An Amish Paradox

by Charles E. Hurst

  Looking “down” the Anabaptist escalator, how have the Old Order Amish viewed their Andy Weaver counterparts? Initially, the two affiliations were bound together by similar approaches to technology and by cross-affiliation marriages that stemmed from shared circles of courtship in the late 1940s and early 1950s. But the strict Andy Weaver stance on shunning and the controls on church members’ lives are viewed as excessive by Old Order families. The more tolerant attitude of the Andy Weavers toward youth behavior, especially drinking and smoking, is also questioned in some Old Order circles. Still, many Old Order individuals and Andy Weavers study, play, and work side by side.

  With respect to the Swartzentrubers, most people of the Old Order are less charitable in their assessment. One person who grew up in the Holmes County Settlement writes, “Although they share the same last names … often those most unsympathetic to the Swartzentrubers are other Amish who deal with them in practical daily life.”45 Many Old Order Amish comment that the social distance between Old Order Amish and non-Amish is far less than that between Old Order and Swartzentruber Amish. An elderly Old Order Amish man confessed, “We tend to jokingly look down our nose at the Swartzentrubers.”46 Many Old Order Amish sharply criticize the Swartzentruber tendency to withdraw from discussion with other Amish, and the Swartzentruber stance on buggy safety in particular irks many Old Order. “If they don’t want to put slow-moving vehicle signs on their buggies, that’s fine with me,” fumed one Old Order man, “But stay off the road after dark!”

  For their part, the Swartzentruber Amish with whom we talked were quite cognizant of the antipathy directed by some non-Amish and even other Amish toward them. “There are people out there who do not like us—we know that,” commented a Swartzentruber bishop. Privately, most Swartzentrubers see their nonconformity as a badge of humility, and they feel that the “soud leut” (literally, “south people,” referring to the more liberal Amish in the “south” of the settlement) are “not a group that we’d want to live up to” (emulate). But not all Old Order Amish look down on the Swartzentrubers. One successful Old Order businessman notes that even though he has “issues” with the Swartzentrubers, he appreciates their influence. “They help us keep the brakes applied just because they are here.”

  What Causes Church Schism?

  Based on these case studies, we can now venture some tentative conclusions about why there have been so many schisms in a group that is known for the strength of its communal bonds. We begin by noting several structural features that facilitate and mitigate church schism. On the one hand, the decentralized political structure of Amish society and the normative focus on harmony and community encourages “legal informalism” and face-to-face efforts at conflict resolution at the church district level.47 As we have seen, church schisms typically occur only after multiple attempts to resolve the problems locally and to hear the advice of outside mediating committees. Rather than an abrupt break, most church divisions involve a gradual sorting-out process in which the seeds of discontent and attempts at mediation cycle for years until the occurrence of a catalytic event.

  At the same time, the considerable autonomy given to each church district makes it inconceivable that all Amish will see eye-to-eye. One byproduct of this social arrangement is that personalities loom large in Amish religious life, so much so that affiliations are often named after influential bishops or ministers. At the root of many schisms lie at least two strong-willed men whose courage or vanity—depending on one’s viewpoint—leads them to construct theological justifications for their positions in a conflict that is, in part, personal. As Hostetler pointed out, the “articulation of differences in belief by an enthusiastic leader” is a precondition for the development of separatism.48 The magnification of personalities in the Amish religious system is one reason why groups on each side of the aisle usually assert that it was those on the other side who broke with tradition.

  Doctrine is not inconsequential in church schism, however. The stark dualism of the Amish worldview, wrapped in the imperative of living a virtuous life aloof from the world, provides a fertile ground for theological disagreement. The doctrine of separation from the world requires a never-ending string of judgments about the proper degree of accommodation. The twin facts that the Amish are residentially interspersed with their non-Amish neighbors and are increasingly interdependent economically only heighten the frequency with which Amish of all affiliations encounter worldly situations that are morally ambiguous.

  Surveying the landscape of fracture in the Holmes County Settlement, one recognizes that two doctrinal “wedge issues” surface repeatedly: shunning and control of the young people. There are good reasons why these two issues have had a long shelf life at the center of controversy in Amish communities. For one, both are ambiguous in terms of biblical reference and thus are open to intense theological scrutiny and debate: Does the Bible prescribe shunning, and if so, in what form? Are the young people outside the parameters of church Ordnung until baptism, or should they be treated as members? The answers are not clear-cut.

  In addition, both issues are proxies for the ongoing debate over access to technology. The connection is indirect but powerful. Former members who are excommunicated, individuals who decide not to join the church, and youth who are in the rumspringa period before baptism all have access to technologies that are forbidden to church members. Except for those few Amish who are childless, every family will have children who could be a valuable conduit to technology during the interval between their sixteenth birthday and baptism. Although it is less common to have relatives who have been excommunicated, most individuals have at least one or two relatives who decided not to join church in the first place. Since church Ordnung typically prohibit ownership of technologies by baptized members, it is not unreasonable to argue that there is nothing wrong with using cameras, cell phones, or even cars that are owned by nonmembers.

  Whatever the mix of doctrinal dispute and personality clash in church divisions, the resulting application of different standards of technology—from the kinds of games children can play to methods of household refrigeration—is mind-boggling. Why do these differences, which are often nonexistent at the time of a church schism, gradually emerge over the ensuing decades? At the most general level, technology provides a tangible and visible referent to which the prescription to remain “separate from the world” can be anchored and by which obedience can be measured. But displays of technology also serve as powerful symbols of cultural boundaries and potent markers of religious identity. Regardless of whether one actually believes that God’s will is tied to the type of restrictions on the use of phones, for example, such visible markers clearly differentiate Amish groups from each other. Different standards of technology grow more pronounced in the aftermath of church schisms precisely for this reason. It is difficult to see technology as the “prime mover” behind church schism, but once adopted, technology drives social change by highlighting and strengthening the differences between affiliations.

  Our analysis, then, ultimately suggests a contingency model of church schism. In this framework, the dualistic and sectarian nature of Amish theology, the decentralized nature of Amish social organization, and increasing contact with a rapidly changing non-Amish world form the enabling conditions for church schism. Whether these conditions lead to divisions in any particular instance depends on the presence of precipitating factors such as strong-willed and articulate church leaders, a core doctrinal dispute, and a catalyzing event. Compared to Lancaster County and Elkhart and Lagrange counties, where diversity within the Old Order has grown in the absence of formal schism, the Holmes County Settlement has more often been home to leaders who chose to pursue paths of divergence rather than conciliation.

  CHAPTER 3

  Coping with Church Schism

  Let’s face it, when a church splits, there’s bound to be hard feelings.

  —An Old Order bishop

  Given that church schism inevitably involves
hard feelings and even divides extended families, we would expect it to have far-reaching social implications. To what extent do the differences between Amish affiliations shape social life in the Holmes County Settlement? At least one scholar has noted that the Amish affiliations “have regarded each other with suspicion” and “have focused mostly on their differences.”1 This chapter explores three areas—mission work, rumspringa, and excommunication and shunning—in which religious affiliation strongly shapes attitudes and patterns of participation.

  Light That Makes No Noise: The Debate over Missions and Proselytizing

  One of the most pervasive features of religious movements around the globe is their proselytizing orientation. Most communities of believers are marked not only by internal symbols and rituals of bonding but also by an explicit attempt to project their worldview outward and convince others of the rightness of their position. For Christians, a key teaching is a passage in the Gospel of Matthew, in which the resurrected Jesus instructs his own disciples, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you” (Matt. 28:19–20). Known as the Great Commission, this directive is usually interpreted as applying to all Christians around the world.

  For most of their history, however, the Amish have been squarely at odds with the proselytizing impulse, favoring an inward orientation that eschews evangelism and activist concern for the spiritual state of the world. Instead, they have preferred to take the course of embodying the life of Christ in their everyday actions. “We don’t feel that going into all the world and baptizing people is imperative,” commented an Old Order bishop. “It’s more the idea that wherever you find yourself, you try to propagate the truth. That puts mission work in a little different light.”

  The Amish Mission Movement

  It thus comes as a surprise to many who are aware of the traditional Amish position to learn that around the middle of the twentieth century, some Old Order Amish started a “mission movement,” one that significantly re-shaped the discourse and practice of outreach. Although many Amish were involved, an outside “catalytic figure” named Russell Maniaci pulled them together by organizing the First Amish Mission Conference in Kalona, Iowa, in 1950. The aim of this gathering was to “surrender the desires of security and stability in exchange for going into the world as missionaries and service workers.”2

  As this movement formed organizational structures and funding mechanisms, including the first full-time Amish mission workers in Gulfport, Mississippi, it was met by skepticism and resistance from other Old Order Amish, who feared it would lead to acculturation and the loss of Amish identity. Traveling Mennonite tent evangelists added to the growing tensions, as did the preaching of David Miller, the Old Order minister known as “Oklahoma Dave.” According to Nolt, how one responded to this “pulpit pounding” charismatic preacher became something of an “ecclesiastical litmus test” among the Amish.3 In spite of a backlash, advocates of the mission movement moved cautiously forward, holding conferences, distributing a newsletter called Witnessing, and venturing into several mission projects that required automobiles and challenged other standards of the Amish church as well.4 Eventually, the influential leaders moved out of Old Order circles and into Conservative Amish Mennonite Churches or Mennonite congregations. Confirming the predictions of Old Order skeptics, their moves were accompanied by the purchase of cars.5

  The mission movement had lasting effects on Amish identity, however. Today Amish involvement in Christian outreach and relief beyond the confines of the Holmes County Settlement is surprisingly common. Yet the patterns of Amish involvement in mission work are by no means uniform. Church districts take different stances on the validity of proselytizing and outreach and the form they should take. In addition, since Amish outreach usually involves piggybacking on the efforts of Mennonite, Brethren, or Beachy Amish organizations, it reflects the fault lines in a much broader Anabaptist debate over the meaning of the Great Commission.

  The Role of Affiliation in Missions and Outreach

  Among the horse and buggy Amish of Holmes County, the New Order Amish are clearly the heirs of the contentious midcentury mission movement. Many New Order individuals exhibit a missionary zeal that is sometimes difficult to distinguish from that of the Beachy Amish. It is no accident that these New Order groups reject car ownership but accept flying in airplanes. “We fly freely,” remarked a New Order businessman, “and that opens the door for our young people to go to Haiti, to go to Indonesia, to go to the Ukraine on mission projects.” In addition to supporting the two largest mission and outreach organizations in Holmes County, the Mennonite Central Committee and Christian Aid Ministries, the New Order Amish support a variety of other “relief ministries,” such as Iron Curtain and Freiheit Messengers Prison Ministry.

  The New Order Amish have tempered the mission experiment in several ways, though. Most importantly, they have retained a horse and buggy culture rather than adopting automobiles and other conveniences to facilitate outreach. In addition, it is uncommon for New Order Amish to spend substantial time on overseas mission trips. As a general principle, New Order mission work does not try to alter the newly planted church abroad by “making them Amish.” They also appear to be more comfortable with spreading the gospel if such efforts are accompanied by disaster relief or poverty reduction. One project supported by the New Order, for example, has provided garden tillers to a Beachy Amish church in the Ukraine. Still, outreach is likely to include sharing of the gospel and preaching against questionable practices such as tobacco, divorce, polygamy, and alcohol. Another example is that youth from several New Order church districts participate in the Barberton Rescue Mission, where they sing and conduct a church service for recovering drug and alcohol addicts.

  Among the Old Order Amish, mission and outreach is more likely to be restricted to giving money and volunteering at fund-raisers. Though impossible to estimate, the total annual sum raised by Old Order and New Order churches is a significant amount. “Oh, I can probably think of ten different mission groups that come and have dinner banquets here,” commented one New Order businessman. “Why? Because some of their biggest support comes from Holmes County. It’s mostly Amish people that support them.” A longtime director of the Mennonite Central Committee agreed. “The Old Order Amish have responded much more positively than I was led to believe they would early on in my career. Even though they don’t go directly into mission work, they are willing to share what they have with those who are less fortunate.” One Old Order Amish man, who served for several years as the state coordinator for the Haiti Relief Auction, described Old Order participation this way: “We’re always supportive of the Great Commission, we’re sympathetic to that.” He quickly added, however, that the Old Order limit their mission activities: “The reason we don’t proselytize is that the lifestyle we feel keeps us going from generation to generation is not conducive to outside seekers.”

  This comment is particularly instructive in illuminating a key aspect of Old Order theology that has implications for mission work. Not only does proselytizing imply an assurance of salvation that does not sit right with many Old Order individuals, it also places them squarely on the horns of a dilemma. “Witnessing” to nonbelievers in the hope of converting them would normally include an invitation to join their church. Such an invitation to outside seekers could seriously disrupt the social viability of Amish church districts. Indeed, so stringent are the demands of the Ordnung that fewer than one hundred outsiders are currently members of Amish church districts in the United States and Canada.6 In contrast, because New Order Amish are more likely to claim that one can go to heaven even as a member of another church, proselytizing does not imply the necessity of “becoming Amish.” This difference in religious logic partially explains why Old Order members of an Amish work team sent to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina refrained from passing out tr
acts and gospel CDs as the New Order members did, preferring to focus their energies on relief and rebuilding efforts.

  Another reason for the more passive support for mission activities among the Old Order people is precisely the association of these actions with the lifestyle choices that the “higher” groups have made. One Old Order man described mission-oriented evangelical Amish this way: “They come through sounding like heaven is a different doctrine or sounding as a better place. And of course they’re offering a lifestyle of more conveniences and technologies and denouncing what we stand for as a separation from the world.” According to Nolt, from the start, the Old Order Amish saw that the embrace of missions could entail a need for cars and higher education and lead full tilt into modernity.7

  Even within the Old Order, however, the emphasis on mission work varies. In general, those Old Order Amish who support the New Order stance on reforming singings and restricting tobacco and alcohol use and car ownership among the young folks are more enthusiastic about it. “We tend to be more mission-oriented,” commented an Old Order elder, “because we want to have projects for our youth. They need something to do so we have lots of little fund-raisers and outreach projects.”

  One fascinating exception to the Old Order inclination to refrain from hands-on mission work is their participation in spiritual and educational aid to Old Colony Mennonites, who moved to northern Mexico from Canada in the 1920s to avoid legal requirements for their schooling.8 This effort, arranged through the Mennonite Central Committee since 1995, is comprised almost entirely of Old and New Order Amish. The seventeen thousand Old Colony Mennonites still engage in schooling that consists mainly of memorizing and chanting the catechism (a fifty-nine-page series of questions and answers about the Bible and theology) in High German. A longtime Old Order participant reflected: “They’re 90 percent illiterate and even their ministers don’t understand the German that they have memorized. They’re prime targets for business people to take total advantage of them. We helped them understand that being more literate would make a big difference.” The Amish not only introduced report cards but have sent teachers to Mexico as well.