Out in the countryside, 30 minutes to drive from The House in the Woods, there is a small, old church, Byneset kirke. The pastor and his wife are good friends and when I hear that they have set up a performance, a pasjonsspill, on Good Friday, I decide to go there. Driving out there in the low evening sun, I linger on the English name of this day; Good Friday. How strange to call this day Good! In Norway the day is called langfredag, Long Friday. Long because it was such a long, sad day, the first day Jesus spent in the grave.
I am there early, with time for silent prayers, time to breath in the charm and beauty of the church. The medieval church was built around 1161-1188, dedicated to St.Michael, the kalkmalerier (chalk painting, I don't know the English name) are exeptional, especially the one you partly see here of the Man of Sins with the seven sins of death.
Today I am here for the pasjonsspill though, I must come back later to explore the church more deeply. I can make it as a Sunday picnic when summer comes, it is so beautiful here near the fjord.
We don't have very strong traditions for Easter Passion Plays in Norway. Walking with the Cross is arranged in several cities, but this is the first time I take part in a passion play inside a Nowegian church. Several years I've celebrated Pasqua in Italy, and have strong, vivit memories from the Passione in Sezze, a town up in the mountains near Terracina.
I always miss Italy when Easter comes, and even more so this year as I am reading Frances Mayes' newest book about everyday life in Tuscany, and I am deep into art and travel books planning my soon to come visit to Firenze/Florence and Venezia/Venice. During the pasjonsspill in Byneset church I can hear an almost silent beep from my cell phone. My friend with the flat in Terracina writes: "We are in Sezze right now, waiting for the Passione to start". With a smile I can write back: "Jeg er i Byneset kirke på pasjonsspill "(I am in Byneset church for the pasjonsspill)
After the play I am invited home to the pastor for coffee. Friends, tables filled with cakes and coffee, laughter, talking, all the time with langfredag in our minds. A blessed night.
When I drive home in the darkness, over farmers' fields, through the woods, I put Crown Princess Mette Marit's cd on. Solveig Slettahjell starts to sing Erik Bye's Blå Salme (Blue Hymn). I listen to the words, enchanted by Solveig's beautiful voice. Then suddenly I realize that Solveig Slettahjell used to live in the huge, friendly house I just left (or at least her parents did for some years), when her father was a pastor at Byneset. When the song is finished I play it again.
I sing myself a blue, blue hymn....
