Can you start by sharing a few memories of your childhood?
I was born in 1977 in Attu, a small village on an island on the northwest coast of Greenland. I was the youngest of four children and my parents were hunters, moving from place to place in search of food. They had no possibilities of education, but they moved to the village so that we could go to school and I could become the first one in the family to continue my studies.
We went to school during the winter, but school ends in early spring so that families can go out hunting and fishing in the summer to catch food for the cold, dark months. My ancestors hunted for reindeer, but they also fished and hunted whales. They lived the indigenous way of life, in harmony with the land and the oceans.
So you also grew up learning about their indigenous lifestyle?
Yes, when my parents went out to work, we would go with the other children to our grandparents. They taught us how to find food, how to dry fish and preserve meat for the winter. Life in Greenland is regulated by light and dark months and by the sea levels. In summer we have the midnight sun, so we gather food, and in the winter we stay together, sharing stories and learning how to take care of each other.
Did the church play an important part in your early childhood?
Yes, we went to church on Sundays and afterwards we would go to our grandparent’s house to make cakes or other food and listen to Bible stories. My mum’s father was a good storyteller, so all of us children loved listening and learning from him.
When did you first feel a vocation to become a pastor?
After high school, I went to Denmark to study the language, which opens many more possibilities than if you only speak Greenlandic. I didn’t know what I wanted to do then, although I knew I wanted to help people, maybe as a psychologist. But when they opened an institute of theology in Nuuk at the University of Greenland, I realized that being a pastor would be a much more joyful type of work.
I was 20 when I started studying for my theology degree. After three years, I graduated with a bachelor’s, but I didn’t feel prepared for the responsibilities of being a pastor, so I went to Denmark to continue studying for a master’s at the University of Copenhagen. During that time I heard people talking badly about our Inuit spirituality, which made me want to study and find ways of integrating Christianity with our own cultural and religious traditions.
Where did you go after your ordination?
I was ordained in 2004 and then spent two years as the first female pastor to serve in Narsaq in south Greenland. After that, we moved several times, first to the northeast of Greenland, then to the west and then back down south again where I served as head of our southern deanery.
I also started doing radio programs and helped to broadcast morning services on our national radio station. This was before the internet arrived in our country, so people listened to the radio and got to recognize my voice. When I became a candidate for bishop of our church, many people already felt they knew me and they knew about the way I work.
You were elected bishop in 2020 but couldn’t be installed until the next year, right?
Yes, I was elected in October 2020 but because of the COVID-19 pandemic, my installation could not take place until the following year. My consecration as bishop took place in 2021, exactly 300 years after the Norwegian missionary Hans Egede brought the Lutheran faith to our country.
What are the biggest challenges you have faced since then?
Three hundred years after the first missionaries arrived, we are still struggling with relations between Christianity and our Inuit culture. I am the third Inuit bishop in our church, but I realized I must do something to work for reconciliation. Our people need to feel that it is their own church, with their own culture and language. The missionaries brought with them misleading theologies, believing that everything had to be done the European way. Some pastors and people in our church still don’t want to think about including indigenous traditions.
My predecessor talked about indigenous rights and climate change at international forums, but it did not reach down to the grassroots in our country. We are very small communities and people don’t always hear about what is going on in other parts of the country. I think we are searching for an identity and I believe we must be open to find new ways of working together.
What do you think indigenous traditions can teach other people and churches?
In our Inuit culture we are used to taking care of each other and of our environment. We have a tradition of respect for nature and trying to live in a sustainable way in harmony with God’s creation. In the Arctic, you can see the immense, dramatic power of nature and we, as human beings, we seem so small.
We are taught not to take more than we need and to understand that respect for nature and kindness to others are more important values than having money and possessions. We learn that power brings responsibility, not to be used for war or conflict, but to care for other people.
Is that traditional way of life disappearing in Greenland today?
For many people, yes. I have two sons aged 18 and 20 and they don’t know much about my mum and dad’s way of living. We go abroad on holidays, for example, but I also teach them about traditional food and language, as well as other aspects of our culture.
Climate change has affected the way we live, with the ice melting and people being cut off or isolated from each other. With no ice, transportation between our small islands is not possible if you don’t have a boat and can’t afford to hire a helicopter. When I was a child, winters would last from mid-October until May, but now we no longer get the same snowstorms and the winters are getting much shorter.
You’ve recently been at the center of world attention after the U.S. government increased threats to annex Greenland: how has that affected your life and your work?
As church leaders, we are not used to speaking about politics, but we can also see how important it is at this time for spiritual leaders to talk about peace and human rights in our country. The threats go directly to our hearts and people are worried about what will happen to them.
But our churches are open, our pastors are there and we have seen more people coming to hear a message of hope. We are grateful for the solidarity that others have shown us at this time and it means a lot to us to know that we are not alone.
