In the spring of 2019, I had my last months in Denmark at the end of a five-year stay, and in that time I managed to do a bit of churchcrawling, something I had long wanted to do. One of the wonderful things about Denmark, especially for a medievalist, is that there are numerous churches from the Middle Ages that have survived with their medieval elements intact, at least to various degrees, and they can be found all over the country. The sheer plethora of these churches means that it is also possible to encounter them by chance when driving along, and this gives plenty of opportunity for unexpected treasures to materialise into view.
During my last months in Denmark, my parents came to visit and I had planned an itinerary that would bring us some places we had not visited before, focussing - of course - mainly on medieval churches. However, knowing full well from previous trips how rewarding it can be to also keep an eye out for lesser-known churches, we were always prepared to take an unscheduled stop along the way. One such stop was the church of Nørre Nærå on Fyn.
The name Nørre Nærå is a confusing name in several respects. First of all, it is one of two locations with "Nærå" in the name, this being the northernmost of the two, whereas the other location, also the site of a medieval church, is called Sønder Nærå, i.e. the southernmost of the two. Furthermore, the name "Nærå" initially seems to suggest a river, since the word "å" is a Norse word for river, which can be found in both modern Danish and modern Norwegian. However, according to specialist Lisbeth Eilersgaard Christensen, in a study available from the website of Odense Museum, here, the name is a muddling of the word "høj", pointing to a hill or a mound, as seen in Norwegian "haug" or English dialect "how". Finally, the element "Nær", which in modern Danish would be "near" is interpreted as a muddling of the name Njord, one of the Norse gods. So the name essentially means "The Northernmost Hill of Njord", thus possibly pointing to an old site for rituals or other religious gatherings. This is one of many names in Fyn that point to a pre-Christian religious practices, most famous of which is the main city, and episcopal centre, Odense, which is interpreted as Odin's vi, or the sacred place of Odin.
The bishopric of Odense, which covers all of Fyn, was established at the end of the tenth century, the earliest reference to which is a letter of privilege sent on behalf of the boy-king Otto III, later emperor, to the Danish bishops. At this point, the Danish church organisation was not extensive, and it is questionable whether there actually was a resident bishop in Odense at that time. In the course of the eleventh century, however, this changed, and by the end of the twelfth century the bishop of Odense was the head of a large number of churches, many of which were erected in the second half of the 1100s. It is likely that one of these churches was that of Nørre Nærå, since there are several Romanesque elements surviving, one of which is a baptismal font (imperfectly photographed by me, see below).
In written sources, the village of Nørre Nærå appears for the first time in 1282, while the church appears in 1304 - that it, if the Nærå church mentioned is the northernmost and not the southernmost of the possible candidates. Irregardless, the Romanesque elements indicate a point of origin of the church that is at least a century older than its first possible appearance in textual documents.
The church building as it stands today is mostly the result of an expansion of the original church space towards the end of the fifteenth century, and at times heavy restoration work in mid- to late 1800s. Several of the features of the church space are modern, such as the pulpit from 1848 and the altarpiece from 1937. These are both beautiful pieces, and although not medieval they are nonetheless part of that rich melange of remnants from various points in time that is is common in the Danish churchscapes.
Danish churches are historical treasure houses, and they can contain surprising gems, even in the smallest and most remote cases. The truth of this became evident when entering Nørre Nærå Church, because in the left-hand corner of the aisle just before entering the choir, there is a stone with a runic inscription unostentatiously placed on its own below a candelabra from 1934. The stone has been moved into the church during renovation work, and in earlier records it was mentioned as placed in the cemetery. This is a wonderful survival from medieval Denmark, and the most fantastic part of this artefact is not so much that it is found in a church of such chiefly local significance, but that it is dated to the ninth century, possibly close to as much as three centuries older than the oldest surviving part of the church itself.
The text itself has stumped runologists, as the inscription - which seems to be partly lost - is difficult to interpret. It reads "Thormundr Niut kumbls", which has been interpreted by Erik Moltke as being a kind of burial formula, but I for my part dare not say more on the subject here. However we understand the text, its very presence is a wonderful reminder of the wealth of the Danish medieval material, and how much of it can be encountered even in the most remote, humble places. And this is the reason why it's always a good idea to stop when a church appears in view.
The information about the various details of the church can be found in the chapter on Nørre Nærå in the monumental encyclopedia Danmarks Kirker (Churches of Denmark), available online here.
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