. Now there is one Icelandic priest here whose ordination is a direct result of the first courageous journey.
He is Father Johannes Gunnarsson, almost the first Icelander I spoke with here, and he has a story of gradual success to tell, which is stirring in its combination of heroism and perseverance.
Started Under Penal Law
Father Baudouin, the first missionary, came in penal times when there was a fine on any Catholic priest preaching here. He knew no one when he arrived but eventually became friendly with a farmer, who was also in Parliament and at last, through the influence of this man with the King of Denmark, the penal laws were repealed and Father Baudouin was able to begin his work.
This fortunate beginning, however, was not continued and during the whole of Father Baudouin's life in Iceland he had not one convert. Only in one thing had
be any apparent success. The farmer sent his son Gunnar to a Catholic school in Copenhagen. Gunnar became a Catholic there and in time his son, the present Father Johannes Gunnarsson, became one of the first Icelandic priests.
Since then the Montfort Fathers have taken over the mission, the island has been raised to a vicariate in 1929 and a prodigious work accomplished.
Indifferent to the Spiritual
So much for the past. Progress is almost as slow now as it was in the last century. The clergy still have to tackle the same difficulties as Father Baudouin had in the early days: but Catholicism also faces fresh problems in Iceland to-day. There is the unique situation of a nation which is largely twentieth century in its outlook and philosophy and yet has none of the modern advantages of rapid and easy communication between its main towns, which facilitate the priest's work so much.
The majority of Icelanders at present are completely indifferent to anything deep In spiritual or moral matters. .4s one priest
Scarcity of priests and the difficult nature of the country combine to make the work more difficult, All towns are situated on the coast and the only means of communication are either a long expensive journey by boat or uncertain travel along rough lava roads, most of which are impassable in the winter. That is why the churches can only expand so gradually and it also makes it impossible to serve a Mass-centre in a village from a neighbouring town.
Two years ago the Government invited the clergy to build a hospital in Akureyri, the capital of the north, but lack of funds and available priests prevented the invitation being accepted.
Cathedral Now Full on Sunday
In the south the Catholic population has suddenly increased these months by two or three hundred per cent. and the Cathedral is filled to overflowing with troops to Sunday Mass. These Catholic soldiers keep the Army chaplains busy, coping with many of the same difficulties as the regular clergy, covering huge parishes to bring Mass and Communion and often rising for this before five in the morning.
So it is now. And what of the future? The Icelanders know their island as a land of fire in its hot springs and its volcanoes: but we can expect no fireworks from this land of tire, as far as the future of Catholicism is concerned.
Short of a miracle the next fifty years will he like the last, years of constant endeavour, and gradual progress and conversion. Then we may see the Faith spread from the small area in the south, where it is confined at present to the north and even the interior of the island. For though there are only two churches and four hundred Catholics here to-day, there is the faith and perseverance in the Catholic community to move mountains of indifference.