Amish America

Where Amish scooters come from

'Sylvan', one of my Amish friends in Lancaster County, runs a scooter workshop in addition to milking cows.

In Lancaster County and related settlements, you rarely see bicycles--in Lancaster, for instance, there are only a few church districts I'm aware of that seem to allow them.

I've also seen scooters in use among the Amish of Allen County, Indiana, and I'd imagine they'd be found in other areas that adhere to a somewhat stricter Ordnung.

At least part of the reasoning is that the scooter, with it's foot-on-ground system of propulsion, is a bit closer to walking than a bike would be.

 

Sylvan says that his pink line has never really taken off.  Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen a pink one on the road.  Green, red, and blue are the most popular colors.

Midwestern Amish in contrast to their Lancaster counterparts tend to be a lot more open to using bikes--the Amish around Arthur, Illinois and those in Lagrange/Elkhart counties come to mind right away.  The men there often use them to ride to jobs in the local garage door and RV plants.

I'm also acquainted with an Amishman in northern Indiana who manufactures the recumbent bike--the one that looks like a cross between a bicycle and a recliner.  This particular ride is a hit in a number of the more progressive settlements.  Sort of a luxury comfort ride on the spectrum of two-wheeled non-motorized transport.

The sporting Amishman, part 2

Amish Volleyball Tournament, originally uploaded by teacherholly.

Amish also enjoy competitive team sports. This photo, taken by Holly in Mount Hope, Ohio, illustrates one of the most popular.

Amish typically play sports as children and as members of the youth. On marriage and having kids, participation in sports tends to drop off markedly. It's also worth remembering that different groups of Amish may have differing opinions on the matter of sports.

Generally though, Amish do enjoy playing sports and even following pro teams. Softball is particularly popular, as an entertainment for children during breaks at school, and also with Amish teens, who play against non-Amish teams in competitive leagues.

You'll find a decent amount of Bears fans in the Amish settlement at Arthur, Illinois, though not too many that actually play football. One Amishman in southern Indiana has built a gymnasium on his property for pick-up basketball games in a nod to a sport that's particularly popular in his settlement.

Holmes County baseball fans tend to pull for the Tribe, though some may be tempted to root for the Pirates just over the state line in Pittsburgh. Lancaster County Amish enjoy hockey, skiing, and in warmer months, croquet. I haven't been able to find any Amish snowboard enthusiasts yet but I'm sure there must be some out there.

Most Amish who do follow sports manage to keep up with their favorite teams through the paper. But do the Amish ever get a chance to watch games?

An outing to the ballpark is uncommon, but does happen. Amish may also catch a game on the tube--perhaps at a non-Amish friend or relative's.

But don't expect to see too many bearded Plain guys crowded around piles of chicken wings at the local sports bar. You have to draw the line somewhere.

The Amish and hunting with guns

Being a well-known pacifist group, people sometimes wonder if the Amish use guns for hunting. 

John at the Spokesrider has posted a few questions on this topic, which I've been meaning to get to for a while (thanks John!).

I remember while in the Arthur, Illinois settlement a few years ago being surprised to learn that the Amish do use guns for hunting.  Since that time I've found that many Amish are avid hunters and I've had numerous conversations with them about the sport.  Admittedly, I have never been hunting and would probably be ahead of the game if I made it out of the woods without a hole blown through my foot.

Hunting trips out West, to Canada and other northern points are not uncommon with some Amish, though other groups would frown upon such out-of-the-way pursuits.  Many Amish hunt on wooded parts of their own land or that of a relative or neighbor.  An Amishman I know in Holmes County has a plot of land in another part of the settlement used primarily for hunting purposes.  He has a time-operated camera set up on the property which photographs animals in order to learn about their feeding patterns. 

A rare photo of a bobcat, taken by this camera rig, recently caused a stir in the neighborhood.

On a couple of occasions I've seen the random Amish farmer or his son trolling the fields with a rifle slung across his back.  Varmint hunting?  Infidel deer?  Chances are he was looking to eliminate threats to his crop.

 

Bowhunting is also popular with many Amish.  It seems the compound bow is more challenging than the crossbow.  At an auction I attended fairly recently near Winesburg in Holmes County, Ohio, the first night was dedicated to hunting equipment, with many bows up for sale.  Some Amish become good shots, often practicing at home with fake deer targets.

This year in Ohio due to overpopulation, deer hunters have been able to buy licenses to shoot more than the standard limit (which I believe is normally two if I'm not mistaken).  Most Amish hunters I spoke with when in Holmes County in September were doubtful they would go for all six.  A deer, once shot, usually becomes venison for the family.  One or two is often as much as the freezer will hold, so most Amish it seems would be unaffected by the raised limit.

Perhaps part of what makes deer hunting more acceptable is the fact that the meat is put to use.  Though I have seen some fine trophies in Amish homes and shops, and know of numerous Amish taxidermists from Pennsylvania to Indiana who do a busy trade, most would find it un-kosher to let the meat go to waste while simply gunning for a prize to hang on the wall.

My top five Amish settlements

Who loves rankings? (everyone loves rankings)--today I offer my personal top-five favorite Amish settlements.  I hope you'll indulge my self-indulgence for this one day (I've been wanting to do this post for a long long time!).  I haven't been everywhere, but of the 17-or-so communities I've visited, these are the ones I would most readily revisit (and do when I can), and why.

1.Daviess County, Indiana--I really love the Amish people down in Daviess County.  I love how the settlement feels well off the beaten path, with a minimal tourist industry for a fairly large collection of Amish (toned-down compared to Nappanee, similar-sized, on the opposite end of the state).  I loved learning people's nicknames, which was super-important with such high-naming-homogeneity (85% of the people here share just six last names).  I got my first taste of Amish peanut butter and first invitation to church here, unsolicited.  Very friendly folks.  And an odd southern twang to the accent makes a Daviess Amishman easy to spot anywhere outside the settlement.

2.Arthur, Ilinois-- the first Amish settlement I ever happened upon.  That's probably a big part of the reason it's number two.  Arthur is in many ways a classic Amish community--it's of a size where nearly everyone still sort-of knows everyone else, it still has a fair percentage of farmers yet has embraced the idea of home-based businesses (wood shops flourish here), and has a fairly uniform Ordnung across the settlement.  Like the Kalona settlement in Iowa, it is centered around a quaint, smallish town that sort of tries to rev up a tourist industry but doesn't quite get there.  All the better for the atmosphere.  Click this neat link to learn an interesting fact about the Arthur Amish and vehicles.

3.Holmes County, Ohio-- this would be number one but for nostalgiac reasons giving the top two spots to Arthur and Daviess.  Holmes County is in my opinion the most scenically beautiful and interesting of all settlements, with its diversity of Amish population and hilly rural setting.  It's touristy, but nothing like Lancaster.  I probably know more Amish, better, here than anywhere else.  This is where they broke me in, after all.

4.New Wilmington, Pennsylvania--I only visited here a day and an evening, but absolutely loved it.  Blue doors, brown buggies. 

5.Allen County, Indiana--  A Swiss Amish settlement that is starting to butt heads with a major urban area.  Has an interesting charm to it, due to its various 'quirks'.  The Allen County Amish are a bit more gruff than those in, say, Daviess County or Elkhart/Lagrange, a bit more wary of outsiders.  When you get past the somewhat aloof exterior there are some very nice folks here.  The Amish in Allen County only drive open-top buggies and heavily favor building with brick.  The settlement has a wealthy feel to it due to that.  It doesn't seem to be a facade.  The construction business has done very well here.  My books also did very well here.

In Allen County, there seems to be an odd mix of rules.  Most homes have indoor bathrooms, while a significant number of folks have stuck with outdoor privies.  Yet cellphones are prominent.  English is creeping in, perhaps a bit too close for comfort.  But there is definitely a conservative streak here.  These Amish have close ties to the very conservative Swiss group in Adams County, just on the other side of Fort Wayne.

Disclaimer:  My comments here are mostly superficial and done in good fun.  I've met great folks and enjoyed my time everywhere I've been in Amish America.

But I wonder, what are your favorite Amish settlements and why?

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.

The Amish Church District

The Amish arrange themselves into compact groupings known as church districts. 

Each district has its own name, usually a geographically-based one--Lamoni South, Randolph, and Crab Orchard are examples of places providing names for districts, these being found in Iowa, Mississippi, and Kentucky.

Since the Amish travel by horse-and-buggy to one another's homes for Sunday service, most districts are grouped together in a logical, geographical manner.  The district line often runs down the middle of the road, which means you might attend with a different group of families than your neighbor across the street.

photo: Bill Coleman

Districts in northern Indiana and Arthur, Illinois tend to be block-shaped, keeping with the gridlike road plans of the area.  Holmes County, Ohio congregation lines meander along the winding lanes that are characteristic of the hilly country.

New Order Amish churches tend to be more spread out in Holmes County, Ohio--probably because New Order Amish constitute a minority of the 200+ congregations here and must bunch together however possible.  In some districts, members' homes may be ten or more miles apart from one another, about a 90-minute buggy ride.  Contrast that with, say, a certain district in the heart of Lagrange County, Indiana, whose families all fit on a half-mile-by-mile postage stamp of land.  Walk to church?  No sweat.

A church typically has a set of two or three ministers, a deacon, and a bishop whom they might share with another district.  Generally speaking, the ministers and the bishop do the preaching on Sundays, and the bishop acts as the head of the congregation and final level of authority.         

The deacon usually does not preach, but helps with discipline issues and is a bit of a social go-between,  for instance acting to facilitate pre-nuptial proceedings between families. 

Regarding discipline, the deacon will probably be the first guy that stops by after work to talk to you about 'putting away' your jet-ski or whatever offending technology or behavior you may be engaged in.  In this sense he may act as the bishop's 'right-hand' before he himself would get involved.

When churches get too big, they split.  Typical church size is 25-35 families;  when a church nears 40 families, it's usually thinking about dividing. 

Some settlements have unusually large congregations, however--in Allen County, Indiana, nearly a third have 40 or more families.  The record holder is a district which as of 2006 had a whopping 59 families under one bishop.  That is what you'd call a ripe one.

photo: Randall Persing

Once a district splits, it's time to think about selecting a new ministry and eventually a bishop, a process that may take a few years.  In the meantime, the original bishop 'takes care' of the new district.

Church is on one Sunday, off the next.  Usually, if your district is off, you might pop in to the neighboring district's service, or go visiting to family and friends.  One thing is certain--no work gets done except for the most necessary chores--caring for animals, for example. 

And no business deals whatsoever--milk companies have had to make arrangements with Amish dairies to pick up milk (usually a daily thing) late Saturday night and then again shortly after midnight Monday morning, in order to accomodate this most strict of Amish customs.

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.)

One of my biggest nightmares

photo: Mike Watiker 

Accidents between the Amish and cars happen.  Way too often.

This summer during a three-month stay in northern Indiana, three fatal accidents occurred.  One happened when a distracted driver hit an Amish man and two sons riding in a pony cart, killing all three.  Another was caused by an Amish Rumspringa-age youth, who attempted to pass in a no-passing zone.  He and the driver he hit were both killed. 

That one undoubtedly fueled criticism for wild Amish youth activities, yet in the vast majority of accidents that occur, the Amish come out the losers.

The last one occurred when a van carrying an Amish work crew was struck on the way to work.

I remember returning to visit a family whom I had met earlier in the summer.  The father, who happened to be a part of this crew, was fairly injured, had trouble getting around, but was alive.  His boss, another Amish father I had met a few weeks before the accident, was not so lucky.  And neither was the crew's English driver.

photo: Mike Watiker

I hate to write about this but you hear about these things happening all the time.  A teacher was killed walking to school not long ago in Lancaster County.  Another, thankfully non-fatal accident occurred last month in Allen County, Indiana.

This one is striking, however.  Why? 

It's been ruled a homicide. 

Apparently, jurors decided the driver was traveling negligently fast. 

I have driven on the road where this accident occurred, just outside of Arthur, Illinois, a number of times;  it is at the very center of the settlement and cuts through a high density of Amish families. 

The Amish around Arthur use lights and reflectors. Still, it's amazing how fast you can come up on them, when buggies only travel around 5-8 mph.  This accident occurred in the morning.  The article does not say if the buggy lights were on.  Apparently it was extremely foggy.
photo: osu

Hopefully, people visiting Amish areas will be extra careful.  Click here to read some vital rules-of-the-road.

Amish technology and 'friendliness'

Diversity in the Amish world is a common theme in this blog.  Ever wonder how different Amish groups use technology?

Judging by the chart, it can be seen that the most conservative groups include the Swartzentruber Amish, Nebraska Amish, and the Amish of Buchanan County, Iowa (the three of which Amish historian Steven Nolt groups together under the ultraconservative label, referring to the Buchanan group in particular once being seen as 'almost a conservative conscience within the larger Old Order world), as well as certain segments of the Adams County, Indiana settlement.

Often within the same settlement, there will be differences in what is allowed.  For example, in the northern Indiana settlement, churches on the west side of the community allow gas-powered lawnmowers, while those on the east tend to stick with those old-time rotating-blade pushmowers.

Holmes County, Ohio is a very diverse Anabaptist area.  Donald Kraybill says that there are nine distinct Amish groups living in this, the largest of all Amish settlements.  The four most significant, in order of increasing conservatism, are the New Order, Old Order, Andy Weaver Church, and the Swartzentrubers. 

Speaking from experience, I have found that this gauge of openness to technology is also a fairly good gauge of how open the Amish groups are to contact with outsiders. 

For instance, in Holmes County, I generally found it much easier to approach members of the Old and New Order churches.  People from those churches were fairly open and talkative.  I got a slightly colder though not unpleasant reception from Andy Weaver members, but found it most difficult to connect with people from the Swartzentruber districts.  Members of 'lower churches', as they're called, just seemed a bit less open to outsiders, or at least to me.

The Amish in Arthur, Illinois, Nappanee, Indiana, or Kalona, Iowa, compare to the Holmes County Old and New Orders in my personal experience on the 'approachability scale'.  Of course it all comes down to the individual, but as you meet a lot of people in a specific settlement, general patterns seem to emerge.

 

The chart, by the way, is from this site, which takes it from Stephen Scott and Kenneth Pellman's book, Living Without Electricity.  Scott is a member of a group somewhat related to the Amish, the Old Order River Brethren, and has written a number of informative, concise works on the cultural practice of various Plain groups, including Amish, Mennonites, and Hutterites, such as Plain Buggies, and Why Do They Dress That Way?  Highly recommended.

Amish behind the wheel

Following up yesterday's Lancaster cell phone post, here's another little-known nugget on the Amish and technology:

'In a rather exceptional situation, Amish carpenters in the Arthur, Illinois, community began in the mid-1950's to acquire driver's licenses and drive trucks for work-related jobs while using buggies for personal trips.  By 1970 so many men were driving for work-related activities that local bishops began strongly to counsel against it.  Thirty years later only about a dozen men still drive on the job'  

(source: Amish Enterprise:  From Plows to Profits;  Donald Kraybill and Steven Nolt)

I remember once feeling shocked when an Ohio Amishman casually mentioned his previous career as a truck driver.  Now I figure he may have meant the time before joining the chuch, when some Amish youth and young adults own and operate cars. 

People knock the Amish for what they see as nonsensical 'shunning' of some technologies and conveniences.  But when you look at why they do it, there's a definite logic to it.

Bonus:  Brad Igou writes on 'Amish tech' at Amish Country News.