The deacon shifted on his rocker. But before he could begin, Susie bustled in with glasses of iced tea. The cubes floated on top, delicious looking in the late-evening heat. But at the moment Bishop Beiler wanted no bodily comforts. He wanted this business out of the way. But clearly the others were anxious for refreshment, so he leaned back and said, “Thank you. This looks gut.”
“There’s more out in the kitchen,” Susie said as she left the half-empty pitcher on the desk. “Let me know if there is anything else you need.”
“I think there’s plenty here,” Deacon Mast said.
Susie nodded and then retreated.
Minister Kanagy took a long swallow of iced tea and wiped his mouth in a quick motion.
“It’s not gut news I have to report.” Deacon Mast was sober-faced. “Henry’s decided to jump the fence. Like in all the way over.”
Both ministers sat in shocked silence. Minister Kanagy’s mouth hung open. The bishop had expected Deacon Mast to break the news with a little more finesse, but then how did one do that? The facts were the facts.
“But I have not heard of this,” Minister Graber’s voice squeaked. “Is this for sure?”
“I had a long talk with Henry on Sunday afternoon when I visited him to make sure,” Deacon Mast said. “Then I came over last evening to tell the bishop…and here we are.”
“This is unbelievable!” Minister Kanagy’s hands twitched in his lap. “We were doing so well.”
“It’s what comes from compromising.” Bishop Beiler tried without success to keep the edge out of his voice. Minister Kanagy had pushed for the light treatment of Henry Yoder’s tractor transgressions and the action still stung.
“But Henry Yoder!” Minister Kanagy was almost on his feet. “This doesn’t sound like the Henry Yoder I know. He was brought up in the community. I will go and speak with him tonight.”
“You’ll have plenty of time for that.” Bishop Beiler motioned for Minister Kanagy to settle himself down. “No one is rushing into anything, but we do need to arrive at an understanding on the matter. Henry has plans not only to leave the Amish, but to join that new outfit we spoke about—up near Mifflinburg. They have a preacher from the outside, someone told me. It’s not the usual Mennonite situation, let me put it that way.”
“And all over a tractor!” Minister Kanagy still hadn’t absorbed the shock.
Bishop Beiler could understand. He’d spent a partially sleepless night himself, tossing and turning plenty after he’d heard the news.
“Don’t you have more details on what Henry’s thinking?” Minister Kanagy asked Deacon Mast.
“Not other than what Henry told me.” Deacon Mast shrugged. “How much can you believe once a man starts down that path? They see stars where there never were any before. Henry’s all caught up in this spiritual trip. Seems like he visited their revival meetings or whatever they’re calling them—maybe a Bible school. I can’t remember. Anyway, there was an altar call. Henry went up and had an experience of some sort. He’s never been so spiritually satisfied, he claims.”
“And I’m sure the new tractor is sitting in his front yard with the rubber tires on.” Minister Graber grimaced as if the thought pained him greatly.
“Yah,” Deacon Mast allowed. “It was in the barnyard at least.”
“We must not speak of things that we do not know,” Minister Kanagy got in edgewise. “Henry may have spiritual reasons for what he’s doing.”
“Now who’s going soft?” Bishop Beiler made sure he looked at Minister Kanagy as he spoke. “And Henry’s not even family.”
Minister Kanagy hung his head and offered no retort.
“Dah Hah have mercy on us all,” Minister Graber said. “I can see where this one’s going. We can’t allow Henry to get away this time. If we do, the whole congregation will get ideas. That is, if they haven’t already with how easy Henry got off the last time.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.” Bishop Beiler looked slowly around the room. “I have spent a lot of time thinking about this. And I’ve arrived at my conclusion. I say we give all of you two weeks in which to speak with Henry about the matter. If nothing changes, I don’t think we have much choice. If this were a mainline Mennonite church, perhaps things would be different—or if Henry hadn’t been making trouble before.”
No one protested.
Deacon Mast poured himself another glass of tea, no doubt to calm his nerves. Bishop Beiler felt a similar need. There hadn’t been an excommunication in years—at least not in his district.
Minister Kanagy looked like he wished to say something, but then he didn’t. Likely, he’d wanted to make a motion for even stricter measures on Joe and Verna.
Bishop Beiler stood. “We can talk some more about this at the Sunday-morning meeting. But for now we all know the basics.”
Deacon Mast followed them to the front door, but he didn’t offer to help untie their horses. He looked pale as he stood there in the light of the gas lantern and sipped more of his frau’s iced tea.
Thirty-Five
Bishop Beiler shifted on the hard surface of the ministers’ bench. All around him the younger children and non–church members were leaving Lonnie Miller’s living room. The moment for the vote on Henry Yoder’s excommunication had arrived. His heart felt heavy just as it had all night. On Saturday afternoon Deacon Mast had spent an hour at Henry’s place trying to talk some last-minute sense into the man’s head. The effort had been in vain. Henry was determined to continue his course, and Deacon Mast had reported that Henry had been hard at work with his new tractor clad with rubber tires when he’d arrived. It had indeed come to a sad state of affairs.
The bishop looked up and saw Joe Weaver walk past with his head held low. It was a shame the situation still dragged on for Joe and Verna. Those two at least tried to follow the guidance of the church. Verna had cried for hours the evening he’d asked her again to consider putting a stop to her visits with Joe. He’d explained that the pressure for further measures against her had become difficult to hold back. This had seemed to touch Verna’s heart more than any of his earlier commands. She’d rushed over for a talk with Joe, and then hadn’t been back for a visit since. The bishop wasn’t sure what agreement they’d reached, but Verna’s sorrow hung heavy over the house. Her compliance would, for the moment at least, relieve pressure from Minister Kanagy for further action regarding Joe’s membership probation.
With the room cleared of nonmembers, Bishop Beiler rose to his feet. Even the murmur of the younger girls in the kitchen had stilled. “This is a sad day for all of us,” Bishop Beiler began. “I don’t need to make many words over the matter. You all know by now that Henry Yoder and his family have left our fellowship. We now need to vote on excommunication for Henry and his frau, Lydia. Henry has not been with us for over two Sundays, and he has refused all our efforts at corrective counsel. As to why this has happened, I don’t know all the details. I don’t believe much time should be wasted in troubling our minds on that matter. Rather, we should mourn for our brother and his family. And our prayers should be lifted to Da Hah that Henry might see the error of his way and return with his family from following the ways of the world. I will now let others express themselves, and we’ll go from there.”
Minister Graber kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke. “I can add nothing to what the bishop has said. I have perhaps not spent as much time speaking with Henry as I could have, but I find myself weak in such matters. That’s best left to others when these complicated things of the faith come up. I ask that you bear with me in my weakness, and that you join me in prayer for Henry and his family. The world is full of danger, and the soul is so easily deceived. We should never take it upon ourselves to walk without the counsel of many brethren at our side.”
There were a few moments of silence when Minister Kanagy stood and paused. He cleared his throat. “I too express my sorrow today. I hope no one will take it upon himself to side with the errors of our brother, Henry
. Let me assure you that this church group Henry is joining has more errors than we could name. And yet that is not our purpose today—telling you about how wrong other people are, but to take corrective action which may yet save Henry from his error. In this we have the promise of the apostle Paul, who said that the sufferings of the flesh can soon result in the saving of the spirit.”
Minister Kanagy fidgeted for a few moments before he continued. “I do need to mention—since I have heard the questions myself—could Henry have been saved if we had taken a harsher hand with his constant tractor use? Especially the last incident in which we had threatened such a thing and then backed off. In this, I confess myself the greatest transgressor. I wish to express my deepest regret in not counseling a firmer hand. We, of course, can never know what would or would not have happened. But I, on my part, wish we had tried. That is all I have to say.”
Bishop Beiler nodded toward Deacon Mast. Minster Kanagy’s confession was a bit of a surprise, but it hadn’t changed anything. They all had regrets, but a cleared conscience never hurt a man.
“I wish only to express my great sadness for this day,” Deacon Mast said. “Beyond that, words fail me. I really can’t add to what has already been said.”
Bishop Beiler leaned forward to whisper to the other ministers. “You may ask the members then.”
The three men stood up and began to move up and down the benches, bending over to ask each member if they agreed with the proceedings and listening to each person’s reply. Bishop Beiler waited while the votes and comments were listened to. It didn’t take long, and that was a gut sign. Conflict over the vote would only prolong the agony of what needed doing.
Deacon Mast was back first. He took his place on the ministers’ bench. He’d taken the votes from the women’s side of the room. He kept his gaze on the floor. The other two ministers soon joined him. Bishop Beiler motioned for them to speak.
“I have found everyone in agreement,” Minister Kanagy said. “They expressed their sorrow and wished it were otherwise, but believe the ministry’s counsel was the wisest course of action.”
“The same here.” Minister Graber stared at the blank wall as he spoke. “There were only regrets, but no votes to hold back the excommunication.”
Deacon Mast glanced toward the bishop. “One of the sisters did wonder why Henry’s frau, Lydia, is included since she originally didn’t wish to join Henry at the other church. I told her I was not aware of that, but regardless of how Lydia felt at first, she is now in full agreement with Henry. I spoke with Lydia myself last Saturday. Beyond that there were no questions or counsel not to proceed.”
Bishop Beiler stood. “This is a sad day indeed, but we will now consider our brother and sister outside the fold until they repent. We will have no dealings with them whatsoever. That is all.”
The crowd began to break up even before Bishop Beiler sat down. Deacon Mast rose to his feet and slid onto the bench across from the bishop. He leaned forward and whispered, “I hope I said the right thing to Lydia’s sister. She was the one who questioned including Lydia.”
“I wouldn’t have known how to say it better myself,” Bishop Beiler said.
A pleased smile spread over the deacon’s face. He was soon in conversation with Benny Beiler seated on the bench behind him. Ten minutes later the men had the dinner benches set up, and Lonnie motioned for the men to take their seats for the noon meal. Lonnie’s frau, Millie, soon appeared in the kitchen doorway and whispered to her husband.
Seconds later Lonnie tapped Bishop Beiler on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Everyone’s ready.”
Bishop Beiler lifted his voice so he’d be heard throughout the house. “It’s time to eat, so let’s pray and give thanks.”
When silence had fallen, he prayed, “Now unto You, O God of judgment and mercy. Hallowed be Your great name. Bless this food which has been prepared for us, and allow it to give our bodies strength for the rest of the afternoon. Bless also the many hands who have prepared it. Bless the faithful members who are gathered here today. Strengthen their hearts in the gut things which You give both in this world and in Your Word. Amen.”
As the men began to eat, Minister Graber leaned toward the bishop. “I’m sure glad this day is over. It tears the heart out when these kinds of things must be dealt with. At least Henry isn’t here today. That would have made things even worse—having to see him afterward.”
“Yah,” Bishop Beiler agreed. He spread a thin layer of peanut butter on his bread. “It makes it easier for us, but I wish Henry had come to express himself. Deacon Mast gave him that option, but he didn’t wish to make trouble, he said.”
“These are always sad cases.” Minister Graber bit into a thick slab of bread slathered with peanut butter. “You did well. This problem finally was dealt with.”
“Still it’s a shame,” Bishop Beiler said. “It just goes to show you where a little thing of the world can soon gain a strong foothold.”
Minister Graber nodded. “You should be speaking of this in your next sermon.”
Bishop Beiler glanced at him. “It’s not like you don’t have the chance yourself.”
They both fell silent as conversations rose and fell around them. Lonnie’s young girl, Betsy, came past with the coffeepot. Bishop Beiler made sure she filled his. He wasn’t hungry, but coffee would soothe his nerves. He began to relax even though there was still the afternoon ahead when some members might come up to express reservations they hadn’t offered officially. He hoped there were none, but with the way things had gone lately, anything could happen.
The closing meal prayer was soon called, and the tables emptied out. Before Bishop Beiler made it out the front door, the women already scurried to clean the tables for the next round. The men spilled across Lonnie’s lawn to sit under the shade trees, setting up benches they’d carried out with them. Bishop Beiler selected a spot that looked like it would stay out of the sun for an hour or so. He bent over to pluck a blade of grass and chewed on it as he settled in.
It didn’t take long before Cousin Benny sidled up to him on the bench. “I just wanted to express my wholehearted support, Bishop, for the way things were handled today. Henry has been pushing the fence for years now, and I must say I was a little worried there for a while. You have my thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Bishop Beiler bobbed his head. “It’s not an easy task tending to Da Hah’s vineyard. But I’m sure you know that.”
“Yah,” Benny said and slid down the bench again.
Others soon came and left their appreciative comments before they moved on to give further room on the bench.
“My frau and I are glad action was taken today, Bishop.”
“We’ll now feel much better about the future of our children.”
“Yesterday I was talking with my cousin who knows the group up in Mifflinburg well. They are nothing but troublemakers, adding only pain to the body of Christ.”
“It’s gut to see such firm leadership exercised, Bishop.”
“Don’t worry about ever having to stand alone. My family is with you.”
Bishop Beiler listened, and his heart lifted higher with each word given. It was so gut when the full support of the brotherhood was behind decisions like this. And no one complained like he’d feared some might. He felt sleepiness overtake him as the last man drifted past, and the conversations around him turned to the last hay cutting of the season and the corn harvest ahead of them.
Someone poked him in the ribs. “Come on there, Bishop. We have to stay awake during your sermons!” Laughter rolled across the lawn.
“Maybe if you’d try your hand at preaching we could all stay awake,” Bishop Beiler replied.
They laughed harder.
“I heard cousin Benny was fattening up his cows by preaching to them. Improves their circulation, he said.”
“Now that’s some preaching, wouldn’t you say?”
“At least his cows get to benefit even if the chu
rch doesn’t.”
Benny was red-faced from laughter, but he managed to choke out, “I got so gut at it, I thought I’d market my skills around. Bring in a little extra cash.”
“We’ll all have to remember that when our cattle get close to market,” Bishop Beiler said.
“Not to take away from the fine Benny Beiler jokes,” another man said, “but I heard of an Amish farmer who had given permission for these hunters to use his land. There was this huge puddle in the middle of the lane, it seems, and the hunters asked him whether they could drive safely across.
“ ‘Looks to me like you could,’ the Amish man told them.
“When their pickup sank out of sight, the hunters floated to the top and demanded an explanation.
“ ‘Well, my cows could make it with no problem,’ the Amish man said. ‘It barely came halfway to their bellies.’ ”
“That’s better than a Benny Beiler joke,” someone else said, as all the men held their stomachs.
The laughter and chatter continued. Bishop Beiler listened, his mind fading in and out. They dealt with their pain in the only way they knew how, he figured. Laughter was Da Hah’s gift, and he was thankful it had come so soon after their great sorrow this morning. This way bitterness would not sit deep in their hearts.
Thirty-Six
Verna sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. The early-Monday-morning sunlight poured in through the kitchen window. All around her soft noises filled the house as the others worked. The washroom screen door had just slammed shut as Mamm and Ida left to check the garden. Ida’s last hamper of dirty clothing had bumped down the basement stairs thirty minutes ago. Verna knew she should do something, but she couldn’t move after she’d finished the dishes. Her head hurt, and her heart was in worse shape. She hadn’t seen Joe yesterday afternoon at the church services, and she hadn’t spoken with him for days now. This separation was tearing her apart. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken Daett quite so seriously. Perhaps she should only have cut back on her visits, not stopped them entirely.
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