Amish America

The Amish in Poland, again

Just got a call from my friend here in Krakow.  It looks like Anita and Jakub, the 'Amish in Poland', are back in the news again.

The Pennsylvania/Indiana-transplant couple, who settled in a village not far from Warsaw 14 years ago, appeared on the national talk show 'Rozmowy w Toku' (roughly, 'Conversations in Progress') tonight.  Kind of an odd place to find an Amish family, but again, we're not sure exactly what their particular brand of Amish is.  I listened to a clip of the show, where the Polish host was asking why they chose to marry one another.  The couple, who drive and are sometimes mistaken for Orthodox Jews, responded in heavily-accented Polish:

'She was, how can I say it, the most available.'

'I was already 26 years old, and didn't have anything against him.'

Those make for curious sound bites.  The Polish public's fascination for the Amish turns out to be, unsurprisingly, not unlike that of the American public.

Anita and Jakub have become semi-celebrities of sorts, having recently been the subjects of a 26-minute documentary.  Here's a link to an article about them, for anyone out there with at least sixth-grade level Polish.

Excepting the occasional tourist trip, the Amish have not had a significant presence in Europe since 1937, when the final Amish congregation in Ixheim, France merged with the Ernstweiler Mennonite congregation, uniting as the Zweibrucken Mennonite Church (Steven Nolt, 'A History of the Amish'). 

An Illinois shunning story: did these Amish go too far?

Shunning. One of the sorest points of contention when Jakob Amman tore away from his Mennonite kin back in 1693. Still controversial today.

Meidung is the word the Amish use for it. Shunning is one of those things that have continued to define the Amish against their Mennonite cousins, and against the world at large.  If asked, the man on the street will be able to tell you what shunning is all about, at least in some vague way.  It shows up in pop interpretations of the Amish all the time, after all (i.e., see last week's Cold Case.  Or, better yet, don't.)

But did you know that different Amish apply shunning to differing degrees?

One form of shunning--let’s call it the ‘lighter’ version--allows an erring member to have the Bann removed if he or she becomes a member in good standing in a related Anabaptist church.

This exempts the leaver from making a confession in order to have the ban lifted. This type of shunning is more common in Midwestern communities, such as large portions of Holmes/Wayne County, Ohio, and among the ‘non-Swiss’ Amish of northern Indiana.

Streng Meidung (strong shunning) refers to a more strict form of shunning, where the errant person is under the Bann for life, unless he or she makes a full confession before the church and fixes what caused the trouble in the first place.

Lancaster County, the Swartzentrubers, the Nebraska Amish, and according to Steven Nolt and Thomas Meyers in An Amish Patchwork, the Andy Weaver Church of Holmes County are among those that stick to Streng Meidung.

And that's not all--there are a host of smaller settlements scattered throughout the country that adhere to Streng Meidung--such as the one that I had a chance to visit in 2004, in an isolated corner of Illinois.

The dark side

This particular settlement, which I’ll leave unnamed, in many ways is not so unlike the myriad other smaller, conservative-leaning settlements formed by members leaving larger communities in search of stricter living.

Off the beaten path. Noticeably poorer. Homes somewhat ramshackle--peeling paint, missing siding, some families living in shop buildings.  The local furniture outfits--dusty, dreary, and a little dead--certainly not cranking like the spanky shops of the Amish around Arthur, the state’s centerpiece settlement.   People, on the whole, just seem a bit more wary of outsiders.

I did manage to talk to quite a few of them though. Though I was a bit puzzled when one fellow urged me not to talk to another family up the road--whom I thought was of his church.  When I pressed him as to why, he refused to elaborate.

On meeting aforementioned family, I learned that they had been excommunicated. And I started to get a picture of how shunning works in this particular settlement.

Later, as I spoke with two other families who had jumped ship along with the first, I was a shocked to hear them complain of harassment, even vandalism, perpetrated under cover of night by their former church kin. It seemed a bit un-Christian.  It seemed a bit, umm, juvenile.

I had never come across that sort of extreme treatment of former members before. Pretty primitive. Combine that with practices such as the use of outdoor privies, common in this particular settlement, and you can see why some Amish get labeled ‘backward’.

As I met other members of the community while selling books that day, it became more and more clear that this bunch was a different drink of water than the more mainstream Arthur folks. The leavers, however, were extremely open and frank about their situation. I remember thinking that it just seemed a healthier way to be.  Here were three families of the same stock as the rest, but now able to basically be themselves.  Unleashed, in a way.  They seemed happy.

But when speaking with either side, you could almost feel the unseen wall that prevented any seeing eye-to-eye. 

One of the families had actually responded to the harrassment, in a way--by painting a short Bible verse on the tree in their front yard, visible from the road.  To be honest, I can't recall the exact verse, but I remember the message of it being poignant for the situation they were in.  It was something which seemed to be directed towards their former church brothers and sisters, if I'm not mistaken, something along the lines of being blind to the error of one's ways.  In any case, that seemed to be the extent of communication between the two sides at that point. 

Vandalism and Bible verses painted on trees.

Meidung done us in

In a true 'our-way-or-the-highway' situation, three families chose the highway out in backwoods Illinois. I find myself wondering if any others out there have left since then.

The logic of a Streng Meidung is easy to see. Cutting off the stray sheep isolates and protects the remaining members. It inflicts emotional pain on the shunned, hopefully forcing them to rethink and rejoin. Tough love on a community-wide scale.

At the same time, for the thinking and feeling ones among those that remain, such extreme treatment could backfire.

The shunning mechanism has been called (by the Amish themselves) a key factor in the church's phenomenal growth. Others note that the practice has resulted in great schisms over the years. I won’t knock shunning--I think it can have a place in counter-cultural Christian communities like that of the Amish.

It’s just that when you get around the edges, things can get a little dodgy.

Just like anywhere else in society, I suppose.

Some faves

I'll be away from the blog for a day or two, so if anyone reads this regularly (listen up, you three), I've put up a few links to some of my favorite posts. 

So if you like, you can:

read how Amish forefathers chose to die,

or about the controversy among the Amish surrounding assurance of salvation,

or how some clever Iowa Amish got the barn from point A to point B.

If anyone is really bored, and would like to comment on which one they liked best, I'd be really curious to hear it.

Blue doors, brown buggies: The Amish of New Wilmington, PA

'In 1847, nine families, all Bylers, moved to Lawrence, PA, they were:  Solomon, Christian, Yost, Daniel, Noah, John, Reuben, Rudy, and Eli, and were among the first Amish in that section.

In year 1880 bishop Crist (Christian) Byler walked from Lawrence County to the Valley.  He traveled a distance of 250 miles in 4 days at the age of 68.  He also made the trip once since.  There were quite a few who walked out and back after the Lawrence County Settlement established allowing 5 or 6 days for the journey.'

The Valley that Eli J. Byler writes of here is the Kishacoquillas Valley, also known as the 'Big Valley', of Mifflin County, PA, home to Nebraska Amish, Renno Amish, Byler Amish and a host of higher-order Amish and Mennonite groups. 

The Amish surrounding New Wilmington, a quaint college town in northern Lawrence County, about 60 miles north of Pittsburgh, have a few customs not commonly seen elsewhere in Amish America.  One is their use of reddish-brown-topped buggies, which Byler describes as 'yellow-top'.  He writes that the Byler Church of Mifflin County also uses yellow-top carriages, as do a few other settlements that have split off from the New Wilmington group.

The Amish here seem to be pretty big on the color blue.  Nearly every house-door is painted a light sky-blue.  I also noticed stairs leading to a front porch, and the door of a milkhouse painted in the same shade.  A woman I asked ascribed this practice to tradition.

   

The New Wilmington Amish tend to stick with shades of blue when it comes to their shirts and dresses as well--navy, sky, royal, turquoise.  I got to visit on wash day. 

This community is perhaps the eleventh or twelfth largest of all Amish settlements.  The 2003 Church Directory gives the following statistics:

Families: 439 more or less   

Widowers:  6

Widows:  28

Children:  1220

Total Population:  around 1693      19 couples moved out

People I spoke with in this settlement mentioned trips to, family in, and business connections with the Lancaster settlement.  I didn't have a chance to ask, but there's a decent chance they'd be back-and-forth with Amish in Mifflin County as well.  Farming and sawmill work seem to be two of the most common occupations, as well as other types of woodworking and carpentry.

(Quote Source:  Pennsylvania Amish Directory of the Lawrence County Settlement, 2003.)

The peculiar 'White' Jonas Stutzman

Sitting on the lawn around the firepit last week with some Amish friends, talk turned to 'White' Jonas Stutzman, who once lived just a few miles away.  Stutzman was one of the first Amish settlers in Holmes County.  He was also one of the oddest.

photo:  behalt.com

'White' Jonas is portrayed in a local attraction, Behalt--a huge cycloramic painting of Anabaptist history, done about fifteen years ago by a Catholic German artist.  The pioneer Amishman got his nickname from a habit of only wearing white clothing, a result of one of his visions. 

Stutzman had some odd ideas.

One of them was his prophecy of Christ's return.  Steven Nolt in A History of the Amish explains that Stutzman published a booklet announcing his revelations and warning all to repent, for church leaders to stop observing communion, and to purify themselves for the Lord's arrival, which Stutzman claimed would occur in 1853.

The booklet was published in English rather than German.  Nolt speculates that this was done in order to communicate with a wider audience. 

Stutzman even prepared a wooden chair for Christ's return.  It sits in the center of the cyclorama room.  Since we should always 'hold Christ above us', Stutzman made the chair larger than an ordinary one.  As picture-taking is not allowed inside the cyclorama, the friendly folks at Behalt removed it to the lobby so that I could get a photo.

My Amish friend also claimed that Stutzman had an aversion to wheels.  Checking with the helpful people at Behalt seemed to confirm this.  A Mennonite lady who's worked there many years felt that it may have had something to do with a Biblical connection of wheeled travel with chariots of war. 

Wherever he got the idea, apparently it held even after his passing.  Upon death, Stutzman was carried miles rather than being carted to his final resting place.

She also wanted me to understand that besides being an eccentric, Stutzman played a part in easing differences among the Amish.  When local progressives wanted a meetinghouse, Stutzman donated land for them to build one.  The land is still in this particular church's possession, though the old building has been torn down and a new one built. 

Nolt summarizes:  'Although the Amish rejected Stutzmann's apocalyptic teaching, he remained a member of his church all his life, and most of his children joined the Old Order Amish...Said one Amish historian, "His peculiar views and dress were not seen as a threat to anyone, for he never had any followers."  His unusual life grew out of honest conviction, not a spirit of rebellion.'

(Source:  Steven M. Nolt's A History of the Amish, Revised and Updated).

Settlements that failed: Skeeter birds, flaming muck, and the Dismal Swamp

Today, a small New Order Amish settlement is found in western North Carolina, near the town of Union Grove.

Before this settlement came about, (and not counting a short-lived community in the late 50's), the only other full-fledged attempt to settle in the Tar Heel State occurred in 1918, lasting a full quarter-century before extinction in 1944.

The Amish who originally came here, mainly from Geauga County, Ohio, as well as from Pennsylvania, Indiana, and Kansas, settled in Currituck County near the town of Moyock, on land reclaimed from the not-too-invitingly named Dismal Swamp.

The settlement was a slow-grower--Luthy tells us that by its ninth year, it had only 12 families--and seemed to be something of a waystation for itinerant Amish in search of better pastures, with one resident commenting 'some came and others left all the time we were there.'

Despite the settlement's 'reluctance to launch', there was at least a substantial basis for farming in the fairly productive 'black, muck soil' of the reclaimed swamp. 

Other interesting facts about the settlement:

• It was home to one of the first Amish parochial schools, and probably the only one to be held in a hotel, a temporary setup the Amish used in the year 1925.

• Amish from other settlements nicknamed the Moyock Amish 'talking machines', referring to their habit of commenting incessantly on their homes in NC while visiting other settlements, in the hopes of attracting more settlers.

• Corn, soybeans, peas, potatoes, and peanuts were all suitable to be raised here, but the best money-maker turned out to be peppermint.

Mind your butts

Although it seemed quite suitable for farming after being drained, the Dismal Swamp had a peculiar, some would say inconvenient, characteristic-- flammability.

The black muck soil would become so dry that it would easily ignite.  Hunters from the cities often dropped cigarettes and matches, causing wildfires that 'would burn until the next rain'.

Another drawback of the area:  according to one Norfolk, Virginia resident, 'it was kind of a mosquito paradise.  The natives  said the mosquitoes were so big they would sit on the trees and bark--(bark of the trees)'--yuk,yuk.

photo: Hyde slides

But it was neither fiery turf nor beastly skeeters that finally drove the Amish from Moyock--in the end, it came down to a much more commonplace reason.

No ministry. 

Only one spiritual leader had ever settled there, and only briefly.  'Lack of ministry' is one of the nine cardinal reasons Luthy gives for failure of Amish settlements.  No word on why ministers were not enticed to Currituck County, but going out on a limb, the prospect of being eaten alive by bird-sized mosquitoes while their croplands flamed around them might have served as a deterrent.

Luthy closes the Moyock chapter:

'Today all the buildings which the settlers constructed on the reclaimed swamp land have vanished. A person who visited there in 1975 reported:  "All traces of the former Amish settlement that once was at Moyock is completely gone--not one building these folks built is still standing."'

(Source:  David Luthy's The Amish in America: Settlements That Failed, 1840-1960.)

Pennsylvania Dutch versus Amish

Creative Commons

Here in the heavily touristed areas of Lancaster County you see 'Dutch' or 'Amish' attached to just about anything with something to sell--'Jakey's Amish BBQ', 'Amish Paradise Homestays', 'Dutch Delights', etc.

Pennsylvania Dutch and Amish are often taken as synonyms, but they aren't exactly one and the same.

Pennsylvania Dutch refers to both the people that settled in William Penn's 'holy experiment' as well as the dialect they spoke and which some continue to speak today.  The people and the dialect are also known as Pennsylvania German.

Among the Pennsylvania Dutch were Lutheran, Reformed, and Catholic faithful as well as Anabaptists.  The dialect had gone into decline by the start of the 20th century.
 
red:  20 counties with highest number of speakers
blue:  20 counties with highest proportion of speakers
purple:  counts as both red and blue
Gnu free documentation license

Today, few outside the Old Order Amish and Mennonite community speak the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect.  In some communities, there is a fear that even the Amish may be vulnerable to losing it, as English words intrude and younger generations rely increasingly on English.

Click to hear Amish and Mennonites speaking Pennsylvania Dutch!

Settlements that failed: California dreaming

Throughout the 1800's and 1900's through today, adventurous Amish have set out to pioneer new settlements in places hitherto unknown to their people.

One such group set its sights on California in 1913--the first and only attempt to settle in America's 'foremost farm state'.  With it's vast farmlands, you'd think the location would make a good match for the agrarian Amish.

But apparently not--a year later, the settlement had gone extinct.

The Amish community at Salinas in Monterey County was largely comprised of families from an Oregon settlement that had experienced disunity.  The congregation divided, seven families chose to follow their bishop and set up shop in California. 

Like many others, the settlement had a good start, but quickly fell apart, as settlers began moving away, the first of which, a deacon, left inexplicably just two months after arriving.

A poison pen

Over the settlement's short existence, disparaging letters appeared in The Budget, an Amish-and-Mennonite gazette originating in Sugarcreek, Ohio.  The comments likely came from one or more vindictive acquaintances from the original Oregon group. 

In the letters, the writer portrays the area as one needing lots of hard work to provide irrigation, which was in fact not the case.  The California settlers apparently enjoyed the warm winter climate and generally seemed to be doing well.

Thus the end of the settlement remains something of a mystery. 

A grandchild claims her grandfather, Jake K. Miller, father of the settlement's bishop, had a weakness for land speculation.  She claimed that he took off hunting the next big land opportunity. 

David Luthy, the Amish historian responsible for this account, finds this unlikely.  He explains why:  first, it would have been a purely selfish act, and more importantly, Miller actually was one of the last to leave.

Another possible cause? 

Superstitious Spanish-American Catholics. 

It turns out that an extremely rare, and frightening, thunderstorm struck Salinas one day in the summer of 1914.  Fearful natives placed blame squarely on the Amish.

Whether thunder-and-lightning, dreams of real estate riches, or bone-dry turf did this settlement in, no one will likely ever know.  In any case, it's very possible there may be other reasons for the break-up.

 

Over the course of a year, all but one of the California Amish left for other settlements (with the sole remaining member joining a Mormon group), bringing a swift end to the Amish 'California experiment'.

(Source:  David Luthy's The Amish in America: Settlements That Failed, 1840-1960.)

History lesson from a Bishop

What to do when you're a retired Amish bishop?  Maybe a lecture tour.

That could be what one Amish leader has in mind in northern Indiana.

Goshen News reports that 'Atlee Dan' Miller recently gave a talk on the settlement of his region, Amish education, and church splits to an audience at the Topeka Historical Society.  The talk was held in the fire department at Topeka, one of a few hamlets scattered throughout the heavily-populated Amish region.

An Amish bishop may hand the reins over to a younger leader on reaching older age, while retaining 'senior bishop' status.

It's a bit unclear whether that is the case here, or whether the writer is just referring to Miller being retired from his occupation.

In any case, Miller had an uplifting message to add to the history lesson.  His advice?  "Believe in Jesus Christ and God and keep them important in our lives and walk humbly before God."  If we do that, Miller said, "I see a bright future."

Settlements that failed: Stuck in the Big Easy--with the original 'urban Amish'?

A small haphazard settlement of Amish apparently once existed in New Orleans.

David Luthy explains that migrant Amish in the 1800's often entered America from Europe by way of the Mississippi River port.

Sometimes it happened that an Amish family lacked the funds to continue upstream and onward to established settlements, often in Illinois.  Previous to 1850, stranded families formed a small and short-lived community in the city.

Information on the community is scant, but apparently bishops from midwestern settlements cared enough to make the long trip and minister to the congregation there.  Bishop Peter Naffziger even walked there on two occasions to care for the settlement's spiritual needs--apparently from his home in Ohio.

1849 New Orleans map from Louisiana State Museum
New Orleans, at the time, was nothing like it is today, of course.  However, it was a city in the true sense of the word, with an 1840's population around 100,000.  Most of the inhabitants were French-speaking, so Luthy speculates that the Amish, from Alsace and Lorraine in France, likely felt more at home here than they would have in other ports.

It seems that the few Amish that lived here, if they did not move onward after raising the necessary funds, eventually may have adopted urban ways, lost traditions and assimilated.

(Source:  David Luthy's The Amish in America: Settlements That Failed, 1840-1960.)