n emotional and symbolic event draws attention every year to the tiny town of Gordon, population 781.

It happens on Good Friday, no matter the weather."I remember one year when it felt like it was 80 degrees," says Jeffrey Nemeth, 41, of Frackville, as he walks barefoot over rough roads of the Schuylkill County town.Bearded Nemeth bears strong resemblance to the popular visualization of Jesus. He wears a white robe and purple sash. He totes a large, heavy wooden cross, hoisted over his right shoulder.With every step, the burden takes a toll. On this day, heavy gusts of wind push the crown of thorns into his forehead."But it's nothing compared to the real thing," he says, acknowledging the passion of Jesus, the great hallmark of Christianity.38 yearsThe borough's "Trek of the Cross" honors the painful steps toward crucifixion and death.It's taken place 38 years in a row in the small borough located 24 miles west of Tamaqua. Various men have portrayed Jesus, but all belong to the same family."My husband did it up until 1989," says Rose Yost, now 82. "Then my nephew took over."Yost's late husband Elmer started the tradition in 1979.He picked up a large cross and walked about a mile through the streets. He wanted to portray Jesus Christ to bring the salvation message of Good Friday to the homebound in Gordon.He felt it was a service to many people who didn't have an opportunity to get to church, or perhaps couldn't attend for whatever reason.That year, he did it alone. The following year, he was joined by a friend from Allentown who portrayed a soldier. On the third year, he rented two soldier costumes. Slowly, the custom picked up momentum.Yost lived in Allentown, but was a member of Simpson United Methodist Church in Gordon.He originally planned to do the re-enactment for 12 years - one year for each of the 12 apostles.However, shortly after the 10th trek, he passed away. In order to fulfill the promise, Yost's nephew, Edward Labie of Girardville, stepped in and carried the cross for the two remaining years.But a good thing has a life of its own.And so those two treks turned into 21, Labie's final in 2009.The family tradition continued when Labie's nephew, Nemeth, picked up the cross in 2010.Accompanying Nemeth was son Jeffrey Jr.If the pattern continues, the time will come when, he, too, steps into the role and takes over for his dad.Others joinEvery year, A dozen or so congregation members and others from Gordon and nearby towns fall in line, many dressed in period garb.The public is always invited to take part, and many do. They join in as the procession passes their houses."It has special meaning," says Janette Harner of the nearby village of Weishample, taking part in the ritual for her second year.Harner donned a robe, mustache and wore a full beard to resemble Moses, complete with a rustic staff."I'm a member of Barry Salem United Methodist Church, and we were once sister churches," she said, referring to a now-dissolved association with Simpson United.According to historians, the trek took place in the snow one time, and Yost still walked through the town in his bare feet.In 1989, it rained heavily throughout the day, but the trek went on as planned.Other times, such as this year, heavy morning clouds and fog filled the air. But the sun came out just as the cross emerged from the rectory.Just after noon, Nemeth started the journey, flanked by brothers Daulton and Tanner Smith of Gordon, portraying Roman centurions.The dramatic devotion moved eastward on Biddle Street, then left onto Hobart, then to McKnight.It ended at the Methodist church for a 1 p.m. community ecumenical service."There was a time it made the shape of a cross," says John Usalis.In those days, the trek stopped at St. Paul Lutheran Church and Our Lady of Good Counsel Church, both on Biddle Street."Those churches closed," says Yost. And so the route was shortened.As the quiet procession moves forward, town residents emerge from their front doors. They stand solemnly and watch. Always in silence. Some use cellphones and cameras to snap photos or shoot video. But nobody says a word.It's just something they do to remember Jesus and his sacrifice.Yost says she'll continue to take part as long as her feet will take her the length of the route."We're carrying the message to people who don't go to church," she says.The timeless sacrifice of Jesus Christ at Calvary touches everyone.And for those in the tiny town of Gordon, the solemn reminder passes their front door and draws them out to the street.Once a year, they greet the procession and join in without saying a word.Silence can be a powerful message.