Oak Grove Coburn High School - Oak Leaves Yearbook (Vassalboro, ME)

Page 18 text:

OAK LEAVES privilege of filming their play but no price can induce them to let the sacred play become commercialized. The proceeds are used for four different pur- poses for the benefit of the community. As I left the theater at six o'clock that Sunday night my most vivid recollection was three impressive scenes, the remorse of Judas, the Cruci- fixion and the Resurrection. There had been a hard storm during the play that morning but the players went on seemingly unmindful of the rain until they carried it to a glorious finish. After the scene of the Resurrec- tion, a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and seemed to send a heavenly benediction over all. The Passion Play is being given again this year in commemoration of its three hundredth anniversary and all who journey there to see it will feel their hearts stirred by the devoted piety and supreme sincerity of these simple Bavarian folk. M., '34 SILHOUETTES 16

Page 17 text:

OAK LEAVES THREE CENTURIES OF TRADITION Nestled far up among the Bavarian Alps that tower above it lies a tiny village with doll-like houses between the blossoming trees. The streets are immaculate and all is so quaint that one might never guess that this remote place attracted pilgrims from all over the world who come to see the simple village folk enact the Passion Play in keeping with the vow they made three centuries ago. A terrible pestilence raged about Oberammergau in 1632, taking eighty-four of the inhabitants of this little town. The following year the Council made a vow to enact the Passion Week of Christ's life once each decade if their village might be spared. Ever since then the plague has never returned and the people have kept their sacred vow as devout serv- ants through the centuries with the single exception of 1920, when the World War prevented it. The play and the life of the people are so closely interwoven and the love of fulfilling their vow is so dominant in their lives that they live in the spirit of it during the decade between each presentation. They are humble folk and for the most part are wood-carvers, sculptors and craftsmen, making beautiful altar ornaments, crucifixes and works of art with a reli- gious significance. The preparations for the play do not interfere with their daily tasks for as soon as the play is over we see them once again as simple working men and women. For instance, when we took a stroll after the play and entered one of the shops We found the tender and appealing disciple John standing behind the counter ready to receive us. Their sim- plicity and friendliness are something one can never forget. The visitorstto Oberammergau are entertained in the homes of the players and in two small hotels. Each guest is welcomed by the people with the same greeting and blessing that has been used for a long time. At eight o'clock on the morning after we arrived in Oberammergau the doors of the great theater were crowded with pilgrims who had come from every country in the world, many of whom had made a pilgrimage because of their deep religious fervor. One of the things that attracted our attention most of all was that the stage is entirely in the open while the auditorium which holds over five hundred is covered. The stage is set simply: at the right stands the house of Caip, while at the left is the house of Pilot. A narrow Roman street leads off at either side. The stage and theater are new, since the Passion Play was formerly held in a small Oberammergau churchyard. It is now in what is called Passion Meadow. The new stage is modern, with adequate arrangements for costuming, scenery and lighting, but much of the early simplicity is still maintained. Neither wigs nor facial make-up are allowed. The players train their hair and beards like the characters for which they have been selected. Fabulous sums have been offered these simple people of Oberammergau for the 15

Page 19 text:

OAK LEAVES TODAY Bend in the breezes and blow in the sung Life is so young yet, it's day just begun. Whisper and sigh as the butterflies play 3 Live for an hour, that hour,-today. Close in the silence as evening is falling. Love is a magic and life but a dreamg Dawning and dying, a glimpse of foreverg All of a tiny enchantment between. STELLA CARVELL, '34. EVENING IN KASHMIR The crystal waters of a winding lake are gleaming in the early twi- light except along the shore where the dark slopes of the overhanging mountains are redected in their depths. The evening breezes are caressing the shore and the poplar trees are silhouetted sharply against the sunset glow. My boat is moored for the night and as I gaze out of my window at the snowcapped mountains a thin silver moon hangs above them. In the nearby field I can see the dusky form of Ahamed, our cook, offering his evening prayer to Allah. His droned incantations rise and fall with rhyth- mic cadence. Religion is a series of solemn obligations to Ahamed and I feel such a strange fascination for his mystic devotions each evening that I watch him until I am almost a part of the ceremony. The water laps softly against our houseboat and lulled by its monotonous rhythm I am soon fast asleep. FRANCES MILLER, '34. BY THE FIRESIDE Breezes drifting across green meadowsg Cozy sheep grazing in tall, cool grasseisg Lazy skies, Birds singing, Flowers blooming. Cattle dozing beneath spreading oaksg -Golden sunlight flooding the worldg Winter dreams- Hopeful dreams Of summer. JANET PETERS, '34, 17