PEASANTS' PLEDGE UNBROKEN

Radio Record, 14 April 1938, Page 10

PEASANTS' PLEDGE

UNBROKEN

300-Year-Old Story of Oberammergau Is Not Ended In The Fastnesses Of A Modern Shangri-la. |

Beginnings of the Great Passion Play Told by

SYLVIA

MUNROE

UTUMN came unwillingly to the little Bavarian village between the mountainscreeping down with the snow upon the high peaks as though it almost feared this work of slow death it was to do upon the trees and the green fields and the flowers. The people felt the chill in the air and saw the shadows grow longer across the streets. But they had no fear of autumn or winter. The change of seasons was familiar and dear to them, marking the slow rhythm of their lives and assuring them of nature's suchorage in a world where there seemed no longer either

stability or peace. Not nature but man was the enemy of these villagers-man who made war against his neighbour and fought for no reason, Whose violent hands had spread sorrow and disease among the nations for a century past. Even now in the valley of Ammer over the mountains, plague was striking down man and child-mercilessly, without care for justice or for kindness. The little village of Oberammergau had escaned onlv because the en-

circling mountains made it possible to stop the coming and going of friends from the plague-ridden areas. Indeed, but the Lord had been kind to the people of Oberammergau. They thanked Him in their prayers and went on with their tasks, outwardly calm as the surface of the little river that wandered down their valley. In this autumn of 1668 they were as happy as man can be when his body has good work to do and his mind is at rest. UT one man of Oberammergau was not happy. Caspar Schiessler had left Lis home in the early summer and gone to do field work in Eschenlohe in the Ammer Valley. Now the plague had come, and he was marooned among a people he did not know. Caspar wondered how long he would have to stay with them. Perhaps all the winter, perhaps longer than that even, so that he might not see hig own folk for a whole, weary year of longing. Maybe, if ‘the ‘plague took him, he would ‘never see them.

That thought was intolerable. Caspar felt it twist in his stomach and his mouth was dry. He MUST go home, if only for a day, just to know that his family was safe and happy, just to see the smiles on their welcoming faces. He had had no news of them. The time was growing intv months. Soon would be the feast of the Consecration of the Chureh in his house and all his people would be gathered there. Caspar made a desperate resolve. He would stea! out of BWecshenlohe where no one cared about him, and climb over the mountains to spend the feast time in Oberammergau. The Lord would forgive him because it was His holy day. . How the Plague Came O Caspar felt happy for the first time in many days, und next morning he began his journey. He was staggering a little and his body was drenched in a cold, weakening sweat as he came at last within sight of his home. But the cries of his family were music in his ears, drowning the throbbing pain of his head, and the warmth of their arms made him forget everything in this long-dreamed joy of re-union. He laughed aloud and held them close and kissed them again. Caspar Schiessler did not know it, but that moment was his last happy moment on earth.. Next day he was dead

.. and plague had come at last to Oberammergau. Within three weeks mass was said for the souls of 84 villagers. Terror such as had never been felt before in the peaceful river town now. went openly through the streets and forced its way into every man’s home. In their grief, the villagers turned with blind faith to the God who had protected their forefathers for unrememy bered generations. They down together in desperate entreaty and the twelve

elders pledged them before Heaven: "Lord, if you will take this scourge from our: midst, we will worship you always, and to show our gratitude we will every ten years represent the Passion of the World’s Saviour, so that our people may remember what you have done and all men know of your mercy.. ." AFTER that, there were no more deaths in Oberammergau, and those who already lay ill with the plague slowly recovered their health. In the following year the villagers enacted the Passion of Christ in the tiny echurehyard, as they had promised. And every ten years since 1680, despite al! sorts of difficulty and misfortune, they and their descendants have remained faithful to that old, solemn, desperate vow. Suen is the- story- of: -Oberammergau-strange, -haly-

powers that goes beyond time and beyond frailty. You might think it only another legend, better rounded than most, if Oberammergau to-day did not bear the tangible witness to its truth. The little village has not changed much with the years, although a hard, modern road over the mountains carries tens of thousands of visitors every decade to watch the Passion Play. Snug in its mountain hollow, with the quiet river still wandering through its fields, this is a place where man hus worked side by side with nature in the patterning of beauty. The fine old trees along the twisted streets of the village are no more beautiful than the paintings on the white stone walls of the houses. For these people are artists, and they take delight in picturing Scriptural scenes of perfect form and exquisite colouring. Stark against the skyline of a splendid peak that is visible throughout the valley stands a tall cross, symbol for the life that passes beneath it. Side By Side With Nature Bur the focus of the village itself is the theatre of the Passion Play, built beside the river, with a long, rounded roof that covers the auditorium but leaves the enormous stage open to the air. Through the exit on either side, one can glimpse the village streets, with the mountains rising behind them. The house of Pilate is in the left wing, Annas’ house on the right, and in the centre of the main stage is a smaller set used for the tableaux which intersperse the performance. The play deals with the life of Christ from the time when he was a young man to the Ascension, and is really the Bible dramatised and adapted. The lovely words of the Scriptures are there, and all the main incidents of the life. Even those among the audience who cannot understand the German language in which the characters speak can easily follow their action. The deep spirituality of the players-their appearance of actually living in their parts carries the watchers into another world where the eight hours of the play’s run pass by unheeded, almost unnoticed. Unheeded by the hundreds of players, too. They live in the Bible story with a sort of timeless reverence. The Passion Play is performed twice and sometimes three times a week for four months. During that time the principal characters live in almost monastic seclusion and meditation. They are chosen in the first place not so much for their ability to act as for their worthiness. ‘The noblest man of all is given the role of Christ-highest

crown of honour in the ambition of these peasants-and Maria Dolorosa must in real life be a woman of surpassing virtue. Small wonder, then, that when the time for the play comes-after eight months of rehearsing in which every other interest must be forgone-the players are beyond acting. They have become different people. Yer in a way it is futile to attempt to describe the Passion Play. To read about it gives at best only the barest glimpse of its reality. Those who have seen it carry an imperishable memory that can never be adequately translated into words. Miss E. M. Hind, of Wellington, is one of the fortunate. She went to Oberammergau in 1922 to see the first performance after the war-perhaps one of the finest of all time because the peasants of Oberammergau fervently hoped their Passion Play might heal the bitter scars of conflict. When Miss Hind saw the play, the theatre was full -)000 people seated and perhaps another thousand standing. Each visitor was permitted to stay only a day or. two, then he must go to make room for the streams of others waiting to come. For little Oberammergau, with its 600 or so inhabitants, cannot accommodate much more than 100 times its population.

The Peace That Passes HE visitors stayed in the. peasants’ homes for a small charge, and saw the play for even less. It cost Miss Hind about one shilling in MEnglish money for those eight unforgettable hours! The mark was crashing in those days, so that after the play was over Oberammergau was almost bankrupt. Did I hear someone say these peas-ant-players are bad business men? And so they are. In all the years of its fame, the Oberammergau Passion Play has never made mouey: often it has been a heavy burden for its producers. Some think the peasants are blindly stupid to remain true to a pledge that is nearly 300 years old. Maybe they dre, maybe not. For in that tiny mountain fastness is a Shangri-La not built on dreams but on solid earth-an age-old witness’ that man ¢an still find the peace that masses our modern understanding,