Shakers Get By With Help From Their Friends

It’s a tall order keeping a big farm going when you grow your own vegetables, raise your own livestock and care for 18 buildings, some as old as the nation.

It’s even tougher when there are just four of you overseeing 1,800 acres and no descendants to take over when you’re gone.

That’s the situation for the world’s remaining Shakers, members of a dying religious sect that flourished in the 1800s.

Fortunately, dozens of volunteers, although unwilling to join their religion, admire their way of life so much they do what they can to support the Shakers.

Like their forebears and the Amish, with whom they are often confused, Shakers at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village cling to tradition. They live a communal, agrarian lifestyle that combines worship, hard work and simple living. But their days of growth are gone. Unlike the Amish, the Shakers are celibate, able to increase their numbers only through converts or adoption, a practice they no longer follow.

“A life of denial is not attractive to people. People don’t like to sacrifice,” said Arnold Hadd, one of two Shaker men. “We’re dedicating ourselves to God and trying to emulate God. Christ was celibate, so we’re celibate.”

A recent day found the two Shaker women, Frances Carr, 76, and June Carpenter, 65, making strawberry rhubarb marmalade. Hadd, 46, and Wayne Smith, 40, were in the barn cleaning stalls and giving animals fresh water.

Simply maintaining the historic farm is an enormous task.

“At this point, it’s triage,” Hadd said as he made his way between the 1830 barn and the six-story dwelling built in 1883.

Luckily, 60 volunteers showed up one morning to pitch in. They came from New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Rhode Island and Massachusetts.

Bathed in sunshine and swatting flies, “Friends of the Shakers” hoisted shovels, painted fences, fixed screens and cleaned windows. They planted roses by the cemetery where members are laid to rest under a granite marker that says “Shakers.”

“I like preserving a way of life,” said Ann Spencer, a volunteer from 30 miles away. “They have a lot of property here and they can’t do it all themselves.”

Robert King of Putney, Vt., has studied the Shaker gardens. “You can come here and experience something that never stopped,” he said. “The old agriculture tradition is here.”

Susan Dupree of Bethlehem, Pa., considers the farm “our own little piece of heaven. It’s like a retreat, even though I have a paintbrush in my hand.”

Along with manual labor offered twice a year, the 30-year-old Friends group donates about $10,000 a year. It’s not just the religion that draws their support. It’s also the history, the architecture, the Shaker furniture.

Whatever reason, the Shakers are thankful. “With 60 people working on the grounds, it allows you to get things done in a day that would take a month,” Hadd said. “It really helps out a lot.”

The Shakers settled in 1783 at Sabbathday Lake, one of 19 such communities throughout the country at one time or another. At its peak, this community was populated by 183 souls. Although other Shaker villages faded away, this one in the gentle hills survived. Today, it remains a working farm with 50 sheep, cattle, pigs, gardens and 18 buildings, the oldest of which dates to the 1760s.

About 10,000 tourists visit each summer. Many of them believe they’re seeing history and they are. What some probably don’t realize is that it’s living history and a living religion.

The Shakers rise early for personal devotions, breakfast together, join in prayer and do their chores following the words of founder Ann Lee: “Hands to work and hearts to God.”

Known as the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, they earned the derisive moniker “shaking Quakers” for their charismatic dance. The worship style changed long ago, but the Shaker name stuck.

Shakers are credited with a number of inventions, including the flat-bottom broom, spring-loaded clothespin and circular saw. Despite their old-fashioned farm life, the Sabbathday Lake Shakers have computers, Internet access and a Web site.

Each week, several people contact the community via e-mail about joining. But few are willing to adopt the lifestyle.

Carr bristles at news reports that described the village as the “last” Shakers. That suggests that the religion will someday die completely. And that’s an outcome she and the others aren’t willing to accept.

“It’s frustrating that for the past 20 or 30 years, all the reports were that the Shakers were essentially shut down, closed, not accepting new members,” she said as she sat in the parlor of the dwelling house.

They pray daily for new followers, but the Shakers don’t go forth preaching their message or trying to convert others.

“You can’t save others. You’ve got to save yourself,” Hadd said. “It’s not talking about the life. It’s living the life.”