In the north of Europe, in that icy and silent land that is Finland, Catholicism struggles to exist, to breathe, to subsist. And yet, within this often-forgotten extreme minority, the Church is very much alive. Discreet, certainly, but ardent. This is what is clearly revealed in the testimony of Bishop Raimo Goyarrola of Helsinki, who is sounding the alarm about the concrete realities of a flock that is too scattered and too isolated.
An Immense Diocese, a Minuscule Clergy
To understand well, one must first look at the map. The Diocese of Helsinki, the only one in the country, covers all of Finland. This represents more than 340,000 km², a territory larger than the whole of Italy. And to traverse this immensity, only 28 priests. Eight parishes in total. Those are the numbers. And at the end of these numbers, souls. Approximately 25,000 faithful, a good portion of whom are not registered. Many are immigrants, refugees, workers from elsewhere. Entire families who often cannot attend Sunday Mass without traveling hundreds of kilometers.
It is a Church on the move, in the literal sense. The priests, every weekend, travel thousands of kilometers to bring the Holy Sacrifice. Bishop Goyarrola speaks of this mission in simple words:
“We travel thousands of kilometers to bring heavenly nourishment to our faithful.”
For in some villages, they even ask for tabernacles… without there being a church to house them.
A Poor Church Without Support
This daily martyrdom is made more painful by the injustice of a system. In Finland, the Evangelical Lutheran and Eastern Orthodox Churches receive public funding, as they are officially recognized by the state. But the Catholic Church, deemed too small, is not eligible for this aid. The result: chronic poverty.
No funds to build new churches, no subsidies for Catholic schools, no money for catechesis, and even the salaries of pastoral staff are difficult to guarantee. The Catholic Church therefore lives solely on charity, donations, and sometimes… the goodwill of its neighbors: Lutheran and Orthodox churches sometimes lend their buildings to Catholic priests on Sundays. And for this, the bishop does not hide his gratitude.
But beyond the material aspect, it is above all the spiritual isolation that weighs heavily. As the bishop summarizes:
“In Finland, a Catholic often finds himself alone in his school or workplace.”
And yet, they hold fast. These Catholics are not afraid to affirm their faith, nor to speak of Christ around them. They are missionaries in their own country, often without saying so, but always in action.
Lottoman, a faithful of the diocese, confirms:
“In the big cities, the churches are full on Sundays. But they are small, sometimes old. There is a clear need to expand.”
Outside the cities, it is even more complicated. Some only have access to the sacraments once a month… or even less.
An Unexpected Spiritual Vitality
And yet, in spite of everything, a light shines forth. In this wounded Church, adult baptisms are increasing. Youth camps in Lapland become places of conversion. Young people walk together, backpacks on under the snow or rain, and discover a faith lived in friendship, effort, silence, and nature. “These hikes create profound conversions, lasting friendships, and a solid faith,” reports Bishop Goyarrola.
Finland is a rich country according to the UN (13th worldwide in the Human Development Index ranking). But for the Catholics of this country, it is a material wealth that does not reach their Church. They live in real poverty, but with a manifest spiritual wealth.
They have neither the buildings, nor the support, nor the means. But they have faith, courage, charity. And it is this treasure, often invisible, that sustains the Church. It is this discreet but ardent fire, burning in the Nordic cold.
And perhaps in this poverty, in this isolation, in this radical simplicity, the Church in Finland is already living something of the bare and pure Gospel.