The Scandinavians: No Neutrality on Graham

At times the press mauled him, demonstrators booed him and threw garbage, leading churchmen shunned him or criticized him publicly, and multitudes were apathetic. Yet evangelist Billy Graham concluded his Skandia ’78 campaign in Scandinavia on a note of hope.

“I believe you are on the verge or at the beginning of a great spiritual awakening,” he told a near-capacity Stockholm audience of 10,000 on a bright Sunday afternoon early this month. “You have the people, the history, and the finances.”

Graham was also speaking to a vast television audience throughout Sweden, Norway, and Iceland. The five Stockholm crusade rallies were beamed from a fairground hall live or by videotape on closed-circuit TV to thirty-one churches and other meeting places in twenty-four cities in the three countries. Preliminary reports indicated that attendance ran as high as 80 per cent of the 50,400-seat capacity of all meeting locations combined. In Bergen, Norway, for example, 4,200 persons gathered in a 5,000-seat public hall for the first live telecast from Stockholm.

The evangelist also preached at a special Sunday morning service that was aired nationally from the Stockholm hall by one of Sweden’s two television channels (both are run by the government). On the preceding Sunday he preached to a stadium crowd of 20,000 in Oslo, Norway, and most of the rally was carried during prime time that night on Norway’s only TV channel. Presumably, the bulk of the 4.1 million Norwegians heard Graham preach the Gospel, along with many of the 8.3 million Swedes.

Hundreds of people streamed forward in both the live and television sites when Graham invited his listeners to receive Christ. It was a rare sight in Scandinavia, where church membership and attendance have been sharply declining.

Lutheranism is the stated faith of the land in both Norway and Sweden, claiming more than 90 per cent of the population in each country. Laced with theological liberalism, it is cool—and sometimes hostile—toward revival emphasizing personal acceptance of Christ. At the same time, it clings to past ways and rituals, which fail to attract the younger generation.

The ecclesiastical situation is not as bleak in Norway as it is in Sweden, yet it was in Norway that Graham encountered his stiffest opposition. Newspapers complained about the costs of the evangelistic campaign, about foreign “methodology” in religious matters, about Graham’s past association with Richard Nixon, and about his hawkishness toward communism years ago. Lutheran bishop Andreas Aarflot of Oslo was quoted as saying that what happens every day in the churches of Norway is more important than the visit of an evangelist. A coalition of groups and individuals formed “Action Billy Graham ’78” to oppose him. Members included scientists, psychologists, actors, writers, and a radical group known as the Heathen Society. They released press statements, held public meetings, and discouraged people from attending the single Graham evangelistic meeting in Oslo. The Heathen Society warned that it would attempt to disrupt the stadium rally.

In a crowded press conference, Graham handled the tough questions and criticisms deftly, and he even scored a point or two of his own. He said he agreed with Bishop Aarflot, then explained that there can be no reaping without long-term cultivation. (He later visited Aarflot in a three-hour meeting described by an aide as “cordial,” though he declined to endorse the Graham campaign. Two of the ten bishops voiced approval, however, and two were said to be sympathetic.)

Graham spoke at several Christian leadership gatherings while he was in town. At a crowded pastor’s meeting, a young woman member of the Heathen Society hurled a mixture of red paint and chemicals that splashed on (but did not stain) the evangelist’s suit and white shirt. “I love that young woman because Christ loves her,” said Graham after she was ushered out.

Both the believers and the opposition stepped up their activity on the weekend of the stadium meeting. There were Christian youth rallies, open-air meetings in downtown plazas, and a Saturday night torchlight witness march through downtown streets, led by the marching brass band of the Filadelfia Church in Oslo, a large Pentecostal congregation. In all, about 2,000 persons were involved. Action ’78 members debated Christians at the open-air meetings and handed out anti-Graham leaflets.

In the forefront of the Action ’78 coalition was Levi (pronounced LEH-vee) Fragell, a leader of the Humanist Society. Fragell, 40, is the son of a well-known Norwegian Pentecostal evangelist and was himself a preacher until he dropped out of the faith at age twenty-two. A former journalist, he is press secretary for the Minister of Justice. Some Graham campaign workers suspected that he was behind government roadblocks that slowed down preparations for the television phase of the campaign, but no one offered proof. Fragell, who complained about Graham’s alleged ease of access to the government TV monopoly, said that his university training had convinced him that Christianity is not true. Young people and children need to be protected from the psychological manipulation of evangelists, he said.

At the Stadium, two dozen Heathen Society demonstrators, applauded by 100 or so scattered sympathizers, kept things stirred up amid chilly overcast conditions and showers. The same woman who had thrown the red mixture at Graham slashed the ropes holding a large thematic banner behind the choir, then climbed a tall light tower to unfurl a sign that had been hidden there earlier. Its message: “When Christians get power, they will kill!” Police arrested her. (Posters of the Heathen at the earlier rallies contained obscenities.) A young woman hidden on another light tower let loose a long blast on an air horn that drowned out all other sound. She also showered leaflets on the crowd. Pockets of demonstrators chanted, “Billy, go home.” Four men ran onto the field but were hauled off quickly, and the crowd applauded. Their apparent mission was to light fuses to smoke bombs beneath the platform, but these had been discovered and removed before the meeting.

Graham and his interpreter, Pentecostal editor Oddvar Nilsen, retained their composure and kept on preaching. The evangelist urged love for the demonstrators. Relatively few responded publicly to his invitation to receive Christ, possibly because of the confusion and uncertainty, possibly because of cultural and other reasons.

As Graham left the field, surrounded by aides and reporters, the Heathen—just a few yards away—threw plastic bags of garbage. Several splattered reporters. None hit the evangelist.

Many of the press reports the next day of the stadium rally were fairer than pre-rally coverage, and some were even favorable to Graham. Several papers editorialized against the demonstrators. A number of individuals in the Action ’78 group disavowed the Heathen tactics and announced they were bowing out of the anti-Christian coalition. Many complaints were registered against Fragell for his role in the opposition efforts. Little of the disturbance came through on the televised portions, and viewers thought the applause was for Graham’s preaching.

Most Norwegians seemed embarrassed at the way Graham was treated, and an outpouring of support for him came from the Christian community. Working together in campaign preparations brought unity to many Christians, said Anfin Skaaheim, director of the Norwegian phase of Skandia, and the demonstrations created even more unity. More than 2,000 people were trained for counseling and follow-up ministries in the television phase of the campaign, and they will be a force for spiritual good in Norway in the years ahead.

A quieter time awaited Graham in Sweden. Crowds ranged from 7,000 to 10,500 in the fairground hall. The people listened intently as Graham preached. Responses to the invitations were slow at first, but a “breakthrough”—as Graham’s aides described it—came on the third night, when a number of young people walked forward. At the end, revival-like conditions prevailed.

Supplementing the 800-voice choir of volunteers from many churches were American singers George Beverly Shea (of Scandinavian descent), Evie Tournquist (who addressed the crowds and sang in both Norwegian—her parents’ tongue—and Swedish), and Myrtle Hall. Several associate evangelists assisted with preparatory preaching campaigns in other cities, and a team of 100 technicians under the direction of British communications specialist David Rennie tended the complicated television responsibilities.

Sven Bergholm, an Orebro Mission Society (Baptist) pastor who served as General Chairman of the Stockholm Crusade, said at the closing Sunday meeting, “We thank Billy Graham, who has kept the cross central in his preaching … This means that some have turned away from his platform, but millions of others have found life.” Bergholm told a reporter later, “I think it’s God’s time for Scandinavia. We need Billy Graham’s kind of preaching here.”

Not everyone agreed. There were bitter attacks against Graham in the press, and two television specials gave distorted views. “Spiritual rape,” snapped one writer in describing the response to Graham’s invitations to receive Christ. Many young people walked to the front of the hall, some of them weeping, and a paper ran a picture with a headline, “Weeping children at the feet of Billy Graham.” Aftonbladet, the big afternoon daily, bellowed, “Children can be hurt.” A high school welfare official charged that Graham had violated child-protection laws. (Among other things, the laws forbid parents to spank their children, and violators are subject to jail or loss of their children.)

The young people had another view, though. A seventeen-year-old and her boyfriend who came forward indicated that their tears were from a sense of release and happiness. Others gave similar explanations. An obviously happy young woman who had decided for Christ at the meeting the previous night said that she had prayed, “God, if you exist, please let me be a new person when I come home.”

Most of the evangelist’s clergy support came from the Free (non-Lutheran Protestant) Churches. Archbishop Olaf Sundby of Uppsala, Primate of the Church of Sweden and a president of the World Council of Churches, was out of the country during the meetings. In a private statement to a crusade leader earlier, he said he believes that Graham is a man of God, and he said he would pray for the campaign.

Bishop Ingmar Stroem of Stockholm was cool toward Graham, but Bishop E. Gartner of Gothenburg—an evangelical—supported him. (Graham held a successful crusade in Gothenburg in January, 1977. This year, several theologians at the state church’s theological faculty [seminary] in Uppsala released a paperback book criticizing Graham and the Gothenburg meetings.)

Christianity in Sweden is usually traced to Ansgar, the pioneer missionary monk from Denmark, who baptized his first Swedish convert in 830. In 1544 the parliament declared Sweden an “evangelical kingdom.” About fifty years later the country officially became Lutheran. All Swedes were considered members of the church. About 95 per cent of the Swedes still belong, but only 3 per cent or so are in a Lutheran service on most Sundays. Per capita giving is about US$1.50 per year.

Curiously, a large number of Free Church members are also members of the state church even though they never attend. These are troubled times for the Church of Sweden. There is a shortage of pastors to serve its 2,600 parishes. Few young people are active in the church. In some parishes not one person shows up for the Sunday service. Controversies rage over the ordination of women and over government-initiated proposals aimed at achieving separation of church and state. Women have been ordained in the church since 1958, thanks to government legislation, and there are now about 275 female ministers. A conscience clause was written into the 1958 law enabling a minister opposed to the ordination of women to be exempted from ministerial duties that “would be contrary to this conviction about such ordination.” The clause also contained a vaguely worded guarantee that a candidate could not be denied ordination because of his beliefs about women’s ordination. Some parliament members have introduced proposals to scrap the conscience clause.

Published surveys show that nearly half of the church’s ministers are opposed to women’s ordination and that one-third will leave the church if the issue is pressed. A few already have left.

An assembly of the church has been called for early next year to deal with the ordination controversy and the church-and-state separation issue. The separation proposals are the result of twenty years of work. If enacted, they would rescind the right of parishes to levy taxes (collected as part of the local income tax), provide the church with an annual government compensatory grant of more than US$80 million, and give the church control over its own affairs.

Church members would pay a church levy, and the government would assist in collecting it. Population records would be shifted to a secular office, and the church would oversee burials only upon request. In families where parents are members, children would be considered adherents only up to the age of eighteen years if not baptized by then.

Ten bishops have endorsed the proposals, but three—including Stroem in Stockholm—have voiced opposition. The three say the provisions on membership are “entirely unusable” because “personal decision shall be the decisive factor for membership in the Church of Sweden … This would change the present church into a more restricted structure in which people, uncertain of their faith, could not be accommodated.” The prospect of the “drastically reduced number of members … would, in turn, bring about a weakening of the financial resources of the church,” they warn.

Accords by both church and state are needed before the proposals can become law. All of the major church organizations are on record favoring the changes.

As for the church’s spiritual problems, there is evidence that the growing charismatic influence in its midst may provide the basis for renewal, according to observers inside and outside the church. Bible study, evangelistic concern, and personal spirituality are hallmarks of the movement, they say. Others, though, see little hope without theological reform in the seminaries at Lund and Uppsala.

Revivals are not unknown in Sweden’s history. Pietists had an impact in the eighteenth century. Later many received Christ under the preaching of British Methodist George Scott, chaplain at the British embassy. After he was thrown out of Sweden in the 1830s for his activities, a well-educated Lutheran lay leader—Charles Rosenius—took his place on the preaching circuit. He became pastor of Bethlehem Church in Stockholm and a leader in the Evangelical National Missionary Society (ENMS), a theologically conservative and semi-independent movement within the Church of Sweden. The movement split in 1878 over doctrinal and polity issues, and from the schism the Swedish Mission Covenant Church emerged, a congregational denomination that grew to more than 150,000 members in this century (it is now down to 87,000).

The new denomination produced some of Sweden’s greatest evangelists, among them Frank Mangs, Bertil Paulson, and John Hedlund. It is a pluralistic group, sheltering evangelicals and neo-orthodox Baptists and Pedo-Baptists alike under the same church roof. Its members gave Billy Graham strong support in Stockholm. The ENMS, meanwhile, has retained its evangelical emphasis, but its adherents have declined from a high of about 100,000 in 1940 to 25,000 or so today.

Baptists appeared on the scene in the 1840s and grew rapidly (63,500 members in 684 congregations in 1930) despite persecution by the state church. Controversies over doctrine and polity, however, prompted three schisms that produced the Free Baptist movement (1,500 members today), the Pentecostal movement (95,000 members), and the Orebro Mission Society (20,000 members), a Pentecostal Baptist body. The parent Swedish Baptist Union currently has about 22,000 members. It is theologically pluralistic.

Other groups include the Salvation Army (38,000 members), Methodists (8,000 members), and the Swedish Alliance Mission. Altogether, the Free Churches have about 300,000 members, representing a sharp decline over the past twenty years.

The largest Free Church congregation in Scandinavia is the 6,000-member Filadelfia Church in Stockholm, the anchor congregation of the 550-church Pentecostal movement in that country, one of the few church bodies registering growth. About 2,000 attend Sunday morning services at the 3,000-seat church; other members attend services at branch locations. Filadelfia was ejected from the Baptist Union in 1913 over the issues of open communion and Pentecostalism. Its pastor, Lewi Pethrus said he had received the baptism of the Holy Spirit during a visit with English Methodist Thomas B. Barratt.

Pethrus also was a key figure behind the growth of Swedish Pentecostal foreign missionary thrust. Today some 900 Swedish Pentecostals are serving abroad. A success story: Rwanda, Africa, where a Swedish-spawned work has grown from 1,000 members in 1960 to 66,000 members presently.

A dispute among Pentecostals in Norway has spilled over to Sweden and is causing division. It revolves around the booming ministry of popular Norwegian charismatic leader Aril Edvardsen, who has been ostracized by the main Pentecostal leaders in Norway, mostly over issues of methodology and power. Filadelfia has come out against Edvardsen, while Pastor Stanley Sjoeberg of City Church—leader of the Sweden charismatic movement—supports him.

For part of one week, though, the disputes and the dreariness of the Swedish ecclesiastical scene seemed to be forgotten as people gathered in a hall and heard words of life and hope from Graham. Outside, as if in affirmation, the sky cleared on Sunday afternoon and the flaming yellows, oranges, and reds of the foliage seemed to come alive in the crisp autumn air. It was a bright day for the Swedes.

The Short Papacy: A Hard Act To Follow

Pope John Paul’s thirty-four-day papacy was the shortest since Leo XI’s twenty-six-day stint in 1605. But John Paul’s four-and-a-half weeks in the Vatican may have transformed the climate for Roman Catholic papacy for years to come.

When the College of Cardinals began meeting to select a new pope for the second time in two months, its choice of a successor to John Paul loomed as a much tougher assignment than for Paul VI. By his contagious charm and creative style in stressing continuity, the former Patriarch of Venice had raised expectations for healing in the Roman Catholic Church. There had been little time for John Paul to firmly imprint his policies on the church, but the direction was already clear: conservatism in doctrine and discipline, liberalism in the use of authority and in openness to culture.

An outgoing person with a pastoral image who called to mind a popular predecessor, Pope John XXIII, John Paul by his interregnum made it doubly difficult for the College of Cardinals to again elect a diplomat in the curial mold. But, as Monsignor John A. Egan of University of Notre Dame observed, “These are exactly the same cardinals who elected John Paul.”

When the cardinals chose John Paul, they had been looking for a neutral figure who could heal the conservative-reformist rifts that had been widened by fifteen years of constant change. They wanted an Italian pastor in the 62-to-68 age bracket who would be doctrinally firm but conciliatory.

Their criteria would remain roughly the same this time. And, as on the two preceding occasions, the College of Cardinals had to select a man who would not incur the veto of the arch-conservative bloc. It was reported that Paul VI and John Paul both received at least twenty blank ballots from the traditionalists—a thinly veiled warning to liberal candidates.

But without John Paul on the scene, the cardinals would have to bend on at least one criterion (age or pastoral background, for instance). Observers expressed strong doubts that the tenuous coalition that elected John Paul in record time could duplicate their feat, even in a much longer time span.

Tackling ‘Big Daddy’

A United States trade embargo of Uganda was virtually assured late last month by virtue of an amendment that passed both houses of Congress. The amendment, attached to International Monetary Fund legislation, was the work of Senators Mark Hatfield (R-Ore.) and Lowell Weicker (R-Conn.). All it needed was President Jimmy Carter’s signature.

The fragile economy in Uganda is based solely on coffee exports, and the United States bought one-third of its coffee exports in 1977 at a cost of $245 million. Hatfield maintains that as Uganda’s largest free-world trading parter the United States provides much of the hard currency essential for keeping Amin’s repressive regime in power. Hatfield said that more than 85 per cent of Amin’s revenues come from international coffee sales, and “finance some 20,000 mercenaries that make up the Ugandan army. Take away Amin’s revenue sources,” Hatfield said in a Senate floor speech, “and you eliminate his base of military strength.” The embargo is intended to weaken Amin’s hold so that the people of Uganda can take action against him.

Senator Weicker faulted the Carter administration for not matching its human rights rhetoric with action. The boycott, he says, “would put the United States on record before the world as refusing to traffic with a genocidal madman.”

Hatfield, who has been working toward the Uganda embargo since early last spring, believes his commitment to this issue is based on biblical values. Amin’s regime, he declares, is responsible for the deaths of between 250,000 and 500,000 people.

Latin Evangelicals: A Mind Of Their Own

About 300 delegates made ecumenical history at meetings last month of the Assembly of Latin American Churches. Amid the tropical vegetation of a government-owned vacation spot, Oaxtepec, near Mexico City, the delegates laid the foundations for a Latin American Council of Churches—though no permanent structure was established.

Debate on the proposal was heated at times. But the mood at the conference was generally cordial, despite the diversity of those who attended. The delegates represented 20 countries, 110 churches, 10 ecumenical agencies, and many denominations. The theme: “The unity of the people of God and their role in Latin America.” That unity was expressed during indepth Bible studies of Ephesians and daily premeeting worship programs.

During workshops and plenary sessions, the delegates mulled over major papers that dealt with the mission and unity of the Latin American church. Of particular note were papers presented by Carmelo Alvarez, new rector of Latin America Theological Seminary in San José, Costa Rica, and by Emilio Castro, head of the Division of World Mission and Evangelism of the World Council of Churches.

Even before the meetings convened, many delegates had decided that the time was not right for creation of a Latin American church council. There was, however, overwhelming acceptance of a proposal by World Council of Churches official José Miguez Bonino for creation of a “Council of Churches in Formation.” Delegates elected twelve persons from six regions of Latin America and asked them to get reactions on the proposal. They will report back in four years, when a final decision will be made.

The delegates summarized their activities and recommendations in a newsletter sent to churches and related organizations throughout Latin America. The letter included a plea “to respond to the demands of justice of the kingdom of God in obedient and radical discipleship.”

When delegates set aside ecumenical matters, they discussed human rights. The church, heard the delegates, needs to remember the forgotten people in Latin America—the women, children, political prisoners and their families, the elderly, and Indian tribespeople.

The crisis in Nicaragua peaked during the conference, and delegates prayed for that nation and its bloody civil war. They wrote letters to various United States and Latin American agencies. The delegates expressed solidarity with the rebels who were fighting against Nicaraguan president Samoza, and pointed out the human rights abuses of his administration. Conference leaders took an offering and sent the money to a church agency already working with the poor of Nicaragua. The group sent a delegation to local churches in Nicaragua.

Delegates had mixed reactions to the meeting. Some delegates liked the appeal given to Latin church unity. Others felt uncomfortable with what they saw as links with causes such as Jimmy Carter’s approach to human rights.

Other people feared that leftist factions would dominate the meetings, which came close to fulfillment. These elements claimed that the CIA was infiltrating Latin churches, praised Cuba as the only free country in Latin America, and distributed propaganda leaflets during the sessions.

On the other hand, some delegates claimed that the conference was only a Protestant counterpart to the upcoming meeting of the Roman Catholic bishops of Latin America in Puebla, Mexico (CELAM III). That meeting should deal with similar issues, though observers claim that the bishops look more favorably on liberation theology than do Protestant Latin American churches. Yet the organizing committee for the evangelical assembly insists that any such connection between CELAM and Oaxtepec ’78 is mere coincidence.

That more than 80 per cent of the delegates took a strong evangelical position (close to 70 per cent were Pentecostal) determined the slant of debates, of voting, and above all, of the spiritual atmosphere. The latter not only silenced the leftist voices, but gave the elected body an evangelical mandate that it could not lightly dismiss.

In that sense, say observers, Oaxtepec ’78 was an important step for the Latin American evangelical churches, though nagging questions remain. If there is a leftist backlash, what form will it take and how effective will it be? Will Geneva honor the spirit of independence and leave one of its offspring in the hands of an overwhelmingly evangelical majority? The answers to these and other questions may emerge long before the next meeting convenes in four years.

PABLO E. PEREZ

European Believers: Grasping The Issues

Representatives from thirteen countries came to grips with real issues at a session of the European Evangelical Alliance Council held in London last month.

Regarding Spain, Portugal, and Greece, where governmental attitudes to religious liberty were ambivalent, the council was alert to the possibilities of pressure, since all three were applicants for membership of the European Economic Community (EEC). Portugal, moreover, was in dire economic straits, not least because some 900,000 refugees from Angola had increased its population by close to 10 per cent. Many of the refugees had become receptive to the Gospel, but the country badly needs “a stable democratic government to lead it out of the dark tunnel whose exit still seems very far away.”

The growth and outreach of the cults were noted; in many parts of Europe there was a confrontation situation. Any proposed conference to discuss the matter was fiercely resented. Delegates thought, however, that the resort to litigation by the cultists was losing them sympathy. Some member countries reported a resurgence of Islam, and dissatisfaction that the WCC tended to regard Islam as another religion on the same basis as Christianity. There was no such toleration from the Muslim side. Although Christians had a concern for the physical well-being of Muslims in Western lands, there was a theological battle involved here, and a duty to press home the uniqueness of Christ.

The representative from one East European country called for greater discernment on the part of Western visitors behind the Iron Curtain. Too often they had not done their homework, and had established links with “generals without armies,” who spoke for no one but themselves and were not identifiably in the mainstream of the day-by-day evangelical testimony in their homelands.

Admitted to membership during the three-day London meetings was the Panhellenic (Greek) Evangelical Alliance. Its representatives were warmly welcomed by the Reverend A. Morgan Derham, the first British president in the twenty-five-year history of the European Evangelical Alliance.

J. D. DOUGLAS

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