Saturday, I wrote about being in the middle of people’s legitimate fears and people’s legitimate faith, a position I have never been in before and find challenging and unnerving at the same time.

I don’t run from things; if it develops to get involved in this issue or further involved, I will. If someone better comes along, that’s fine. But I’m not joining the argument; I’m just writing about it.

Some of my Amish friend and neighbor Moise Miller’s neighbors and friends and people in the area – all admirers –  have contacted me to say they are worried about the possibility of accidents between truck, motorcycle, and Amish carts in these sometimes dark and winding hills.

They asked me to pass their concerns along to him, which I did. Everyone said the Amish were adding much to the community and are glad they are here.

My friend and neighbor Moise Miller say he has done what can be done in his faith to make the buggies safer by putting reflecting strips and kerosene lamps on the buggies at night.

I offered to scout online for brighter and more colorful things, but that didn’t work out. He doesn’t want brighter or more colorful things.

He is always willing to talk about it doing more, but he is candid in saying he has gone as far as he can go. I don’t know who gets to make the final decision about the carts, and it isn’t my business.

The Amish horse and buggy, writes Donald B. Kraybill in The Riddle Of Amish Culture, “are the archetypes of Amish identity.”

As society turned to cars in the early twentieth century, the horse became the prime symbol of Amish life by default, their most visible way of claiming identity. Everyone who sees a plain cart knows Amish people are living nearby.

Although the Amish do not worship the horse with cultic rituals or fetish charms, the cart has become a sacred symbol, as the Cross is for Christians, the Star of David for Jews, and the Star and Crescent is for Muslims.

Since the Amish don’t defend their positions or engage in public relations. More than any other single thing, the cart speaks to the outside world of who they are and what they believe.

It sets them apart; it is their way of talking to us.

The buggy, like everything Amish, is meant to be plain, simple, unadorned, and humble. This carries their message without arguing, proselytizing, shouting, and lobbying.

There have been several accidents involving cars and Amish buggies in our area, one injured four Amish people. Since then, I’ve been getting messages asking me to pass along people’s concerns.

I have done that and will do that down the road if there are more.

I read the messages to him; I don’t comment on them.

As you might imagine, I got messages from every place where the Amish live, from the very adaptable people who live near the Lancaster Amish – Moise calls them the “upscale people” – and from anxious admirers of the Amish who fear for their safety and the safety of others who have trouble spotting their buggies at night.

Some residents get angry when they hear the Amish have done what they can do and can’t go further, at least right now. Many had stories of accidents to report.

The carts are a sacred symbol of Amish identity and individuality. The Lancaster Amish and some other sects deck their carts with battery-powered lanterns, color reflector strips, even year-round Christmas lights so they can be easily spotted.

The Old Amish – also called the Swartentruber Amish – have agreed to put reflector strips (four) and a kerosene lamp on the left rear side of the cart. That was a huge concession for them, and the state of New York and the local police agreed to it.

Some people here say that is not enough to make them identifiable to people at night, especially on a busy highway known for speeders, heavy trucks, speeders, and people who drink when they drive.

The conflict is a metaphor for the struggle between the Amish and the rest of us to balance change, convenience, prosperity, and technology with community and simplicity.

The Amish have taken one path, we have taken another, and sometimes these two realities collide – the safety issue is one of them.

I got many messages, but one of the best was from a man in upstate New York (way upstate) named Montsweag Adams.

I thought he outlined the issue as clearly, fairly, and poignantly as is possible.

His message to me on Sunday morning:

“Jon, My guess is Mr. Miller is Swartzentruber Amish ~ the most conservative sect of all. Amish from the same part of upper NY state moved to my village 5 or 6 years ago. They have enriched our lives incredibly. Like Moise, their buggies have white reflective strips and kerosene lanterns. They will not use orange triangles nor other suggestions made by our town officials. On these hilly roads here, it is not easy to see them at night, and there have been several car/buggy accidents due to this failure to light their buggies properly. It is terrifying to come close to an accident when you cannot see them, trust me. The Amish believe ” God makes no mistakes” and accept what life deals them. I cannot accept the risk to me in that way, and my feeling is that any vehicle on roadways needs lighting that meets current standards. I find myself reluctant to drive at night and on certain roads I have used for years as I am fearful of an accident.”

Mr. Adams summed up the issue and its complexity clearly.

Many people tell me they have little trouble identifying Amish carts at night, but they all conceded they have lived here, know the roads, and are careful not to speed or drink.

We have many tourists this time of year, and sadly, a lot of drunken drivers, partying teenagers, and people who speed their way to Lake George and Kennedy.

The Amish faith is powerful and jarring, and deep on this issue.

Mr. Adams is correct. The Amish do accept what life deals them, they do accept risk on behalf of their values and community they will always try to negotiate agreements, but on issues like this, they will only go so far, and Moise believes he has gone far as he can.

Our culture has been taught to be phobic; I get warnings about things almost every day. The Amish don’t do warnings.

Mois has entered a dialogue with me on this subject, and I will continue to pursue it with him. He doesn’t have a lot to say about it.

No law can compel him to put brightly colored ornaments on his black cart; I believe he would go to jail long before putting colored reflectors on his spare black carts.

In much of our culture, children and their safety come before anything else. In some elements of the Amish culture, God and the teachings of Jesus come before anything else, and their scripture has taught them to be plain and trust in God and Jesus first.

That is the faith, and the discipline they believe has helped them survive for five hundred years when almost all of the small communities in the world have perished.

I’m not God, and I’m not going to play God. Moise is my friend; I would love to help in this discussion; I believe in the lost art of compromise and negotiation.

I’m not going to persuade him or fight with him or apologize or make excuses for him. Our friendship is apart from this.

We will take our rides together in the coming weeks to see how these carts look to me from the rear at night. If people ask me to pass along messages of concern, I will, but I won’t endorse them are disagree with them.

Moise is a big boy; he loves this new community and has no desire to make anyone unhappy or hurt anyone. He will have to make his own decisions in keeping with his faith and his fellow church members and leaders.

I am not permitted inside that circle; I have no authority or write to tell them what to do.

My moral authority has always been the moral scholar Hannah Arendt, who escaped her concentration camp to come to America and study totalitarianism and moral decision-making.

“What I propose,” she wrote in  The Human Condition, “is nothing more than to think about what we are doing.” That, she said, is how moral decisions are made.

I’ll do my best to keep this communication and conversation going; I believe that good faith and listening and talking will get people where they want and need to go.

If I pushed Moise to do something he is deeply and spiritually opposed to doing, I would accomplish nothing but losing a friend. I don’t see how that helps anybody.

If I can be useful, it will be by urging people – including Moise –  to think about what they are doing.

Moise is a deeply moral man; I believe he has enough within him to understand what people ask of him and judge what is moral – what is right and what is wrong.

He has been doing that all of his life.