by Sarah Price
As usual, upon arrival the women had folded their black wraps and removed their black bonnets, setting them in the entrance room, before gathering in a circle to greet one another. As she stood next to Anna, Emma’s white cape and apron contrasted sharply with the black, heart-shaped prayer kapp that she wore upon her head. Today for communion all of the women wore black dresses, a symbol of the seriousness of the religious rite that they were about to undertake. However, only the unmarried baptized women wore white organza capes and aprons with the black prayer kapps.
For at least ten minutes she stood by Anna Wagler so that they could quietly talk while they waited for newcomers to enter, stow their outer garments, then walk through the awaiting circle of women to shake their outstretched hands and plant a quick kiss upon their lips. Just before nine o’clock the door to the back staircase opened and the bishop and ministers entered the room. They too greeted each woman with a firm handshake and nod of the head. Emma took a deep breath, bracing herself for the long service ahead of her.
After the bishops took their seats, the older women, based upon their age and marital status, walked single file to their side of the room. As usual, Mary Yoder led the line of women, as she was the oldest woman in the g’may, with Widow Blank and Katie Miller following her. When it was time for the unmarried women to take their seats, Emma assumed her place ahead of her friend Rachel Lapp, who was six months younger than her and, like Emma, unmarried.
Once seated, Emma watched as the men entered the room, the older ones sitting directly behind the bishop and ministers. The married men filed in next, again in order of age, before the younger, unmarried men assumed their own seats. Like many other things about the Amish, large gatherings were usually separated by gender and age—a hierarchy of sorts. Emma didn’t mind, for she enjoyed the company of the women on those occasions.
As if on silent command, the men suddenly reached up to remove their black hats and placed them under their seats, with the exception of the young men seated against the back wall. They stood and hung their hats from the hooks on the wall behind them. It was a fluid movement, almost in unison, a movement that signaled the beginning of the service.
The silence lasted only a few seconds as one of the men, the designated foresinger, began to lead the rest of the members in song. It was Ben Lapp, Rachel’s older brother, who assumed the important role this morning. He sang the first word of the appointed hymn, his voice following a chantlike tune, his eyes staring at the black, chunky hymn book, the Ausbund, that he held with both hands. Full of songs written by the founders of the Anabaptists in the mid-1500s, this hymnal had been used for hundreds of years. Many of the writers of these songs had been imprisoned for their beliefs, or even martyred, tortured, and burned at the stake. Emma always felt a strong tugging at her heart when she held the book in her own hands.
When Ben finished chanting the first word of the hymn, the rest of the congregation joined him, singing the next word in the hymn using the same chant. Each word was drawn out, sung to a specific tune. As the voices rose in unison, singing each word of the hymn in a similar manner, a sense of peace fell upon the people seated on the hard wooden benches in the loft of the Yoder’s shop.
During this first hymn Emma began to feel the Spirit of God washing her with His grace. As she sang the hymns, her mind traveled back in time to her ancestors, who had suffered and even died to ensure that she could worship freely on that very Sunday. Her heart opened, and she lost herself in the presence of God, who seemed to surround the gathering, His arms embracing all who were present as they lifted their voices up in songful praise of His glory.
When the congregation began singing the second verse, the bishop and ministers stood and exited the room. Emma knew that they were going to speak in private about the proceedings of the worship service. It was never planned in advance. Secretly she often wished that just once she could be a part of that discussion in the back room. How did they decide who would speak? Why did they choose the specific topics for the sermons? Today, however, she knew that the sermons, which would last for hours, would be similar to the ones at the spring communion: a retelling of the Bible’s stories to remind the people to remain faithful to God.
Almost twenty minutes later the bishop and ministers filed back into the large room. By then the congregation had begun singing a second hymn. As soon as the leaders of the church were seated, the singing came to an abrupt halt at the end of the stanza, the congregation knowing that it was now time for the communion sermon.
The first minister stood up and began to preach. His voice took on a singsong quality, rising and falling in an unnatural manner. Emma listened to the words. The first minister, John Glick, began retelling the story of the creation of the heavens and earth. He continued with the history of Adam and Eve and continued until he retold the story of Noah.
Emma had always loved the story of Noah and how he listened to God, who instructed him to build the ark and save His creatures. She could only imagine how Noah’s neighbors reacted to the strange structure that he worked on day in and day out, mocking him and harassing him. But, like any God-fearing man, Noah ignored them and followed God’s instruction. The message was clear: God did not tolerate disobedience amongst His flock.
Unlike regular worship services when the congregation gathered together to eat from two long tables that were set up after the service was over, today’s noon meal was eaten in shifts so that the ministers could continue with their preaching. Emma fought the urge to squirm on the hard bench, and as the hours passed, she had to concentrate on the words being spoken in order to avoid drifting to sleep.
With the unusually warm weather for fall, Emma was glad that there were fewer people at the worship service. Fewer people helped keep the room from getting overly warm. Still, as she waited for her turn to be called to the back room for the noon meal, her eyelids grew droopy and she had to pinch her own arm to keep herself from nodding off.
It was well into the afternoon when the communion took place. The bishop held the loaf of bread before the members of the g’may. He spoke about how the grains had been grown, starting as individual seeds before, through the process of harvest and baking, they had joined together to form into the very nourishment that was needed for survival. He compared this to God’s Word, as much a nourishment for the soul as bread was for the body. One of the ministers took the bread from the bishop and broke it in half, passing one half to the men and the other to the women. After a person had broken off a small piece of bread, he passed it to another until each member of the g’may had partaken of this holy rite.
When it was time for the passing of the wine, the bishop spent a moment with a similar comparison, discussing the power of each individual grape after they joined together as one, much like their church community who lived, prayed, and worshipped together. He told the story of Jesus and how the wine represented His blood. Two cups of wine were passed in a similar manner as the bread had been. When it was Emma’s turn, she took the smallest sip before quickly passing it to the young woman seated beside her. She had never been partial to the taste of wine, regardless of its place in the communion ceremony.
The final part of the service was the foot washing. Emma shifted on the hard bench, knowing that once again it would take quite some time before it was her turn to kneel before another woman and gently wash her feet in the bucket o
f water that was placed in the center of the room. It wasn’t her favorite part of the service, since it was a truly humbling experience to be on one’s knees and cleaning another’s feet. However, she was looking forward to it as it signaled the end of the communion service and the approaching moment when she would finally be able to visit with some of her friends before heading back home.
After the service Emma stood with Rachel and two other young women, catching up on what was happening in one another’s lives. They were eager to hear about the quilt she had made for the Mennonite auction and also to inquire why Hannah had not been at the service.
“She hasn’t yet transferred her membership to our district,” Emma explained.
“Then we won’t see her later since there is no singing tonight,” Rachel said sorrowfully.
This news surprised Emma. “No singing?” Well, she thought, that certainly explained why Paul had not mentioned picking up Hannah that evening. “Whyever not?”
“Don’t you remember, Emma? The bishop said that communion Sunday should not have such gatherings at night. We should spend our time reflecting, instead.”
Despite her disappointment, Emma kept her opinions to herself. “I had forgotten,” she admitted.
At that moment she felt a hand on her arm. When she turned to see who was trying to get her attention, she was surprised to see her father standing there. He looked tired and pale. “Emma,” her daed said. “I’m feeling poorly. It’s too warm in here.”
Concern crossed her face and she immediately touched his arm. “I’ll take you home, Daed!”
“Nee, nee. It’s all right. Gideon offered to take me home so that you can stay a while longer. I know how much you enjoy visiting with the women, and it’s good for you to socialize.”
She frowned. Gideon was a good friend to her daed, indeed. Still, there were times when she just wished that he would let her take care of her own father without any interference. “How can I enjoy myself if you are not well?”
Henry laid his hand on her arm and forced a soft smile. “I just need to lie down, and it’s better if Gideon is there to help me. Besides, Paul was kind enough to offer to bring you home when you are ready. I trust that is fine with you?”
Barely did she have a chance to respond before Gideon had appeared by her daed’s side. He nodded in greeting at Emma. “You visit with your friends,” he said, leaning forward slightly so that only she could hear him. “You don’t get out enough. And I’m ready to leave anyway.” If she wanted to comment that it really wasn’t any of his concern whether she went out with friends or not, she held that thought in her mind rather than letting it slip from her tongue.
“I’ll be home shortly,” she reassured her daed, but he didn’t hear her for Gideon was already escorting him down the narrow staircase to the exit on the first floor.
For the next half hour Emma helped the other women clean the dishes and pans. She enjoyed talking with her friends, young women that she had known for most of her life. They had gone to school together and worshipped together. But, unlike Emma, most of them were either married with bopplis or worked either full-time on their parents’ farms or outside the house, tending to market or cleaning houses. It didn’t leave a lot of time for socializing, except on Sundays.
The men were busy folding the benches and stacking them into the church wagon, a plain gray wooden box on wheels specifically used to store the benches and crates of Ausbund hymnals. Sometime during the following week two draft horses or Belgian mules would be harnessed to the wagon, and it would be delivered to the property of the next family scheduled to host the church service in two weeks. With everyone helping, it never took long to dismantle the worship room.
She felt a tap on her arm and glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to see Paul standing there.
“I’ll be leaving shortly,” he said, his voice a little louder than needed for she could hear him perfectly well. To her embarrassment, several people overheard him and raised an eyebrow. “I promised your daed I would take you home.”
“That’s so kind of you,” Emma began. “But I think I prefer to walk today. It’s so nice out and I’d love to have the exercise.”
Her answer caught him off guard and he leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You wouldn’t have me break a promise to your daed, would you? You know how he worries so.”
Unfortunately Emma knew that Paul was right. If she walked home, her daed would wonder why Paul had broken his promise. No amount of reassurance that it was she, not Paul, who had insisted upon walking, would appease him. It was better to accept the ride rather than deal with the unnecessary ramblings and complaints over Paul’s unfulfilled promise that she would undoubtedly be subjected to from her daed.
While she collected her wrap and bonnet, Paul hurried outside to prepare the horse and buggy. Emma took advantage of the time to bid farewell to her friends and to thank Katie Yoder for having hosted the worship service. Then, with a deep breath, she walked outside to find Paul waiting to help her get into the buggy.
For the first few moments they rode in silence. Emma stared out the window, watching the cows grazing in a nearby pasture. The leaves of the trees in the distance were just beginning to show signs of changing colors. Hints of red and yellow and orange lightly brushed the edges of green, creating a pretty picture that Emma tried to commit to memory.
“A lovely autumn we are having,” he said, as if reading her mind. His words, however, sounding forced and stilted.
“Such a shame that Hannah couldn’t be at the communion service,” she replied, eager to pursue the topic of her friend with Paul. “Has she approached your daed about joining our church district?”
The casual shrug of his shoulders caught Emma off guard. Certainly he would know whether or not his intended fraa had requested to become a member of their g’may!
“I’m surprised you didn’t inquire,” she said softly.
He laughed. “That’s not my concern, I reckon. It’s between her and the church elders when she is ready to make that change.”
With a frown wrinkling her forehead, Emma shifted her weight in the seat so that she faced Paul. Studying his profile, she wondered if he was teasing her. When she saw that he was staring straight ahead, his eyes scanning the road, she realized that he was not. A dark sense of dread began to fill her chest and she felt her heart beating rapidly.
“But Hannah and . . . ”
Quickly he stopped her from continuing, his voice sounded a bit agitated. “It’s not Hannah I wish to talk about, Emma.”
“But she is a good friend of mine.”
Sensing her irritation, Paul was quick to apologize. “I mean no disrespect. Of course, any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”
The word friend caught her off guard. She couldn’t tell whether he was being coy on purpose or not. “She enjoyed your verse,” she offered, carefully watching his reaction.
“My verse? Why . . . ” He paused and seemed at a loss for words. His eyes glanced at her, and then with the slightest of movements, he slowed down the horse so that the buggy stopped along the side of the quiet road. “I intended those verses just for you, Emma. I never meant for them to be seen by anyone else.”
Her heart caught in her throat and she felt herself tensing up. This wasn’t the conversation that she had expected. Not from Paul Esh, the man she had so clearly believed was interested in Hannah. “I don’t think I quite understand, Paul.”
“It was meant for you, Emma,” he repeated.
She caught her breath and inadvertently jumped farther away from Paul. “Now I am quite confused! Hannah . . . ”
He frowned. “This has nothing to do with Hannah, Emma. She’s a lovely girl and I know how fond you are of her.”
“As are you!” she quickly retorted.
At this, he laughed. “Oh, Emma! Surely you must know that my eyes are for one woman and one woman only. Why, if you’d let me talk, what I’m trying to say is that I wish to properly court you, Emma Weaver.”
“Oh, help!”
“There is no finer, more godly woman in our g’may. Together we would have a wonderful future.”
She shifted her weight so that she was staring directly at him. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and had to replay his words in her mind. Court her? Wonderful future? The shock of his words left her all but speechless. “Paul! This is Emma you are talking to, not Hannah! She is my friend!”
At the mention of Emma’s friend, Paul made a face, confused at the sudden shift in the conversation. It was clear that the discussion had moved away from his ardor for Emma and to her friendship with Hannah. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I! All this time I thought you were interested in Hannah!”
