Almost Amish

by Nancy Sleeth

  So the question about whether I was Amish seemed glib to me—until I realized its significance. Most people equate drying clothes on a line with poverty—it’s what people do in poorer countries or in the most economically depressed neighborhoods in the United States. To air dry clothes by choice is countercultural. And who, more than any other group in twenty-first-century America, is both countercultural and committed to air drying clothes? Has intact families? Healthy communities? Gardens, home-cooked meals, and uncluttered homes? Restrained use of technology, strong local economies, and almost nonexistent debt?

  Most of all, what group has kept simplicity, service, and faith at the center of all they say and do? The Amish! All of which led to my epiphany: few of us can become Amish, but all of us can become almost Amish.

  Of course I wasn’t Amish, but I guess I had become something approaching it. Could other people do the same? It was time for me to start exploring what an Almost Amish life would really look like.

  A Brief History of the Amish

  The Amish are a Christian denomination that began in the Protestant Reformation of sixteenth-century Europe. Their religious ancestors were called Anabaptists (rebaptizers) because the first converts were adults who already had been baptized as babies.

  A group of Swiss Anabaptists began to study the Gospels earnestly. They were especially moved by Christ’s teachings on love and nonresistance and felt called to imitate his life and character. Christ was present not only in the sacraments but in the body of believers who practiced his teachings. While this may seem like mainstream teaching to us now, it was considered dangerous theology at the time.

  The Swiss Anabaptists proposed a set of reforms. The state-run church responded by burning, drowning, starving, or decapitating about twenty-five hundred Anabaptist leaders. Understandably, the remaining Anabaptists went underground or fled to rural enclaves.

  In the late 1600s, Jakob Ammann emerged as an Anabaptist leader. Ammann’s followers, eventually known as the Amish, became a separate group within the Anabaptists. To an outsider, Ammann’s differences with the parent church seem little more than a family quarrel over foot washing, grooming styles, and the extent of “shunning”—social avoidance of those who had been excommunicated.

  In the early 1700s, the Amish began to seek fertile farmland in the New World and eventually established communities in Pennsylvania, the Midwest, and several Canadian provinces. The Amish and their Anabaptist cousins, the Mennonites, often settled in neighboring communities.

  Starting in the twentieth century, the Amish population has doubled every twenty years—due to birthrates, not evangelism—with the total population in 2010 standing at around a quarter million.

  Principles to Live By

  The Amish are by no means a perfect people. Their example, however, does have much to teach us. How can we incorporate the best of Amish principles into our modern lives? To answer this, I did some reading. And some visiting. And some listening. I in no way pretend to be an expert on the Amish, but the more I read and visited and listened, the more I found to admire. The Amish are islands of sanity in a whirlpool of change.

  Along the way, I discovered some Amish principles that we can all try to emulate. These principles (similar to the list that Wendell Berry laid out more than two decades ago in Home Economics) provide guidelines for a simpler, slower, more sustainable life. They offer me hope.

  1. Homes are simple, uncluttered, and clean; the outside reflects the inside.

  2. Technology serves as a tool and does not rule as a master.

  3. Saving more and spending less bring financial peace.

  4. Time spent in God’s creation reveals the face of God.

  5. Small and local leads to saner lives.

  6. Service to others reduces loneliness and isolation.

  7. The only true security comes from God.

  8. Knowing neighbors and supporting local businesses build community.

  9. Family ties are lifelong; they change but never cease.

  10. Faith life and way of life are inseparable.

  Throughout the following pages, I will be sharing stories from the wide range of Anabaptist traditions, including Amish, Mennonite, Hutterite, and Brethren. Just as there are widely divergent practices among those who call themselves “Methodist” or “Baptist,” these Anabaptist communities differ one from another. Even within the Amish, there are subdivisions ranging from those who worship in homes and would shun any member who drove a car (Old Order Amish) to those who meet in churches and allow ownership of motorized vehicles (Beachy Amish, the followers of Moses Beachy). What they all share are a respect for tradition, a desire to make conscious decisions about “progress,” and a belief that Scripture should guide every action—not just for a few hours on Sunday, but in our homes and throughout the week.

  The home is the threshold of the Almost Amish life; come join me on the front porch, and together we will begin our journey.

  Chapter 1

  Homes

  Homes are simple, uncluttered, and clean; the outside reflects the inside.

  Last summer, our daughter interned with a publishing company. Emma’s mentor assigned her a wide range of challenging projects, and she learned a lot from them all. But the assignment where she felt as though she had the most editing input was an Amish romance novel.

  Dubbed “bonnet books” or Amish love stories (my husband jokingly calls them “bonnet rippers”), these G-rated romances usually center on an Amish person who falls for an outsider. Most of the authors are women, such as Beverly Lewis, who has sold fourteen million copies of her novels, set among the Amish in Pennsylvania. In recent years, the genre has expanded to include Amish thrillers and murder mysteries.

  And then there is the 1985 movie Witness, where millions formed lasting impressions of the Amish. Witness is the story of a young Amish boy who sees someone murdered in a train station. A police officer goes into hiding in Amish country to protect him and is attracted to the boy’s beguiling mother. A trifecta of thriller, mystery, and romance, the film grossed sixty-five million dollars and won a dozen awards.

  Why the popularity of Amish-themed books and movies? Publishers attribute their success to pastoral settings and forbidden love. No doubt, the Romeo-and-Juliet winning formula is partly responsible. But rogue romance cannot explain why each year eleven thousand motor coaches and more than eleven million tourists visit Lancaster County, Pennsylvania—the epicenter of Amish country.

  While our fascination with Amish culture is complex, one facet is clear: people are drawn to the simplicity of the Amish home. The Amish home is a symbol of something missing in our plugged-in, nanosecond-paced lives. It is difficult to see something that has disappeared. Our image of the white Amish farmhouse fills a void that we cannot even describe. It reminds us of what we have lost.

  Home as Haven

  Jesus says that the inside of us should be as clean as the outside (see Matthew 23:25). Amish families apply this principle to every area of life, including their physical surroundings. The Amish farmhouse, inside and out, is clean, uncluttered, and unpretentious. Their homes reflect their values: careful management, simplicity, and orderliness.

  If you drive around Lancaster County in the summer, you will see farm after farm with everything in its place. No rusting cars up on cinder blocks. No falling down barns. No trash heaps. Gardens are filled with orderly rows of vegetables and colorful flowers—all to the glory of God.

  Amish homes are beautiful in their simplicity. Families purchase things, but only things they need. They do not call attention to themselves with flashy technology, decorating, or clothes. That would be considered prideful, and Scripture is full of warnings about where pride can lead.

  The Amish do not believe that the material world is bad. Rather, they believe that beautiful things that last many generations are part of God’s creation and should be treasured. To loosely paraphrase Keats, beautiful craftsmanship is “a joy forever.”


  Family ties are strengthened by the architecture of their homes. The physical structure of the Amish home is designed to accommodate multiple generations living together. Grandparents live in an apartment within the home or in a Grossdawdy Haus, a small adjacent house. The home is a haven for all generations, where wisdom is respected and each person plays an important role. Dependence upon one another is seen not as a weakness but as a strength.

  Building an Almost Amish Life

  One physical trait my husband shares with Amish men is an oversize right forearm. Those muscles come from years of swinging a hammer in the days before (noisy!) nail guns.

  I met Matthew when I was home studying for my first set of college finals. A really good-looking guy had come to install a bay window in the kitchen. As Matthew likes to say, my parents’ worst nightmare began to unfold before their eyes: their eighteen-year-old daughter fell in love with the carpenter.

  When we married, I told Matthew that he was the smartest person I had ever met and that maybe he should think about going to college. Three years of undergrad school, four years of medical school, and three years of residency later, Matthew embarked on his ER career and built us a beautiful home on the coast of Maine.

  Though fancier than an Amish home, it had the same emphasis on craftsmanship and simplicity. Built in the classic Greek Revival style, it was designed to last for centuries: oak floors, cherry cabinetry, maple butcher-block counters, solid-wood doors, uncompromising structural integrity, and a Rumford fireplace to keep us warm on winter nights.

  Had we lived in an Amish community, much of our artwork and furnishings would have seemed ostentatious. And certainly the electric lines that powered our appliances would have been taboo. The house itself would not have seemed too big if it had been filled with seven or eight children, several grandchildren, and a couple of grandparents. But with only four inhabitants, our home seemed unjustifiably large. After our spiritual and environmental conversion experience, we knew we needed to downsize. And with Matthew’s leaving medicine for a calling that had no job title and no salary, it made sense to sell the big house and bank the savings.

  So we moved, and when Matthew left medicine, his carpentry skills came in very handy. He designed a much smaller home, also based on the Greek Revival farmhouse tradition, only this time more consciously in keeping with passive-solar building design and with many energy-saving features built in. Because of careful positioning, the house essentially warmed itself in winter and shut off the sun’s rays in summer. Instead of our previous Rumford fireplace, already more efficient than most, we included a superefficient Russian counterflow woodstove: six thousand pounds of soapstone and heat-sink masonry, which gave off a steady heat throughout the day. If we built one fire in the morning, the stove emitted heat until nightfall.

  We lived in that home while the kids were in high school. Both received scholarships to Asbury University in Lexington—Clark first, and Emma a year later. Because Emma was fifteen when she was accepted, we followed our kids to college. Neither had a driver’s license yet, so—strange but true—our children asked us to move nearby.

  Not long ago, we moved yet again, this time to a town house in Kentucky. Our children have now graduated from college, and we all live in the same neighborhood—Emma with her college roommate and Clark with his bride, Valerie. Our house is only eighteen feet wide, so it’s easier to clean and care for. We had to give up some things, such as a yard, but I found a community garden where I continue to grow vegetables and work the earth. No big house or yard care means more time for family, friends, and God. We are entering a new stage of life, and our house reflects our changing needs and values.

  Jesus says we are supposed to be ready to leave everything to follow him. In our family’s case, we have, but with a cost. We feel it. Our children feel it. Though our home is peaceful, uncluttered, and calming, we lack the permanence and history of an Amish home. I hope that Lexington will be our last home, for my heart yearns to put down roots and stay.

  A home, after all, is more than four walls: it is shelter against the tempests of life, a place to welcome friends, and a nest—after our travels—to which we long to return.

  The Almost Amish Way: Keep the Home Uncluttered

  So what is the Almost Amish way? While no single action will guarantee that you will have a calm, peaceful, uncluttered home, these suggestions can help you along the journey:

  Keep stuff out

  When we moved to the town house, we saw it as another chance to donate things we no longer needed to the local refugee ministry. But getting rid of stuff is a short-term solution; keeping things out of the house in the first place is the cure.

  One tactic is to avoid temptations. To this end, Matthew and I receive very few catalogs in the mail. This does not happen by accident. Every year or so, I visit the Direct Marketing Association website (www.dmachoice.org) and Catalog Choice (www.catalogchoice.org) to take our names off any mailing lists that we no longer want to be on. It takes only a few minutes, and it greatly reduces the stream of junk mail we receive. I also save up any catalogs that make it to our mailbox and call the 800 number to ask to be removed from their mailing lists.

  But there is an exception: the Lehman’s Non-Electric Catalog, with the most retro collection of useful items I’ve ever seen. We’ve been on this mailing list for close to three decades. Founded in 1955 to serve the local Amish and others without electricity, this store carries old-fashioned, high-quality merchandise that is difficult to find anywhere else. “My idea was to preserve the past for future generations,” says owner Jay Lehman. “I was concerned that some day the Amish would not be able to maintain their simple ways of life because these products would no longer be available.” His goal was, and still is, to provide authentic products for those seeking a simpler life.

  Does Lehman’s carry stuff I don’t need? Of course. But it also carries useful tools and home items that last, well, at least a lifetime. It is where we purchased our oil lamps two decades ago and where we have ordered our replacement mantles and wicks. It’s where you can find all kinds of products you thought they quit making years ago: apple peelers, potato ricers, and butter churns for the kitchen; straight razors, shaving brushes, and soap-making supplies for the bath; and heavy-duty suspenders, straw hats, and walking sticks for the Almost Amish fashion statement.

  I practically do cartwheels when this catalog arrives. Matthew and I vie for first dibs. He tends to dog-ear the “manly” pages—offering wood-carrying implements, hand tools, and pocketknives—as well as those featuring anything with “LED,” “solar,” or “rechargeable” in its title. For my part, everything in the kitchen section (except the butchering supplies) cries out to me; it requires Amish-like self-control not to order things I can borrow from neighbors or continue to live without. But those red gingham reusable sandwich pouches look so cute and eco-friendly. . . .

  While the catalog is full of things that make sense and I would like to own, the Amish way is to buy only things that are truly needed. I’m not surprised that Lehman’s now sells more to non-Amish folks than to the Amish. The Amish keep their homes uncluttered by not buying things they will use only a few times or Grandpa already owns or the kids will play with once and then lose in their overstuffed closets.

  Invest in quality

  The things that Matthew and I have in our home are mostly handmade, high quality, and durable—items we can pass along to our children and to their children. Even when we were poor newlyweds, we invested in quality. One example is the hutch we have in our dining room.

  When Matthew and I were first married, I worked as a technical writer; on my lunch break, I sometimes stopped by an antique store. It was there that I saw a chestnut hutch with Amish-like carvings and a warm patina that comes only from generations of use. Matthew, though deeply engrossed in his pre-med studies, also happened to pass by the same antique store where, among hundreds of items, he was most drawn to the chestnut hutch, too.

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p; A month or two passed. Neither of us said anything to the other. But then one Saturday we walked into the store together. The store owner must have been chuckling under his breath: both of us had stopped in many times separately to admire the hutch. Now here we were together. The secret was revealed.

  Although Matthew and I are both conservative when it comes to spending, in the glow of youth we did something very uncharacteristic: we decided to trade in much of our furniture—an oak Empire sideboard and three wobbly wooden chairs—plus most of our small cash reserves for the hutch. In an act of charity, the store owner accepted our offer. We carefully transported our purchase to the apartment—a four-hundred-square-foot, second-floor flat—and filled the hutch with the china my grandmother had given us for our wedding present.

  It was one of the best investments we ever made. There is no way we could afford that hutch today. It is as stunning as it was thirty years ago—more valuable, more cherished, and more beautiful than the day we purchased it. And I have little doubt that it will be passed along to our children and to our children’s children.

  The Amish understand that longevity is a form of sustainability. In the end, things that do not have to be replaced require fewer resources and cause less wear and tear on the bank account and on the earth that God created to sustain us all.

  Make the kitchen the heart of your home

  A kitchen does not have to be fancy to make it the center of family life. Though their kitchens lack granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and twenty-five-cubic-foot electric refrigerators, the Amish spend far more time and produce many times more food in their kitchens than do most other Americans. Not only do they lack electric refrigerators—they lack electric anything. Think about it: no stand mixer, no food processor, no blender, no slow cooker, no popcorn popper, no toaster oven, no microwave.

  Remember all the must-have appliances in days gone by? In the 1970s, the electric can opener, the electric knife, and the electric trash compactor were standard-issue equipment. Thumb through a kitchenware catalog and you’ll see many other must-have items that will seem equally expendable a decade from now.