DANISH CHURCHYARDS

Being a state church, as the Lutheran Church in Denmark is, has its advantages. The church is, in principle, financed by a separate tax (though non-members can opt out of this). But this is never enough, so the state provides a top-up payment. In return, the church carries out certain public functions, such as maintaining the registries of births and deaths in the parish.

One of those public functions is to manage graveyards. In order to fulfil this obligation, most parish churches employ a "graver" (a gravedigger), often on a part-time basis. Since modern Danes tend to die rather intermittently, particularly in rural areas, most of the graver's time is spent not on digging, but on gardening. When allied to a general Danish tendency towards tidiness, the result is spectacularly well-kept churchyards; well-laid out, with upright headstones and neat rows of box hedges along the weedless gravel paths. This is not always the case elsewhere in Europe. I visited my father's grave in England not long ago, and it looked a complete mess. Situated on a hillside, it was overgrown with weeds, prone to flooding and seemingly close to collapse.

It helps, I suppose, that Denmark became Lutheran in 1536. The Protestant reaction against finery in churches - few paintings, an absence of gold and marble, simple vestments - meant that more money was available for practical things such as keeping the roof from leaking and cutting the grass. In Granada recently, we visited the fantastic renaissance cathedral with its museum of gold and silver plate, and rich clothing studded with jewels. They would certainly have reflected the majesty of the Emperor Charles V and inspired awe in the congregation; but perhaps the average Andalucian peasant would, on balance, have preferred a well-tended grave for their loved ones?

Walter Blotscher