Interview With Greenland's Only Parish Priest

Today, the Church commemorates the Conversion of St Paul. As we celebrate, let us pray for Fr Tomaž and his missions, both in Greenland and Denmark, to whom Greenland belongs.

From Aleteia

By Urška Leskovšek

At a time when Greenland is very much in the media spotlight, we spoke to someone who knows the Greenlanders well: their parish priest.

Greenland has only about 57,000 inhabitants, of whom only a handful are Catholic. The only Catholic parish — in the capital city of Nuuk — is run by Father Tomaž Majcen, a Franciscan who is also a missionary in Denmark. He spends three weeks at a time in Greenland several times a year. Other priests also visit the local Catholics, so that at least one Catholic priest is available to the community most of the time.

"At first, I thought I knew what cold was. But Greenland is something else!" admits Father Tomaž.

A native Slovenian, he shared with the Slovenian edition of Aleteia his interesting experiences of Greenland, Denmark, and their inhabitants, and invites us to pray for peace and to take care of our vulnerable natural environment.

I invite you to pray for peace and respect for sovereignty, and to join us in caring for creation, especially our fragile Arctic environment, which is one of God's most stunning yet vulnerable masterpieces.

The interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Aleteia: What was your path to the priesthood and why did you choose the Franciscan Friars Minor Conventual?

Father Tomaž Majcen: From a young age, I felt that the Lord was calling me to something special. However, my path to the priesthood wasn’t straight; there were searches, doubts, and even moments when I wondered if this was really for me. However, the Lord has his own path and his own time for each of us.

When I got to know the Franciscan Friars Minor Conventual, I was inspired by the simplicity of St. Francis' spirit. I liked how St. Francis didn’t have a high level of education, but simply loved God and all of creation. The joy and brotherhood among the Friars Minor attracted me.

Fotografija je last p. Tomaža Majcna.

How did you end up in Denmark and Greenland? Did you want to be a missionary before?

Father Tomaž: You know, Greenland wasn't exactly on my wish list! When my superiors asked me if I would go to Denmark, I imagined Copenhagen, a beautiful old city, culture ... I really didn't expect Greenland!

But the life of a missionary is full of surprises. I started in Denmark in 2017, when we Friars Minor returned to Copenhagen after almost 100 years. It was a great blessing; in the 13th century we had 26 monasteries there, then the Reformation drove us out, and now we have returned.

And then the opportunity for Greenland came. In 2023, I became the parish priest of Christ the King Parish in Nuuk. It’s quite something ... The largest island in the world has only one Catholic parish! And I, a little Slovenian, became its parish priest. This is God's work, not mine.

Do you like the cold and snow? How do you cope with the temperatures there?

Father Tomaž: At first, I thought I knew what cold was. After all, we have winter in Slovenia, don't we? The cold on the Pohorje [mountain range], the snow... But Greenland is something else! It's cold that goes through your bones, wind that almost carries you away. But I got used to it. People get used to anything if they have to. That silence when everything is covered with snow, that purity ... It's something special.

Sometimes, when I stand on the shore and look at the icebergs floating in the sea, I say to myself, "How lucky you are to see God's works of art!" That ice is thousands of years old, those colors — blue, turquoise, white — it's as if God himself painted it. And in those moments, you forget about the cold, you forget about the wind. You only see the beauty.

Greenland has grown dear to my heart. Even with its cold and, above all, with its beautiful northern lights.

Christ the King Catholic Church in Nuuk, Greenland

Fotografija je last župnije Kristusa Kralja v Nuuku.

Can you briefly describe the life of Greenlandic Catholics? How do they live their faith?

Father Tomaž: First, I must say that there are very few Catholics in Greenland. Most people belong to the Lutheran Church, which has been present here for centuries. Our community in Nuuk has about 500 members, most of whom are immigrants — Filipinos, Vietnamese, Europeans. There are very few Greenlandic Catholics.

They live their faith in a very simple and authentic way ... compared to us Slovenians — in our country, faith is still part of our culture and tradition. Here, you have to choose your faith. No one is Catholic just because their parents were. You’re Catholic because you’ve decided to be. And that’s powerful! These people are here because they want to be, not because of habit.

Northerners are usually more reserved. How did the Greenlanders accept you?

Father Tomaž: Ah, that's true! Danes and Greenlanders are not people of many words. They aren’t like us Slovenians, who like to talk and hug each other ... But they’re still warm-hearted and accepted me very nicely.

Greenlanders are people of silence, people of nature. They live in an environment where there’s more silence than words, more space than people. And this silence has shaped them. They’re not cold, just different. Their warmth is quiet and deep. And what have I learned? That silence is not the enemy. God is in silence. Greenlanders know this.

In Slovenia, a priest who wants to get closer to young people goes to play soccer with them. What does he do in Greenland? Does he go sledding, skating, drinking "kooka" (mulled wine)?

Father Tomaž: No, no, we don't play soccer much; you can imagine why — the snow! But we don't play on ice either, even though that would be very Greenlandic!

There are other activities here. Sometimes we go on trips with young people to the fjord, watch seals swimming; sometimes we even see whales. This is their nature, their world. And there, by the water, by the ice, we talk about life, about God, about everything.

And of course we drink – not "kooka," but hot chocolate or coffee. We sit together, drink, laugh. That's their way of socializing.

Fotografija je last župnije Kristusa Kralja v Nuuku.

What’s it like to be a missionary among the Danes? Surely the experience of the Catholic faith is quite different from that in Slovenia.

Father Tomaž: Oh, it's a really big contrast! Denmark is one of the most secularized countries in the world. The Lutheran Church is more of a cultural institution there: People get married there, have their children baptized, and then don't come back until the funeral. That's how it is.

It's different for Catholics in Copenhagen. We’re a minority, only 2%. But we’re a living Church! People come to church because they want to, not because of tradition. And that's beautiful to see.

It gave me a new perspective. In Slovenia, we sometimes take faith for granted. Of course we’re Catholics, of course we have a cross on the wall ... But [in Denmark], you have to choose. And when they choose faith, they live it more deeply, more consciously.

How is your experience in the north changing you? What does it give you, and what does it teach you?

Father Tomaž: That's a very deep question ... The north is changing me in ways that I don't fully understand myself.

First, I’ve learned humility. When you stand in the middle of Greenland, in the middle of those huge mountains of ice, those endless white landscapes, you feel so small! You remember that you’re a human being, not God.

Second, I’ve learned silence. In silence, you hear God. In silence, you hear your own heart.

And that's not easy! Sometimes you'd rather have music, your phone, anything to escape the silence. But here you have to face yourself, God, and the truth.

Thirdly, I learned patience. Everything moves slowly here. The weather can change in an instant and then you're stuck in the house for three days. People come when they come; the time is more or less irrelevant. And you learn to wait, to be present in the moment.

And fourthly, I’ve learned to be grateful: for a warm room, for the sun when it comes out, for every person who comes to Mass, for every smile. Nothing can be taken for granted here.

The north is making me more human, more priestly, and more Franciscan. St. Francis loved nature, he loved simplicity, and he loved peace. And here, in this wilderness, in this purity, I feel his spirit very strongly.

Do you have any anecdotes from your life in the north?

Father Tomaž: Oh, yes, I do!

It happened to me in my first year in Greenland. It was December, minus 20 degrees centigrade [-4ºF], and when I stepped off the plane, it hit me so hard that I could hardly breathe. I felt my nostrils freezing! You know -- that northern wind and cold. I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into. But that didn't drive me away.

Life in the north is a gift. Sometimes a difficult gift, a cold gift, but a gift nonetheless. I’ve learned that God works everywhere; in the cold and in the heat, in silence and in music, among Slovenians and Greenlanders. His love knows no bounds.

I invite you to pray for peace and respect for sovereignty, and to join us in caring for creation, especially our fragile Arctic environment, which is one of God's most stunning yet vulnerable masterpieces.

Greenland welcomes you — with silence, with snow, and with hope. God bless you, and warm greetings from Nuuk.