Hello,
Sochi may have had the Olympics. London may have the changing of the Guards at Buckingham
Palace. New York may have New
Year’s Eve at Times Square . But
Stahlstown, Pennsyalvania ,the town (?) where I live, has the Annual Flaxscutching Festival. So
world famous is this yearly event that if you Google “flaxscutching” the top
entry on the World Wide Web is Stahlstown, and it has its own website!
Complete with the Trogar Lutheran Church Bell Ringers, homemade
pies from the Pie Shoppe in Laughlinton, a display of Massey Fergusson Tractors
(one at work grinding flour), a Civil War encampment, the Boy Scout’s fresh
pressed apple cider, and (of course!) the highlight: the re-enactment of the Indian
attack on the first settlers of Stahlstown (complete with the burning of the cabin,
the Natives (boy scouts) bare chested with war paint, and full-bearded modern
day Stahlstonians portraying their ancestors firing their mussel loaders and
shotguns. No wonder it has World
Wide Web fame.
What is “flaxscutching”? It is the process by which the early settlers made cloth out
of flax, an easily grown crop.
They have hourly demonstrations at the festival of the process, a process
that involves lots of steps and lots of skill.
It’s a touch of Americana that only small towns still seem
to be able to put together, free from commercialism, modern technology, and
rock and roll music. It is a link
to the past that set the foundation for the present. It is a reminder of the ingenuity, struggle, and
determination of those who first settled here.
Kate and I attended the Flaxscutching Festival. The morning was cold and rainy, but the
afternoon warmed up and the skies cleared, just in time for the
re-enactment. The cross-section of
society that roamed the festival grounds was both intriguing and
refreshing. I know that the
socialites of New York, Chicago, and Paris might laugh at the lack of
sophistication and glitz, but there’s something profound in the dogged
determination of the people to remember where they have come from.
Much of the same happens every Sunday morning at
church. Often times there isn’t a
lot of glitz and sophistication.
The choir consists of people like aunt Martha who likes to sing,
unfortunately often too loud and a bit off pitch. The preacher and the sermon have sedative
effects. The décor hasn’t been
changed in 50 years, and things are done in a certain way, a way which no one
knows the reason why, only that its always been done that way.
But there’s something profound in the dogged determination
of the people to remember where they have come from: the cross and resurrection
of Jesus. A old couple whose lives
have been burdened with pain belting out their favorite hymn…a young child
stumbling their way through the Lord’s Prayer….a baby screaming as Baptismal
water is poured…a family kneeling at the communion rail with hands
outstretched…a whole congregation united in the ancient words of the liturgy.
There’s plenty of things that go on on Sunday mornings now
a’days that are glitzier and more sophisticated than what goes on in the
average church, but just like the Flaxscutching Festival, the simple festival
of grace that goes on in every church every Sunday has a way of grasping the
deepest things in life that the slick and exciting options do not.
See y’uns there!
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Pastor Jerry Nuernberger
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