The Parting

by Beverly Lewis

  Yet that was almost comical compared to this, he thought, looking at the now thirty or so men lined up along one side. If Reuben hadn’t known which of them belonged to Manny’s group, he might’ve spotted the believers by their meek demeanor and the tractor-lovers by their set expressions and arms over their chests, as if ready for combat. The bishop’s stern bunch were generally the eldest among them, and some looked downright befuddled as they tugged on their long beards.

  The bishop began by making a declaration. “Some of yous are here because your wives want electric and you want a car to drive. Others want to do missions work overseas or win your neighbors to a new gospel.” He paused to inhale audibly, as if he were making a point with his very breath. “All of you dissenters are less than satisfied with the way things have always been. Don’t say this ain’t so!”

  Reuben saw the fire in his older brother’s eyes and wondered how he could ever salvage his relationship with Joseph after these weeks of infighting. When the bishop was finished, he allowed discussion. First one spoke, then another, in an orderly fashion, until Old Joe Glick aligned himself with Preacher Manny. All of a sudden Reuben’s father spoke out sharply against them, his face growing so red that several men on his side had to restrain him. Even at this early-morning hour, the uproar had been ignited.

  Reuben couldn’t have gotten a word in edgeways if he’d wanted to. He would’ve liked to defend his cousin Manny, and he would also have liked to see his eldest brother have a tender heart toward the Lord Jesus.

  A sudden flutter of wings startled him and the others, and their gaze followed to the wooden rafters, where two phoebes flew round and round, as though frantically searching for a way out.

  “Well, lookee there.” Preacher Manny pointed upward. “Those birds are like me . . . like some of the rest of you, too. They feel as trapped as if they were in a silo—can’t find the door.”

  “Himmel, there ’tis!” hollered one, pointing to the barn doors as guffaws erupted.

  “Jah, be gone . . . get thee behind me, Satan!” said another, thrashing his black hat.

  Manny attempted to still the crowd. “Come now, brethren—”

  At this, the bishop waved his arms. He bowed his head, working his jaw while the crowd silenced. When he raised his eyes and spoke at last, his words were barely audible. “Does it not matter, beloved, that you are in danger of losin’ your very souls?”

  Unexpectedly Reuben thought of Suzy. He leaned his head back to look at the long rafters supporting the barn above, wondering when the phoebes had flown away. And to where?

  The bishop continued. “You leave me no choice but to—”

  “You’re goin’ to shun us all?” asked a man smack-dab next to Preacher Manny. “Then we’ll take the whole of our families with us!”

  A roar of support filled the room.

  Reuben locked his knees. There was no way out . . . not the way this was going. They were devouring each other.

  The bishop stepped forward. “But you’re not taking all your family. Many of them are already alienated from you. Will you trade the fellowship of your extended family for tractors and cars?”

  The roar faded.

  The bishop turned to Preacher Manny. “Will you abandon your grandsons for an arrogant gospel?”

  Reuben shuddered. Arrogant?

  David Yoder placed his hand on the bishop’s shoulder, eyes blazing. “Look how you’re divided amongst yourselves. For this you’ll abandon the tradition of our ancestors? For this you’ll risk losin’ your families?” He fairly growled. “As for me and my house, we will choose the Lord.”

  Reuben’s face burned with resentment. Choosing tradition was not choosing God. To Reuben’s dismay, the crowd of men began to argue loudly again.

  At last the bishop stepped forward, his hands raised high.

  A hush spread over the barn as he went around, pointing to each man to inquire of his decision. After the first man, the bishop literally began to take roll, asking for a “yea” or “nay” on upholding the Ordnung. Some clearly felt put on the spot, and Reuben, for one, disliked his brother’s approach.

  When Joseph came at last to Reuben, his jaw quivered. “Where do you stand, brother?”

  Reuben fixed his eyes on the bishop. “The Ordnung is not the way to salvation. I say ‘no.’ ”

  His older brother nodded, jerking his head. “Well, then. We have a split down the middle . . . nearly fifty-fifty.”

  Once more bedlam erupted in the barn.

  After several attempts to regain control, the bishop merely shook his head. In dismay he turned and headed for the barn door, yet the arguing continued.

  That’s it, Reuben thought. We’re as good as excommunicated!

  He’d prayed before arriving today, asking God to give him insight and the wisdom to make a suggestion to the bishop at the right moment, if indeed the time came. He stepped forward now, calling for peace. “My brother—our bishop—needs a reprieve.” He waited for them to turn to look at him before adding, “Don’t you see we’re gettin’ nowhere?”

  “We’ll have the way of our forefathers,” David Yoder shouted.

  Cheers backed him up.

  “Let’s be respectful ’bout this, brethren—for the sake of our families and our heritage, if not for the Lord God almighty.” With that Reuben left to find Joseph.

  When he found him in the woodshed, the bishop was pacing. “Bishop Joseph,” he said. “My brother by blood and under God, may I have a word?”

  The bishop looked his way, eyes moist. “What is it, Reuben?”

  “I appeal to all that is good and right. Not only are families rending asunder, but the conflict is eatin’ all of us in this community alive.” He stopped, praying silently, then went on. “If I might be so bold, a wide-scale shunning may not be the answer. It was never meant to be used in this way, was it?”

  Joseph frowned.

  “The best chance for those who are in error to see the light—if indeed we’re in error—isn’t to shun us, but to keep lines of communication open, jah?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  The man of God is inquiring of me? “Why not encourage harmony . . . so desired amongst us?” Reuben said.

  The bishop’s eyes were kind; the fire was tamed.

  “While in prayer the past weeks,” Reuben continued, “the Lord revealed a plan to me. I’ve told no one . . . ’cept now I’m tellin’ you. Why not offer a peaceable parting? Let each man choose his path, under God, for his own family.”

  “Sounds like the children of Israel—every man doin’ what is right in his own eyes.”

  Reuben should’ve seen that coming.

  The bishop stood tall, his jaw set. He squinted at an uncut log, then he picked up his ax and flung it deep into the piece of wood, where it stayed. “I’ve got loose rocks to haul out of my fields today—work to be done. Come. I need to finish what’s been started.”

  The men immediately ceased their talking when the bishop walked into the barn with Reuben at his side. Reuben joined his cousins Jonathan and Preacher Manny, not knowing what the outcome would be.

  His elder brother straightened, his mouth a thin line. “Those of you who insist on following your own way unto perdition, so be it. If you’re askin’ for my say-so to abandon the beliefs of your fathers and the Lord God and heavenly Father who brought our ancestors out of martyrdom, then you have three months to choose your side without penalty of the Bann. Either go or stay—leave the Old or embrace the faith of your fathers. If you wait longer than the ninety days, you’ll be shunned. Now, I wash my hands of this.”

  Bewildered, yet thankful, Reuben hurried home to Betsy and breakfast. ’Tis nearly a miracle. . . .

  Over a breakfast of fried eggs, German link sausage, waffles, and black coffee, Reuben shared the bishop’s surprising announcement with Betsy and the girls. His wife said little, but he could tell by her raised eyebrows that she was as shocked as he was.

  Nellie spoke up, tho
ugh. “It’s about time for all this to settle down, ain’t so?”

  That’s the truth, he thought, truly relieved. Now he could continue to have good fellowship with Ephram and others, including his parents, who were scheduled to move to Bird-in-Hand tomorrow. He’d offered to help with his parents’ relocation, but the way things had gone with Mamm’s last visit here, Reuben’s younger brother thought it best to “leave things be.”

  His thoughts turned to the upcoming Sunday meeting, and he felt energized whenever he pondered hearing the teachings of the Good Book with like-minded souls.

  Now that their path was clearer, Reuben anticipated a call at some point for the ordination of a second minister in addition to Preacher Manny. And years down the road there might be need for a bishop, as well. For now, odd as it might be, his brother would no doubt continue to oversee them.

  Silently, he offered a prayer of thanksgiving for God’s prompting him to propose a peaceable schism. Who’d ever heard of such a thing? But the bishop had heeded, and for that there was much cause for praise.

  CHAPTER 36

  Nellie was both intrigued and nervous about going to Preacher Manny’s house the Lord’s Day following the bishop’s declaration. Suzy’s diary had awakened in her an intense curiosity, and she intended to find out more about the reason for her sister’s devotion to her faith.

  Dat said not a word, but Mamma smiled and nodded when Nellie followed Rhoda and Nan into the horse-drawn sleigh. The day was brisk and dark clouds threatened flurries, yet Nellie had an air of anticipation as they rode over the snow-packed roads already heavily rutted by steel buggy wheels.

  Arriving at Manny’s, she noticed right away the fifteen or so gray family buggies lining the side yard. It felt odd not to file in after the men and boys, as the womenfolk usually did. In other ways, though, the house-church gathering was less like the informal Bible study she’d imagined it to be, and more like an Old Order service, with the men and boys sitting on the right, and the women, young children, and babies on the left.

  Preacher Manny’s words and the verses he read and explained in the packed-out house moved Nellie to tears as she sat between Mamma and Nan.

  Do I feel like Suzy did . . . her first visit to the tabernacle?

  The singing was hearty—two songs from memory from the Ausbund, their old songbook, and another she’d heard only at one of the more lively Sunday Singings—“What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

  Preacher Manny mentioned briefly the coming church split, advising those present to search their hearts for their future. Most likely the group would eventually become a new order—a designation Nellie had never heard before. “Each man and each woman must make this a matter of prayer.”

  Each woman? Now, Nellie found that interesting.

  Certainly Suzy had embraced salvation for herself, not waiting for a man—the brethren or her future husband—to impart it to her. The road of Suzy’s life had curved, then turned again.

  Nellie Mae tried to look about her discreetly, aware of Ephram’s and Maryann’s absence. Dat must be feeling it even more so, with his family incomplete here in this meeting place. As for herself, Nellie yearned more for Caleb’s presence. What would he think of hearing Scripture passages “read in context,” as Preacher Manny made a point to say. She wished, too, that Caleb could witness the enthusiasm springing from their minister as he instructed them, his face shining like a lighthouse beacon.

  The longer the meeting lasted, the more Nellie understood why these people sought to experience God’s grace, something she’d failed to comprehend before reading Suzy’s diary. She confessed to herself that she wished to know something like it with Caleb; such a blending of hearts would be the icing on the cake for their relationship. And for our future, she thought.

  And yet Nellie wanted to know whether giving herself over to this still-foreign belief was the only way to know the grace her dear sister—and parents—seemed to have found. Is this for me? When it came time to pray, they turned and knelt at their chairs as was their usual custom, but Preacher Manny led them aloud. Dare she learn how to pray like this, just as Dat prayed—not to receive answers so much as to reveal her heart?

  Hesitant as she was about appearing to turn away from what she had been taught, Nellie Mae wanted to know more. It was impossible not to sense the joy of this gathering. Caleb should see it for himself.

  She would write to Caleb this afternoon and invite him to attend with her next Lord’s Day.

  Caleb was not surprised to see a letter from Nellie Mae in the mailbox Tuesday afternoon, but he was astonished at her bold request.

  Dear Caleb,

  Will you consider going to Preacher Manny’s for church next Sunday? I want to know your honest opinion. . . .

  Caleb could not believe his eyes. What had happened to the girl who’d assured him of her faithfulness to the Old Order? How could she be interested in Preacher Manny’s rebellious talk?

  His temples throbbed. Reading the letter again, he noticed she’d signed it, With love, Nellie Mae. Seeing that, he took hope.

  Our love is still alive, he assured himself, determined to talk her out of this impulsive idea.

  He stuffed the letter into his pants pocket and returned to the barn, recalling their walk to the bluffs behind his uncle’s farmhouse, after Daed had confronted Nellie Mae at the common meal. How was it possible for her to open her mind to change when she had been so strong in her stance that day? Hadn’t she vowed her loyalty?

  If Daed gets wind of this . . .

  Caleb scarcely knew how to persuade his father of the depth of his love for Nellie . . . the rightness of his choice. It was a rare departure from the norm for a son to confide such matters, but his father had obviously figured out whom he was seeing—thanks to Rebekah, probably. “I shouldn’t need to defend my preference for a mate,” he muttered, heading out to the far pasture to tend to the cattle’s water.

  He must see Nellie, and before next Sunday. No doubt she had anticipated some resistance from him. Perhaps she’d hoped he would mull over the letter and acquiesce, if only for a single Sunday.

  Caleb couldn’t begin to read her mind. Even so, he knew one thing: He would follow the mandates of the Ordnung at any cost . . . and once he had talked sense into Nellie, he was sure she would, too.

  Nellie Mae still smelled the sweetness of the bakery as she hurried up the steps to her room. Tuesdays were exceptionally good days for selling pastries. Most people did their washing on Mondays around here—English folk included—making Tuesday the more popular day to get out and purchase goodies from Nellie’s Simple Sweets.

  Lighting the lantern, she happily settled into her room for the night. She began to take her hair down and brush it, thinking of Caleb. Her letter had surely arrived at her darling’s by now, and she could only guess what he’d thought. The sad truth of the matter was that the planned split of the People was tremendously complicated, especially with her father and Caleb’s going separate ways. Yet Uncle Bishop seemed to think it for the best, even though he was relinquishing his power by handing over the ultimate decision to the heads of households.

  Dear Uncle, he must be relieved in a way. She would not want to be in his shoes, nor her aunt Anna’s. The sanctioned split could not possibly go well. Already she’d heard from the grapevine that some were beginning to behave like sheep needing a shepherd. Cars are an awful big enticement, she thought.

  She was glad Uncle Bishop was allowing people ninety days to make up their minds. Will Caleb and his family cross over, too?

  The barbed manner in which Caleb’s father had recently approached her seemed to make the likelihood of his ever leaving the Old Order extremely slim. All Nellie Mae could do was hope for a truly peaceful resolution in spite of Caleb’s and her misery.

  Nellie Mae had curled up in bed, snug in her warm cotton nightgown, yet unable to sleep. Having retired earlier than the rest of the house, she stared at the ceiling, not counting sheep but days.

>   What would Suzy have thought of all this?

  She opened the drawer next to her. Suzy’s Kapp strings lay in her diary as a bookmark of sorts. Nellie had wanted to mark the spot where Suzy’s life had made a turn for the better. Is she with the Lord because someone invited her to hear another side to things? Could it be?

  She wondered about that and pictured Caleb sitting alongside Dat and her brothers, all in a row at Manny’s meeting. What would happen if he came?

  Still imagining the scene, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Some time later, she happened to hear a tick-tick on her windowpane.

  Sitting up, she thought she saw a flicker of light, too.

  Am I dreaming?

  Heart in her throat, Nellie Mae scurried to the window and looked out. There, standing in the snow below, was Caleb, shining his flashlight into her eyes.

  Ach, is this the night? Has he come to propose?

  She unlocked the window, raised it, and poked her head out. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she whispered. “Will you meet me at the back door?”

  Caleb turned off his flashlight just that quick, and she hurried to shut out the frigid air, pushing down hard on the window frame. “Oh, goodness . . . what’ll I do?”

  Nearly in a panic, she stumbled about, lighting the lantern and snatching up her white bathrobe and slippers—but no, she couldn’t go down in her nightclothes. What was she thinking?

  Lickety-split, she changed into her Sunday best and brushed her long hair, pushing it back over her shoulders. Only family members were supposed to see it hanging free of her bun and Kapp, but she’d already kept Caleb waiting long enough. Suddenly she laughed softly, realizing that Caleb would see her like this for many years to come. I’m going to be his bride, for goodness’ sake!