Driving down the roads of Lancaster County PA there is a dark covered buggy pulled by a single horse, a bearded man staring ahead is holding the reins, and a mother with her children in the tiny compartment behind. It could be a scene from the seventeen or eighteen hundreds, but this is modern day America, with cars, trucks, semis also competing for the same road. We are in Amish country–as we see another, and yet another buggy making their way down the busy roads.

At a time when the emphasis in modern culture is on the latest upgrade, Amish have chosen the opposite way. Striving for humility drives their decision making process. Far from wanting to stand out from the crowd, Amish want to blend into their community. They have embraced a few changes since their coming to America: use of propane, diesel engine/generators, tractors to use the power-take-off capacity to operate processing equipment (not for use in the fields), and occasionally cell phones for business (never in the home). These innovations are often in response to the demands of the world around them, and I am sure each have been considered from every possible side before being adopted by the local district. Some use of modernity has been in response to the law of the land. For instance power is needed for milking machines which are required, so a electric generator is used, but power is never taken from the grid. A carefully considered interaction with English (anyone not Amish is referred to as English) means a truck can deliver goods to an Amish home loaded with lumber or propane, but an Amish would not own or operate such a truck. An Amish may work as a carpenter for an English, but it is preferable to work at home, on the farm or in a cottage industry.  

Far from diminishing in numbers, today over 90% of young Amish choose this traditional life. Amish are part of the Anabaptist movement, baptism only occurs when an individual can make it a conscious choice. Between the ages of 16 and twenty-something, during which time they can freely mix with the outside culture so that they may make an informed choice, a young woman or man can then choose to be baptized. Baptism is entering the community as an adult and can marry, only another Amish. If one chooses not to be baptized, then they may continue to have contact with the family and community. Many of those who do not continue as Amish become Mennonites, who have similar beliefs but are more liberal in dress and lifestyle. In the past 20 years the Amish population has doubled, from 100,000 to over 250,000 Nationwide. The estimate is that in another twenty years the Amish population will double its number again, currently  about 31,000 in Lancaster County; it is not unusual for a family to have seven or more children. If an adult chooses baptism, but then later leaves the community, they risk being shunned, no communication or support, with the idea that the wayward soul will come back–baptism and marriage are considered to be commitments for life; although remarriage is encouraged if there is a death of a spouse.  

Three key teachings of the Amish concern: the rejection of pride or arrogance (Hockmut), cultivation of humility (Demut), and calmness (Gelassenheit). To promote these values they dress simply, a single color (no plaids), black, gray and purple are common colors. The men wear beards but no mustache–mustaches were once a source of pride for men. Modern day conveniences, such as electricity, cars, trucks, or cameras are eschewed due to the probability of competition and pride, or taking time and focus away from the family and community (no Air Jordan’s or $150 jeans for the kids). You have to carefully consider going to the store if you are being pulled by a horse, versus jumping into your car. The idea is to be more grounded in the earth through farming or a cottage craft.

The Amish originated in Switzerland (German speaking Swiss)  in 1683 by Jakob Ammann (The name Amish is a derivative of Ammann). Due to persecution in Switzerland and Germany they moved to Pennsylvania, where William Penn, a Quaker, practiced tolerance for all religions. It is theorized that when asked where they were from, they responded Deutschland (Germany), and it was thought they were saying Dutchland; so went the association that they were from Holland (not true) and it has stuck (much like first nations in North America are stuck with being Indians, even though it has been well known from early on they are not from India). At home and amongst themselves Amish speak a dialect of German. Over time that dialect has changed to such a degree that a native German cannot understand an Amish. English is learned when children go to school.

All Amish we have met, mostly men and women vendors selling goods, have been friendly, not standoffish, they speak very good accented english, and are overall a very handsome group of people. Parking lots regularly have signs for hitching posts for horses, even at Costco. They have large family gardens, but also buy goods from local stores. They are not particularly focused on modern day health food standards: they use pesticides on crops, grow tobacco for a cash crop, and a favorite recipe is Amish Peanut Butter: peanut butter and marshmallow combined! Only a third are now full time farmers, others have branched out to cottage industries–too many for farming to support. Amish are famous for making furniture, also various crafts of high quality. Schooling, in their own one room school, which ends at grade eight, and no further. Then for boys, it is on to  unpaid apprenticeships.     

Church is every other week, held at a family location. There are districts within the community, an average district will be about 80 adults plus children. Service begins at 8:30 with a short talk, slow singing (an average song lasts about 15 minutes), followed by silence, then a longer talk. After Service there is food, which is an important part of any Amish gathering. Community norms are enforced: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking. They will use modern hospitals, but do not have health insurance and they do not collect social security, older adults live at home with the family. They pay taxes, but do not use the schools or other government services. They are pacifists, so no military service. If someone is in trouble, if a house or barn burns down the community bands together to meet the emergency and skilled labor shows up to rebuild.

A tragic and touching story came about in 2006 that tells much of how Amish live their values. A deranged man came into an Amish schoolhouse and shot ten girls, killing five and seriously wounding the others; then he killed himself. The Amish put into practice forgiveness when they respectfully came to the killer’s funeral after attending the funerals of their own girls. Not long afterward, the Amish community gave money to the killer’s family, his wife and three children who were now without a husband and father. One can only imagine the shock and horror of a close community when a local man kills their children, and what it would take to then be mindful enough to think of the needs of a sudden widow and her children of the murderer. It is quite a thing to do.

As we travel in the county today we are mindful that the Amish do not care to have their photographs taken; no graven images of God (little figurines of Amish by a local artist have blank faces)–it may also turn into a source of pride. I am sure that every compromise with the society they live in is very carefully debated–each district to some degree sets their own rules; so you do see variations. Carla mentioned during our time here, it has felt peaceful. And it is true. After a week of being here, longer than we had initially thought to stay, and contending with all the usual traffic, seeing the box stores and outlet malls, there is even a “Dutch” amusement park nearby, but underneath it all there is a quiet vibration that makes this a special place.  

A young Amish man is drawn to our campground by a single horse. His buggy with his wife and children tucked in behind has has a small trailer he is towing. He is sweet natured, selling canned “chow chow,” delicious pickled mixed vegetables, fresh lemonade, he has a whole miniature store in his wagon. He stops and very quickly a crowd is around him buying his goods. What root beer he sells in quart jars, fabulous. Pickled beets, the best I have ever had. We see him a couple of times over the days we are here. He is soft spoken, his wife demure in the back, one of the kids, a small boy, has his bare foot up over the top of the tailgate of the buggy, and while the word quaint naturally comes to mind, they are not trying to be quaint–they are simply living their faith.

It does provide an interesting counterpoint to our constant movement on this pilgrimage of ours, our vehicles, our use of electronic gadgetry as I am writing these words on an electronic tablet that I will send out on the world wide web. And while I do not choose their lifestyle (the closest I would have come is when I was in silence and seclusion for a year), nevertheless I find there is an appeal to living so close to the earth, and the absence of our many modern conveniences, that often come with hidden costs that can derail us from simplicity. One takeaway is that we can choose simplicity in our daily life. Perhaps walk to someplace close by, or ride a bike (Amish do not ride bikes, but foot powered scooters), take time away from electronics–find ways to be a little Amish, to be simpler in day-to-day living.

Rural north Maryland was the unlikely home of a remarkable daughter of God, Elizabeth Ann (nee Baley) Seton; the first canonized American saint of the Catholic Church. Born two years before the American Revolution, daughter of a wealthy and socially connected doctor in New York, wife of a wealthy shipping magnate, mother of five, widow, and convert from the Episcopal Church (grandfather was rector of St. Andrews) to  the Catholic faith after the passing of her husband while they were in Italy.

From early on Elizabeth had an ongoing connection with God as demonstrated by her remembrance of a day when she was fourteen years old:

”found an outlet in a meadow; and a chestnut tree with several young ones growing around it, found rich moss under it and a warm sun. Here, then, was a sweet bed -the air still a clear blue vault above-the numberless sounds of spring melody and joy the sweet clovers and wildflowers I had got by the way, and a heart as innocent as human heart could be, filled even with enthusiastic love to God and admiration of His works …. God was my Father, my all. I prayed, sang hymns, cried, laughed, talking to myself of how far He could place me above all sorrow. Then I laid still to enjoy the heavenly peace that came over my soul; and I am sure, in the two hours so enjoyed, grew ten years in the spiritual life …. The wintry storms of time shall be over and the unclouded spring enjoyed forever.”

This was a special memory, but her conversations with, and faith in God were a constant in her life. Every loss, every sorrow found consolation in her connection with her Lord.

During the last days of her husband’s life who was suffering from T.B., imprisoned in an Italian quarantine area, with no heat, locked in a cell because they had just disembarked from a ship from New York that had an epidemic of Yellow Fever, she drew her strength and comfort from God, for she had no other:

“WeIl, I was alone; dear indulgent Father! Could I be alone while clinging fast to Thee in continual prayer or thanksgiving, prayer for him and joy, wonder and delight to feel assured that what I had so fondly hoped and confidently asserted really proved in the hour of trial to be more than I could hope, more than I could conceive? That my God could and would bear me through the most severe trials with that strength, confidence and affiance which, if every circumstance of the case was considered, seemed more than a human being would expect or hope? But His consolations, who shall speak of them? How can utterance be given to that which only his spirit can feel?”

After the death of her husband, and while still the guest of a wealthy Italian family, friends of her husband and now her friends as well, she was taken with the eucharist ceremony, differing from the Protestant conception of communion in that the wafer and wine are actually converted into the body and blood of the living Christ. Elizabeth struggled with the idea, but God seemed intent on opening up this reality to her sincere search for God:

February 24.
How happy we would be if we believed what these good souls believe …When they carry the Blessed Sacrament under my window, while I feel the full loneliness and sadness of my case I cannot stop the tears at the thought …. The other day in a moment of excessive distress, I fell on my knees without thinking, when the Blessed Sacrament passed by, and cried out in an agony to God to bless me, if He was really there, that my soul desired only Him.

On her return to New York the family did not take well to Elizabeth’s conversion. In part it was family history. They were Huguenots, protestants persecuted by the majority Catholic population of France precipitating their move to the religious freedom of the colonies. Also, at the time in New York, being Catholic was associated with poor Irish immigrants, and there was discrimination and even violence against the Irish and their priests. The Seton family became even more enraged when Elizabeth’s 15 year old sister-in-law converted as well.

As a result of their withdrawal of support, Elizabeth, and children, went from socialite to impoverishment, from connections in society to being shunned, from protection of a powerful family to being on her own. One source of support was her husband’s previous business associates from Italy who directed their bank to advance Elizabeth funds, which she only drew upon when absolutely needed for her family. She attempted to start a school, but was torpedoed by the Seton family and the minister of the Episcopal Church; Elizabeth’s prior spiritual advisor.

Her plight was seen however, by those in the Catholic hierarchy and she was offered a position in Baltimore, and so the move of her family took her there. She was asked to lead a group inspired by the Daughters of Charity, an order from France that was connected with the work of St. Vincent De Paul. She took vows, and brought her children and now two sisters-in-law with her. She became Mother Seton, head of the order of Sisters of Charity; education and service to those in need was their mission. The school and growing list of sisters were given a home and acreage in Emmitsburg Maryland. Several of her daughters succumbed to T.B., and so eventually did Elizabeth at age 46. She created a network of sisters in education, care for orphans and  those in need.  

We visited the magnificent Basilica where her bones are kept, and was given a tour of the grounds which included her first school house and the “white house,” built later to accommodate the growing number of sisters and students. She promoted a novel idea of free education for those who could not afford it. There was no effort to convert protestant students, all were treated equally. She was also not in favor of corporal punishment, she disciplined with love. Mother Seton had a special veneration for St. Joseph. Saint Seton was canonized in 1975.

Visiting the Basilica a day after Gettysburg, we felt a spiritual baptism that washed away the suffering we had continued to feel from those battlegrounds and its history. It is easy to think of Mother Seton and Mother Hamilton as kindred spirits. Both were married, loved their children, both had T.B. (Mother’s was healed by her guru, Swami Yogananda), both disciplined with love, had very strong wills, bucked their families intense desires that they remain in the own church, and both were strong women who pioneered new pathways to God. It was a blessing to have her darshan. 

Carla on Mother Seton–The Power of a Saint

Going to see a where a saint lived and worked is a highlight for me in this pilgrimage. I just happened to see a billboard that advertised the “Seton Basilica and home of a saint,” and of course, what else could be better than to go and visit.

After a tour of the grounds and Mother Seton’s home and teaching areas, we hurried up to the basilica before they closed–I was awed by the magnificent Light-filled space. The physical beauty was inspiriting and one of the most lovely churches I have ever seen. A volunteer said that Mother Seton was buried along the far side of the church, and that there was a relic (a bone) of hers that was on the alter. It reminded me of Anandashram and the special opportunity to touch  Papa’s bones on the altar there.

I walked over and touched the wooden carving where the bone was kept underneath and immediately felt a very powerful spiritual charge. It was a delightful and surprising gift after hearing about her life and all the wonderful things she had done. The information they gave about her was interesting, but felt more like reading a biography. But, when I touched the altar I was clearly shown that this was a great God-woman. I sat for as long as they allowed (too short, but God arranged it perfectly) and just melted into that powerful feeling of love and bliss.

It felt like a huge spiritual waterfall of healing that continues to fill me with such gratitude to God, Gurus and Saints. You never know how, when, and where God will direct you so that His Grace and love can be seen, and most of all felt and experienced!

We travelled north through the beautiful Maryland countryside and broke across the Pennsylvania border in a very different manner than General Lee’s army did a 150 years before. The year, 1863, it is hot and muggy approaching the month of July. The American Civil War is raging, battle casualties range in the tens of thousands in a day or two–the war is a test of wills between state rights to secede, versus federal authority to maintain the union–and the war is far from over.

Lee’s idea is to build on the South’s recent successful battles and strike hard into the north, destroying the Army of the Potomac, then attack Philadelphia, Baltimore, or even Washington D.C. Such a blow will further demoralize a war weary north into a negotiated peace–allowing the South to become a new nation, to maintain and expand its valued slave population and its way of life. This goal is a very likely outcome if Lee and his army are successful. Using the Blue Ridge Mountains to screen his advance of 70,000 plus men, and a handful of women disguised as men, he races northward as fast as marching soldiers in murderous heat can. They are in high spirits, feeling that their general has a golden touch; a subtle but real collective energy Napoleon called moral force; a confidence, or what today in sports might be called momentum or being on a winning streak.

A Federal cavalry unit spots Lee’s advance men and sets up a line of defense just north of the small hamlet of Gettysburg; a hub with spokes of ten roads spreading out in all directions making this a vital strategic spot. It is to be a three day battle that has the highest casualty rates of the war, over 50,000, of an already deadly war–the stakes cannot be higher. Three days earlier Lincoln relieved the commanding general of the Army of the Potomac for incompetence, and places a reluctant General Meade at its head. The North has been pummeled in several battles and the spirit of the soldiers has suffered. Nevertheless they rush in great numbers to meet the newly arrived Confederates–a tremendous battle ensues. Though not unanticipated by Lee, neither side could have planned for the battle to occur precisely at this time, or in this place.

General Meade is the right man; he proves it time and again by making correct decisions–from the formations of his corps in a fishhook appearance that stretched Lee’s army, to the speed of Federal troops responding to the fluid conditions that occur in any battle. A brand new General Meade out-generalled the leading general of the South, and Gettysburg sends the Army of Northern Virginia back home with tremendous losses of men and supplies; both of which it cannot easily replace. This is a change in the fortune for the North and a pivot point in the War; Gettysburg coincides with a brilliant victory by another Northern general, U.S. Grant, with the taking of Vicksburg and the surrender of a Confederate army of 30,000 soldiers on the fourth of July.    

We arrive at Gettysburg, which is now a National Park. Its peaceful countryside betrays nothing of the three day battle that explodes with 160,000 troops over these fields 150 years ago. President Lincoln, a great soul in God, is convinced, as many of the founding fathers were, that this United States republic is an experiment that will be a model for governments around the globe in years to come. Its ability to survive the election of a president that did not win a majority of votes and that half the country deeply mistrustes is essential to this vision. It must continue in order to lead the way, not only for itself, but for the good of the world. It is divine Providence that Lincoln feels is at work here, and the union must stay united–not be fractured into smaller nation-states. This raises the stakes beyond the moment of simple politics, power, or force; it makes it a spiritual mission that supersedes the lives of individuals, including the president himself. Although Lincoln abhorres slavery, it was not his intention when he took office to do away with it, rather for the sake of the maintaining the union it would continue to exist in southern states; hopefully one day to die out due to its inherent inefficiency. It is only when the great cost of lives and resources mountes in the war that he resolves that slavery will not continue. This is celebrated by some, and decried by many others in the north for various reasons. However, the stage is being set for the repugnant stain of owning a human being to be abolished forever.

We spend a full day touring the vast field of battle, larger than what you can see from any one vantage point. We have an excellent tour by a retired career military officer who had taught military strategy as well as being involved in the NASA program; he is eminently qualified to talk about this battle. He also spent years walking these fields, imagining the foot soldier enduring the noise, confusion, fear,  pain and exhilaration of battle. He wants us to immerse ourselves as well, not as casual visitors, but as far as possible to be a participants of those events. He relates personal stories, speaks of the terrific sounds that haunted men’s lives forty years after the battle. Imagine the sights and smells as the battle rages all around: sulphurous smoke stinging and blinding the eyes, cannon shell exploding overhead with fragments zinging all around, mini bullets sounding like angry bees zipping by, comrades dropping, screams of agony, pushing forward or defending against an onslaught, calm minds focused on the business at hand, panic filling another’s eyes, standing shoulder to shoulder, officers calling out commands, not knowing what is going on, who is winning or losing, when will help arrive, rumors mostly wrong spreading like wildfire, the fog and confusion of battle all around, “Will I go home? Will that be my amputated limb left on a pile stacked like cordwood? Will I be brave or will I run?”

In the midst of this time of battle there are extraordinary acts of courage and compassion. As the first day of battle is engaged, a caring officer helps a mother and two young children move from their home, that happens to be in the middle of this quickly evolving battlefield. Exhausted, with too few men to defend the army’s left flank on Little Top hill, an officer and all his soldiers are out of ammunition–he leads his men in a frontal bayonet charge that carries the field. Countless heroes on both sides. A desperate battle that can hinge on the seemingly smallest of factors that decides who will win and who will die. It is a tour and a day to remember.

After this guided tour on the field we move through the museum, and then follow a CD voice tour (Bruce and Janice have loaned us) as we drive from site to site following the historian’s description of the action where the battles actually ensued. It was all interesting, engaging, and exhausting. Not exhausting just because of the physical demands of the day, but emotionally and spiritually engaging with the horrors and sufferings, the heroism and selfless sacrifice that are, to this day, poignant beyond words. It is a feeling that continues to cling to us.

As President Lincoln said a year and a half later in his second inaugural address (below), describing the karmic consequence of slavery by a nation that allowed it, even embraced it in contradiction to its own Declaration: that All men are created equal. Obviously all men are not created of equal physical strength, intelligence or moral fiber. However, all humankind is equal in the sight of God, all deserve respect, dignity and the unalienable Rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Lincoln said:

“Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said ‘the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’”  

The day after this experiential tour of the battlefield we had a very different kind of experience. Previously, when driving north through Maryland we saw signage that alerted us to the fact that Emmitsburg had been home to a Catholic saint–the first canonized American.  In anticipation we were thrilled to think of having the darshan of the Samadhi Basilica of this first recognized Catholic saint of America–but the description of our time with her will have to wait for another posting….   

Washington D.C. sports a large gothic style Episcopal church dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul, commonly referred to as The National Cathedral. It was the main item on our list of places to go in D.C. upon our return from the Northwest after the Loon Lake Retreat and the positive results from the medical tests.

The cathedral is an immense building (6th largest cathedral in the world) covered in Indiana limestone; it was begun in 1907 and completed in 1990. An earthquake damaged it in 2011, from which it is still recovering. It is truly impressive when entering the church, huge columns reaching up to support pointed arches high overhead, starting with the nave the church stretches out in front of you for a tenth of mile. There is a nice overall feeling in the cathedral.

After completing a guided tour we went down under to prowl the crypts and explore the four chapels below the main floor. We meandered our way to the Bethlehem Chapel, and immediately felt a spiritual vibrancy and a loud Aum/Amen resonating. We sat to meditate and soon a small service began (communion). That morning a man nearby had repeatedly fired a rifle wounding a congressman, several congressional aides and some police officers. Prayers were said for them, and a nice short talk by a retired Episcopal minister–she spoke of accepting the will of God in all situations. It turned out this chapel deep under the church (just below the high altar), had the cornerstone of the church under its altar (Teddy Roosevelt attended the laying of this stone) and it was the first completed section of the church in 1912; a service has been held here almost every day since.

We then attended a talk pertaining to the large organ as we sat in the facing pews. The minster described the placement of ten thousand pipes and demonstrated its various sounds, from a high piccolo sound, to a deep deep base (a pipe which could accommodate seven people standing inside it). He then played Ode to Joy, and then a longer piece. It was a magnificent demonstration, sitting with eyes closed, reflecting on the remarkable difference between live and recorded music; whether a symphonic orchestra or this magnificent organ.

I had wanted to have the darshan of this National House of Prayer, as designated by congress, and it was more than I expected. We topped off the tour by ascending to the Pilgrim Observation Gallery, seven stories up with a 360 degree view of Washington D.C., including the Washington Monument seen from this highest point in the district. It seemed significant to be here on this day of attack of the congressman (a politically motivated gunman).

Though we may differ in ideas, we have a history of peaceful political transitions, the rule of law and freedom to speak our minds. Let us not become so overheated that intolerance and hate supercedes peaceful ways of expressing our differences. Wise or ignorant, freedom of thought is a fundamental right from our Creator–as He proves by giving us minds that will never perfectly agree one with another. God’s will is supreme, and let us trust in Him to guide this world in all its ways for the highest good of all. The universal cathedral of God occurs when the love of God, by whatever name (or no name) He or She is called is broad enough to include all mankind, and is made manifest here on earth as the universal vision in which all are known to be various expressions of the one Supreme Spirit.