Lessons From the Amish

West of Strasbourg, my home city on the French-German border, lie the Vosges mountains. Unlike the Alps or the Rockies, but like the Appala­chians, they present no towering peaks: The centu­ries have worn them down into a magical landscape of undulating hills and valleys. In the Middle Ages — indeed, to the end of the Thirty Years War — they were the epitome of political decentralization, dot­ted with hundreds of castles and dependent villages under the aegis of petty and competing territorial lords. The fairytale villages and the castle ruins con­tribute mightily today to the charm of the area for locals and tourists alike.

Ideologically and religiously, the Vosges have also been characterized by decentralization: a region of the out-of-the-ordinary, the mystical, the unique. The area is rich in folklore, centering on semi-transcendent beings (giants, ogres, fairies, and their ilk). The medieval monastery of Sainte Odile is a kind of local Lourdes, with emphasis upon miraculous healings. In the obscure village of Waldersbach in the late 18th century, Lutheran pastor Jean Frederic Oberlin set forth his remarkable educational techniques for the religious (later, secular) instruction of children. And in those same mountains the Amish sect developed one of its most important centers of influence prior to resettlement in America.

On the occasion of the 300th anniversary of the Amish schism from mainline Anabaptism, a ma­jor international symposium on the Amish contri­bution has just taken place in the Alsatian village of Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines (August 19-22, 1993). This Inter­national Amish Colloquium gives us an opportunity to consider the Amish phenomenon and to draw some theological lessons from a fascinating byway in the history of Christian thought.

The roots of Alsatian Anabaptism lay in the Swiss radical pacifists of Zurich at the beginning of the 16th century. Ejected by Swiss political authori­ties, these Anabaptists (so-called, of course, because they rejected infant baptism in favor of adult con­version) spread up the Rhine as far as the Nether­lands. Their settlements were invariably rural, so as to avoid the temptations, pressures, and persecu­tions of city life. The Alsace was an especially hospi­table location, owing to the fact that Strasbourg was a free city of the Holy Roman Empire; its dependen­cies were therefore less subject to hierarchical po­litical and ecclesiastical control. Many of the dissi­dents settled in the valley of Liepvre and eventually took over land abandoned during the Thirty Years War. The result was a thriving agricultural commu­nity, characterized by industry, thrift, and the de­velopment of advanced farming techniques.

The worldly success of the brethren was not, however, to the liking of the more radical members of the sect. One Jacob Amann denounced mixed marriages and extra-community contacts. He in­sisted on the use of the Berne (Swiss-German) dia­lect, refused all military service and the holding of public office, and required the wearing of austere clothing and (for men only!) beards. In 1693 came the schism. The Rhenish Anabaptists split roughly into eastern and western groups: those east of the Rhine, in the German Palatinate, continuing as mainline Mennonites; those west of the Rhine, in the Alsace, becoming Amish (followers of Amann). In 1712, Louis XIV expelled most of the latter from the Vosges; those who remained emigrated to the U.S. (especially Pennsylvania) in the 19th century, to avoid new conscription laws. Today, no Amish remain in the Alsace. As for the Mennonites, they now total only some 3,000 in all of France.

What lessons can be drawn from the Amish phenomenon? Here are a few miscellaneous (but, hopefully, pregnant) suggestions.

First: Theological conservatism can be com­bined with the spirit of innovation in everyday af­fairs. The Amish were hopelessly reactionary in their religious lifestyle, but forward-looking and innova­tive in their agricultural operations. For example, while the non-Amish peasant was still using the sickle or reaping-hook, the Amish adopted the scythe. We are continually told today that religious conservatism necessarily produces stagnation in all areas of life. This is nonsense, as the Amish demon­strate. Indeed, it can be just the opposite: Unwaver­ing belief in divine verities may give the freedom and incentive to serve the Lord with greater zeal and openness to new methods.

Second: Religious history tends to repeat itself. The Anabaptists became rich because of their single-minded, spiritual focus on quality in their agricul­tural endeavors; this led to a reforming movement (the Amish) in reaction to the wealth that had been acquired. The parallel is very close with the medi­eval monastic Orders, which received legacies from secular princes in proportion to their reputation for self-denial and piety; but as they became wealthy, they “lost their first love” (or were perceived to have done so) and reforming Orders split from them to restore primitive simplicity and spirituality. We must always ask ourselves: What stage have we reached in our personal or collective ministries? How can we guard against counter-productive schisms?

Third: The Amish force us to consider anew Charles Williams’s distinction between the Way of Negation (“Neither is this Thou”) and the Way of Affirmation (“This also is Thou”) — those two fundamental themes running through all of church history. The Amish chose — in spades — the Way of Negation. Separation was their byword: literally, by settling in out-of-the-way, rural areas, far removed from urban centers of influence; symbolically, by their archaic language, dress, and lifestyle. For them, personal “holiness” (as they defined it) took precedence over witness to an unbelieving world. In every church body, there are those who “think Amish”: To them, reaching the lost is less consequential, in the ultimate scheme of things, than the sanctification of the believer. Ought one not, however, remind oneself from time to time of the biblical value-system? Our Lord’s final word to the church was not, nota bene, “Be thou sanctified and seek personal holiness,” but “Go and preach the gospel to every creature.” In a fallen world, the Amish can teach us a great deal both by example and counter-example.