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Carol's hometown, where she lived with her family until our marriage in 1953, was Webster, Pa. Webster was located just across the Monogahela River from the much larger mill town of Donora. During the time of the great industrial development in the "Mon" Valley, houses were being built everywhere a level piece of real estate could be found. So it was that a cluster of look-alike company houses were built on a high river bluff that was appropriately named Webster Hill. Access to that location was over a torturous dirt road which required driving about two miles downstream and then back up a less steep approach to the "Hill." Very few of residents of the tiny village owned automobiles. Therefore, the owners of the mills and mines built sets of wooden stairs, sometimes with hundreds of steps, by which the workmen and their families could descend to their places of employment or find public transportation to other destinations. No doubt the daily trips up and down the stairs helped the villagers to be strong and healthy.
Eventually the mines worked out and the mills closed and the men went elsewhere to seek employment. The stairs to Webster Hill were maintained for the use people who continued to live there. Most of the families were first generation of immigrants from Europe and spoke mostly to each other in their native tongue. Because of poor safety regulations, there were widos of men who had lost their lives in the mines and mills. Carol's Uncle Bill was one of those unfortunate person who was killed in an accident in a coal mine.
Concerned local churches realized that even with the stares, it was difficult for many of the people from Webster Hill to regularly attend their particular house of worship. For instance, the nearest Catholic (Roman or Orthodox) Church was over the river in Donora. A trip of about five miles was involved for anyone who wished to worship with a congregation. Carol and her best friend, Gail, also a Presbyterian youth, were enlisted to conduct a religious survey in part of the Webster community which included the Hill. The girls trudged on foot to their assigned area, Although some of the residents that they visited did not speak English very well, the surveyors were welcomed graciously.
In one home they found one of the aforementioned widows. She was afflicted with arthritis and had difficulty walking and spoke in some middle European dialect. When Caroland Gail inquired of her religious affiliation, her eyes lighted up when she heard the word "church." She invited the girls into her humble abode, saying "Come, I show you." She led them to a room in her house and said "See, this my church." And sure enough it was. She had turned that room of her house into a sacred chapel. Against one wall there was crucifix, of course, and the obligatory Sacred Heart painting. There was an altar, a kneeling bench, and a stand for votive candles. Probably somewhere there were the icons indicating the Stations of the Cross. In her quiet, private sanctuary she could commune faithfully with her Lord.
That good lady's devotion should be a lesson to us who can, and do, assemble in worship with little effort or inconvenience. Moreover, we often leave our religious experience and practice behind when we exit church's doors. How much richer and fuller our faith could be if we would remember that we are always in the presence of our God.
"I went up to a high hill, To seek a spirit leaven; I went up to a high hill, To get me nearer Heaven. In temple, mosque, cathedral dim, Through vigil, chant and prayer, Wherever man cries out to God, The living God is there. And this is clearing all my search, As clear as noonday sun; "The name and form are naught to God, To Him all shrines are one." Hinton White, c 1900
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The Rev. Robert L. Zorn is pastor emeritus at Lewistown Presbyterian Church.
Rev. Robert L. Zorn, Pastor Emeritus
Lewistown Presbyterian Church