Sikhs listen to the singing of the holy book (Granth Sahib) in the Blue Mountain Gurdwara
I have fond memories of the road to Knoebels. During my childhood summers, it was a yellow brick road to the paradise that was Knoebels Amusement Park. The lush mountain scenery and small towns my family and I passed through, along with the increasingly elaborate billboards advertising the park (a 3-D ferris wheel!), made the journey as exciting as the destination. Last winter, I had the idea to do a column about interesting places people can visit on the way to Knoebels. During my research, I found that Knoebels is surrounded by an unusually large number of religious sites. It is a sort of pilgrimage route, probably the only one on Earth that ends with roller coasters and baked potatoes. You can call it El Camino de Kozmo. In this column, I seek to reveal the histories of these holy places and what they mean to the people who worship there. From great churches to one man’s passion, these sites tell diverse stories of faith, love and humanity’s relationship with the divine in Northeast Pennsylvania. This column originally focused on sites along PA State Route 61, but has since branched out to any site that’s on the way to Knoebels.
Writing and photos by Wes Cipolla
Originally published in the Pottsville Republican-Herald on October 17, 2021.
BETHEL - According to custom, all 25 million followers of the Sikh religion must have one of two middle names. All Sikh boys are given the middle name Singh, meaning “lion” in the Punjabi language. All Sikh girls are given the middle name Kaur, Punjabi for “princess.” At the Blue Mountain Gurdwara off of State Route 183, Onkar Singh looks at the smiling coloring pages children have done of their namesakes. The big-eyed Sikh boys in turbans and Sikh girls in tiaras are neat, colored inside the lines.
Sikhs gather in front of the coloring pages.
This Sikh temple, built in 1992 across the street from a cornfield and an old wooden barn, is a cultural enclave in a deeply conservative part of northern Berks County. Its golden dome gleams against the gray October sky. The chimes on its spire clang in the wind.
The exterior of the Gurdwara.
“Sikh faith means everything to me because this is a way of life,” said Singh, a truck driver who lives in Womelsdorf. “To meditate and serve the community.”
Sikhism is the youngest of the world’s major religions, founded by Guru Nanak 500 years ago in India’s Punjab region. The word Sikh is Punjabi for “disciple,” as all Sikhs are disciples of the Gurus’ teachings. Sikhs believe in an invisible, formless god who created the universe.
“Some people say you go to hell,” Singh said, “or you go to Heaven, but in our faith, whatever you do, you face here in this life.”
The Granth Sahib is treated with the utmost respect. Here, it is beneath the orange cloth at this altar.
After Guru Nanak came nine other gurus, religious teachers who reached spiritual enlightenment. The Granth Sahib, the Sikh holy book, is treated as the eleventh and eternally living guru. Written entirely in hymns and sung aloud with traditional music, it has its own private quarters in the Gurdwara. Each morning, the Granth Sahib is brought out of its quarters with great respect. During service it is kept under an opulent orange cloth. Afterwards, it symbolically rests in a canopied bed embroidered with the Punjabi words “God, I will only trust in you, and whatever I want in my life, I will get from you.”
The resting place of the Granth Sahib.
“Like a human being,” Singh says, “waking in the morning and sleeping in the nighttime.”
Like his religion, Singh was born in India. He moved to Pennsylvania in 1991, shortly before the opening of the Blue Mountain Gurdwara. On long, lonely stretches of road, he listens to the teachings of the gurus on CD in his truck.
“The good thing is in America, we feel real freedom here,” he said. “You can practice without feeling fear and intimidation from other communities.”
Sikhs are only 2 percent of India’s population.
“Being such a tiny community, we always had the fear to dilute in the society,” Singh said.
The fear of being “diluted” has crossed over to America. Services at the Gurdwara are translated into English and Punjabi, as the younger generation born in the United States is more likely to use the former. To prevent the American-born generation from “dilution,” the Gurdwara has classes to teach Sikh children about their language, history and culture (hence the coloring pages).
Sikhs have endured centuries of persecution in India. When Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated by her Sikh bodyguards in 1984, thousands were killed in anti-Sikh riots across India.
“Still we never received justice because the government tried to protect the people responsible for all of the violence against Sikhs,” Singh said. “The core of our faith is that if you are being attacked, you are supposed to protect yourself and protect others too who are in danger.”
The Gurdwara is open to all people.
All around Singh are men, women and children, young and old, large families in rich clothes, vibrant colors and floral patterns. Most are from the Reading, Pottsville, Allentown and Harrisburg areas. The women’s headscarves whirl and undulate as they walk. As is Sikh tradition, the men wear beards and turbans, a tradition born from oppression. When India was ruled by the Islamic Mughal Empire, only Muslims were allowed to wear turbans. In an act of protest, Sikhs wore them as well. Sikhs are not Muslims, though the two religions are often confused.
“It was our community’s fault that we never tried to tell the American people who we are, what kind of beliefs we have, the principles of our religion. We never tried to educate the American people, but now things are being changed.”
In the 21st century Sikhs have more media visibility than ever, often under tragic circumstances. In the days after the 9/11 attacks, Sikhs, mistaken for Muslims, were victims of violence across the country.
“After 9/11 there was no doubt that we had some problems,” Singh said. “People calling us Taliban, terrorists, saying ‘Go back to your country.’”
In 2002 the Gurdwara put up a billboard on I-78 to explain Sikhism to the public, but it was defaced. In 2012, a white supremacist killed six people and injured four in a mass shooting at a Sikh temple in Wisconsin.
“That was an opportunity because the whole incident was on the TV and in the press,” Singh said, “so when they learn about those incidents they learn about our faith. We have nothing to do with the Muslim faith. The most important thing for Sikhs is that you are supposed to have great respect for all religions of the earth.”
Singh does not consider India’s former Mughal rulers Muslims but simply “oppressors.” He said that the Sikhs’ fight was not with Muslims but with anyone who would suppress their religious freedom.
“We were tortured by Muslim rulers, but we do not hate them,” he said. “We always seek blessings not for the Sikhs, but for everyone. We always do the prayer and ask for God to help everyone.”
“You’re supposed to be honest and treat others equally,” said Rajinder Aulakh, an engineer from Mechanicsburg. “Nobody’s higher or lower.”
Onkar Singh (left) and Rajinder Aulakh.
The most iconic expression of Sikh charity is the langar, the community kitchen that provides free meals to anybody who visits, no questions asked. For people in the most desperate situations, the Gurdwara will also allow them to spend the night.
“Everyone is welcome here irrespective of their faith, their race, their culture,” Singh said. “Everyone is welcome here.”
Breakfast was fried vegetables in a mint or tamarind sauce for breakfast, with milk cake and various sweets for dessert. For lunch the Gurdwara served dahl (lentils), yogurt, mixed and pickled vegetables, rice, flatbread and kheer (sweet pudding). All langar meals are vegetarian, because in Sikhism it is forbidden to kill any animal.
“Just for your taste, why would you kill something?” Aulakh said.
Everyone sits on the floor when they eat, emphasizing that all are equal.
“You will never have any shortage of any kind in a langar, said Jagdip Bhullar, an electrical engineer from Sinking Spring, as he ate. “The first guru started a langar and he never had any shortage of any kind.”
Jagdip Bhullar.
Bhullar likes it when the Gurdwara serves rajma (spicy kidney beans). He came to America from India when he was 14, and was shocked to see American high schoolers talking back to teachers.
“I thought they were gonna get smacked,” Bhullar said. “I didn’t know any better. Teachers are essentially your parents in school.”
Bhullar is now a teacher himself, teaching the Punjabi language at the temple so children “can pass it on to the next generation.”
“As you can see I’m a devoted Sikh,” he said. “I practice as far as doing good deeds, and I try not to harm anybody on purpose. I try to stay true to my faith, try to pray every day.”
As volunteers served food, a man chanted “The only truth in this world is God.”
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