Almost Amish

by Nancy Sleeth

  Matthew, Emma, and I recently led a weekend of workshops at a small church in Nashville. The church is adjacent to Vanderbilt University, and the congregation probably has the highest ratio of degrees per pew than any other we have visited. Throughout our workshop discussions, we repeatedly heard people complain that technology has become their master. These young adults, mostly in their twenties or early thirties, were striving for community and earnestly seeking Christ-centered lives. With families dispersed, Facebook had become a poor substitute for real-time relationships. Some confessed that they had difficulty relating other than digitally. Couples who had met online spoke about how after dating long-distance they had a hard time adjusting to the reality of personal quirks and face-to-face interactions.

  Children need freedom to make choices and grow into independent adults, but do they need to be divorced for decades from the wisdom and loving support of family? Perhaps we can learn something from the Amish tradition of rumspringa, providing a way for young people to test the waters and then choose to come back—or rather, to stay. For many young people, attending a church-based summer camp, serving overseas between high school and college, participating in a program such as Mission Year, or matriculating in a Christian college provides room to stretch and grow within a nurturing environment.

  Other young people seek wider latitude, including—unfortunately—the freedom to make some life-altering bad choices. To reach out to those who have rejected the church, one couple we know has recently started a ministry specifically for eighteen- to twenty-eight-year-olds. At the first meeting, they opened their home to more than forty young people. Many had made poor decisions during their “rumspringa,” which led to relationships with abusive boyfriends, unwed motherhood, and unhealthy addictions. This couple embraces each of them with love, providing mature mentoring and a space for redemption. What a beautiful ministry! As James says in the last line of his epistle, “If someone among you wanders away from the truth and is brought back, you can be sure that whoever brings the sinner back will save that person from death and bring about the forgiveness of many sins” (James 5:19-20).

  My husband and kids are artistically gifted, and art has always played a central role in our family’s life. One of my all-time favorite paintings is Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son. The wayward child, returning to his family home, is on his knees with his head resting against his father’s chest. The father is bent over with hands encircling him, at once gentle and almost motherly as well as strong and paternal. The father is not rebuking the son; he is not demanding explanations. The message that Rembrandt seems to be sending is that physical proximity is, for the moment, enough.

  The scene reminds me of Emma when she was little. After her bath, I would wrap her in a white towel, and she would lean her head against me as I rubbed her wet mass of curly locks. Neither of us needed to say anything. The smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her cheek, the certainty that I could bear her weight as she leaned into me was all we needed to be content.

  People speak of a “ministry of presence.” What better place to practice this ministry of presence than in our own families? Like the Amish young adults after rumspringa, many of us can make choices to bring family together rather than allow jobs, schooling, and chance to separate us indefinitely. And when distance does separate us, we can make efforts to come together in real time and real space to renew our ties and create new memories.

  Share family meals

  Sharing meals is an act of intimacy. It creates bonds that are essential to preserving a healthy marriage and family life. Many Amish families share three meals a day, a key factor in keeping their relationships healthy.

  If I could start life over, there are many things that I would do differently, but making family meals a priority is one thing I would not change. From a very early age, the kids were taught to help with meal preparation, set the table, pour water, and do dishes. Making dinner was not drudgery but a way of coming together. I enjoyed taking the kids with me to the grocery store; they were a help in loading and unloading groceries and I never worried about them begging for treats or misbehaving. From the Amish example I have learned that if we maintain high expectations, our children will rise to them.

  I recently met a college student who grew up with a single parent. Her mother had to work long hours, so eating dinner together was not an option. While this young woman admitted she “never ate at home,” she always ate with family. Because her grandparents lived just down the street, she was welcome at their table. And her best friend came from a family with eleven children, so another place setting at the home of her “adopted family” was almost a daily occurrence. While being raised by only one parent is not ideal, it warmed my heart to know that this very Christ-centered, cheerful young woman always knew she had a place at the table.

  Matthew and I are fortunate to be part of a group of couples who meet regularly to eat, pray, and talk about God. One of these dear couples is comprised of a physician and her artist husband, who works out of the studio behind their home. Family meals are a huge priority for both of them, but the demands of her medical practice began to take their toll. So, by mutual agreement, the husband began to cook, both as a creative outlet and as a family-building activity. At first, it was difficult for my friend to let go and allow her husband space in the kitchen. Her husband is now an accomplished chef, and—after cutting back on her medical practice—they have learned to enjoy cooking together. The result: more time together as a family and wholesome food for their bodies, minds, and spirits.

  Respect gender roles

  Just as each family situation is unique, the Amish community at large encompasses a spectrum of behaviors. We benefit most when we look at their example with an open mind and heart—especially when encountering some of their traditions that run most strongly against the mainstream today. Few would argue with the notion that Amish families are intact in part because they respect traditional gender roles.

  Believe me, I know. When I speak at seminars, I am all too aware that the immense change in gender roles over the last half century is the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about—at least, not in any depth. While some changes have been for the good, many have had unintended negative consequences. Irrespective of your personal views on feminism and the women’s movement, we cannot ignore the large part that traditional gender roles play in keeping Amish families together.

  For a year, I taught a combined kindergarten-through-third-grade class, the Almost Amish equivalent of a one-room schoolhouse. Teachers are not supposed to have favorites, but who could not love Alexander? He was a bundle of five-year-old affection, intelligence, and curiosity. When he entered the classroom each morning, I felt energized by his full-press hug.

  Although he was loving and compassionate, Alexander had one fascination that puzzled me. Every time we went to the library, he picked out books about war. Every time he drew a picture, it was of a soldier or a weapon. Every time he dictated a story to me, it involved a battle. I often played classical music while the children worked quietly. One day, Alexander asked me to play that “popping cannons” song. It took me a few minutes to figure out he meant “Pachelbel’s Canon.”

  As gently as I could, I took Alexander aside and asked him a question. “Alexander, can you explain something to me? Every time we make pictures or tell stories or pick out books, your choices always focus on war. I’m not saying that you are doing anything wrong. I just want to understand. Can you tell me why?”

  Alexander was quiet. Then he looked me right in the eye, very seriously, and said, “It’s because boys are boys and girls are girls.”

  Out of the mouth of babes! I did not understand—because boys and girls are different. Not better, not worse—just not the same. Of course, the world is filled with millions of gradations: women who have a more strongly developed “masculine side” and men who abhor war and violence. And while we embrace these many gradations, examining traditional role
s can reveal some helpful insights.

  In Amish families, men and women have different roles. Not better, not worse—just not the same. Within their spheres, both sexes are accorded great responsibility and great authority. In our age we are accustomed to looking at this with skepticism, if not derision, because of the negative connotations we have with defined gender roles—it looks to us like putting people, male or female, in a box. So what is the advantage to the Amish way of clearly defining the roles? Knowing what your role is, learning from a young age how to fill that role competently, and not having expectations turned around 180 degrees at some later date avoids much confusion, anxiety, and confrontation.

  I am not saying that we need to revoke the right to vote or that women should be seen and not heard. What I am saying are the simple facts, nothing new: children do best when they have a healthy relationship modeled by both a father and a mother; having two parents working a combined eighty or more hours a week outside the home is not good for personal or family health; and divorce is costly, with single moms and children often bearing the brunt.

  Recently, I participated in two gatherings that examined twenty-first-century Christian women’s roles. The first panel included four women who were trying to juggle full-time careers, young children, struggling marriages, and church commitments. This panel was followed by four women who had temporarily put amazing careers on hold to care for young children and support husbands with high-visibility roles in the church. I was asked to speak on a third panel—women who worked in ministry alongside their husbands.

  Later that night, I asked Matthew for his impressions. His take was exactly the same as mine—the women trying to do it all at once were stressed out. The women who saw life as a long journey, viewing each season as a blessing rather than a trial to be endured, seemed much happier. And the (older) women who also had the privilege of working alongside their husbands, appreciating the strengths they each brought to the table, seemed truly content. While most couples may not be able to serve together professionally, working in tandem at least in some capacity rather than at random with no shared plan seems a goal worth aspiring to.

  The following weekend, I was asked to help lead a retreat for college women. This time, nine women in the community were asked to talk about their journeys. Most of the women were in their thirties or forties. One was single, one was divorced, one was married without kids, and one had struggled with infertility and subsequently adopted children. All of us shared a love for Christ and a strong desire to abide in God’s will.

  Since I spoke last—and was the eldest—I used my time to summarize what I had heard from the other panelists. Through the stories of their lives, each was trying to help this young college audience avoid some of the pitfalls she had encountered. Here are some of the recurring themes they shared:

  1. God’s plans may be very different from yours.

  2. Doors that close are just as valuable as doors that open.

  3. In order to hear God’s call, you need to be still and listen.

  4. You will most likely end up miserable if you try to do everything, all at the same time.

  5. God doesn’t waste anything.

  6. Most women today lead long lives, with many seasons.

  7. Part-time work can provide a healthy balance, especially for many women with small children.

  8. The world’s view of success has nothing to do with God’s definition of success.

  9. Attitude is everything: if you view supporting your children and husband as an honor, it can be a source of tremendous joy.

  10. What you do is far less important than who you are.

  These seem to be themes that most women can relate to, regardless of life situation. While I don’t believe that the Amish hold the only answers, I do believe that their example can help us ask the right questions. Your choices regarding gender roles may differ from those of your friends and will likely change as life circumstances change. The important point is to keep seeking wisdom—from Scripture, from wise mentors, and from an ever-growing relationship with God.

  Give kids chores

  Many parents today hesitate to give chores. Because both parents often work—or the kids are being raised by single parents—they feel guilty about asking their kids to wash dishes, fold laundry, or sweep the floor. They have no clear standards for chores and do not enforce consequences. As a result, many parents grow resentful and begin to feel like their children’s “slaves.”

  The Amish, on the other hand, follow the advice of Proverbs 22:6—“Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.” Chores are an indispensable aid in helping our children become good spouses, parents, and servants of God. Most Amish teach their children to work in the home and in the garden by the time they are waist high. Everyone is a citizen of the family and each person plays a meaningful role.

  Our kids had chores, though my expectations—compared to those of the Amish—were low. They made their beds, cleaned their rooms, and dusted and vacuumed the house, but I definitely hesitated to ask them to do certain jobs, such as scrub toilets, because I did not want to deal with sulking. It was easier to do these things myself. And I did not correct enough; if they missed dusting a lampshade or the base molding, I usually let it pass. In exchanging temporary peace for long-term gain, I did not heed the advice of Hebrews 12:11: “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.”

  In Amish households, helping children grow into competent, unselfish, responsible adults is viewed as a primary responsibility of parenting. The kids learn real skills and reach adulthood well equipped to run their own households and businesses. Modeling Christian maturity is what family life is all about. Scripture is filled with wisdom about raising healthy children, but the passages I find most inspiring are those that compare God’s role as our Father with our role as earthly parents. When I feel I am getting off track, Hebrews 12:5-6 is especially helpful:

  My child, don’t make light of the LORD’s discipline,

  and don’t give up when he corrects you.

  For the LORD disciplines those he loves,

  and he punishes each one he accepts as his child.

  Taking the time to instruct our children—even when we are tired and distracted—is one of the greatest signs of love we can offer.

  One of the couples that Matthew and I consider mentors is the pastor of a ten-thousand-member congregation and his wife. While we admire their ability to work together and the beautiful ministry they have built, what we respect most are their parenting skills. Their three grown sons are working for the Kingdom—one as a physician, one as the pastor of a large and vibrant church, and one as a business manager and a church builder, literally. By working alongside their children, this couple has passed along the skills of preaching, healing, and creating—in the image of both their earthly fathers and their heavenly one. I don’t think it is an accident that all three of these sons and their families have chosen to live near my friends, so that as grandparents they can continue to invest in the next generation of servant-leaders.

  Like these friends—and the Amish—Matthew and I are committed to passing along skills to the next generation. Though your children may not follow in your vocational footsteps, the time you invest in instruction and loving discipline is certain to have positive ripple effects for decades to come.

  Keep the Sabbath

  Traditional Amish communities gather for the Sabbath every other Sunday. It is an all-day affair: four hours of worship, Communion, an abundant potluck meal, and time for conversation and socializing. Families either walk or arrive in buggies. The host family rotates throughout the community. Getting ready for the Sabbath requires the cooperation of everyone in the family.

  Early on, Clark and Emma became the biggest defenders of our family Sabbath. We cleaned the house together on Saturday. They got their
homework done by Saturday evening. On Sunday we walked to a church a few houses down, and then we “put it in park” the rest of the day. We chose not to go to stores or text or e-mail. We read. We took God-ordained naps. We went on walks.

  Sabbath keeping is also a central part of my Christian testimony. Raised in a Jewish home, I had always believed in God, but it was not until about a year after we started keeping the Sabbath that I came to know Jesus.

  One of my favorite Sabbath traditions was to take a hike up a small mountain near our home. I used the time to talk with God and turn over the successes and failures of my week to him. One Sunday afternoon, I started on my walk later than usual. The view from the top of this mountain is surprisingly vast—about forty miles up and down the river valley, a pastoral landscape of dairy farms and white-steepled churches. Seeing the face of God in his creation never failed to calm me.

  On this particular Sunday, by the time I came down the mountain it was getting dark and had started to drizzle. Halfway home, I had my “road to Damascus” encounter. Though it did not knock me to the ground or blind me, it was just as transformational. Quite literally, I met a living, breathing Jesus traveling alongside me. As we walked together, he said he would never leave me. And he never has.

  While I cannot promise you a Paul-like experience, I can assure you that honoring the Sabbath will change your family in unexpected and positive ways. Jesus told us that humanity was not meant to save the Sabbath; rather, the Sabbath is meant to save humanity. In the midst of the Civil War, President Lincoln said, “As we keep or break the Sabbath day, we nobly save or meanly lose the last and the best hope by which mankind arises.” The Sabbath, as the Amish well know, is also meant to save the family, offering the time and space needed for keeping relationships healthy and intact.

  In our technology driven, 24/7 world, families need the Sabbath more than ever. God’s rhythm is life giving. Sabbath is a time to refill the well. It is a gift that you and your family are invited to open fifty-two times a year. It is the highlight of the week and will change your family’s attitude and interactions during the other six days. Keeping the Sabbath saved our family—in more than one sense of the word—and it can save yours, too.