In the vast, chilly expanses of Greenland, approximately 90% of the 57,000 residents identify as Inuit, with most aligning themselves with the Lutheran Church—a religious affiliation that has been deeply rooted in the island’s culture for over 300 years, ever since Danish missionaries brought their teachings to this immense landscape. This devotion to the church is often intertwined with a sense of national identity and pride. Many Greenlanders hold their traditions dear while maintaining an inherent respect for their homeland, a sentiment they wish politicians globally, including former U.S. President Donald Trump, would recognize. Despite Trump’s comments suggesting interest in purchasing Greenland, the residents remain steadfast in their commitment to their unique culture and autonomy.
Greenland is a colossal island, roughly three times the size of Texas, largely blanketed in ice. Despite these icy conditions, its 17 parishes are dispersed across various settlements, with worshippers braving the cold Arctic climates to participate in Sunday services. Some residents even engage with radio-transmitted services while taking short breaks from traditional practices such as fishing and hunting seals, whales, and polar bears.
The harsh climate and challenging lifestyle contribute significantly to the robust religious devotion observed in Greenland, according to Bishop Paneeraq Siegstad Munk, who leads Greenland’s Evangelical Lutheran Church. In these conditions, being a member of the church doesn’t necessarily equate to full belief in its teachings or even belief in God. It can be more about the cultural and familial traditions that come along with church membership.
Recently, locals Salik Schmidt and Malu Schmidt celebrated their wedding at the Church of Our Savior, a cathedral built in 1849 in Nuuk, though their personal beliefs vary. While Malu identifies as spiritual but not religious, and Salik is an atheist, both embrace their membership within the Lutheran Church, emphasizing the importance of tradition in honoring their ancestors.
Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, holds two key Lutheran churches. The Hans Egede Church, named after the missionary whose campaign began the religious transformation of Greenland in 1721, sits near a statue of Egede that has, at times, been defaced as part of a broader anti-colonial sentiment. Opinions about Egede are mixed, with some crediting his efforts in education and the spread of Lutheran rituals, while others criticize the colonial oppression he symbolizes, which they feel overshadowed Inuit traditions.
Currently, Greenland operates as a semi-autonomous region under Denmark with a growing movement advocating for full independence, a matter of increasing focus as it nears the March 11 election. Many Greenlanders feel emboldened in their push for independence after Trump brought a spotlight to their homeland with his remarks.
At the Hans Egede Church, where faith provides comfort amidst unpredictability, the Rev. John Johansen noted the importance of religious conviction during these times. Although the Church of Greenland separated from Denmark’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in 2009, it remains funded by Greenland’s government, which celebrates its distinct Greenlandic attributes.
In recent times, there’s been a resurgence of interest in pre-Christian traditions among younger Greenlanders. Practices like shamanistic drum dancing and the adoption of Inuit tattoos demonstrate a renewed embrace of ancestral roots and a rejection of colonial erasure.
The presence of the Lutheran Church remains a significant component of Greenland’s national identity, a legacy from the island’s days as a Danish colony until it achieved self-governance in 2009. While other denominations have since taken root, primarily to accommodate immigrant populations, the Lutheran Church has had a lasting impact on Greenland’s societal and cultural framework.
