"Last 4
Shakers find plenty of 'Friends'"
by David Sharp (AP, July 20, 2003)
NEW GLOUCESTER,
Maine
-- It's a tall order keeping a big family farm going when you grow your
own
vegetables, raise your own livestock and care for 18 buildings, some as
old as
the nation itself.
It's even tougher when there are just the four of you
overseeing
1,800 acres and no descendants to take over when you're gone.
That's the situation for the world's remaining Shakers,
members of
a dying religious sect that flourished in the 1800s.
Fortunately, they have dozens of supporters -- a group of
volunteers, who, though unwilling to join their religion, admire their way
of
life so much that they do what they can to support the Shakers.
Like their forebears and the Amish, with whom they are often
confused, the remaining Shakers at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village cling to
tradition. They live a communal, agrarian lifestyle that combines worship,
hard
work and simple living.
But their days of growth are gone. Unlike the Amish, the
Shakers
are celibate, able to increase their numbers only through converts, or
adopting
orphans, a practice they no longer follow.
"A life of denial is not attractive to people,"
said
Brother Arnold Hadd, one of the two Shaker men. "People don't like to
sacrifice."
A recent day found the two women, Sister Frances Carr, 76,
and
Sister June Carpenter, 65, making home-grown strawberry rhubarb marmalade.
Hadd, 46, and Brother Wayne Smith, 40, were in the barn cleaning out
stalls and
giving the animals fresh water.
Simply maintaining the historic farm is an enormous task.
"At this point, it's triage," said Hadd, as he made
his
way between the 1830 barn and the more "modern" six-story
dwelling
house built in 1883.
Luckily, 60 volunteers showed up one recent morning to pitch
in.
They came from New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Rhode Island and
Massachusetts.
Bathed in warm sunshine and swatting black flies, the
"Friends of the Shakers" hoisted shovels, painted fences, fixed
porch
screens and cleaned windows. They planted roses in front of the cemetery
where
members are laid to rest under a granite marker that says simply
"Shakers."
"I like preserving a way of life," said Ann
Spencer, a
volunteer from just 30 miles away, who was painting a fence. "They
have a
lot of property here and they can't do it all themselves."
Ray McCaskey came all the way from Chicago. The CEO of Health
Care
Service Corp., which runs Blue Cross and Blue Shield plans in three
states,
said his fascination with the Shakers began as "an extension of
history,
and it ended up being personal."
Robert King of Putney, Vt., has studied the Shaker gardens.
"You can come here and experience something that never stopped,"
he
said. "The old agriculture tradition is here."
Susan Dupree of Bethlehem, Pa., considers the farm "our
own
little piece of heaven. It's like a retreat, even though I have a
paintbrush in
my hand."
Along with manual labor offered twice a year, the 30-year-old
Friends group also donates about $10,000 a year. It's not just the
religion
that draws their support. It's also the history, the architecture, the
Shaker
furniture.
Whatever the reason, the Shakers are thankful.
"With 60 people working on the grounds, it allows you to
get
things done in a day that would take a month," Hadd said. "It
really
helps out a lot."
The Shakers settled in 1783 at Sabbathday Lake, one of 19
such
communities across the country at one time or another. At its peak, this
community was populated by 183 souls.
While other Shaker villages faded away, this one in the
gentle
hills survived. Today, it remains a working farm with 50 sheep, cattle,
pigs,
gardens and 18 buildings, the oldest of which dates to the 1760s.
About 10,000 tourists visit each summer. Many of those think
they're seeing history, and indeed they are. What some probably don't
realize
is it's living history, and a living religion.
The Shakers rise early for personal devotions, have breakfast
together, join in prayer and then go about their chores following the
words of
founder Ann Lee: "Hands to work and hearts to God."
Known as the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second
Appearing, they earned the derisive moniker "shaking Quakers"
for
their charismatic dance. The worship style changed long ago, but the
Shaker
name stuck.
Shakers are credited with a number of inventions, including
the
flat-bottom broom, the spring-loaded clothespin and the circular saw.
Despite
their old-fashioned farm life, the Sabbathday Lake Shakers have computers,
Internet access and a Web site.
Each week, several people contact the community via e-mail
about
joining. But few are willing to adopt the lifestyle.
Sister Carr bristles at news reports that have repeatedly
described the Sabbathday Lake village as the "last" Shakers.
That suggests the religion will someday die completely. And
that's
an outcome she and the others aren't willing to accept.
"It's frustrating that for the past 20 or 30 years all
the
reports were that the Shakers were essentially shut down, closed, not
accepting
new members," she said as she sat in the parlor of the dwelling
house.
They pray daily for new followers, but unlike other
religions, the
Shakers don't go forth preaching their message or trying to convert
others.
"You can't save others. You've got to save
yourself,"
Hadd said. "It's not talking about the life. It's living the
life."
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On the Net:
Sabbathday Lake Shakers http://www.shaker.lib.me.us/
Independent Shaker Web Site http://www.maineshakers.com/
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