Berkley Center

This feeling of sameness colors much of Danish culture. In such a small nation, there is a sense of necessity for sticking together. It is not uncommon to see small groups of men and women huddled together speaking in the native language, one that very few outsiders are able to understand. While this creates an atmosphere of comfort for those on the “inside,” it is a rather difficult adjustment for someone like me: a short, brunette Jewish girl. Needless to say, I do not exactly fit in.

Denmark’s “sameness” is further reflected in its inhabitants' religious practices. Nearly 83 percent of Danish people are affiliated with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Denmark. However, less than 10 percent of this group regularly attends church services. Lutheranism is based on the principle of faith as a means of salvation, and my Danish roommates admit that they were only baptized as a “precautionary measure.” Most Danes actually admit to being either agnostic or atheist, and there is very little emphasis on religious practice.

Religion is considered to be an extremely private matter and is very rarely discussed in the public forum. After spending four years in a Quaker high school and two at a Catholic university, this is an extremely foreign concept to me. I am accustomed to participating openly in religious practices different than my own, and to be in such a secular society feels very strange. It is rare to see people going to church, which is a stark contrast to the Sunday rush I am used to seeing in Georgetown. I have not heard a church bell in three months, which has forced me to find a new way to figure out how to get to class on time.

Under the nation’s constitutional monarchy, there is no separation of church and state. Although there is freedom of religion, the sitting monarch must be a member of the state church. The church also receives subsidies from the government—members of the church must pay 2 percent of their income in taxes, regardless of whether or not they are active. It seems extraordinarily strange that a nation whose residents must pay religious taxes have so little interest in religious practice.

Despite the lack of religious fervor in Denmark, the country is well known for its celebration of religious holidays, especially Christmas. However, this is more because of the holiday’s cultural implications rather than its holiness or religious significance. Without Halloween or Thanksgiving, Christmas is the only real holiday that takes place during the dark, cold Danish fall. Decorations are put up as early as November, and the famous Carlsberg Brewery produces a special “Christmas Beer” that contains slightly more alcohol than the regular recipe. My roommates have already started planning a Christmas dinner for the American students, and they repeatedly tell us how excited they are to include us in the festivities.

Denmark’s inviting Christmas celebrations relate to the Danish concept of hygge, which roughly translates to “warmth and coziness.” During the winter months, when it is dark by 4:00 p.m., it is common for Danes to light candles and sit together in their homes drinking and talking. It is through this, rather than religious practice, that the Danish people form communities.

Despite the closeness of these communities, I have found the Danish people extremely welcoming. After only a month, I was easily integrated into one of the small groups I used to shy away from. And although I may look different from my blonde-haired, blue-eyed friends, I finally feel at home.