We leave South Bend and Notre Dame University and on Monday morning (April 14th) head for Chicago Airport – where we will fly east with all our bags and baggage.  

First class on the internal United Airlines flight is only marginally more expensive than a regular ticket – so I treat the three of us to a little more legroom (plus superior snacks) on the two hour journey and for the first – and probably last – time in my life, I sit in seat 1A: first on and first off.  A small treat for me after all the stresses and strains of dealing with my three large cases – one personal and two for the play.  

We’re met at Harrisburg Airport by the wonderful H.A. Penner, my host here previously in 2018, and Lydia, both of whom help us with our luggage into the van they’ve commandeered for three days.  We head to Lancaster County, our base for two performances in two churches – and the heart of Amish and conservative Mennonite country.  

Our hosts are Mennonites too, but they are progressive, liberal ones, with no qualms whatsoever about using cars, cellphones or electricity.  

Next morning, after we have a photo shoot for a local newspaper in front of a beautiful blossoming Japanese cherry tree, HA drives us through Amish country where we pass horses and buggies driven by sedate folk in black or grey garb, and Amish tractors trundling along on steel wheels – no rubber.  ‘They really shouldn’t be in the road’, HA says.  ‘Look at the damage those steel wheels are causing.’  

We head to an Amish Country Restaurant for lunch – one that clearly caters for the many tourists that flock to the area – but which still has an authentic feel.  

I decide to order the Tuesday special – ‘Amish Wedding Meal’.  Well, I feel wedded to this project of mine so why not have a meal to celebrate?  Chicken and stuffing with sweet creamed celery, peppered cabbage and the creamiest, silkiest mashed potato I’ve ever tasted.  Half portions are on offer for 2 dollars less.  So I have a half portion. It’s enormous. Glad I didn’t go the whole hog.  (Whole chicken).  But it’s delicious.  And some shoofly pie to follow.  (Local speciality – made with molasses.). You can have it wet-bottom or dry-bottom.  I ask HA for advice.  ‘Wet-bottom is best,’ he suggests.  So I ask for a slice of wet-bottom. Delicious.  

Elizabethtown is the charming town nearby where the Church of the Brethren, a historic peace church, host us in their beautiful, unornamented church. None of the over-the-top colours and decoration seen in the Basilica at Notre Dame.  

We set up our props and after a snack in a cafe downtown, come back to see the church filling up with 25, 50, 100, 150 people… some sat in pews very far back.  

The weekend at Notre Dame had taken its toll on me and I’m dealing with a ragged and rather hoarse throat, but as we have been requested to wear lapel microphones due to the size of the church and because some will be hard of hearing, that helps me a little.  

The response to the performance is wonderful – rapt attention, even from those far back in the pews.  After we have left ‘the stage’ the audience/congregation sings Sibelius’ lovely song of peace, ‘This Is My Song’.  

I’m busy changing my clothes but can clearly hear the singing and it’s very moving.  Our performance has also been live-streamed for those who couldn’t  attend in person – and there have already been over 150 views.  In the Q and A, a Japanese woman tries to make a comment but is choked with emotion.  She tells us that her grandmother survived the atomic bomb when she was twenty years old – but was never able to talk about it.  This play seems to be making an even deeper impact on audiences here in the US than it has thus far in the UK.

Tired but content, Riko, Maria and myself are driven back by HA to our delightful Mennonite Guest House rooms, with flowering cherries and babbling water-features outside our windows.  A late-night snack is followed by hours of undisturbed sleep.  

Next morning, a friend and colleague of HA’s – Kenn Sensenig – gives us an expert guided tour of Amish Country – a place he’s known for most of his life.  

Covered bridges (so horses don’t get spooked by the rushing waters below), Amish homes and farms, and a chance to look into a newish, large and very plain conservative Mennonite Meeting House.  

There are hundreds of hooks above head height through half of the large rectangular space. ‘For the men to hang their hats on,’ Kenn informs us.  ‘But not in the other half of the room?’ we ask. ‘That’s where the women sit.  Separate from the men.’  

Lunch is at the packed Oregon Dairy restaurant.  Kenn tells us more about the local lifestyles – the sense of community engendered by having no use of motor vehicles, which could carry people to far off places; the controversy over cellphone use which some need to conduct their business.

We ask if Amish and conservative Mennonites know much about current world affairs? Politics?  Do they vote?  No, says Kenn.  They leave governing to the government – and concern themselves only with following God’s word (in German and English).  

We inevitably ask about local feeling generally towards the new President.  Kenn looks round the packed restaurant.  ‘Most of these will be Trump-voters,’ he says.  He, HA and their community are Democrats mostly and in a minority here in eastern Pennsylvania. ‘But these are all good people,’ Kenn says.  ‘I know many of them.’  ‘But do you discuss politics with them?’ we ask.  ‘No.  We don’t do that.’ 

That evening’s performance is at the Akron Mennonite Church where about 120 people turn up to watch.  

One of the Pastors, Rachel, gives an introduction – then makes some very funny jokes about mobile phones which gets the audience laughing and relaxed.  She then brings everyone to a still moment of gathered concentration.  I’m there in the church, standing at the side.  I will start the play as soon as she finishes.  She offers up a prayer.

‘Holy One, 

God with many names,

May we listen this evening with open minds and hearts 

To hear anew the truth and tragedy of war and violence.

May your spirit of peace challenge us and encourage us

To join peacebuilding work in all places at all times.

Seeking the wellbeing of all,

We breathe in love, joy and peace.  May it be so.’

What’s this?  Tears in my eyes?

Wasn’t expecting that.  And now I’ve got to start the performance.  

As Adrian Freedman’s achingly beautiful shakuhachi flute plays, I dry my eyes, take a deep breath and step forward… ‘Not so long ago, in a faraway city…’

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