'I'm trans. I'm created in God's image, and God is proud of his creation.'

Notes on the continued decay of culture and society, as Norway's Lutheran Church dismantles itself further

Prelim: this is a two-part report; Substack informs me it is ‘too long for email’. Act accordingly, if necessary.

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I found these two pieces a few days ago on the website of state broadcaster NRK. At first, I was flabbergasted, and then I thought that these issues must be shared, not so much because of its content but because of what it signifies: the continued, perhaps accelerating march of the (Lutheran) Norwegian State Church towards its own end; to say nothing about the insane levels of ignorance (about, say, deadly sins) and the re-writing, Orwellian style, of the Bible.

Onwards, down this rabbit hole we go, then. Sigh.

Translations, emphases, and bottom lines mine.

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Meet Alex (29), Norway’s First Openly ‘Trans/Non-Binary’ Pastor

My enquiry began when, a few days ago, I saw this piece highlighted by Norwegian state broadcaster NRK. It told the story of one ‘trans’ person by the name of Alex Ramstad Døsvik who was ordained by the Church of Norway in Trondheim at the end of January 2024.

This piece is quite something, and it shows its bias from the get-go, opening with Alex’ following statement: ‘Some people disagree that I should become a priest, but I'd rather focus on the priestly ministry than think about it.’ And thus the tone for the entire piece is set—I’m doing my thing here, no matter what anyone else thinks.

Of course, there are more pastors self-identifying as ‘trans’, the article by Trond Odin Myhre Johansen and Pål Hovengen Plassen notes, but what makes Alex ‘special’—as in: the state broadcaster reports about it at-length—is that ‘they’ [orig. hen] ‘is the first to be open about it from the start’. In other words, Alex ‘transitioned’ before ‘feeling a calling’, noting that ‘it's nice to be able to contribute to the church becoming a bigger place that can accommodate more diversity than it has previously’.

Strong, if rather empty words—that is, unless you’re of the activist persuasion. What, in this regard, would ‘diversity’ (orig. mangfold) mean? According to the go-to Norwegian dictionary it simply means a ‘large and varied number of something’ [orig. stort og variert antall av noe].

Alex says that he has only received positive feedback directly to himself.

‘But the [Lutheran] Church of Norway is so small that you see the not-so-positive stuff too.’

Alex says that some people are afraid of what a non-binary priest will mean for the church's teachings: some are afraid of what they will preach about gender.

‘I very rarely preach about gender, I will mostly preach about God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit.’

Well, I’m glad we’ve got that settled, aren’t you, too? If memory serves, the Gospel, while of course being ‘inclusive’ in the sense of love thy neighbour does not contain many, if any, references to ‘gender’ (orig. kjønn).

The piece then meanders along, recounting Alex’ meetings with the Herborg Finnset, Bishop of Trondheim Cathedral. Ms. Finnset says, of course, that they are ‘pleased that Alex wants to work with them’, adding that the Church of Norway has also received criticism as a result of Alex’ ordainment:

There will always be criticism. We don't have to think the same way about everything to know that we belong together in the church. What's important now is that Alex can get a good start to his ministry and that we can realise that we can stand together even if we don't agree on everything.

This picture accompanies the NRK piece, and it is adorned with the quote by Bishop Finnset: ‘By highlighting diversity, Bishop Herborg Finnset hopes that the church will be perceived as open to more people.’

Maybe, but the reasoning behind Alex’ ordainment are also obvious to anyone, for Ms. Finnset is also quoted saying that she ‘hopes that by making diversity visible in this way, the church can be perceived as an open place for more people and that we also show through action that there is room for diversity in the church’.

Now, somewhere (Revelation 3:16, the subsequent quote is from the Rev. Standard Version Catholic Ed., see here for other versions) I read something pertinent:

So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.

Thus, whatever one might hope, dream, or feel about this entire episode, one thing is certain—that Bishop Finnset’s aim to ‘appear open to more people’ is, quite likely, to be perceived as bowing to woke pressures and, I’d add, in the above-related sense of the Revelation.

If this sentiment, surely known to the Bishop, troubles her, she certainly won’t let on. Neither seems this notion to cast doubt on the Church of Norway’s newest priest. Thus the NRK piece concludes with Alex expressing ‘hope that they [sic, orig. hen] can help to make the church more accessible to people’:

I hope so, that there can be a lower threshold for people who have been excluded or have not felt welcome to feel welcome.

At this point, we shall shift gear, for the question who had been ‘excluded’ or didn’t ‘feel welcome’ is—highly individual, if not outright narcissistic, and not ‘just’ its premise but also its implications to which we now turn.

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Just a few months before the WHO-declared a so-called ‘Pandemic™’, NRK actually portrayed Alex quite early on this particular journey to priesthood. Written by Lise Sørensen, the below piece, which I reproduce in excerpts, appeared on NRK (13 Oct. 2019), with the following telling title ‘Church Warrior’ (orig. Kirkekrigeren).

It is in this piece where Alex is quoted in the following:

I'm trans. I'm created in God's image, and God is proud of his creation.

Leaving aside considerations of blasphemy for the moment (personally I do consider anyone stating these things unfit for ordainment), I do think logic is a bigger enemy of faith in this context: that statement alone either implies that God was somehow ‘confused’ when he created Alex or intended his creation to mutilate her reproductive organs to appear in his image. Neither option makes sense nor do either instil a lot of confidence—really: any—in the mental and personal stability of Alex.

The remainder of that piece, as well as its terrible implications, show this aspect in no uncertain terms.

The piece by Ms. Sørensen opens as predicable as obviously propagandistic. Alex’ is introduced in 2016 when the Church of Norway was debating whether same-sex couples should be allowed to marry in church:

Alex is one of several queer people elected to the Church Council.

He has heard homosexuality compared to adultery. The point about Adam and Eve—that God created two genders in order for them to procreate—is mentioned several times [here Ms. Sørensen shows off her incredible lack of knowledge about Genesis].

For the queer people in the audience, they are the ones it's all about [wait a second, I thought this was about God’s creation…]

Alex stands on the pulpit to show the diversity that actually exists in the church, even though it's really scary to come out as trans here.

So, if you were wondering if Alex’ ordainment had anything to do with virtue-signalling, there you go.

The article then shifts gears, presumably lest readers might start asking questions about these issues. What follows next is the recounting of Alex’ thorny path to faith. She grew up in a small village in a thoroughly non-faith environment. Back in 2008, she was listening to a Christian band performing for teens who prepared for their confirmation—and ‘Alex was fascinated by the bass player’.

Interestingly, it was her kind of crush on the bass player that made her consider a Protestant confirmation (instead of the ‘civil’ version; I’m a wee bit unsure about this but perhaps Nordic readers may explain this):

Alex really wanted a civil confirmation because [s]he thought the church was just nonsense. [Her] parents said it was fine, but that [s]he would have to pay for this party himself. That message made Alex opt for a paid party and the church.

Alex was ultimately confirmed in Ørland church in May 2009 wearing traditional Norwegian costum (bunad). It was in the auditorium in the communal cultural centre where she first saw the bass player, adding: ‘Shit, that was cool, can Christian people be so cool?’

At that moment, ‘a spark was lit’, writes Ms. Sørensen, because Alex ‘didn't know any young people who were Christians, and she was surprised that Christians could be “ordinary people”. For whatever reason, Ms. Sørensen concludes these recollections with the following sentence: ‘Perhaps the belief in God had always been there, deep down, but in the meeting with the bassist in the football shirt, it was brought to life.’

It is sad to read this, but the facts are clear: here was someone (Alex) who had no connection to God or the Church before, for materialistic reasons, went along. Surprisingly, she saw (met) a Christian bass player who may or may not have been all too interested in a slightly overweight teen (see the linked NRK piece for some pictures that I’m not going to reproduce here), let alone the possibility of the teen boy not being all too interested in a quick flirt. Jus’ sayin’.

My suspicion here is informed by both personal experiences (I grew up in a superficially Catholic community) and the way Ms. Sørensen frames subsequent events:

In the girls' room in the basement of the farm where Alex grew up, [s]he was used to feeling completely alone.

Alex was bullied and felt ostracised by the other girls at school. [S]he received treatment for depression and tried to figure out who [s]he was. [S]he fell in love with other girls, but didn't know any other queer people.

So, there you have it: as much as this saddens me (also, like virtually everyone else I presume, I experienced a bunch of things that today might be considered ‘mobbing’ and ‘bullying’), the question here is—does this necessitate ‘treatment for depression’? I’m not being fastidious here, so please keep it in mind because this becomes important in a moment.

As it happens, being a loner in high school and despite ‘treatment for depression’, Alex ‘also began to feel something else’, namely that ‘Jesus was always there’, offering ‘enormous protection’ and inspiration at the same time she was ‘struggling mentally’. Thus, Alex got ‘involved in the church’.

Doing so was not without obstacles, because at the time, gay people were not allowed to marry in the church (how that would be helping with depression is not mentioned any longer). What happened, though, is that ‘Alex wanted to confront the bishop’.

Noting multiple (expectable) questions in a notebook for the Bishop of Nidaros, Tor Singsaas, Alex prepared for a first youth meeting, which are the first steps in youth democracy in the church and the bishop usually comes to visit.

On a weekend in March 2011, this meeting happened, and Alex ‘was unsure how [s]he would be received as a queer person’. This is, of course, because ‘conservative Christians believe that homosexuality is a sin, because it is a violation of the rules God has made for human beings’.

One of the items on the programme at the youth council was ‘Grill a Bishop’, and Alex wanted to ask the pre-formulated questions from her book and was laser-focused on making Tor Singsaas accountable for the church's views on queer people (this is, of course, absurd, if only because how dare Man or Woman rewrite the word of God?).

I’m going to abbreviate the following account a bit here—for we have bigger fish to fry.

Alex met the Bishop who is described as ‘liberal’ and ‘in favour of queer people getting married in church’. Apparently, with this issue settled, it is reported that ‘it wasn't this bishop's fault that others in the church are Christians taking the Gospel literally and thus have a view that makes it difficult for him [sic] to be himself’. (The word you’re looking for is—narcissism, for why join a club to remake it according to your wishes?)

When Alex got to talk to Tor Singsaas afterwards, it was a relaxed meeting. He was also well received by the others who were at the youth council. This gave him the strength to fight for what he believes in, namely a church that is open and inclusive.

Eventually, he was also encouraged by Tor Singsaas to become a priest.

The bishop realised that Alex is a sensitive and confident person with a lot of empathy and respect for others. He also saw how committed Alex is to his faith in Jesus.

At first, Alex turned down the proposal; knowing of merely one gay man who was studying theology to become a priest, Alex ‘didn't want to put himself through the strain’ (of learning theology, mind you).

The reason given is that ‘Alex wasn't “just” queer’ and that ‘there was something more to it’. I’ll quote more from the piece, because this is the ‘story’ of how one lonely and depressed teenager became ‘trans’:

In [her] encounter with the queer community in Trondheim, Alex realised that [s]he was not a girl [any longer].

Alex was nervous the first time [s]he took the speedboat across the fjord to Trondheim to attend a meeting of members of Queer Youth.

There followed ‘weekly trips' across the fjord’, many a cake buffets, game nights, themed meetings, and joint movie nights. ‘It was good to come to a place where there were more queer people his [sic] age’, Ms. Sørenses summarises this, adding that ‘at home, [s]he didn't know anyone else’ who was also ‘queer’.

Alex learnt more about being gay. Gradually, [s]he began to reflect on himself in a whole new way [at those meetings].

And when boys and girls were divided into different groups before a big political meeting at the end of high school, [s]he became angry and annoyed. [S]he thought it was unnecessary to divide by gender [sic] because it potentially didn't include everyone.

Note the gaslighting here: being ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’, one could still ‘fit in’ groups organised by sex: what Ms. Sørensen is doing here is projecting Alex’ later ‘trans’ identification onto earlier times. As a historian, I’d call this ‘anachronistic’; since we’re here to spot agit-prop, this is it.

When [s]he told a friend about this, she asked him if the reason he was so angry could be because it was about himself [see, told you: it’s about narcissism and, possibly, Alex’ mental illness] .

Alex started to think about what this friend had said. Could [s]he be trans? [S]he thought it made sense and realised that there might be something to it.

In spring 2014, Alex enquired about the bishop’s thoughts with respect to ‘trans’ people. Later that year, s/he adopted ‘a masculine name for the first time’.

He was at a 4H camp [a ‘nationwide politically and religiously neutral youth organisation’] and wanted to see how it felt to have a different name.

It was scary, because he hadn't discussed the possibility of being trans with anyone at the camp. But with the support of a friend, and surrounded by people he was unlikely to see again, he introduced himself as Alex.

Alex because "A" was the first letter of his old name. Alex because it's a gender-neutral name, but perhaps a little more masculine in Norway, which suited him fine. Also, the name means ‘the one who defends’ [who or what, exactly?].

It felt good. He really enjoyed toning down his feminine side.

The next section is about the coming-out/closet ‘dance’, which is a bit sad as well as absurd.

After the summer camp, Alex ‘went back into the closet’. For a few weeks, what happened at the camp was ‘a fond memory’, yet, as Ms. Sørensen tells it, this approach worked only ‘until Alex realised that he could no longer walk around as someone other than who he really is’.

The first thing he did was to buy a binder, a garment that flattens the chest to give a more masculine expression.

And then he had to figure out how to tell the people around him that he wasn't a girl. That he no longer wanted to be called ‘she’, but ‘he’ [see what Ms. Sørensen had done so far?]

Later that year, Alex sat down ‘in his room at the folk high school’ and wrote a letter to his parents.

He tried to explain what it means to be a non-binary masculine trans person, that he doesn’t want to become a man, but that he would like to be perceived as one by the people around him. That he is somewhere in between, or both…

He hadn't had the courage to tell his family before he left home. Alex was nervous about how they would react to the fact that their girl was no longer a girl.

He was afraid of being kicked out of the house, and maybe that's why he waited until he had moved out to tell them.

‘I love you guys. I hope you love me, but I realise it can be hard to get used to.’

When Alex dropped the letter in the letterbox, a nerve-wracking wait began.

At the same time, he began to investigate whether he could change his body to become more masculine. He wanted a beard, more hair on his arms and a deeper voice.

In this process, faith in God was important. Because Alex's belief is that God knows who or what he creates, and that everyone is perfect in God's image.

Although I’m not a theologian, I’m quite sure this isn’t, exactly, how this works…I do sense that this is a kind of taking one’s mental illness to the proverbial ‘next level’: first, Alex became troubled during puberty, then the psychiatrist—and the ‘queer’ youth group ‘affirmed’ her/him, and by 2014/15, Alex re-imagined Church lore.

This, however, is how Ms. Sørensen spins this:

Carrying this belief with him made him more sure of who he was. He has never thought that there was anything wrong with his body, but that the fault lies in the way people are ‘labelled’ as male or female based on their body [by others, i.e., Alex became annoyed by people who ‘misgendered’ him/her; we note, in passing, that there is but one bone in the human body that is, in fact, sex-specific: the pelvis: Alex’ beef has become, essentially, with both God’s creation and biology].

At the same time, he has felt betrayed by the church [because…] the majority at the bishops' meeting…voted against same-sex marriage in the church in autumn 2013, Alex initially wanted to leave the Church of Norway in protest. But because he still wanted to be heard, he decided to fight for the cause from within.

This is why I’m insisting on calling this a mental illness: Alex joins the church in the hope they change in the desired way, but when they don’t, he ‘feels betrayed’. Here’s some free life advice: don’t try to join a club whose rules you don’t like.

Moreover, the spin by Ms. Sørensen is absurd at this point: a few paragraphs earlier, she recounts the 4H camp experience and dates it ‘summer 2014’—the bishops’ vote on same-sex marriage, though, took place ‘in autumn 2013’. So, I think what happened is that this synodal vote angered Alex to such a degree that s/he dreamt up what seemed the one way out: becoming ‘trans’, getting ordained, and ‘fight[ing] for the cause [which one?] from within’.

You can’t make this up—this is as close to an activist’s confession (no pun intended) as possible.

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The rest, as the saying goes, is both history and related quickly:

‘Alex began to feel physically uncomfortable with his own body when he wasn't wearing the binder’, which I read as—if one doesn’t castigate oneself, life is literally un-bearable. That is also another definition of deteriorating mental illness, but I digress.

The Priestly Dream

When Alex steps down from the lectern at the Church Assembly in April 2016, he feels like hiding. But what he has done feels important and right. Conditions for gay and transgender people will not improve without someone fighting.

And now he gets applause. And hugs.

Bishop Tor Singsaas is one of the more than 100 people sitting in the auditorium. And he is one of many who walk over to Alex and hold him. He says it was a great job, and that he stands with Alex in this.

Later, a majority votes in favour of allowing same-sex couples to marry in church. The issue has been discussed for years without allowing gay marriage in church.

To recap: the bishops’ conference voted against doing so in 2013, and when another vote was held three hears later, they reversed course. On top of it, Alex ‘feels important’. And ‘now he gets applause’.

Sadly, the buck never stops, which is the essence of ‘queer’. There can never be anything like ‘closure’, for what was deemed ‘radical’ yesterday isn’t enough today, and it will be challenged by the next generation of activists immediately to be pushed through tomorrow. It never stops for these kinds of activists. Rinse and repeat:

When he, and others, can get this through in the church after so many years [three, to be exact], Alex realises that there may also be room for him as a priest.

He has to give up his own resistance to entering the priestly role with his background. Because Alex thinks [sic] he has something to contribute [never mind the church, its doctrine, or Christianity as a whole].

As a priest, he can help open the doors for people who have felt [sic] excluded, so that they can recognise that the church is also for them, and that there are no restrictions on who can be part of it.

If you’re still not convinced this is about narcissism and the unyielding desire to ‘keep going after’ whatever, there you go:

For ‘the “priestly calling” will have to wait, because Alex is in the middle of a vital process of expressing the gender he recognises himself as’.

Because before Alex can follow his ‘calling’ (sic), his own demands come first.

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Bottom Lines

It is at this juncture that we’ll cut short (sic) this piece—for it is very long already, and the parts that I withheld from you for now play an outsized role in the second instalment.

So far, we learned about the Church of Norway’s first ‘openly non-binary’ and ‘trans’ priest, Alex Ramstad Døsvik, whose detailed personal history reveals a troubled young individual struggling with depression who received ‘affirmation’ from his ‘queer’ youth group, and set off to change the Church of Norway in more than one way.

By now, Alex has been ordained, which ‘only’ occurred after a significant push to make the Church of Norway marry same-sex couples to which Alex contributed.

More importantly, Alex’ story is also one of mental illness and, seemingly unending narcissism; both of these aspects are hugely important, for it would seem that Alex in a way ‘feeds’ off the affirmation generation by others in her/his life, which renders enquiry into those most influential voices not just paramount but the only way forward if one wishes to understand, in more detail, WTF is going on with people before, during, and after they ‘transition’.

It is the topic of the second part in which we shall follow Alex through the ‘transition’ process and pay very good attention to a seemingly minor issue (it pertains to the ‘medical professional’ who ‘advised’ Alex)—because doing so will unlock the door to the absurd-disgusting netherworld of what is euphemistically called ‘gender-affirming care’.

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P.S.: as I mentioned, I grew up in a superficially catholic environment, left the Church around age 20, and considered myself somewhere in the atheist/agnostic categories ever since. I have since come to at least question this stance, not so much because I had a re-conversion experience or the like, but many of the recent and current developments cannot be fully grasped without resorting to Biblical language and images. That said, perhaps this is my own ‘road to Damascus’, and I reserve the right to change my opinion, but all told I shall refrain from making more explicit comments about the doctrinal and faith-related issues (also, I do think that the mental illness-spurned by others angle is also sufficient to understand this story, but I’m of course not saying it’s the only issue at-hand here).