Reykjavík Grapevine - 15.07.2016, Side 8

The villain of the issue this issue is the
church. The church had been eerily si-
lent on asylum seeker matters for years
before the incident earlier this month,
missing one opportunity after the next
to use their position of power within the
Icelandic government to influence pol-
icy in a different direction than apart-
heid and exclusion. While individual
ministers can and do step outside the
bounds of popular opinion, the church
itself mostly defends the status quo.
Furthermore, the institution has a lot
of explaining to do in terms of just how
much tax revenue it gets, and the fact
that ministers often charge extra for
doing things that are ostensibly a part
of their job description, like baptisms
and weddings. Giving praise where it’s
certainly due, the church still has a long
ways to go to catch up with the rest of
society, and it’s for this reason that the
church is this issue’s villain of the issue.
The hero of the issue this issue is the
church. By now it’s a cliché that organ-
ised Christianity could not be farther
away from the teachings of Jesus, but
every now and then we’re reminded that
clichés are sweeping generalities for a
reason. When several asylum seekers,
including an Iraqi teenager, were faced
with deportation, two Lutheran min-
isters did the Christian thing and gave
them church sanctuary—not that this
stopped the police from taking them
away. Still, the church have taken a lot
of heat lately from some of their stron-
gest supporters, but the clergy have so
far stood by this unusual display of di-
rect action within the church. In this in-
stance, it acted in accordance with Jesus’
guiding principles of compassion for all,
and it’s for this reason the church is this
issue’s hero of the issue.
HERO OF
THE ISSUE
VILLAIN OF
THE ISSUEThe Church The Church
ArtBicnickHvalreki
STRANGE
BREW
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10 — 2016
8
When the Icelandic football team
arrived home from their improb-
able, eye-catching run into the final
eight of Euro 2016, a hastily planned
carnival took place on the streets of
Reykjavík. Two days after they went
down fighting against an imperious
France side, the word went out that
there’d be a team parade, starting
from Hallgrímskirkja, moving down
Skólavörðustigur, and ending at the
central hill of Arnarhöll.
Those with apartments on the
route threw confetti from their bal-
conies over the opened-topped, flag-
bedecked bus. The streets were lined
with a joyful melée of people—mostly
Icelandic, but peppered with immi-
grants and tourists. Kids ran along-
side the bus, and locals stood outside
their bar of choice, raising a glass to
the team. People waved, cheered, and,
in some cases, had a full on Beatles-
fan freakout at the homecoming he-
roes, who smiled gamely, scanning
the crowd for familiar faces and tak-
ing selfies.
After a few obligatory speeches
from the stage at Arnarhöll, the mo-
ment people were waiting for finally
came: the chance, finally, to carry out
Iceland’s trademark chant with the
players. Led by team captain Aron
Gunnarsson, the estimated 30,000
people raised their hands aloft and
fell into a pin-drop silence. It began—
boom, boom, “HÚH!”—and then si-
lence again. The huge sound bounced
from the buildings opposite, echoing
back over our heads like a missile
launch. The synchronised handclaps
and voices rang out again, and again,
accelerating into a deafening, heart-
felt cheer. It was a spine-tingling
show of togetherness, appreciation
and pride in the team’s spirited per-
formance, and the last in a series of
iconic moments that Iceland’s Euro
2016 run produced.
Togetherness
Football supporters around the world
also warmed to this Icelandic way of
appreciating football, and the world’s
media were in attendance to docu-
ment the homecoming. At the edge
of Arnarhöll, camera crews almost
outnumbered the people. “What
does this mean to you?” shouted the
journalists, picking out fans from the
sea of grinning, red, white and blue
faces. Their answers revealed that
many in the throng were completely
new to supporting football, having
been swept up the in the atmosphere.
Later, I spoke to one of converts
amongst my 101 friends: Alma Mjöll,
a young artist and writer who was
spending the summer in Stykkishól-
mur when Euro-fever kicked in. “I’d
never watched a full 90 minutes in my
life before now,” she said. “I watched
the Austria game at home, then biked
to the local restaurant at halftime
to watch it with other people. They
were all strangers, but we jumped
and screamed together anyway.”
Having become emotionally in-
vested in the team’s progress, Alma
returned to the capital for their Eng-
land showdown. “I hitched-hiked, for
the first time in my life, back to Reyk-
javík, to watch it with my sister and
friends,” she says. “We went to the big
screen at Arnarhóll. It felt like half of
Iceland was there. The togetherness
between the people and the team… it
just felt amazing!”
Buzz-kill
An astounding 99.8% of Iceland’s TV
audience tuned in to watch the team
play. But even so, Twitter grouches,
possibly from the 0.2%, took aim at
the Grapevine’s feed. One decried the
outpouring of nationalistic pride,
and posted an alternate-rules foot-
ball, with three goals and the aim of
collaboratively not conceding. Arm-
chair philosophers were also eager to
offer a buzz-killing take on patriotic
sensibility.
And of course, sports culture
doesn’t arrive free of issues, and
sometimes needs critique. But ex-
periencing the heartfelt excitement,
and the warmth, empathy and col-
lective respect shown by Icelanders
throughout Euro 2016, I could think
only: “Let’s just enjoy this.”
LET’S JUST ENJOY THIS
HOW EURO 2016 BROUGHT ICELAND TOGETHER
Words
JOHN ROGERS
Photo
ART BICNICK
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