by Nancy Sleeth
I remember the first time a neighbor apologized for knocking at our door. She said that she was sorry she had not called before coming by. This neighbor lived just a few houses away. Her kids were the same ages as mine. We carpooled together. Why, then, should she feel bad about stopping by in person?
At the other extreme, Matthew and I have lived in a house where neighbors regularly walked in without knocking. This was somewhat unnerving, especially since the bathroom was located right by the door. We never knew who we would meet when coming out of the shower.
Reaching a balance between too little and too much neighborly interaction can be tricky. On a societal level, however, the trend clearly seems to be in one direction: away from direct human contact. Stopping by has given way to telephone calls, which have been usurped by e-mail, which is being replaced by texting and tweeting, and there are new layers of protocol. Don’t call unless you have a prearranged time to talk. Texting is noncommittal, but e-mail implies a nascent relationship. And heaven forbid that a long-lost friend should spontaneously stop by without making arrangements in advance. Of course, it’s not the technologies that are inherently bad but how we choose to use them. In order to maintain healthy relationships, we must continually evaluate the role of new technologies in our lives. If we increasingly use technology to separate us from human contact, red flags should go up.
As I said earlier, the Amish joke that their favorite sport is visiting. And instead of parallel play (pursuing separate activities together), they engage in conversation. Without telephones or computers, visits cannot be pre-arranged by phone, e-mail, or texting. Stopping by is not considered an intrusion; it is a welcome respite in a work-filled week. Instead of conducting business on the doorstep, the Amish invite visitors in—physically and spiritually. According to an Amish proverb, face-to-face contact with a friend is “like the rainbow that is always there for you after the storm.” In our alienated and often lonely world, we could learn much from the Amish example of community.
Living in Community
Two German terms, Gelassenheit and Ordnung, are at the center of Amish community life. Gelassenheit, often translated as “self-surrender to a higher authority,” is basically submission. And it’s important to note that submission is based on respect. Children obey their parents, students their teachers, church members their leaders, and younger ministers their bishop. The highest authority is God. This strong emphasis on Gelassenheit results in a great respect for the dignity of each person.
Submission, self-surrender, and yielding to the will of others is the inverse of modern American culture. We live in an excessively individualistic society. Originality is king; we worship trendsetters. Frank Sinatra crooned our theme song: We insist on doing it our way.
Yet the Amish understand that self-concern at any cost is, well, costly. Instead of feeling content with what we have, we must always strive for the latest and greatest. We rank individualism above the welfare of the community. The result: we have an anxious, easily distracted, and unsettled nation where the opinion of one person—espoused through Twitter, talk radio, or blogs—is valued more than the collective wisdom of the community. While some believe that blogs build community, the Amish would likely say that such community is shallow—a shadow of the real thing. As Wheaton College professor and former blogger Alan Jacobs aptly put it, blogging is the “friend of information but the enemy of thought.” The Amish value millennia-old, biblical precepts more than progress at any price.
The second central tenet of community life is Ordnung, which means “order.” The Ordnung encompasses community-specific regulations passed on through practice and tradition. These regulations, usually unwritten, apply the biblical call for separation from the world to community life—from grooming, clothing, and recreation to transportation, technology, and education. For example, in Amish communities dress is a symbol of group identity, not a means of personal expression.
In that regard, the Ordnung shares some similarities with rabbinic law: Hassidic communities apply specific laws in different ways, yet to non-Jews their black-rimmed hats, long side curls, and somber, dark coats make them appear all the same. Likewise, although the Amish appear similar to outsiders, the Ordnung varies among their more than two dozen affiliates. These affiliates fall into four major categories: Beachy Amish, Amish Mennonites, New Order Amish, and Old Order Amish. As an example, the Ordnung for Beachy Amish and Amish Mennonites allows automobile ownership and public utility electricity, while the Old Order and New Order Amish prohibit both.
During the adult baptism ceremony, members agree not only to follow Christ but also to obey the community’s Ordnung. If they subsequently break that vow, they can be subject to church discipline. While many outsiders see shunning as the darkest side of Amish life, in practice it is balanced by opportunities for forgiveness and grace. The decision to observe the rules of the community is made as an adult, with eyes wide open. If a member later reneges, there are clear consequences—akin to “tough love.” In most districts, the Amish follow the process recommended by Jesus (Matthew 18:15-17) of approaching the offender in private, then with a group of elders; in addition, some communities allow another six months to a year for the person to confess and change before instituting discipline. Even after excommunication, the person can repent and all will be forgiven. In the non-Amish world, such unconditional grace is more than many of us extend, even to our spouses and families!
Gelassenheit and Ordnung sound restrictive. And they are, which is exactly why the Amish value them. It would be easy to misinterpret this desire as some draconian impulse, but the Amish simply believe that setting and respecting limits is essential for both community and individual happiness. As modern American society has shown, “anything goes” often leads to reckless, self-destructive behavior.
The Amish believe that limiting choice enhances dignity and security. A respect for limits builds community, creates a sense of belonging, and shapes identity—three important keys that are largely missing in our modern world.
The Almost Amish Way: Knowing Your Neighbor and Supporting Local
The Amish build community the same ways we do, only more so: by supporting the local economy, being involved in community schools, participating in the district church, welcoming neighbors into their homes, and enjoying local, noncommercial recreation. By intentionally building community, they greatly reduce many social problems—such as isolation, homelessness, and unemployment. Below are some ways we can adopt Almost Amish attitudes and practices that build strong communities.
Shop local, local, local
For a couple of years, I lived in Lancaster County, the heart of Amish country. One of the things that struck me was the number of businesses with family names. Kauffman’s, Miller’s, Snyder’s, Gish’s, Yoder’s, Zook’s—these are family businesses, supporting and supported by their neighbors.
Though it may take a little more effort, you don’t have to live in an Amish community to find local businesses. When you eat out, for example, do you play it safe at a franchise or do you check out independent restaurants, unique to your community? When you go to the barber or hairdresser, do you seek out an independent operator? Does your bank have just a few local branches, or is it part of a national conglomerate? Bakeries, hardware stores, shoe stores, movie theaters, produce stands, plumbers, electricians, laundries, general contractors, dentists, optometrists, ice cream shops, booksellers, gift shops, stationers, clothing stores—these are just a few of the local businesses in my neighborhood that I can choose to support, or not support, every time I need goods or services. Instead of whining about a dying downtown, I can put my wallet to work.
Do I like the convenience of buying everything in one store? Of course, and I like the generally lower prices too. But at what cost? Local jobs, a healthy downtown, knowing the grocery clerk by name? Our banker actually started keeping lollipops at the front desk, just for my husband. Such relationships are priceless. If it takes me a few extr
a minutes or a few extra dollars to promote the health of my community, I should be willing to make the investment.
While you may not be able to fathom Mayberry, the idyllic small town of 1960s TV, at one time or another you probably experienced exceptional personal service in a small shop—the barista who remembers how you take your coffee, the dry cleaner who knows you like your shirts folded and not hung, the hairdresser who remembers to ask about your ailing parent. When we experience extraordinary service, we should tell our friends and reward it with our loyal patronage.
Of course, as a follower of Christ, I have another reason to value community over convenience: because it is a biblical principle. Think of Ruth, the Moabite widow. In staying beside her mother-in-law, Naomi, she was joining a community—“Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God” (Ruth 1:16). This choice involved travel. It involved financial hardship. It involved hard work in the fields. But in return, the community—as characterized by the generosity of Boaz—took care of these two penniless widows.
The same principles are demonstrated in the book of Acts: “All the believers were united in heart and mind. And they felt that what they owned was not their own, so they shared everything they had” (Acts 4:32). When people in the early church saw a need, they met it. Luke, the author of Acts, makes it clear that people shared all things in common, not because it was easy or self-serving, but because it was the loving thing to do. In other words, they supported one another financially, not because it was convenient, but because it was best for the community as a whole.
Anyone who has lived in an organized community—for instance, a dorm, an apartment, or a homeowner’s association—knows that personal convenience must sometimes be sacrificed for the good of the community. You might enjoy listening to music with the volume turned up, but your neighbor below does not. You may want to have a pet but decide against it because the people next door would not appreciate the dog barking while you are at work all day. But sacrifice, too, is biblical—as we can see in Matthew 22:37-40 (loving God by loving neighbors), Romans 12:3-13 (the body of Christ acting together in love), and Galatians 6:2 (obeying the law of Christ by sharing each other’s burdens).
Similar principles apply to supporting a local economy. It might be more convenient for you to get your groceries, eyeglasses, manicure, and gas grill all in the same store, but there are costs that do not scan into the cash register or print out on your receipts. Those costs might be your neighbors’ livelihood, which eventually translate to empty storefronts and foreclosed homes. Instead, intentionally seek out businesses located within a couple miles of your house that are not part of a chain and stop in at least one each week to learn about what they do. Once you are familiar with some of these local stores and their owners, make an effort to do business with them and recommend them to others.
The Amish have a saying: “Community is like an old coat—you aren’t aware of it until it is taken away.” Despite their reputation for frugality, the Amish understand that the lowest unit price is not always the least costly choice. We can apply their example by purchasing our goods and services at local businesses, beginning now.
Get involved in community schools
I recently went back to visit the neighborhood where we raised our kids. As I walked around the block with a former neighbor, I asked for an update on the families. Although almost no one had moved away, my friend had lost touch with many of them. She attributed this lack of connection to their children’s no longer attending school together. Once the kids were grown and out of school, the neighbors lost the thread that had connected them on a day-by-day basis.
For many of us, local schools are the nexus for our sense of community. The Amish are no exception. Before 1950, most Amish attended small, local public schools. But as rural schools began consolidating, the Amish chose to remain local. Today, the majority of Amish youth attend one- or two-room schools that are operated by Amish parents. A local board of three to five fathers organizes the school, hires a teacher, approves the curriculum, oversees the budget, and supervises maintenance. Every aspect of schooling the young is a community affair.
Perhaps the most well-known example of an Amish community being pulled together by a school incident took place in Lancaster County in 2006. A man who interacted with the Amish community as a milk collector, Charles Roberts, took hostages in the West Nickel Mines one-room schoolhouse and shot ten girls, ages six to thirteen. Five of these young Amish girls died. The gunman then committed suicide, leaving behind his own young family.
Matthew and I recently watched a movie based on this horrific act of violence. While some artistic aspects may not be Oscar quality, the story of community and forgiveness is so compelling that I would rate it as one of the most memorable movies I have ever seen. I later learned that I am not alone. With more than four million viewers, the premiere of Amish Grace became the highest-rated and most-watched original movie in Lifetime Movie Network’s history.
The heart tug of this story can be summarized in one word: redemption. Out of an evil act, good has come. The Amish have become a living example of a community of forgiveness. Within hours of the shooting, Amish neighbors began reaching out to the gunman’s widow and three children. They set up a fund to support the young family. They comforted both the gunman’s parents and parents-in-law. Thirty people from this small Amish community even attended the gunman’s funeral.
In an open letter of appreciation, the widow thanked the Amish community: “Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. Gifts you’ve given have touched our hearts in a way no words can describe. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world, and for this we sincerely thank you.”
Within a week of the shooting, the Amish schoolhouse was demolished. Exactly six months later, the community completed a new building and named it New Hope School.
That is what the Amish offer all of us: new hope for our children, our communities, and the Kingdom of God, where forgiveness, grace, and mercy shall reign. While our involvement in community schools will likely take a less dramatic form—volunteering in the classroom, mentoring a struggling student, offering after-school homework help—these are nonetheless powerful opportunities to strengthen our communities and share God’s love.
Participate in your community church
The Amish view church as a body of people, not a building. Yet even more than the most beautiful cathedral, church is at the core of the Amish community.
Church services are held every two weeks in someone’s home. The location rotates, but the ceremonies, songs, and traditions remain unchanged. Worship time is followed by a community meal.
Unlike the outside world, “church shopping” is unheard of. You attend the church in your district, period—usually for life. One reason is purely practical: without cars, church hopping becomes problematic. But the main reason is more philosophical: worship is about God, not us.
A friend recently told me about a discussion between his pastor and a member of the congregation. The member told the pastor that he really enjoyed the sermon, but the songs that week weren’t so great. “The worship today just didn’t do much for me.”
The pastor’s response: “I’m sorry to hear that, but the worship wasn’t meant for you. It’s for God.” That may sound harsh, but it’s a message many of us need to hear.
Not so long ago, church membership was like a marriage. For better and for worse, you stuck together. This commitment to the long haul contributed to the sense of community.
Like marriages and so many other parts of modern life, however, churches have become disposable. If they no longer fit our needs, we move on. Many people approach church like a blind date: Which church has the best child care? Which church plays my favorite style of music? Which church has the strongest recreation program? Which church has the prettiest sanctuary? I also often hear stories of “church dipping”—attending one chur
ch for spiritual food, one for doing community outreach, another for the children’s Sunday school program. There’s nothing wrong with looking for a good fit when we move to a new town, just as there is nothing wrong in searching for the right spouse while we are single. The problem comes when we become a church critic—unwilling to commit to a body of people who can hold us accountable, nurture us, and provide opportunities to serve the community of faith.
In a letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks of using our spiritual gifts for “the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7, NIV). The Amish understand that we need church both to build community and “to motivate one another to acts of love and good works” (Hebrews 10:24). Most of all, church, in its many forms, provides us with opportunities to “do good to everyone—especially to those in the family of faith” (Galatians 6:10).
These acts of love and good works are usually best done in a stable, local community of believers who understand the specific needs and the gifts of their neighbors. History gives context, and context decreases the likelihood of people falling through the cracks. Sticking with a local church, even when we are tempted to leave, requires commitment and loyalty, two necessary attributes for any body of believers to thrive.
If you are not already a member of a church, visit those that are closest to your home. Once you commit to a church, see if they have a small group you can join.
Welcome others into your home
Last weekend, we had three different groups of friends, new and old, break bread with us. The first were friends from New England, dropping their son off at college and staying with us overnight. The next was a longtime friend from Nashville, in town for a workshop. He slipped out during the midday break to have lunch with us. The third group consisted of family and friends of family, some of whom we had never met before. Hosting these visitors was a privilege, the benefit to our family far outweighing any inconvenience of “having” to feed those who stopped by.