The Swartzentruber Amish have eliminated this loophole by taking the strict stance that they will excommunicate and shun a member for transferring to any other Amish affiliation or Plain church. In addition, the Swartzentrubers tend to refrain from associating much with those who choose to leave without ever being baptized. As a result, Swartzentrubers tend to “go all the way” when they leave the Swartzentruber church rather than joining another Plain church.50 “It’s like going to another country,” confessed one ex-Swartzentruber when asked about the process of adjustment to non-Amish society. “I felt so weird, like I’m stupid. And I was stupid in a sense. I didn’t understand, let’s say non-Amish girls. You know, trying to compare myself with her, I felt like this itty bitty thing. I wanted to just hide and not get involved with the real people out there. That’s kind of the mentality that you grew up with. It’s just that you don’t feel like you qualify.” In the eyes of some Amish, this inferiority complex leads Swartzentrubers to go overboard in trying to “do stuff to prove to the English that I can compete on your level,” as one individual put it.51
In principle, the Andy Weaver affiliation shares the Swartzentruber commitment to strict shunning: the ban will not be lifted until a member returns to the same church district that imposed the ban. In practice, however, there is leeway if one decides simply to move “up” a step or two. According to one Andy Weaver man, “the unwritten rule has been that if you didn’t leave for a car church, you would not be placed in the ban.” In recent years, one of the most contentious cases of excommunication, though, involved an Andy Weaver bishop who recommended the ban for a church member who transferred to a New Order church. According to a knowledgeable insider, the sister of the excommunicated individual had schizophrenia, and the Andy Weaver bishop, who was ill-informed about mental illness, refused to allow flexibility in the Ordnung for her to care for her sister. This case, however, seems to be an exception to the rule.
The Old Order churches tend to be more lenient in practice. A church member who moves to the New Order or the New New Order will typically avoid the ban altogether, but even if an Old Order person joins the “car Amish” or a Mennonite church, the ban does not always come into play. In a striking testimony to the growing cracks in the Old Order approach to excommunication, some Old Order bishops will lift the ban on Amish who are “born again” if they receive a letter from the new church verifying the person’s status as a member “in good standing.” The approach of the Old Order Amish to individuals who never joined the church also differentiates them from the Andy Weavers and the Swartzentrubers. None of the three affiliations will take church action against such individuals, but the Andy Weavers and the Swartzentrubers are more likely to “draw back” from interaction with them because of the fear of negative influences. For example, one Old Order man, whose wife is from the Andy Weaver church, told us he does not feel comfortable associating with his in-laws because of the way they turn their backs on their young people who choose not to remain Amish. “Sometimes I feel that they [the Andy Weavers] are arrogant about it. You know, they’ll be with their family members [who did not join the Amish] and if they sit at the same table, they’ll just get up and leave because of that. So there’s no family reunions because of the shunning.”
In contrast, apart from flagrant and unrepentant violators of the Ordnung, the New Order Amish typically do not excommunicate or shun at all if the ex-member joins a “Bible-believing church.” It is preferable that this church be of Anabaptist origin, but it is not a prerequisite.52 The New Order rationale is that the ban is a response to sin, and since ministers would not accuse a Beachy or Mennonite church of being unscriptural, they cannot regard a member’s transferring into that church as sinful. A New Order minister put it this way: “Not excommunicating is the way we say that we are not the only church, and so you can go to heaven even if you go to another church.” In his view, the ban is for maintaining spiritual boundaries, not cultural ones. One New Order bishop privately confessed to us that he believes the Amish should get rid of shunning altogether.53 “It is supposed to be done out of love,” he noted, “but more often it turns to spite.” Many Old Order Amish see the New Order’s reluctance to use excommunication or shunning when members move “up” to car churches as a major reason that they lose a higher proportion of their young people.
The differences across affiliations in the conditions under which excommunication is imposed have important implications for a related issue: the degree to which other church districts honor a ban. In general, when a church district excommunicates an individual, the decision is honored by all churches that are in fellowship with that church and by all “lower” churches. This is not an insignificant point because it shows that in spite of their differences, the “lower” affiliations have respect for the ultimate decisions that are made about membership in the “higher” churches. The reverse, however, is not usually true. A Swartzentruber man placed in the ban for breaking his vows will only be shunned by his “higher” neighbors if the offense is so serious that all parties can agree it is worthy of excommunication, such as adultery or dishonest business practices. For other violations, the “higher” church may not agree with the ban issued by a “lower” church, particularly if it involves technology. For instance, a Swartzentruber man who refuses to permanently “put away” his chain saw and an Old Order woman who hooks up a phone in her house might be placed in the ban by their respective churches, but if they are not arrogant or belligerent, they might be welcomed into a “higher” church.
Preserving Flexibility: Gaps between Church Policy and Its Implementation
If divergent church policies toward excommunication represent one “crack” in the foundation, the gap between church policy on shunning and actual implementation is another. After the ban is in place, the severity and duration of shunning depend on a variety of factors: the conservativeness of the church district, the interpretation of family members, the situation in which interaction occurs, the severity of the offense, and the attitude of the offender. Most of our survey respondents said that the severity of enforcement depended primarily upon the particular church and the degree of its conservativeness. But even within a specific affiliation, bishops often have considerable leeway in determining how strictly the ban should be enforced. One bishop turned a blind eye to the fact that an excommunicated single woman was living in the same compound (though not in the same house) with her mother, who was still a church member. In many cases, however, the latitude of the bishops is constrained by the Ordnung and by precedents in the community. In other cases, the subtle behaviors involved in shunning are simply beyond the reach of ordained church leaders.
Because the stakes are so high, a decision to leave the Amish is often a traumatic event, and many of our respondents said their parents and church officials went to great lengths to try to persuade them to return. Parents were often described as being “deeply hurt,” “heartbroken,” “very disappointed,” “very upset,” and “very sad.” For example, when one Amish woman was packing to move out, her father approached the English man who was helping her move. “How much will it take to keep her at home?” he said. “I’ll give you any amount of money. I’ll make the check out right now.” This woman recalled that her father believed her leaving “was the worst thing that could happen … I was the one that broke the perfect family. And I was a girl, I was single, thirty-four years old, and they were, like, you should be satisfied where you’re at.”
The concern for loss of salvation is another recurrent theme heard from family members by those who have left the Amish fold. One survey respondent wrote, “Father’s reaction was preaching at me. Saying that I was already condemned to hell because all English people are going to hell.” Another reflected, “Oh, they came in tears and said how I am going to hell, and my father specifically said he has no hope for me to go to Heaven. And we sat up for hours talking about it.” In fact, fear of emotional confrontations with family members leads some
to leave secretly at night, as this ex-Swartzentruber woman relates: “Oh, I didn’t tell them, we just snuck out, and I was thinking, ‘Man, the devil’s running after me and I’m going to hell.’ Because of what they all tell you, you’re going out of the driveway, and it’s like, ‘Oh my gosh, the devil’s going to jump out of the corner.’” Several interviewees even recounted visions of damnation that their family members shared with them. One ex-Amish man related that his father had gotten wind of what was “coming down” before his leaving, upon which “he told me he saw me standing at the very edge of the lake of fire with only a thin crust supporting me.” According to Reiling, such anxieties about going to hell do not automatically dissipate upon defection.54
Not all family members reacted with hellfire and brimstone, however. From the examples given by the participants in our study, it is clear that family members vary in the severity with which they shun. Our respondents included a few whose parents were quietly supportive or who left later or with the child. In one case, the parents moved to a more liberal church, hoping that their son would return, but to no avail. In another case, an ex–Old Order member related, “Mom started searching the Scriptures for herself and concluded that I wasn’t living in sin, and therefore, they didn’t shun me and this soon got discovered so they excommunicated them, too.” An ex–New Order respondent wrote, “Some parents forbid their children from coming to see them with non-Amish clothes and from writing them. Mine don’t go that far. Glory hallelujah!”55
Inconsistencies in the enforcement of the ban occur in other ways as well. In some cases family and church members are less likely to take the hard line on shunning when no one else is watching, as this ex-Swartzentruber male relates: “I have brothers that’ll shun somebody right in front of the whole family, but when they’re by themselves, they won’t. Obviously they don’t feel convicted before God, that that’s a sin. It’s just because of the family, because they have to.” Others may follow the letter of the Ordnung but still exchange gifts by adeptly using nonverbal cues, such as the “finger tap.” One ex-Amish woman reports how, without thinking, she started to hand a card to a female friend. “But all at once she was like [taps index finger hard on the table]. So I put it down and she picked it up.” In many cases, enforcement of the ban also seems to wane over time. Asked if they had experienced a “thawing” in enforcement of the ban, over half of the respondents in our survey replied in the affirmative.
One of the practical challenges created by the rapid growth of Amish settlements across the United States has been the difficulty of keeping track of who is in the ban. Despite the efficacy of the “Amish grapevine,” church officials and members have trouble monitoring excommunicated individuals. The prohibition on selling goods to those in the ban, for example, is hard to enforce in large settlements such as Holmes County. One ex–Old Order woman reported that she quickly learned where to go when she wanted to purchase something from an Amish shop. An Andy Weaver family recounts that a young couple who spoke Pennsylvania Dutch moved into the area and set up a business driving the Amish. “It was great, we went everywhere with them for nearly two years,” the wife commented. “Then we got word that they were actually in the ban from a community out West, so we had to stop riding with them.”
Individuals who have committed serious offenses or who are seen as “kickin’ up” trouble are usually met with a hardening of the church’s position. Church leaders want to see signs of repentance among the excommunicated. In the absence of a public confession, however, those individuals who do not flaunt their new status but respect Amish sensibilities are more likely to be invited to family events and to experience a thaw in shunning. Although most ex-Amish in our survey said they had no misgivings about their decision to leave, approximately 30 percent said they have some regrets—and nearly all affirmed the positive aspects in Amish culture, such as the work ethic and spirit of cooperation.
In spite of inconsistencies in enforcement, the practices of excommunication and shunning continue to work. In our survey, two-thirds of respondents said shunning was enforced completely and consistently, whereas 17 percent said it was enforced somewhat or inconsistently and another 17 percent said it was not enforced much at all. Similarly, two-thirds of our survey respondents believe that their families look down on them rather than seeing them as equals, and the percentage who feel this way is significantly higher among those who left after having joined the church. One ex–Old Order woman summed up her predicament: “The hardest thing to adjust to is all the rejection, people not saying hi to you, just having nothing to do with you.” A striking illustration of exclusion was that 73 percent of ex-Amish in our survey said their closest friend was non-Amish, and 24 percent said their closest friend was ex-Amish. Only one individual who was in the ban had a closest friend who was Amish.
The different stances taken by affiliations, church districts, and family members over shunning and excommunication reveal just how complicated the relationship between the individual and the community can be. What does it mean to be a part of or outside of “community”? How should family ties be weighed against church rules? In answering these and related questions, we see a wide range of meanings and behaviors among individuals living in essentially similar structural contexts. For some people, community and regulation mean support and guidance, a sort of security blanket, while for others the blanket represents suffocation and control. Whether these variations represent more than just cracks in the foundation remains to be seen. G. C. Waldrep reports that in the Kalona Settlement in Iowa, for example, retention rates of Amish youth have been high in spite of a comparatively lax attitude toward excommunication, raising the important question of whether the ban really is an essential tool for social control. The vigorous debate about shunning among the Amish themselves, however, shows that they fully believe the stakes are high.
Church Schism in Perspective
Without question, the old and sometimes bitter intra-Amish divisions still loom over the Holmes County Settlement and shape social interaction in important ways. In a close-knit society, conflict is always difficult, especially when repeated attempts to repair the social fabric fall short. Asked about the consequences of church schism, one Amish leader admitted, “I think it’s come to a point where you don’t give somebody the benefit of the doubt when you are from the other sect.” Most Amish view the history of church schism as a sad, if inevitable, by-product of the fallen nature of humanity and also their tendency to take religion so seriously.
The proliferation of Amish affiliations also has the unintended effect of further confusing outsiders, who may already hold an unrealistic image of the Amish. Ironically, the Amish contribute to their own idealization through their reluctance to talk about church schism to outsiders and their tendency to lump the Swartzentrubers, Andy Weavers, and Old Order Amish together under the label “Old Order.” The introduction to the 2005 Ohio Amish Directory, for example, describes church division as “truly sad,” but the directory refrains from labeling church districts by affiliation.
Nevertheless, Amish church leaders are quick to remind critics that religious splintering is not peculiar to their people and that not a single case exists in which church schism has led to violence. In addition, there is probably some truth to Gertrude Huntington’s functionalist interpretation that the divisions have served to keep Amish communities strong because they “preserve small face to face units and reduce friction by separating incompatible factions.”56 Moreover, we argue that understanding the role of Amish affiliations is only the starting point in unraveling the complicated relationship between Amish individuals and their communities. As it turns out, other crosscutting forces and contexts, including family and neighborhood, school, and workplace, bring Amish from various walks of life together and help mitigate the effect of church affiliation differences. We now turn to an examination of the crucial roles of these other institutions in social change.
CHAPTER 4
Continu
ity and Change in Family Life
We have more money than we need to exercise our lifestyle.
—An Old Order man
Two images of Amish families compete in the American public’s eye. The first holds up the Amish as a model of family stability and continuity, a carryover from the “ideal traditional family” of years gone by.1 In this view, the distinctive combination of prescriptions (such as encouragement of large families and intergenerational households) and proscriptions (such as prohibitions on divorce, birth control, and institutionalized day care) has provided a time-tested recipe for healthy family and community life. Such a positive view of Amish family life is promoted not only by the Amish themselves but by other constituencies as well. The tourist industry’s promotional literature highlights close-knit Amish families, epitomized by the ubiquitous dawdi haus and by the less obvious, but intensely communal, barn raisings.2 Local and state government officials have also touted the region’s family stability in the hopes of attracting economic investment. Even scholars may have unwittingly contributed to this view by casting the family as one of the institutions most resistant to social change and by describing “the impact on family life” as the nonnegotiable litmus test by which Amish decide whether to adopt new practices and technology.
Juxtaposed in the popular imagination to this idyllic view of Amish family “togetherness,” is a more negative set of images that purports to expose the dark side. As early as the mid-twentieth century, some depictions of Amish life in the popular media, such as the musical Plain and Fancy, portrayed Amish “disciplinary structures to be naïve, misguided and in some respects cruel” and “[identified] the Amish with religious tyranny.”3 More recently, some feminists and ex-Amish have portrayed Amish wives as second-class citizens who are dominated by their husbands. In addition, several prime-time television documentaries and Web sites have alleged that the patriarchal Amish family is a hotbed of unreported child abuse, domestic violence, and sexual exploitation. A 2004 ABC News 20/20 feature on the Amish, for example, created a storm of controversy by giving the impression that abuse is fairly widespread in Amish communities but is shrouded in secrecy and inadequately handled by the rigid and patriarchal church leadership. According to the critics, one need only dig below the surface tranquility to see that Amish families are rife with domestic violence and sexual abuse.
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