by Murray Pura
“Ah, it was not an invitation. We had nothing to do with it. No man chose you. It was not about your qualifications or your personality. The lot fell to you just as it fell to Matthias after our Lord’s resurrection. Thank God, Micah, not us. It is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.”
Bishop Fischer put on his coat and hat and left. The buggy headed out to the main road, and the noon sun made the snow flash as it sprayed up from the horse’s hooves. The four inside watched him go and then looked at each other.
“Now what?” asked Luke.
“Now we pray and read the Scriptures and seek God,” replied Rebecca. “And clean the house top to bottom to get ready for Christmas Eve.” She grinned at Luke. “Will you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help you.”
“So first I need a good amount of fresh wood cut and stacked by the woodstove in the parlor.”
Luke threw on his coat and was out the door. “I’ll have that for you in less than an hour.”
She followed him to the door and called after him. “Then I’ll need your help to move some furniture!”
“Of course!” Luke called back.
“I can help you with that, Becca,” Micah said.
She began to sweep the kitchen floor. “No need. Luke has it in hand. I’m sure Naomi can find something for you to do.”
“Oh, I can.” Naomi took Micah’s hand. “Come with me for a minute.”
She drew him into the parlor and shut the door.
“What’s all this about?” he asked.
“You can see something is up between my brother and your sister. Leave them alone to work it out. Meanwhile I want to ask you not to fret.”
“Who’s fretting?”
“You are. About being at the center of the controversy. About causing a windstorm in Amish country. About being asked to serve as minister for life with a church that may split in two before the year is out. Bishop Fischer is right. It’s not on your shoulders. It’s on God’s shoulders and his shoulders are very broad.”
“Aren’t you concerned about what could happen between now and Christmas?”
The smile left Naomi’s face. “Ja. I know terrible things could take place. People could fight with one another, people who have been friends for decades. So you and I will pray about that together. We can start right now. But you can’t think it’s your fault. You can’t think you’re responsible for what happens to our Amish community here.”
Micah put his hands in his pockets, his face dark and cut with the sharp lines of his frown. “It’s not a light thing, Naomi. The community could not only split over all this. It could come to an end.”
“I know that.” She leaned her head against his chest, and he pulled his hands from his pockets and held her. “Believe me, Micah Bachman, I know that very well. We pray, ja, we pray. But what will happen? I can’t guess.”
Fifteen
It was Christmas Eve.
Naomi lit a final candle while Rebecca put a kettle on to boil water for tea. Luke was arranging benches and chairs in the kitchen and parlor.
Arms went around Naomi’s waist from behind, and lips kissed her neck.
“Merry Christmas, my beauty,” murmured Micah.
She smiled and leaned back against him. “We may be able to speak and touch now, but we’re not alone in the house.”
“My sister is playing with the teakettle. And your brother is arranging furniture.”
“For people who may never come.”
Micah released her. “We’ve prayed about all that. There’s nothing more we can do but hope for the best.”
“What did Bishop Fischer say to you this afternoon? I saw him talking to you by the barn.”
“He said the leadership would be coming early to pray. Minister Yoder will be bringing his son in a wheelchair.”
“Ja? He is home now?”
Micah nodded. “It will be good to see him. I haven’t laid eyes on Timothy since the accident.”
Naomi folded her arms over her chest. “That will be very nice. But what else did the bishop say?”
Micah hesitated. “They’ve been talking with people all week. The church could lose as many as twelve or fifteen families.”
“Twelve or fifteen? But that’s half the church—more than half!”
“I know. He said that I’ll be included in the leadership and officially a minister from this night on. So I will do my best to help.”
“Oh, my. Such news to receive on the night we celebrate our Savior’s birth. What else did he tell you?”
“Not much.”
“What?”
“Only that...it’s time to start growing my beard back since I’m a married man and now a minister.”
“Oh.” Naomi couldn’t stop herself from making a face. “I wish you wouldn’t. I like your face the way it is.”
“So should we ask them to change the Ordnung on this too?”
“Oh, no. I already told you one Ordnung change was enough.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll put up with it. All good Amish women do.”
“Hey, you two,” announced Rebecca as she headed to the door. “No more lovebirding.”
Naomi let go of Micah’s hand. “Who’s lovebirding?”
“Why do you think I’ve been hiding in the kitchen and Luke is still moving benches and chairs around?” She opened the door to Minister Yoder and his son Timothy in his wheelchair. “Tim! It’s so good to see you! Welcome! Merry Christmas!” She leaned down and hugged him. “God bless you!”
An awkward smile came and went on Timothy’s face. “Ein gesegnetes Weihnachtsfest.”
Rebecca laughed in delight. “What? Talking again are we? A blessed Christmas to you too, young man.” She hugged him a second time.
Minister Yoder’s smile was bigger than Rebecca had ever seen it. “Ja, every day he says more and more. We cannot thank God enough. As soon as we brought him home and he saw his dog, that was it, boom, all the words began to tumble out.”
“It’s wonderful, just wonderful—and at Christmas too.”
“Ja, ja. It’s the only gift we need.” He wheeled his son into the house. “You knew we were coming a bit early, ja?”
“The bishop told us, ja. Why not put yourselves by the fire in the parlor?”
“Velkommen,” greeted Luke.
“Velkommen,” greeted Naomi and Micah at almost the same time.
Timothy looked hard and long at Micah’s face. He whispered, “I saw you when I thought I was dead.”
Lamplight and candlelight flickered over the faces of everyone in the house.
“Your father would have told you I worked on you after the accident,” Micah responded.
“Ja. But now I see you, and you’re the person who is bandaging my leg and telling others where to press down to stop my bleeding, you’re the one looking for the big wound in my back. I watched everything you did. I thought I dreamed it. Somehow God let me see with my own eyes everything. Or was it a dream?”
Micah knelt by the wheelchair. “I don’t know what it was, Tim. But one thing you need to realize—God was watching over you, God was taking care of you. That’s why we’re blessed to have you with us tonight.”
Timothy stared at him. Then he put out his hand. “Thank you for letting God work through you. Thank you for saving me.”
Micah smiled and shook the boy’s hand. “It was an honor.”
Naomi and Rebecca could see the tears gathering in Minister Yoder’s eyes.
“So it is when God has his way with us,” he said. “So it is when we turn the things that are impossible and the things we cannot understand over to him.” He blinked and looked at the two women. “It doesn’t matter what else happens tonight, whether there are ten of us or two hundred. I am blessed.”
He wheeled Timothy close to the fire in the parlor.
Over the next fifteen minutes the other ministers and the bishop arrived with their families. Mrs. Yoder showed up with Timothy’s brothers a
nd sisters. They remained quietly in the kitchen while the leadership prayed in the parlor with the door shut. They let Timothy remain by the stove. It was the first time Micah was asked to pray with the leaders as a minister. Before he closed the door behind him, he caught Naomi’s eye and winked.
Oh, such a serious time, and you wink.
But she lowered her head and covered her smile with her hand.
“What will happen?” Rebecca asked the wives of the ministers and the wife of the bishop. “Will the people come here for worship on Christmas Eve? Or is there too much anger? Will they stay away?”
Mrs. Fischer shook her head. “We can’t tell. My husband spoke with so many. Who can say if he truly set their hearts at rest? Some may have left us already. Some may stay away to make their disappointment clear.”
“Perhaps a dozen will come,” said one of the minister’s wives. “Perhaps more.”
“Or none,” said another. “It may be the end of the church.”
“So it is not only the men who can pray.” Mrs. Fischer bowed her head as she sat in the rocker Micah had repaired. “Heavenly Father, we come before you now and ask your blessing upon our church and our people, for truly it is your church and your people we bring before you.”
The women prayed until the parlor door opened. The bishop gestured to them.
“Kommen Sie bitte hier. Kommen.”
The group of them gathered in the parlor and sat and waited. No one spoke. Naomi took Micah’s hand as ten minutes became thirty minutes and thirty minutes an hour. Luke got up and opened the glass door of the stove and fed in more logs. Then he took his seat again. Bishop Fischer took out his pocket watch.
“I’m sorry,” Micah suddenly spoke up. “This shouldn’t have happened. It would have been better if I had left when I returned from Afghanistan. Then everything would be fine tonight.”
The bishop held up a hand. “It would not be fine, Minister Bachman.”
Minister Yoder put an arm around his son in the wheelchair. “Timothy would not be with us.”
Another minister nodded. “We called upon the Lord. We drew lots, searched the Scriptures, sought understanding. The decision we have rendered regarding you and the Ordnung is not only just, it is holy. Never in my whole life have I been so aware that I was being led by God. The others feel the same way. This is what God has brought to pass. Let us see what he will do with it. If we must begin again with the few of us, blessed be his name. It is the Lord’s doing and it is marvelous in our eyes.”
“Amen, amen,” the men and women murmured as the children sat still. “Amen, amen. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
The silence returned, and they sat within it for another half hour, the fire snapping, the candle flames moving back and forth, the faces in the room sometimes black, sometimes gold. Naomi continued to hold on to Micah’s hand as the realization that no one was coming and the church was no more sank upon her like a heavy rock.
It is my fault. I should have done something. I should have gone to the homes. I should have spoken with the women. Talked about the letters.
Bishop Fischer stood up. “The Lord’s will be done. Let us sing carols together. Let us read in the Bible of Christ’s birth. All endings in the Lord are beginnings in the Lord. We shall celebrate the birth of Jesus together. The apostles were only twelve in number, but the Lord God made them like a thousand.”
Timothy suddenly turned in his wheelchair. “But I hear something.”
His father listened too. “No, my boy, there is nothing.”
“I hear something.”
Naomi frowned. “Ja, there is something, but what?”
Luke got to his feet and advanced toward the door.
The rest followed him, and as soon as Luke opened the door, the sound became clear and strong.
“People are singing.” Mrs. Fischer narrowed her eyes. “People are caroling.”
Minister Yoder wheeled Timothy to the door.
“I can see lights,” the boy said.
They saw small bits of flame floating along the lane to the house.
“It is...” Bishop Fischer lost his voice for a moment. “It is our people.”
Herbei, o ihr Gläubigen,
Fröhlich triumphiernd,
O kommet, o kommet nach Bethlehem!
Sehet das Kindlein,
Uns zum Heil geboren!
O lasset uns anbeten,
O lasset uns anbeten,
O lasset uns anbeten,
Den König!
“So it is ‘O Come All Ye Faithful,’” said Rebecca in a hushed voice.
“Ja.” The bishop nodded. “Ja.”
Kommt, singet dem Herren,
O ihr Engelchöre,
Frohlocket, frohlocket, ihr Seligen!
Ehre sei Gott im Himmel
Und auf Erden.
O lasset uns anbeten,
O lasset uns anbeten,
O lasset uns anbeten,
Den König!
“What is this?” Naomi asked Micah in a quiet voice. “What does it mean?”
He smiled at her. “I guess it means God isn’t quite finished with his miracles yet.”
Dozens of people gathered in front of the door and continued to sing the carol—men, women, and children. When they had finished, Mr. Kurtz stepped forward and removed his hat.
“We’re sorry we’re so late,” he said. “We agreed to meet where the lane joins the road and park our buggies there. So but then there were the candles to light and prayers to pray. I’m afraid you thought we might not be coming.”
The bishop nodded. “We were not sure. We gave it to the Lord.”
“There was much for all of us to work through. Scriptures to read. Prayers to pray. Questions to ask the Almighty.” Mr. Kurtz looked at Naomi and Micah. “All the letters have circulated through the people. All the cards. We are not blind. Stubborn, sure, and slow sometimes to see the hand of God when he does something among us he has never done before. But when we see, we see. And when we hear, we hear.
“You would have to be without a heart not to take in the cries of the mothers and wives and sisters who wrote about the lives you saved and the souls you blessed. Does the devil do such things? Does evil bring such kindness to the human race? Can darkness create light? The Ordnung is the Ordnung, and it is good. But God is God, and he is greater than the Ordnung and greater than good. So if he changes our Ordnung, we kneel before him and say, ‘Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’ For when we look at what the Lord has done in your life, Micah Bachman, we say two things—we say you are one of us, and we say God is love.” He smiled. “So on this night we also say, Merry Christmas, glory to God in the highest.”
Naomi was amazed by Mr. Kurtz’s words and even more amazed to see all the people nodding their heads and saying amen and breaking into smiles, the candle flames shining on their faces and in their eyes. Micah’s arm went around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.
How is it possible, Lord? How have you done this? How have you taken the heart of stone away and given us all hearts of flesh and blood and spirit?
The people began to sing again. And as they sang they began to come into the house.
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
And she sang “Silent Night” with them. And at her side, her husband who was back from the war in Afghanistan sang it. Luke, who had not yet lifted his voice in song, sang it with a strength and purity that resonated within her. Rebecca, who sat close to Luke, sang it, and Bishop Fischer and his wife, and Minister Yoder. And Minister Yoder’s son Timothy, who closed his eyes as the words left his lips and the singing of the church families filled his ears.
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der E
ngel Halleluja,
Tönt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ, der Retter ist da!
Christ, der Retter ist da!
They sat in the parlor and in the kitchen, and the teens and children sat on the staircase and all along the hallway on the second floor. The candles in their hands were blown out or guttered out, and threads of white smoke raveled and unraveled in the air. The bishop prayed and thanked God and then extended his hand toward Micah.
“You are the new minister. Come, give us the Christmas message.”
Micah was seated on a bench with Naomi. He shook his head. “No, no, it should be another.”
“It is for you to do.”
“But I don’t have anything prepared.”
“The Lord himself who has guided you this far will give you the words.”
Naomi pushed him. “Go, go. When are you at a loss for words?”
Laughter moved back and forth in the rooms and up and down the stairs. Micah stood in front of the congregation and for a moment took in the light of the candles and lanterns and the woodstove on their hands and faces. He had no idea what to say. He still felt overwhelmed by the fact the church had chosen to embrace him rather than reject him. Then a verse made its way into his head.
“God bless you all. It’s Christmas,” he began, “and you have heard so many Christmas messages, what can I say to add to them? But I see Luke with us, and he is talking and singing, but a month ago he made no sound at all. I see Timothy, who two weeks ago was in a hospital bed in Philadelphia and fighting to sit up and eat. I see all of you when an hour ago I thought in my heart the church had split apart and was broken. And then I see myself standing here speaking with you, I who a week ago had no voice and no right to stand among you and worship. All of this astonishes me. Does it astonish you?”
Heads nodded. “Ja, ja,” people said softly.
“So I think that is the heart of the Christmas message. Nothing shall be impossible with God. Didn’t the angel say that to Mary? Haven’t many of you spoken the same words Mary did over the past few weeks, ‘How can these things be?’ Doesn’t Gabriel give you and all of us here tonight the same message? Nothing shall be impossible with God. That is what has happened here among us. That is Christmas.” He stopped to smile at his wife, whose face glowed in the fire from the woodstove. “The message I have is a lifelong message. Never lose heart and never forget that what is impossible for us is never impossible for the Lord. Never.”