Amish America

A weekend with the Martins

They live about as far back in as you can get, two miles down a mud road, deep in the heart of a serene pine-and-birch forest. 

The neighbors are mostly friendly, and Jacob has worked out a deal with one of them--a big-city transplant and a bit 'unhandy' when it comes to farming-- to manage and use a cow and some of his equipment.  It's not a bad deal at all--extra milk and tractor power for the family.

The Martin family maintains a little island of America in the Varsovian hinterlands.  When I walked in the front door on Saturday to greet Anita, as she leaned over the kitchen table processing the remains of a duck, I could feel it right off.   

As soon as Anita began speaking, I realized I knew the accent from somewhere.  I couldn't put a finger on it at the time, but later it was obvious.  It turns out Anita comes from a Knepp clan in southern Indiana.  Anita is warmer and less cautious when you first meet her, but Jacob soon warms as well.  He is quite talkative and a pleasure to listen to as he expounds on various topics.

So to get one of the most superficial matters out of the way, how 'Amish' are they?  Anita's family is based in an Indiana Beachy Amish congregation.  While Jacob was born in Pennsylvania, he soon moved away and spent his childhood and younger years in settlements in Tennessee and Kentucky.  And he has the drawl to show for it. 

Jacob calls his home congregation 'Amish Mennonite', but sees them as being basically aligned with Anita's Beachy group--or at least they were at the time.

Jacob's Polish is excellent.  Much better than mine.  Jacob has a talent for languages and is currently translating a Mennonite-authored book of inspirational stories into Polish.   He's about a third of the way through.  Over his nearly fifteen years in Poland, he's read many of the Polish classics--Sienkiewicz, Mickiewicz, who wrote the great epics, and others. 

Jacob's family left Pennsylvania German behind a couple generations before, he explained, as I sat and listened in one of his imported Amish-style hickory-rockers.  Anita used it growing up, says she understands it perfectly, but might have a tough time speaking it.  She says she used PA Dutch with the oldest kids for a spell, but abandoned it after a while since Jacob doesn't speak it himself. 

The kids are comfortable using both Polish and English, but the younger ones especially tend to gravitate towards English.  (By the way, re-reading my last post I realized I might have gotten a bit ahead of the game and added a kid to the Martins' total, which currently stands at seven, not eight.) 

Those little guys are a joy to be around, especially one and a half-year-old Stefan, and little four-year-old Krzysiek.  They are what the Poles might call rozrabiaczki--fun-loving little troublemakers. 

Jacob and Anita's first kids got classic American names--Ruben and Joshua--while later ones received Polish monikers--Ilona, Zofia, Waldek.  Jacob says they now follow the formula of a Polish first name and an English middle one--'Stefan James'--in case they ever return to the States.

There doesn't seem to be much likelihood of doing that now.  Things don't sit too well back home with the families.  The last visit was about three years ago--Anita's parents.  They are civil but fail to see eye-to-eye on various matters.

In any case, this is where home is now.  Jacob realizes that with all the media curiosity among Poles, he has a potentially very positive role to play here--one he didn't ask for, he chuckles, but one he will continue to take on. 

Raised Amish, headed to Med school

I quite liked this story on a Sugarcreek, Ohio man who was raised Amish and is now planning to attend medical school at Ohio State.  Obviously, it's not typical for someone who only went through eight grades to have such high educational goals.  In fact, Andy Yoder completed his GED and is now finishing his final semester at Goshen College in Indiana.

The first reason that I found this article appealing was that the family involved seems to have a healthy approach to the idea of their children not being members of the Amish church.  As Andy points out, in some communities people who leave the Amish are shunned...though here it is unclear whether Andy was baptized or not, which would make the difference.  The unbaptized, Amish-raised person is not supposed to be shunned.

Certain Amish churches in the diverse Holmes County, Ohio community are more permissive regarding shunning, while others are more strict.  In practice, certain families having both children that are members of the Amish church and ones that are not may consciously or unconsciously treat them differently, even favoring the baptized ones.

Across the nation, different Amish communities approach shunning differently. Click to read about the different types of shunning.

On the other hand, shunning is one of the main reasons the Amish have been growing at such a fast pace.  If the Amish begin to ignore the practice, it would likely result in decreased growth.  Shunning has been a major point of contention since the Amish group was led away from the Mennonites by Jakob Amman over 300 years ago.  And it remains a point of contention today between different Amish groups. 

The other reason that I liked the story was learning of Andy's plans--to study oncology and return to serve the Amish community.  While you may occasionally meet the home-grown Amish chiropractor or herbalist, the Amish depend on services of the modern medical community just like any other Americans.  Having someone that is fluent in their first language and familiar with their culture can only be a plus. 

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'). 

John Hostetler on Amish food

From Amish Society, Fourth Edition:

'...there are many myths about Amish foods.  There is the legend of "seven sweets and seven sours" on Amish tables.  The only place I have ever eaten seven sweets and sours is in a tourist hotel.  The tourist industry has done well in capitalizing on myths, judging by the number of restaurants that cater to "Amish" foods.  Advertised items such as "Amish soda," "Amish highball," or some kinds of pastries are obviously an outsider's capitalization on the tourists' determination to find something distinctively Amish.  Over fifty "Dutch" restaurants have emerged in some Amish localities.  Mennonite or former Amish persons serve as cooks in these kitchens.  Most outsiders are not able to distinguish between restaurants that serve "real" Amish dishes as oppposed to "fake" ones.'



Amish highball?!?

I say go straight to the source.


I've had the good fortune to share meals with Amish friends a number of times.  Last time was in Ohio at Johnnie and Kathryn's.  On finishing, I told Kathryn, in all sincerity, that what I just ate qualified for meal of the year. 


(Except for every one of yours, Mom, of course!  Especially the spaghetti.  Uhh, I may land in hot water for this one.)

Bonus:  More food!  Sunday snitz pie, Amish ketchup and other condiments, and 'haystacks'.  

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).

Three Lancaster observations

After three weeks in the county, three more observations from Lancaster:

Hair--men's hairstyles here seem to range from the very short and close cropped to the much more Swartzentruber-esque bob.  Women's hair is arranged a bit differently than midwestern Amish curled in tightly at the sides--almost too tight--but more on that later.

Mennonites--the Old Order Mennonite population is significant here, with many 'buggy Mennonites' populating the northeastern chunk of the county.  The Amish tend to be found most heavily in the center, eastern and southeastern parts of the county, though church districts can be found spread out to the north and west, and with quite a few in neighboring Chester County.  Amish buggies here are grey, Mennonite ones black.  Another way to tell them apart:  Mennonite homes have bikes out front, while the Amish here only allow scooters.

One Amish farmer explained to me how the Amish and Old Order Mennonites cooperate on schooling, teaching their children together in the same one-room schoolhouses.  He described it as a bit of give-and-take between the two groups but that it generally worked well.

Accent--the typical Lancaster English accent is somewhat different than that of Holmes or Lagrange Counties, having a hollow, lilting ring to it--if that description makes any sense.  Again, as I talk to more and more Amish (conversations with Amish make up 95% of the speaking I do any given day), I find myself inadvertently mimicking it.

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!

The Sugarcreek Budget

The Budget is a vital print lifeline stretching across the diverse Anabaptist settlements of North and South America.

Founded in 1890, this weekly paper out of Sugarcreek, Ohio, serves as an information exchange for families sometimes separated by great distances and formidable technological barriers.

Budget 'scribes' regularly report on local happenings.  Their writings are listed under the home settlement's geographical header. 

Many of the placenames indicate traditional Amish/Mennonite locales in Pennsylvania, Indiana, or Ohio.  A number, however, come from further afield, distant lands such as Belize, Haiti, or Romania, likely originating from more adventurous Mennonite or Beachy Amish settlers.

Besides the local news, you can also find all sorts of neat things for sale in the Budget--wind-up watches, cloth diapers, and something called a 'no-crack' freezer container, to name a few. 

Ads in the Budget tell you where to get your 'superior cow cream' or even Himalayan Goji Juice, two items no doubt favored by Plain folk concerned for both their own and their animals' health.

Service providers advertise as well--again, many of them health-related.  Perusing a recent issue you'd come across info on hernia relief, Tijuana dentistry, and even the frightening-sounding colon hydrotherapy.

How's the weather in those parts?

Poems, children's sketches, and petitions for contributions for needy members enduring misfortune also feature prominently in the 40+ page gazette.

But on to the meat of it:  in the Budget, readers learn of all sorts of happy occurrences:  marriages and births and successful moves and good crop yields, to mention a few of the most popular topics.

The Budget conveys tragedy as well.  Readers of a recent issue learned of an Indiana organic-farm poultry barn burning down, resulting in the loss of 17,000 young fryers, and much worse--a young Amish father of six who died suddenly of a burst appendix in the same community.


And finally, the Budget brings readers the seemingly mundane:  A big chunk of letters begin something like 'spring is here and the weather is fine....', 'church was held at the Miller place...', 'the flowers are in bloom...' and don't really seem to say too much else. 

My old man happened to pick up an issue, and joked about how 'nothing' really seems to happen in most of the letters.  He wondered, just when do they find the time to write about the corn growing? 

I supposed that it might be what they do when they're not on the internet or in front of the tube.

And maybe that's just us taking a short view of it...with the weather playing such a prominent role in the agrarian-minded Amish-Mennonite world, it might come to mean the difference between prosperity and destitution.  At least it has in the past.

In any case, the Budget is a vital publication, anticipated and enjoyed by many in the far-flung Amish-Mennonite community.

It's a modern-day relic in a modern world of internet, cell phones and email, a throwback 'messaging system' for a 'peculiar people', of whom many still choose to rely on the printed word for basic news and communication.

Siss im blut

Siss im blut is PA Dutch for 'it's in the blood'.  It's often given as a reason when Amish and Mennonites talk about genetic problems in their midst. 

Amish and Mennonites have taken a practical approach to an unfortunate situation:  a cramped gene pool causing numerous genetic disorders, often popping up with a frequency unseen outside their tight communities. 

Amish communities have accepted outside help and have built centers to deal with conditions that are so rare that they show up in only a handful of individuals around the world.

The root of the problem can be explained by what is called the founder effect, whereby the genes that show up in a founding group's members show up disproportionately in later generations. 

With close intermarriage not uncommon and relatively few joiners to contribute 'fresh' genes, Amish populations are particularly subject to the founder effect. 

photo: eugene richards, new york times

Dr. Holmes Morton is one of a few specialists who focus on treating Amish and Mennonite genetic conditions.  He has given hope and help to many.  NYT recently did an extensive article on his work. 

Also: Another blog linking to an article on a genetic disease found among Lancaster Mennonites, who have used blue lights and liver transplants to save their young afflicted with Crigler-Najjar syndrome.

Leaving

When a baptized Amish person leaves the community for another church, it can be a jarring experience, both for the family involved and for others in the church. 

And especially so, in the very rare occurrence when one party stays behind.

Most cases I have come across of Amish leaving have involved the full family;  one or two peculiar situations have not--with the wife remaining Amish.

Awkward situations can arise, to say the least, with only part of the family 'Amish', part buggying to church on Sundays with father remaining home, for example. 

It can be traumatic for kids who wonder why they can't have church service at their homes, and for the mother who has to answer their questions, perhaps forced to face a seeping social stigma from within her own community.

 

photo: illinoisfamily.org

 

An excerpt from Brad Igou's The Amish In Their Own Words reveals the struggle:

We never discussed his leaving the church;  he just went.  What a shock it was!  I was so ashamed to say that I did as Satan wanted me to do:  I quit praying.  There were no arguments between my husband and myself, but I was drifting right along with him, although I still went to our church.  Then God held me back from taking that step [of leaving the Amish]...

The mere discomfort of awkward family gatherings would pale in comparison to what many Amish would consider a far more important matter:  the well-being of the self-exiled person's soul. 

Amish vary in opinion on those who leave and join other churches;  one solution, acceptable to some, has it that an Amish person who leaves but joins a similarly-minded (ie Mennonite) church, and makes a confession, will avoid being shunned. 

Others may simply refuse to shun family members who have left.  This despite the idea that perhaps the greatest measure of 'success' in this non-individualistic society is the number of your children who choose church membership.

For some, the numbers don't matter as much as maintaining closeness with their loved ones, regardless of the faith they've chosen, regardless of the fact that they've broken a vow.

Yet others will be shunned--and hard--by father, brother, sister, mother, for years.