WINTER LIGHT
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, on the night He was betrayed -
- took bread, gave thanks -
- and brake it, and gave it unto the disciples and said:
Take, eat: this is my Body which is given for you.
Do this in remembrance of me.
Likewise he took the Cup, and gave thanks -
- and gave it to them saying: Drink ye all of it:
For this is my blood of the new testament -
- which is shed for many for the remission of sin.
Do this, as oft ye shall drink in, in remembrance of me.
Let us now pray together, even as our Lord Jesus hath taught us.
Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses -
- as we forgive them that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever.
Amen.
The peace of God be with you.
O Lamb of God
That takest away the sins ofthe world
Give us salvation, O merciful Lord
O Lamb of God
That takest away the sins ofthe world
Hearourprayers, O mericful Lord
O Lamb of God
That takest way
The sins ofthe world
Give us peace
And bless ourday
The Body of our Lord, Jesus Christ which was given for you.
Christ's blood, shed for thee.
The grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.
Go, in the peace of the Lord.
Thanks...
Let us pray.
We thank thee, Almighty Father who through Thy Son Jesus Christ -
- hast instituted this holy communion to our consolation and bliss.
We pray thee: Give us grace so to commemorate Jesus on earth.
That we may be partakers in Thy great communion in heaven.
Amen.
Give thanks and praise unto the Lord.
Praise and thanks be unto the Lord.
Hallelujah!
Humble your hearts before God and receive his blessing.
The Lord bless you and preserve you.
The Lord let the light of His countenance shine upon you -
- and be gracious unto you.
The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.
In the name of the Father, the Son -
- and the Holy Ghost.
Amen.
Yet, dearLord, I bow down in prayer
Take my hand firmly into Thine
Lead me then, my dearest savior
Take me to the Land divine
And where earthly woes are ended
And my course is finally run
Thou wilt take my spirit with Thee
To share eternity in that house of Thine
- You're unwell. - I need to rest.
Can't Rev. Broms take the service at Frostnas?
No, he's taking the new car out for a spin.
- I bet you have the flu. - My throat's pretty sore.
Tomas... How did it turn out?
- Did you find a housekeeper? - No.
You won't be able to manage on your own in the long run.
I've managed for five years now.
Why don't you ask Marta Lundberg?
She's dying to help you out.
- I'd be glad to ask her. - No, thank you.
- Hello, Reverend Ericsson. - Hello, Mr. Frovik.
- Hi there, Aronsson. - Hi, Algot.
How are you? Thanks for the sermon.
- Can we help you with something? - Not really...
Well, there was one thing.
- I'd like to have a word with you. - I'll be at Frostnas at three.
- And you'll have time to see me? - Of course, after the service.
I'll be at the church an hour beforehand, to turn the heating up.
Will we be using the same hymns?
- You appear to be unwell. - I've come down with a cold.
- I bet it's the weather, I always... - Right.
He has his disabilty pension from the railway company -
- and a pittance for his services from the Church Council, I suppose...
You have a visitor.
Mrs. Persson would like to have a word.
- I've got to talk to you, Vicar. - Yes, of course.
I'll call you this evening, in case you need a hand.
Please have a seat.
Good bye, Mr. and Mrs. Persson.
- You wished to speak to me? - Yes...
But that's not the whole truth.
Actually, Jonas is the one...
But he won't talk about it, and so...
This morning I decided we should go to church, and see someone.
You see, we're feeling so lost...
Well, not me so much, but Jonas is at his wit's end.
- Could you talk to him, please? - Of course...
How long have you felt troubled?
It started last spring. Jonas read about China in the papers.
The article said that the Chinese people were brought up to hate.
And that it's only a matter of time before China has atom bombs.
They have nothing to lose. That's what they wrote.
It doesn't worry me all that much...
Maybe that's because I'm short on imagination.
But Jonas can't stop thinking about it, and so we discuss it constantly.
Though I can't help him much.
Not with three kids and one on the way...
Right.
Everyone feels this dread...
...to some extent.
We must put our faith in the Lord.
We live our simple daily lives. And atrocities rend our secure world.
It's so overwhelming and God seems so very remote.
That's right...
I feel so helpless, I don't know what to say.
I understand your anguish... but life must go on.
Why do we have to go on living?
I shouldn't be bothering you with this.
- And we're powerless to do anything. - Let's discuss this...
Take me home and then come back here.
You and the vicar need to talk in private.
- We live ten minutes away. - I'll see you in twenty minutes.
Promise the vicar you'll be here.
All right, I promise...
- Is your car in the parking lot? - Yes, down at the corner end.
I'll be expecting you within half an hour.
I'll make sure he comes.
I'll be waiting for you.
I'll be waiting right here.
What a ridiculous image...
Oh, it's you.
- Here's something nice and hot. - Oh, I brought coffee with me.
- I'm expecting a visitor any minute. - Don't worry, I won't stay long.
It's getting pretty cold out.
Poor Tomas...
- What is it, Tomas? - It wouldn't matter to you.
God's silence.
God's silence?
God's silence.
Jonas Persson and his wife were here, and I could only spout drivel.
Yet I had a feeling that each word was decisive, somehow.
- What am I to do? - Poor little Tomas.
You should be in bed with a brandy. You're running quite a temperature.
- Why did you take communion? - It's a love feast, isn't it?
- Have you read my letter? - No.
- I haven't had the time. - You're hopeless.
- When did it arrive? - Yesterday. It's on my desk...
Read it later, when you feel like it.
- A Sunday in the Vale of Tears - I don't feel very well.
Want me to feel sorry for you? Then you'll have to marry me.
- Oh? - You should marry me.
Then I wouldn't have to leave this place.
Why would you have to leave?
As long as I'm a substitute I can be transferred. Far way from you.
- We'll see what happens. - Yes, I know...
You can't marry me, because you don't love me.
I've got to go.
Aunt Emma is here and she plans to bake a cake.
Marta...
- What if Mr. Persson doesn't return? - Then you can get some rest.
- And read my letter. - You don't understand...
- What's the matter? - Poor Tomas.
I'm not being very nice to you.
You're impossible at times: "God's silence. There's no word from God."
God doesn't exist! It's as simple as that.
Now you'll come down with the flu.
That's fine, seeing as it's a gift from you.
- Would you like me to stay? - No, that won't be necessary.
- You have a lot to learn. - Says the schoolmarm.
- You must learn to love. - And you can teach me that?
Not me...
I don't have magic powers.
He has to show up!
My dearest...
"We find it difficult to talk to each other."
"We're both rather shy."
"And I tend to retreat into sarcasm."
That's why I'm writing...
I have something important to say.
Remember last summer, when that awful rash broke out on my hands?
One evening we were in church arranging flowers on the alter.
Preparing for a confirmation.
Do you recall what bad shape I was in?
My hands all bandaged, and itching so I couldn't sleep?
The skin had flaked off and my palms were like open sores.
We busied ourselves with daisies and cornflowers, or whatever they were -
- and I was feeling irritable.
And I challenged you angrily.
Asking you if you actually believed in the power of prayer.
You replied that you did.
Nastily, I asked if you had prayed for my hands.
But it hadn't occurred to you to do so.
I melodramatically demanded that you do it then and there.
Oddly enough, you agreed.
Your compliance enraged me and I tore off the bandages...
You remember the rest...
The sight of those open sores affected you.
You couldn't pray, the entire situation disgusted you.
I understand your reaction, but you have no understanding for me.
We had lived together for some time at that point.
Almost two years.
This could have represented capital in the face of our emotional poverty.
Our caresses and clumsy attempts to evade the lack of love between us.
When the rash spread to my forehead and scalp -
- I soon noticed how you avoided me.
You found me distasteful.
Even though you tried to spare my feelings.
Then the rash spread to my hands and feet.
And our relationship ended.
This came as a shock to me.
I had to face the fact -
- that we didn't love each other.
There was no way to hide from this fact, or to turn a blind eye to it.
Tomas...
I have never believed in your faith.
Mainly because I've never been tortured by religious tribulations.
My non-Christian family was characterized by warmth -
- togetherness and joy.
God and Jesus existed only as vague notions.
And to me, your faith seems obscure and neurotic.
In some way cruelly overwrought with emotion, primitive.
One thing in particular I've never been able to fathom:
Your peculiar indifference to Jesus Christ.
And now I'm going to tell you about answered prayers.
Laugh, if you feel like it.
Personally, I don't believe the two are connected.
Life is messy enough, without taking the supernatural into account.
As you recall, you were going to pray for my weeping hands.
But the rash left you dumbstruck with distaste, something you later denied.
I went berserk and wanted to provoke you.
Be quiet!
Since you can't pray for me, I'll do it myself!
God, why have you created me so eternally dissatisfied?
So frightened, so bitter? Why must I realize how wretched I am?
Why must I suffer so hellishly for my insignificance?
If there is a purpose to my suffering, then tell me.
So I can bear my pain without complaint.
I'm so very strong, both in body and soul -
- but you never give me a task worthy of my strength.
Give my life meaning, and I'll be your obedient slave.
This autumn, I realized that my prayers had been answered.
I prayed for clarity of mind, and I got it.
I've realized that I love you.
I prayed for a task to apply my strength to, and I received one.
That task is you.
This is what the thoughts of a schoolmarm might run to -
- when the phone refuses to ring on a dark and lonely night.
What I lack entirely is the capacity to show you my love.
I haven't a clue how to do it.
I've been so miserable I've even considered praying some more.
But I still have a shred of self-respect left in spite of it all.
My dearest Tomas...
This turned out to be a long letter.
But now I've put down in writing what I never dared say -
- when you were in my arms.
I love you.
And I live for you.
Take me and use me.
Beneath all my false pride and independent airs -
- I have one only wish:
To be allowed to live for someone else.
And I suffer.
When I think about it, I can't see how I will be able to pull it off.
Maybe it's all just a mistake.
Please tell me it's not a mistake, my dearest.
I'm so glad you came. It's been a long wait.
- I'm sorry I'm late. - I didn't mean to reproach you.
Please, take your coat off. I've got some nice hot coffee.
No, thank you, I'm fine.
I don't expect you spend much time at sea this time of year?
We just take short fishing trips, that's all.
- Plenty to do ashore? - Yes, I'm building a new boat.
- Over at Tornstrom's yard. - An excellent establishment.
I had my own boat built there, at Tornstrom's yard.
Do you have money worries?
Forgive me for asking, but things like that can drive a man to despair.
That's true...
How long have you considered taking your own life?
I'm not sure... A long time.
Have you spoken to a doctor?
- I mean, are you in good health? - As far as I know.
It's not unusual to...
Do you get along with your wife?
Karin's all right. She's all right.
So it all boils down to this business about China...
Listen, Jonas. I'm going to be frank with you.
My wife died four years ago.
I loved her. My life was over.
I'm not afraid to die and there was no reason for me to hang on.
But I did.
Not for my own sake, but to be of some use.
I had great dreams once. I was going to make my mark on the world.
The sort of ideas you have when you're young.
I knew nothing of evil.
When I was ordained, I was as innocent as a babe.
Then everything happened at once.
I was a seaman's pastor in Lisbon during the Spanish Civil War.
I refused to see what was going on. I refused to accept reality.
My God and I resided in an organized world where everything made sense.
And l...
You see, I'm no good as a clergyman.
I put my faith in an improbable and private image of a fatherly god.
One who loved mankind, of course, but me most of all.
Do you see, Jonas, what a monstrous mistake I made?
An ignorant, spoiled and anxious wretch makes a rotten clergyman.
Picture my prayers to an echo-god -
- who gave benign answers and reassuring blessings.
Every time I confronted God with the realities I witnessed -
- he turned into something ugly and revolting.
A spider god, a monster.
So I fled from the light, clutching my image to myself in the dark.
The only person I showed my god to was my wife.
She supported me, encouraged me and helped me...
Patched up the holes.
Our dreams.
- I'd better be going... - No, don't go.
I want you to understand why I'm telling you this.
So you realize what a wretch I am, what a poor beggar...
I must be going, or Karin will be worried.
Please, stay a little bit longer.
Let's have a nice, calm discussion.
Forgive me for talking in such a confused manner -
- but all this suddenly hit me.
If there is no God, would it really make any difference?
Life would become understandable. What a relief!
And thus death would be a snuffing out of life.
The dissolution of body and soul.
Cruelty, loneliness and fear...
...all these things would be straightforward and transparent.
Suffering is incomprehensible, so it needs no explanation.
There is no creator.
No sustainer of life.
No design.
My God...
Why have you forsaken me?
I'm free, free at last.
I had this fleeting hope...
That everything wouldn't turn out -
- to be illusions, dreams, and lies.
I have to get ready.
The service at Frostnas starts at three.
- I'm coming with you. - No.
I saw your car, Vicar, so I came over.
Fredriksson's boys found him.
Just down the hill.
It's Jonas Persson.
He's shot himself in the head with his rifle.
The police superintendent is at the scene.
The boys reported it immediately.
I met them on my way here, they were terrified.
Could you please guard the body until the van arrives?
Goodbye. Please call me.
- Do you have any aspirin? - Sure, and some cough mixture, too.
- But isn't your aunt visiting? - Wait in the schoolroom then.
- Hello. Who's boy are you? - The Strand's.
- How old are you? - Ten.
- What brings you here? - I left something in my desk.
- What's the dog's name? - Jim.
- Is he yours? - No.
Is he your big brother's, the one who's being confirmed this year?
Will you go to confirmation class too?
- Why not? - I don't know...
- Does your brother find it boring? - I don't know...
- Well, goodbye then. - Goodbye, sir.
- Hello, Johan. What brings you here? - I left something in my desk.
- How's your brother, Pelle? - He's much better.
- He'll be back in school next week. - Good. Give my love to your folks.
Careful, that's hot. It's really for gargling with.
You dissolve the tablets in hot water.
Auntie gave them to me. She swears by them.
My aunt is often troubled by sore throats and these really help.
Suit yourself, here's the aspirin.
- Would you like some cold water? - That won't be necessary.
You sound so unfriendly.
Sometimes...
Sometimes you sound... as if you hated me.
Take the whole box if you like, Auntie arrived well-stocked.
Can't I come to Frostnas with you?
- I'm going to the Persson's place. - I'll wait in the car.
I thought your aunt baked a cake?
I need some time on my own.
- Are you trying to get rid of me? - Don't do this right now.
- I don't have the strength. - Why do you want to get rid of me?
My dear little Tomas, you're getting old.
You're dissatisfied with life, but most of all with yourself.
And here I am throwing myself in your arms, clouding the issue...
- Or am I forcing it? - You be the judge.
You have your dreams, and I pay no attention to them.
At times I even despise them.
I should have been kinder.
- Those are just trivialities. - No, you've been unlucky.
I'm so very bossy. Don't bother contradicting me.
- Could you just listen to me? - Sorry, I'm doing all the talking.
I feel humiliated by the gossip.
No one used to care much about the cleric.
He was a simply a fixture...
Though no one knew exactly what he was good for.
Then the rumors began, about you and me. All that tittle-tattle.
So that's your reason?
You don't have to sneer at me.
Well, marry me then.
No.
- It's hard to plead one's own cause. - Yes, it certainly is.
You can't... You mustn't push me away.
- How can you be so blind? - Don't get hysterical.
That's what you always say whenever you see me crying.
- I suppose I am a tad hysterical. - Don't alarm your aunt.
I can't hold back the tears.
Just go on talking, I can still hear your every word.
I thought I'd figured out a good reason.
I mean all that about a vicar's reputation, but you didn't bite.
And I understand that, since it's a pack of lies.
The reason that matters is that I don't want you.
Did you hear that?
Yes... Of course I did.
I'm tired of your loving care.
Your fussing.
Your good advice.
Your candlesticks and table-runners.
I'm fed up with your short-sightedness.
Your clumsy hands.
Your anxiousness.
Your timid ways in bed.
You force me to occupy myself with your physical condition.
Your poor digestion, your rash...
Your periods, your frostbitten cheek.
Once and for all I have to escape this junkyard of circumstance.
I'm sick and tired of it all, of everything to do with you.
Why haven't you told me this before?
Because of my upbringing.
I was taught to regard women as beings of a higher order.
Admirable creatures, unimpeachable martyrs.
- And your wife? - I loved her.
Did you hear that? I loved her.
And I don't love you, because I love my wife.
When she died, so did l.
I couldn't care less what happens to me.
Am I making myself clear?
I loved her, and she was everything you could never be -
- but that you insist on trying to be.
The way you mimic her behavior is such an ugly parody.
I didn't even know her.
I'd better be going.
Before I spout even worse bits of senseless drivel.
Could it get any worse?
Stop rubbing your eyes like that.
Sorry...
Stare all you like. I can take it.
I can barely see you without my glasses.
You're all fuzzy.
And your face is just a white blob.
You're not really real.
Yes, I see that I did it all wrong.
From the beginning.
I've got to go, I have to talk to Mrs. Persson.
Every time I've hated you -
- I've made an effort to turn it into compassion.
You can't make it on your own.
You won't survive, Tomas dear.
Nothing can save you.
You'll hate yourself to death.
Can't you leave me alone?
Can't you just shut up?!
- Would you like to come along? - Do you really want me to?
- Or is that fear talking? - Suit yourself.
But I am asking you to come.
Of course I'll come. I don't have much choice, do l?
Auntie, I'll be back by six.
She must be asleep, I'll just go check the stove.
Your husband is dead, Mrs. Persson.
They've taken him to the infirmary, but there's no hope.
He shot himself.
So, I'm all alone...
Shall we read from the Bible together?
No, thank you.
I've got to let the children know.
I'll be in all evening, if there's anything I can do for you.
I'll come by some time this week, to make funeral arrangements.
I spoke to him, but there was so little I could do.
I'm sure you did what you could, sir.
It was my parents dream that I become a clergyman.
Well, hello there. Those bells tolled twenty seconds too long.
It's a nuisance, but I was busy replacing the candles.
I usually turn on the bells, light the candles -
- and make it back in time. But today I bungled it.
An unfortunate mishap.
But those candles were tricky to light.
And I guess my broken-down body is slowing down my actions.
The reason hardly matters.
I leave the temple in semi-darkness until just before the bells start.
Electric lights disturb our spirit of reverence.
Don't you agree, Miss Lundberg?
- You asked to have a word with me. - Yes, about a rather urgent matter.
Once, when I complained about my pains keeping me up nights -
- you suggested that I read...
...to distract myself.
I began with the gospels.
And real sleeping potions they were too, if I may say so.
In between whiles, that is.
Now I've got as far as the story of Christ's passion.
And it's given me a pause.
So I figured I'd discuss it with you, Rev. Ericsson.
I feel compelled to do so.
The passion of Christ, his suffering...
Wouldn't you say the focus on his suffering is all wrong?
- What do you mean? - This emphasis on physical pain.
It couldn't have been all that bad.
It may sound presumptuous of me -
- but in my humble way, I've suffered as much physical pain as Jesus.
And his torments were rather brief.
Lasting some four hours, I gather?
I feel that he was tormented far worse on an other level.
Maybe I've got it all wrong.
But just think of Gethsemane, Vicar.
Christ's disciples fell asleep.
They hadn't understood the meaning of the last supper, or anything.
And when the servants of the law appeared, they ran away.
And Peter denied him.
Christ had known his disciples for three years.
They'd lived together day in and day out -
- but they never grasped what he meant.
They abandoned him, to the last man.
And he was left alone.
That must have been painful.
Realizing that no one understands.
To be abandoned when you need someone to rely on -
- that must be excruciatingly painful.
But the worse was yet to come.
When Jesus was nailed to the cross -
- and hung there in torment -
- he cried out: "God, my God!"
"Why hast thou forsaken me?"
He cried out as loud as he could.
He thought that his heavenly father had abandoned him.
He believed everything he'd ever preached was a lie.
The moments before he died, Christ was seized by doubt.
Surely that must have been his greatest hardship?
God's silence.
Yes...
No service today! Not a soul turned up.
You don't count: you belong, so to speak, in the sheep-pen.
So, how are you doing?
That vicar you're running after, isn't worth much.
Don't deny it. You don't think a spinster can be choosy.
Marta, for your own sake...
You can leave this place, so get out as quickly as you can.
Everything at Mittsunda and Frostnas is in the grips of death and decay.
Take me, for instance.
Remember when I used to arrange musical soirees?
On that pile ofjunk upstairs? I gave concerts.
And the things Tomas achieved.
People actually attended church.
But his wife was his undoing.
That got your attention, didn't it?
The little woman...
And Tomas was no judge of human nature -
- he only had eyes for her.
He was besotted.
Well, Marta, so much for their love story.
"God is love, and love is God."
"Love proves the existence of God."
"Love is a real force for mankind."
You see, I know the drill.
I've been an attentive listener to the vicar's outpourings.
Bye-bye, you old turtledove.
Get out while you can.
Hello, you tubercular old wheezer, don't pass your flu on to me.
- Will there be a service? - I don't feel well.
Florence Nightingale is out there waiting to minister to your needs.
Personally, I'd like to get some shut-eye.
I'm playing tonight at the Masonic lodge, you see.
- What's your opinion, Algot? - Don't have one.
I'll go upstairs to the organ.
Algot can give me a sign when the bells stop ringing.
Well?
There's no one but Miss Lundberg out there.
If you pardon my wording...
It's time to start the service bell. That usually brings them in.
If only we could feel safe.
And dare show each other tenderness.
If only we had some truth to believe in.
If only we could believe...
Shall we have the service, then?
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts.
The whole earth is full of his glory.