Vilhelm Moberg - The Settlers

Nevertheless, she could hardly take her eyes away from the glittering, color-changing snake body. Something so obnoxious, so slimy and repulsive, one ought not to look at willingly. But she couldn’t help it. There was something strangely fascinating about the old serpent. The tempter, the devil himself, had assumed this animal’s shape. It was the Evil One who had sneaked into their house last night — the Evil One had crept all the way into their bed.

Never had Kristina so surely and manifestly experienced God’s protecting hand over them.

— 4—

Pastor Törner returned two weeks later. It was then decided that he would come back to the settlement of Duvemåla the following Sunday and hold the first communion for the Swedish settlers in the St. Croix Valley.

Kristina at once began preparations. A great honor would be bestowed upon them; their home would be used as a temple. Their table, which Karl Oskar had made of a rough oak log, would be raised to the dignity of an altar. Their simple log cabin would be turned into a holy room. In their own home Karl Oskar and she would be the Lord’s table guests.

She read in the Bible about the first Lord’s Supper, the first day of the feast of unleavened bread, when the disciples asked Jesus where he would go to prepare to eat the Passover: he sent two of them into Jerusalem where they were to follow a man who carried a pitcher: “Follow him into the house where he entereth in. And ye shall say unto the goodman of the house, The Master saith unto thee, Where is the guestchamber, where I shall eat the Passover with my disciples? And he shall show you a large upper room furnished: there make ready.”

Where is the guestchamber? When Jesus wanted to institute the Holy Supper, he, too, had looked for a place in Jerusalem where they could meet, as Pastor Törner had looked for a house among the settlers where he could give the sacrament for the first time. And in their cabin, at the Indian lake, Ki-Chi-Saga, the miracle would take place. They could not offer a great upper room, ready and furnished, as those in Jerusalem had at the first communion. They had only the single room in which they lived, in which they ate and slept and sheltered their children. But for the holy act she must put her home in order, clean it to the best of her ability.

Kristina scrubbed the floor more carefully than ever before, she washed the furniture and polished her utensils. Against the ceiling beams, and above the fireplace, she laid maple and elm boughs; the rich, fresh leaves made the room look festive. She pasted gray wrapping paper over the roughest and ugliest parts of the log walls. She picked the most beautiful wild flowers she could find but she had no vase to put them in. Her eyes fell on the spittoon at the door; she emptied it, washed it, filled it with flowers, and put it on the shelf above their table. No guest would recognize their old spit-cup elevated thus, filled with flowers and decorated with greenery.

On Saturday evening she inspected the room carefully: it was as fresh and green as a summer pavilion. Everything was in order. But what to do with the children, if it should rain and they couldn’t be outside? With all the guests, there would he no room for them inside, and they might disturb the service. They could not leave them in the barn, now that they knew rattlesnakes might be there. But if it rained they must be under a roof. They would have to shut them in the cowshed during the Holy Communion. In their worn rags they were not much to show to the guests anyway.

But the weather turned out to be blessed: Sunday dawned with clear skies. Now the children could stay outside, and no one would bother to inspect their clothes too closely. She saw to it that Karl Oskar was Sunday-clean; she handed him a newly washed and ironed shirt, a wooden spoon filled with soft soap, and a bowl of lukewarm water, and then he went outside in the yard and cleaned up. Of suitable communion clothes he had none, he must wear the same clothing he had long worn to work in.

Kristina herself had her black dress of which she had been so careful that it still looked nice.

On Sunday morning Pastor Törner arrived at the log cabin on foot, carrying his black leather bag with the sacred bread and the wine, and a parcel with his minister’s surplice. This had become wrinkled, as he had bundled it up, and Kristina warmed her iron to press it.

As she reverently handled the ministerial garment, a thought came to her. She had not been churched after her last childbed, and Dan was more than two-and-a-half years old. The boy was so big that she no longer could give him the breast, even though she had wanted to do so in order to delay a new pregnancy. Should she ask the young pastor to church her? But perhaps by now so much time had elapsed that it was too late. A wife ought to be churched before she knew her husband carnally, and in that respect it was more than two years too late in her case. Should she now ask the pastor if it was too late for her?

She felt ashamed to ask him. Perhaps he would be greatly upset that she delayed two-and-a-half years after the childbed. She remembered her mother saying that it would have the same effect as churching if a woman shook a minister’s hand. And she had shaken hands with this young pastor each time he had come to their house. Could this be sufficient? Why couldn’t it be counted the same as churching? She did not know. But as long as Pastor Törner remained in the neighborhood, she would continue to shake his hand whenever she had the opportunity.

The communion guests had begun to arrive, and as they entered the cabin, Pastor Törner wrote down their names in turn. He recorded that Danjel Andreasson of New Kärragärde was present, accompanied by his two sons, Sven and Olof, who were of confirmation age and today for the first time would go to the Lord’s table. Jonas Petter and his housekeeper, Swedish Anna, had also arrived on Danjel’s ox cart. From Taylors Falls came Mother Fina-Kajsa and her son, Anders Månsson. The old woman was perky and talkative but looked unkempt, her gray, matted hair in tufts. Anders Månsson was shaved and combed, but his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed shy and depressed; he seldom showed himself among people. Petrus Olausson and his wife, Judit, had brought along their daughter, who, like Danjel’s boys, was to participate in her first communion.

With Karl Oskar and Kristina, there were twelve communicants in all. All the Swedes in the valley who had received an invitation had come, except one: Samuel Nöjd, the trapper in Taylors Falls. He had said to Swedish Anna, who had brought him the message, that he did not wish to participate in any of the foolery or spectacles of the priests. He had hoped, out here, to be left in peace by those black-capped sorcerers who in Sweden had plagued him with their catechism and religious examinations. Swedish Anna had replied that Jesus had also redeemed his soul with his dear blood, but this Samuel Nöjd had denied; his soul was not to be redeemed by anybody, whatever the price, for he was a free, thinking human being.

The sturdy, red-hued Swedish Anna was greatly disturbed over the blasphemer Nöjd and his way of living: recently, he had taken in an Indian woman to live with him, and what he did to her, each and every one could imagine. He was known to be heathenish, and now he was also carnally mixing with the heathens.

Swedish Anna was considered a deeply religious woman and she was looked up to by her countrymen for her irreproachable morals. Kristina had a deep respect for this woman from Dalecarlia. Swedish Anna was a kind-hearted woman, but kept so strictly to the true religion that she had difficulty in enduring Ulrika after she had turned Baptist, but Kristina defended Ulrika when Swedish Anna called her a hypocrite and a slovenly woman.