Not far from the crowds coming and going at the main train station in Helsinki, Finland, is a modest modern building with a rounded wooden exterior. It is the Kamppi Chapel, also known informally as “the quiet chapel.” It holds no regular services, has no famous stained glass windows—in fact, no windows at all in the wood-paneled sanctuary diffusely lit from above. A single candle, a small cross, and a small bouquet of flowers are all that adorn the interior, while simple benches offer visitors a quiet place to pause and pray.
What you most notice is the beautiful, restful, restorative silence. It is a silence palpably filled with prayer. Whether you’re a local citizen or a traveler from around the world, here is a space to bring one’s heart to God—to petition for help with a need, or listen for guidance in a decision, or find solace for a deep sorrow.
As I sat in that small chapel, I thought about how many languages those prayers had been offered in over the years since it opened. And I recalled something written by Mary Baker Eddy in her chapter on prayer in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures: “In divine Science, where prayers are mental, all may avail themselves of God as ‘a very present help in trouble.’ Love is impartial and universal in its adaptation and bestowals” (pp. 12–13).
