ANDERSON, Ind. — The conflict driving “Church Basement Ladies” is right there on the characters’ shoes.

The traditionalism of Mrs. Snustad’s black, orthopedic sneakers collides with the more modern sensibilities of Karin’s high heels. Inevitably, the two go toe-to-toe in a hilarious power struggle set in the basement of a Lutheran church in rural Minnesota in 1964 and ‘65.

Beef & Boards Dinner Theatre’s production of “Church Basement Ladies” runs through Sept. 2. It’s a simple production, with just five characters and no set changes, but such narrow breadth allows for uncommon depth.

By “church basement,” writers Jim Stowell and Jessice Zuehlke mean “church kitchen.” Life, for the characters who first appeared in Stowell and Zuehlke’s book “Growing Up Lutheran: What Does This Mean?” revolves around food and its functions to the flock -- someone is always being married or buried, one character comments. But times are changing; The Beatles have arrived in America and lutefisk is being served with (gasp!) instant potatoes.

Karin’s daughter, Signe, best conveys the tension. A university student in Minneapolis, she still finds comfort in her smalltown heritage, and her flats express ambiguity. Her partner in the middle is Mavis, whose beige orthopedics are less severe, but place her firmly in Mrs. Snustad’s camp.

Despite her experience, it’s clear that the widowed Mrs. Snustad cannot run the kitchen forever. Karin is the heir apparent, but Mrs. Snustad will surrender the reins only on her own terms. “I wash, you dry,” she tells Karin.

The women prepare dishes that celebrate their Norwegian heritage, including lutefisk (cod gelatin), rommegrot (sour cream pudding) and krumkake (waffle cone cookies). The ladies uphold butter, sugar, flour and cream as the four pillars of Norwegian cooking and quiz one another on the seven sacred pickles.

Like good Midwestern folk, the characters have a good sense of humor about themselves, which is expressed in a suitably mild form of comedy. Marriage between Lutherans and Catholics is regarded as scandalous, lasagna is considered too exotic and “The Pale Food Polka” commands the audience to “strike up the bland.” Fans of “A Prairie Home Companion” will approve.

The depth of “Church Basement Ladies” is found  in the set design, which reveals even more than the shoes. The gray- and yellow-painted basement block of the kitchen is realistically cluttered, but in the functional way of an experienced cook. Pots, brooms and spice-shakers become instruments in a rhythmic, “Stomp”-inspired opening number “Closer to Heaven (In the Church Basement).”

Behind two kitchen doors are brick-wall facades and, behind the third, rows of seating, suggesting the sanctuary. The rectangular windows near the ceiling offer a view of snow during the winter of the first act and green foliage during the spring of the second act.

That act begins with a Hawaiian-themed Easter celebration, which Mrs. Snustad resists. But as the motif of change extends to Signe, who prepares to wed the aforementioned Catholic boy, she gives in to its inevitability and bestows her blessing upon Karin.

And while the tension between Mrs. Snustad and Karin establishes the theme and the presence of Signe pushes the plot forward, it’s Karen Pappas who steals scene after scene as Mavis. Her absurd, animated struggles with galoshes and iceboxes provoke epic laughter and her “episodes” provide a hilarious running gag that includes the song, “My Own Private Island,” in which Mavis’ fellow church ladies use towels to simulate a Maypole. Little surprise that Pappas, an Indianapolis native, appeared in the national tour of “Church Basement Ladies.”

Licia Watson lends a strong singing voice to Mrs. Snustad, giving the character a hard-earned dignity. As Karin, Katherine Proctor is assertive, then appropriately deferential in the presence of her elder. Younger audience members will sympathize most with Lisa Bark’s Signe, and Eddie Curry’s professionalism keep his Pastor E.L. Gunderson on steady footing as he spars with the four female leads.

One can learn a lot about a church basement lady by walking a mile in her shoes.

Contact Justin Schneider: 640-4809, justin.schneider @heraldbulletin.com