Theologians in other Christian traditions may debate the interpretation of these words, but to the Amish, the meaning is clear. “In order for God to forgive us, we must forgive our fellow men,” the
Family Life
writer asserts. “If we do choose to be cold and unforgiving to others we should omit part of the familiar Lord’s Prayer when we pray, because we are really asking God to grant us the same unforgiveness we are giving others. We are not worthy of God’s forgiveness if we don’t forgive others!”
Forgiving in order to be forgiven may strike some Christians as an ungracious attempt to manipulate God. The Amish do not see it that way. Instead, as with their understanding of salvation, they view their relationships with God and with others as so intertwined that it is impossible to pull them apart. “God wants us to forgive,” explained one minister. “Anything he asks us to do, He will also help us to do. We are to pass on to others the same kind of love we daily receive from God.”
The Amish also distinguish forgiveness from pardon, the act of releasing an offender from the penalties of his or her action. When a church member repeatedly breaks his or her baptismal commitment, other church members seek to forgive the person, but until the offender repents, the shame of shunning remains. In the case of criminal behavior—such as the case of “Amo-bashing” in Northern Indiana—the Amish expect that the judicial system will mete out punishment even as Amish victims nurture forgiveness and reach out to the wrongdoer in compassion.
Kicking the Problem Upstairs
Critics dismiss the Amish response to evil as irresponsible. The Amish, they say, simply “kick the problem upstairs,” outsourcing justice to God. This absolves them of the duty to make moral judgments. The Amish do not object to this line of critique. In fact, they see this sort of moral division of labor as biblical. The Christian’s responsibility is to forgive, they say, whereas justice lies in God’s hands. Humans are simply not in a position to second-guess God’s judgment. The Amish view of justice thus expresses their deep-seated patience. They do not feel an obligation to make history turn out right, but are satisfied to wait—and sometimes even suffer—in the meantime.
Amish writers frequently cite the Bible passage that calls Christians to leave revenge in God’s hands: “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves . . . for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” Instead, “if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink” (Romans 12:19-20a). The Amish aversion to passing judgment also surfaces in their attitude toward other Christians. Amish people reject many aspects of contemporary culture, but unlike some exclusive sects, they expect to find many other Christians in heaven. When asked about the salvation of non-Amish Christians, they are quick to repeat these words of Jesus: “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1). Amish are loath to declare that non-Amish people are headed for hell, because only God knows their hearts and can rightly judge their faithfulness.
Similarly, the Amish refuse to condemn government completely. The Dordrecht Confession paints government as part of the fallen world from which Christians should separate themselves, and following early Anabaptist teachings, the Amish consider the government’s use of violence un-Christian. Yet the Dordrecht Confession also calls on church members to pray that “the Lord would reward and repay [rulers] here and afterwards for eternity for all the privileges, liberties, and favors which we enjoy under their praiseworthy rule”—suggesting hope for their salvation.
14
The Dordrecht Confession offers a revealing clue to the Amish response to evil by drawing a key distinction between the kingdom of God, composed of the church and those devoted to obeying God’s will, and the kingdom of the world, which entails all the things in disobedience to God. Many other Christians also use “two-kingdom” language, but few use the terms as such stark alternatives. Following the early Christian theologian Augustine, most Christians believe that they live in both kingdoms simultaneously. For these Christians, the challenge lies in figuring out when one is required to act as Jesus would and when circumstances call for a less stringent standard. For the Amish, in contrast, the two kingdoms are separate realms. Baptism marks the step from one kingdom into the other, a rejection of the world and its ways.
For those committed to the kingdom of God, “the scriptures . . . leave no exceptions to the doctrine of nonresistance,” an Amish doctrinal guide states bluntly. “Is it right to let others run over you without offering resistance?” the same source asks. The answer comes without a hint of ambiguity: “That is what the Bible teaches.”
15
Not surprisingly, Amish expectations for the world are quite different. The world consists of both sin run amok
and
the worldly powers that seek to constrain it. The police and the courts, for example, may be trying to protect the innocent, but because they often use violence in the process, they fall short of Jesus’ command. The Amish sometimes benefit from these worldly methods of constraining evil, but they are reluctant to participate in politics and government because the coercive methods of politics and government violate the teachings of Jesus.
Working with Worldly Justice
This moral framework shapes how Amish people respond to evil. God has instructed the church to judge matters of church discipline, they say, but worldly justice is the task of the world. In some criminal cases, however, especially those where the safety of others is at stake, they will sometimes offer testimony. In 2001, for example, Amish parents agreed to appear as witnesses in a case involving a non-Amish man charged with sexually assaulting minors in southern Michigan and northern Indiana, including a fifteen-year-old Amish girl. In this particular case, the prosecutor felt that Amish participation was decisive in obtaining a sixty-six-year prison sentence for the accused.
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When the Amish see an issue as a matter of conscience, rather than as a defense of personal rights and privileges, they may be more willing to cooperate with lawyers and use the courts. That was the case in the 1960s when Amish fathers agreed to be named as plaintiffs in a suit that led to the landmark 1972 U.S. Supreme Court case allowing Amish young people to forgo high school education. At various times during the twentieth century, Amish men have appeared in court, usually appealing decisions but occasionally initiating challenges to government regulations that run counter to their convictions.
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For the most part, however, the Amish maintain a cordial relationship with representatives of the kingdom of this world. After the shooting at Nickel Mines, for example, the Amish community expressed profound gratitude for the assistance of the Pennsylvania State Police. Following the dictates of the New Testament, they believe they should pray for governmental leaders, obey civic laws when possible, and pay taxes when asked. “What should be our reaction when we hear people complaining against the government?” asks one writer. “We should either remain silent, or where appropriate, reprove such complaining.We have much to be thankful for to live in a land of religious freedom.”
18
Even as the Amish express gratitude for the blessings of religious freedom, it is clear that this world and its ways are not their ultimate frame of reference. Humans respond to evil with self-defense or revenge, one Amish elder explains, when they “look back . . . toward earthly things and are not able to let them go in patience and Christ-like
Gelassenheit
.”
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According to this man’s view, Christians should instead live with patient hope in a world to come. They should trust in God, whose judgments will eventually prevail in a heavenly home without evil and violence.
Of course the troubles of this world include more than just suffering from injustice and crime. They also involve other forms of pain and disappointment. The beliefs, practices, and affections of the Amish way help them navigate those human sorrows as well.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sorrow
Sorrow upon sorrow, anguish upon anguish: that’s death.
—AMISH FATHER
who lost a son
I
t was a splendid February day on the snowy slopes of western Wyoming. Mervin Beiler and four of his Amish friends had arrived from Pennsylvania the day before to explore the majestic terrain by snowmobile.
o
Starting out on Monday morning, Mervin took the lead for about thirty miles and then let others lead the way. He eventually followed two of his friends over what appeared to be a small knob. But the knoll hid a ten-foot drop on the other side. The first driver was able to make the jump safely, but the second snowmobile hit fresh powder and flipped over. Mervin, following the tracks of the other sleds, flew over the knob and collided with the disabled sled, breaking his neck. His friends came running, tried to check his pulse—and instinctively began praying the Lord’s Prayer. Midway through their prayer, Mervin gasped and died.
About five hours later, back in Pennsylvania, Mervin’s parents and younger siblings had just finished their evening meal. Some of them were washing the dishes, and others were singing around the table. Mervin’s dad, Aaron, was sitting in his easy chair when a relative, who had taken an emergency phone call from Wyoming, came to the Beilers’ door with the tragic news. “We all just cried and cried,” Aaron recalled later in his memoir,
Light in the Shadow of Death
.
1
Aaron notified his brother, and soon the house began to fill with church people, friends, and family. With the arrival of others, “the burden was made a little more easy,” but even months later “the tears just flow as I write this.” Mervin was Aaron and Mary Ann’s oldest son, and his sudden death at age twenty-three was a shattering experience for his father, who spent several years struggling with his grief.
Sorrow is no stranger in Amish life. It arrives in the wake of accidents, fire, drought, and hailstorms that ruin corn and flatten fields of alfalfa. Sorrow settles in when infertility, miscarriages, and stillbirths occur in Amish families. It trails the death of a spouse, the failure of a family business, the decision of children to leave the Amish faith, and the shattering of trust. Sorrow, in its many forms, visits all human communities, but the religious outlook of Amish people offers distinct resources for coping with the heartache that accompanies tragedy and disappointment.
Life’s Special Sunbeams
“Our blue rose, now gone, we hope is now blooming in Gloryland.” That is how Emma Weaver describes her mentally disabled daughter, a special and rare rose, who died at twenty years of age. As a baby, Anna “was a gift straight from Heaven. How we loved her. Her daddy was as happy as I was,” even though Anna couldn’t nurse, her eyes didn’t focus, and she soon showed signs of other abnormalities. She eventually learned to sit, crawl, and walk, but her development was slow. As she grew older, she was able to help with family chores and enjoyed playing with kittens in the barn, teaching them to drink out of a pan. Anna attended an Amish school for special children, where she learned to read and write short sentences. She loved to give birthday cards to family members and friends, each containing a few short, carefully written sentences.
As Anna approached her twentieth birthday, her health began to fail. One morning she told her mother that there was an angel waiting outside her bedroom window. Emma wept, knowing that Anna “had her hopes and wishes in that great beyond . . . that eternal city where only Peace, Love, and Joy abide,” yet Emma so desperately “hoped to keep her a long, long time.” After Anna died, Emma consoled herself that “God had other plans.”
2
Genetic illnesses and disabilities can bring profound sorrow to Amish parents, but their faith helps them face these situations with patience. In the first place, they believe that the painful surprises of life always come with a purpose, even a message from God.
Parents of children with Down syndrome, autism, deafness, dwarfism, muscular dystrophy, and other disabilities publish
Life’s Special Sunbeams
, a newsletter that is distributed nationally. In it, parents share essays in which they describe their challenges, exchange ideas and insights, and often reveal their heartaches.Threading through all the stories is a belief that having such a child, despite the difficulties it entails, is firmly embedded in God’s larger purpose for the world. Speaking of her son with Down syndrome, one mother says, “We don’t believe that the reason he is like he is, is because of something we did or didn’t do. Ben is exactly in accordance with God’s plan.”
3
Indeed, the Amish commonly refer to children with disabilities as “God’s special children.”
As such, disabled children are considered special in the best sense of the term. One Amish-written poem, “Heaven’s Special Child,” describes a conversation among angels about where to place a child who will be born with disabilities. Significantly, these angels describe the child as “meek and mild,” a phrase often reserved, in the Christian tradition, for the baby Jesus.