The Question of Self-Respect
Our final reflection on Amish forgiveness extends far beyond the events at Nickel Mines and far beyond the Amish themselves. Some critics have suggested that forgiveness can be a self-loathing act wrapped in sentimental garb. Jeffrie G. Murphy, for instance, has argued that vindictiveness, while a dangerous passion, has too often received “bad press.” Murphy contends that some vindictive feelings reflect a healthy degree of self-respect.
This critique goes to the heart of forgiveness. If forgiveness means giving up resentment that one has every right to feel, then forgiveness is by definition self-renouncing. The question Murphy raises, then, is really this: When does self-renunciation become emotionally damaging to a forgiving person? This complicated question cannot be answered in a few short paragraphs. Suffice it to say that Murphy’s observations are important, and that we agree that there are times when self-renunciation is an improper response to evil.
There have been times in Amish life when the church’s understanding of forgiveness has led to sad consequences and multiplied the pain of victims. In 2005, the periodical
Legal Affairs
published an account of sexual abuse in several Amish communities, abuse typically perpetrated by the fathers and brothers of young girls. In addition to detailing the abuse, author Nadya Labi records the actions—or in many cases the inactions—of Amish church leaders. In particular, Labi cites the leaders’ willingness to “forgive” the abusers, which in Labi’s article means pardoning offenders who acknowledge their sins and verbalize remorse. In these cases, Labi writes, the Amish “ethic of forgive and forget” often enables offenders to continue their abusive practices.
We explore disciplinary procedures within the Amish church in more detail in Chapter Eleven. Ideally, church sanctions should punish wayward behavior and bring it to a halt. In reality, Amish disciplinary procedures are often ineffective with chronic behaviors related to alcohol abuse or sexual abuse. Moreover, some Amish leaders are reluctant to report illegal behavior to outside authorities, and women, taught to submit to church authority, may fear reprisals if they contact police themselves. In these situations, perpetrators may go unpunished and return to their abusive behaviors. Because church decisions to pardon remorseful offenders must be endorsed by church members, victims may feel enormous pressure to swallow their pain and get on with life.
7
This problem of pressured forgiveness is not unique to the Amish, of course. In
The Cry of Tamar,
Pamela Cooper-White decries the widespread tendency of Christian churches to pressure victims of sexual abuse to forgive their offenders too quickly. “All too often,” asserts Cooper-White, “survivors of violence are retraumatized by pastors and other well-meaning helpers who press forgiveness upon them.” In these cases, “if the survivor tries to forgive, she can only fail, and her failure will reinforce all the self-blame and shame of her original abuse.” This tendency is especially strong in Christian communities that, like the Amish, place a heavy emphasis on forgiveness.
Although the Amish girls and boys who survived the school shooting are not victims of domestic violence, some observers may wonder if these children have felt a similar pressure from their families and church to forgive Roberts before they were ready. We cannot answer this question definitively, but our impression is that no, they have not. When we inquired about her surviving children and their thoughts about Roberts, one parent told us, “We explain to them what forgiveness is, but we don’t make them forgive.” Continuing, she said, “You can’t make someone forgive. It takes time.” Perhaps because of her conversations with English mental health professionals, perhaps for other reasons, this Amish woman seemed attuned to the counsel of mainstream psychology: those who care for the abused, especially abused children, should not force them to arrive at any place of emotional resolution before they are ready.
Of course, it is also important to recognize the differences between situations of domestic abuse and the Nickel Mines school shooting. Unlike domestic violence, the evil perpetrated at Nickel Mines ended when the gunman took his own life. Also, because of Roberts’s suicide, there was no pressure on victims to reconcile quickly with their offender. In fact, when we pressed Amish people on how they could forgive Roberts so quickly, some of them noted that it was easier because he was dead.
Did this swift forgiveness include an element of self-renunciation? Of course, it did. Forgiveness involves giving up feelings that one has a right to feel. Still, we believe that the Amish willingness to give up the right to be bitter about the shooting was not self-loathing. It may, in fact, be the opposite. In
Forgive for Good,
Fred Luskin, director of the Stanford University Forgiveness Project, writes that forgiveness means becoming “a hero instead of a victim in the story you tell.” Granted, we heard no claims of heroism when we listened to Amish people talk about forgiving Charles Roberts, but given their understanding of the Christian life, we do see some parallels with Luskin’s assertion. In Amish life, offering forgiveness places one on the side of the martyrs, indeed, on the side of God. It is the spiritually courageous thing to do.
This does not mean, as we’ve noted, that the Amish of Nickel Mines found forgiveness easy. Still, forgiveness probably comes easier for the Amish than it does for most Americans. Genuine forgiveness takes a lot of work—absorbing the pain, extending empathy to the offender, and purging bitterness—even
after
a decision to forgive has been made. Amish people must do that hard work like anyone else, but unlike most people, an Amish person begins the task atop a three-hundred-year-old tradition that teaches the love of enemies and the forgiveness of offenders. An Amish person has a head start on forgiveness long before an offense ever occurs, because spiritual forebears have pitched in along the way. Like a barn raising, the hard work of forgiveness is easier when everyone lends a hand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
What About Shunning?
Some outsiders think that shunning is barbaric.
—AMISH CARPENTER
D
espite the widespread acclaim for the grace displayed at Nickel Mines, some observers thought they saw a glaring inconsistency in the Amish way of life. “Forgiveness—but Not for All,” proclaimed a newspaper editorial four days after the shooting. The writer described a woman’s decision to leave her Amish community to marry an outsider, only to be ostracized by her own family and friends. “A terrible killer might be forgiven,” the writer observed, but “a woman in love with an English man could not be.” The commentary then asked a pointed question: “Where is forgiveness for her?”
It’s an important question to consider. Many non-Amish people are troubled by the Amish practice of shunning, which stigmatizes offenders in the community. How can the forgiving Amish be so judgmental of their own people? The answer lies in the distinction between
forgiveness
and
pardon
.
Amish forgiveness, like forgiveness in the outside world, can be offered regardless of whether an offender confesses, apologizes, or expresses remorse. Extended by the victim to the offender, it is an
unconditional
gift. Pardon, on the other hand, at least in the Christian tradition, requires repentance. The Amish believe that the church is responsible to God to hold members accountable to their baptismal vows. When a member transgresses the
Ordnung,
the church’s regulations, he or she is given several chances to repent. Upon making a confession and accepting discipline, a member receives pardon from the church and is restored to full fellowship. If the person does not confess, the Amish, drawing on particular New Testament texts, practice shunning, with the goal of restoring an offender to full fellowship. Although shunning may seem inconsistent with forgiveness, it logically follows from the Amish view of spiritual care.
Members Meetings and Pardon
In addition to their semiannual Council Meetings, Amish church districts periodically hold Members Meetings at the conclusion of regular Sunday services. These meetings also encourage forgiveness, but their primary focus is on pardoning wayward members. If someone confesses a sin and accepts the church’s discipline, the other members reinstate him or her into fellowship. Unlike unconditional forgiveness, pardon has conditions: confession and discipline. Members Meetings emphasize the church’s authority to restore a member to full communion within the church—if the member shows remorse. Drawing on Matthew 18:18-20, the Amish see the decision to pardon as one of the church’s key responsibilities. In some ways, this authority parallels that of a Roman Catholic priest, who can pardon, or
absolve,
a repentant parishioner of sin.
The Amish believe that in Matthew 18 Jesus authorizes the church to make binding decisions about religious matters, decisions that will be endorsed in heaven. To paraphrase verse 18, whatever the church decides about membership on earth will be ratified in heaven. The sacred nature of church decision making is also underscored in verse 20, when Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” Given the importance of verses 18-20 in Anabaptist beliefs, historian C. Arnold Snyder says that the
gathered church,
meeting in the presence of Christ, is the only real sacrament in the Anabaptist tradition. This view of the church, which for the Amish consists of the thirty or so families in their local district, infuses Members Meetings with moral gravity.
The moral order of Amish life has two dimensions. Some ethical understandings flow directly from scripture: prohibitions against lying, cheating, divorce, sexual immorality—even “beating a horse, which is forbidden in the Old Testament,” according to an Amish historian. Other moral guidelines, however, are derived from biblical principles that need to be interpreted and applied to daily life. For instance,
Ordnung
regulations on matters such as clothing, technology use, and leisure activity emerge from the church’s discernment of the principle of “separation from the world.” The church disciplines members both for violating direct biblical teaching, such as that against adultery, and for spurning guidelines such as those that forbid purchasing a car or wearing fashionable clothing.
Although the Amish view Members Meetings with solemn respect, most of them are also aware of the fallibility of their church. They realize it consists of people who are prone to sin yet sincerely seek to carry out the will of God on earth. Violations of the
Ordnung
are always seen as sinful, but not because the
Ordnung
is perfect or an exact replication of divine will. Transgressions of the
Ordnung
are considered sinful because, to the Amish, they indicate self-centeredness and rebelliousness—in short, a disobedient heart.
The Amish view of the
Ordnung
in some ways parallels athletes’ views of sports uniforms. Although athletes would never claim that the specific colors of their uniform make them better players or that wearing the uniform is a substitute for skillful play, they do believe that in order to avoid confusion it is absolutely necessary that team members wear their assigned uniforms and not those of the opposing team. Players cannot ignore the uniform requirement, even though they would not say that the uniform itself is necessary to win. What is important, in athletes’ minds, is that all sides respect the distinctions that the uniforms represent.
Similarly, the Amish do not equate the
Ordnung
with divine law. The sin in any given violation relates not to owning a prohibited item (a television, for example) but to the fact that only a self-centered person would flout the
Ordnung
. The self-centeredness, not the television itself, is seen as the sin. Minister Amos said, “I know it doesn’t make sense to outsiders; they think, ‘What’s the matter with a car?’ Well, nothing. It’s the giving up part.
That’s
what’s important.” A bishop explained, “A car is not immoral; the problem is, where will it lead the next generation?”
The Amish emphasis on giving up things not explicitly forbidden in the Bible might surprise many religious people. Indeed, many outsiders would see some violations of the
Ordnung
as signs of free thinking, not self-centeredness, of healthy individuality, not sinfulness. Such a difference simply points to the deep distinction between Amish culture and mainstream American values. For most Amish, it is not particularly important what the
Ordnung
prohibits, or even if the prohibitions were to change next year. The obedience or disobedience revealed by a person’s attitude is the issue, not the infallibility of the church.
The church demonstrates its authority at Members Meetings in a variety of ways. In some instances, a wayward member may confess a transgression of the
Ordnung
. In other instances, an out-of-order member who refuses to confess a wrong may be “subpoenaed,” in the words of one member, to give an account of his or her questionable behavior. After an individual confesses and submits to the church’s discipline, the congregation pardons the wayward person and restores him or her to full fellowship by a vote of all members. Offenders unwilling to express remorse, to give themselves up to God and the gathered community, may face excommunication.