I’ve written frequently and intensely about the Amish, so I am not surprised that several people have e-mailed me to ask if the Amish have responded to my foot surgery and recovery in any meaningful way.
“I’m sure Moise has stopped by offer his help,” wrote one reader who has followed the blog closely. “Maybe the Amish will bring you and Maria some dinner this week,” suggested another.
These are exciting questions, and the answers to both are the same: no and no.
This speaks to the reality of and boundaries of friendship between outsiders like me (“English,” as the Amish call us) and this remarkable community.
I’ll try my best to explain, as I have become both a scholar and witness of Amish life and I love trying to understand and explain them, as challenging as it can be.
The truth is, most of the English know nothing more about the Amish than how oddly they dress and how cool it is to see horse buggies trotting around. People also love their pies and cookies.
The idea of this exotic, plain, devout community is more powerful than most of what the English offer the world these days.
From my research, I understood that when Amish people start new settlements, as they have done here, most residents welcome them.
They are exotic, law-abiding, and often revive abandoned farmland. They ride around in iconic buggies. They wear odd hats and bonnets.
Usually, flashpoints occur after a year or so.
Residents complain that the buggies are unsafe and poorly lit; others (bikers and joggers, and walkers) find the horse manure on local roads disturbing.
People see the Amish as friendly but quickly discover that they can also be aloof. They grow and make most of what they need and reject local schools for their children.
People expect more from them than they can give. I accept what they can give. They accept what I can give.
They are religious but build no churches or cathedrals, hire no clergy and rotate services among community members. It becomes clear that they are different from us and never defend or explain themselves. Nor will they promote conflict and argument.
The Amish spend years patiently working out issues until some solution is found.
Some of their new neighbors discover that the stand-offishness of the Amish is a primary reason for their survival, not a personal rejection. Others resent it. More than anything, the Amish fear the ways of the English affecting their children and corroding their communities.
Initially, people bring gifts to welcome Amish families. Few of the gifts are ever seen again. Their church preaches simplicity and frugality; they only acquire what they need and happily suffer for what they don’t have.
They hang almost nothing on their walls.
They have a Berlin Wall around their interior lives. The Amish are experienced at moving and insulating themselves from the world beyond.
New settlements quickly find friendly neighbors (people like me) who can drive them, make telephone calls, and shop for them.
Often these people (like me) become friends, but it is a friendship with limits that must be understood and respected if the relationship is to survive.
More often, these relationships do not deepen.
In my community, ignoring people who are sick and in need is a sacrilege. In the Amish world, turning away from fellow church members is the sacrilege; getting a family entangled in the troubles of English families is also discouraged, if not forbidden.
People often talk of being tolerant of those who are different. But it doesn’t happen very often.
The Amish are perhaps the oldest surviving small community in Western Civilization, if not the world. They are 500 years old and doubling in population every 20 years. They are well worth understanding.
The answer to my readers’ questions is simple: The Amish have not responded to my illness at all or in any way. No cards, no food, no visits, no pies are cookies, no stops of any kind.
This would be upsetting, surprising, cold, even heartless in the English culture.
Almost all of my friends have messaged me, called me, texted me, or asked if they can help after my operation – they offer to bring food, clean up, run errands, relieve Maria so she can work.
Friends and family check in at times like these; it’s almost sacrilegious not to.
People all over the country – including some places overseas – have messaged me, offering to help if I need anything.
My Amish friends and neighbors have been silent, as I knew they would be and must be.
But my Amish friends are not cold or heartless. I value my friendship with them greatly, as is apparent. I’ve worked hard to earn their trust.
I’ve done my homework and read about these people, talked to them observed them. I wanted the friendship and worked hard for it. I love it as a writer and also as a human being. The family is very special to me.
But to be friends with the Amish is very different from being friends with the English or with the culture outside.
I realized right away that if I wished to be friends with Moise and his family – and we are friends – there are several things I need to understand and accept. Firm boundaries make friendship healthy to me.
With the Amish, I know what to expect and what never to expect.
Most of the friendships I’ve lost in my life have ended because of boundary issues.
The most crucial boundary with the Amish is accepting this: while I am friends with the Millers, I understand that I am their most significant and feared enemy and the greatest danger to their culture.
They believe an important reason for their survival is that they keep outsider cultures and people like me and our ways of life at a distance.
I used to joke that you can always get into an Amish kitchen, but rarely, if ever, the house. I recently made it into their home, and I appreciated it as the compliment it was.
Last week, I told Barbara, Moise, and the girls that I was having surgery for a while and would be unavailable to drive them or get ice or ice cream or pizza or buy things they needed online.
On the day before my surgery, I dropped off a new vegetable display for the shed (my gift, in exchange for some necklaces), new boots for Moise (my contribution), and flowers for Barbara.
Moise joked that I could stop by if I wished, and he would take care of my spur (I can’t say for sure that he was kidding.) Barbara said she hoped my surgery went well. One of the girls asked me when I would be back.
Nobody mentioned the new display, or the boots, or the ice cream and pizza. Nobody mentioned the surgery.
It isn’t that the Amish are not generous or caring. It isn’t that they don’t care for me. They rush to help and care for each other all the time; helping one another is a central tenet of the Amish faith.
They also believe one’s fate and life are in God’s hands, not theirs. They quite sincerely leave foot surgeries to him.
But another and equally powerful Amish teaching is caution about mixing too much with outsiders or getting their children too close to outsider cultures like mine. I do most of the things the Amish choose not to do or are forbidden to go.
The Millers love me, but they also fear me. I am, in many ways, the embodiment of evil as well as love.
The Amish rarely go to doctors or agree to non-emergency surgeries, and when they do need intensive care, they mostly go to Mexico. The church pays all the costs.
They don’t drive or use computers, join Facebook or Twitter, shop online, make telephone calls, purchase clothes, or heat their houses with oil heaters or electric systems.
They don’t take photographs or permit close-up pictures of their faces.
They can’t borrow money, fall into debt, hire lawyers, or file lawsuits.
They won’t sign up to any power grid or use electric devices. They won’t be vaccinated for anything.
They won’t use cell phones for any reason. They won’t take their dogs to vets.
They don’t take pictures or purchase their food – they grow it.
The Amish are different from us. They are really different.
Because I am close to the family, I am a likely source of infection. Because we like, even love, one another, I am all the more dangerous.
The Amish are cautious about what they wish to know about us, and what we wish to know about them.
They refuse to follow the weather or watch any news. If they want to know about what is happening outside, they ask me. They’ve asked me twice.
If they asked me about the surgery, I would have to bring in the whole idea of American notions of doctoring or health care, and the girls knew better than even to ask me any of the details of it.
To come over and bring food or help in the house or get too involved in my operation would be a violation of their quite clear boundaries.
By being as comfortable as we are with one another, the family has already pushed the boundaries of their conservative community.
I know some of the most devout elders have raised some concerns about me and my cameras.
I appreciate Moise’s loyalty and commitment to our friendship.
If I expected him to follow the social manners and etiquette of the English world, I would be kissing this precious friendship goodbye. I cannot imagine Moise coming to the farmhouse with dinner for Maria and me.
If I were Amish, he would have come already or sent Barbara and the girls.
I think the measure of a friendship like this is tolerance, respect, and understanding. And I am honoring boundaries.
I’m not going to be bothered because no one in the family has sent me a card, brought me dinner, or asked after my health.
I don’t show the girls Iphone photos anymore. I bring them very few books.
To Barbara and Moise and their children, my foot is in the hands of Jesus and his father, not mine, and suffering is sanctity, not something to pity. Jesus suffered a lot more than me.
Here’s what happens next: In a couple of weeks, I’ll drive up the hill and asked if they need anything. The girls will rush out to the car yelling “Grandpop,” and Moise will mention how comfortable his new books are (or aren’t). Nobody will ever say a word about my foot or the vegetable stand.
We’ll pick up where we left off. God will have decided to heal my foot, and nothing more needs to be said about it.
I like to give things to people, from the Mansion residents to the refugees to the Amish. No strings attached – none. I do these things for me because they make me feel good. In that way, they are selfish.
So nobody – certainly including me – need be surprised that my Amish friend is not riding into the back yard in their buggies with tonight’s dinner.
There will be no get-well cards in the mailbox—no flowers for the dining room table.
Our friendship depends on it. In the end, I respect their decisions and traditions; they come to them honestly and faithfully. I don’t need cards.
Jon, it is quite obvious the Millers are taking advantage of you..Look at all you do and the money you spend on them and they don’t even care enough about you to send a card? friendship is a two way street…they are plain and simply using you for all they can get out of you…driving them for fee…buying his boots, ice cream, ice, vegetable stands, etc…remember when you drove Barbara to pick up her daughter and she said she didn’t have any money for food? and you provided it? they are playing you for a fool…don’t be one…see it for what it is…take the money you spend on them and buy a life insurance policy for Maria….she really does love you..
Kedra, thanks for writing. We are very far apart on this.
I don’t judge our friendship in terms of money, as you do. There are no strings attached to the things I do to help the Amish and none on their friendship with me.
I don’t what I do for money or other rewards.
I hope that’s not how you view your friends. I do not ever expect the family to abandon their values or defy their faith because they owe me. That is not friendship, That’s no different than buying furniture. My friendship is not a business transaction. I know Americans worship money more than anything, but I’m not there yet.
P.S. It’s offensive to me to be told to buy insurance for Maria and also demeaning to her. She has good insurance and pays for it herself and has ever since I’ve known her. The love for Maria and me is not your business, not even by the vulgar and rude laws of social media. I don’t need any guidance from you.
I am having a hard time making the link from being told Maria loves me to my friendship with the Amish. This may be a new record for arrogance from strangers online.
I assume you think you are trying to protect me, but mostly, you are just insulting my intelligence, as well as hers. Best, Jon
You may not know the answer but your statement that “the church pays” for medical care. So by church do you mean the congregation? Or is there an Amish(fund) organization that covers it.
Jim, to explore how the Amish support one another, I’d recommend reading The Amish by Donald Kraybill, Karen Johnson – Weiner, and Steven M. Nolt. You can also read back through my blog posts, I’ve covered the subject many times. I’m sorry, but I can’t repeat it all to every new reader on FB, it’s a fascinating subject.
Interesting!
very thoughtful and beautifully expressed post. *recognizing* boundaries is the important key………and you have that key in hand. Sounds like your post surgical recovery is going well and I’m very glad to hear this.
Susan M
Indeed. Thank you.
Jon, I feel like you’re talking about the true definition of friendship – respecting others’ beliefs and boundaries without judgement or expectations. And in recovery land, expectations are called “resentments under construction.” You have avoided the normal pitfalls of friendship by abiding by these thoughtful principles. Thanks again for your insight!
“The Millers love me, but they also fear me. I am, in many ways, the embodiment of evil as well as love.”
Your acceptance of of and respect for the Amish culture in this post is a thought-provoking read on this weekend. Whether we celebrate Columbus Day or Indigenous People Day on Monday, we can examine our own cultural assumptions, judgements and actions.
Acceptance of difference without wanting to change ‘the other’, what a concept. 🙂
Re the amish maybe the next time they need your cell phone , car rides to albany or gifts you will think twice. These people are smart getting what they want. Beware of too much giving.
Donna, I sincerely appreciate your concern for me, I would suggest that I am neither naive nor stupid in my dealings with the Millers, I’ve lived a long time and seen a great deal of life. The Amish are getting what they want because they believe in their lives and follow their faith.
I understand as former police and political writer that cynicism and suspicion are the benchmarks of our time, but I don’t think your characterization of these very honest and decent people is either fair or accurate. I don’t think I need, at age 74, to be warned off of my friends. I do appreciate your civility and your worry.
Thanks for the explanation, makes sense, I have a question, how is it okay for Amish to enjoy the benefits of English technology etc if it is so negative to them?
A limited use of technology helps them survive as a community – is is essential in our world. They don’t hate technology, they want to keep it away from their children, they are well aware of what has happened to our Facebook and Twitter, and Instagram children, many of whom live online and no longer know how to speak to people, even to their own friends.
I find their children remarkable, most English children I know ignore me or have no idea how to talk to me, or to even see me. The Amish children look me in the eye, talk to me and listen. I have no right to tell these people how to live their lives or to judge them for the compromises they need to make to survive. They do what they have to do to stay alive and functioning.
Their children are powerful testaments to the benefits of their way of life. I think the hypocrisy for me comes from thinking our way of living is the only way to live. We have ruined countless lives by our thoughtless surrender to technology, we have especially failed our children. Rather than take responsibility for our mistakes we prefer to judge other people and tell them what to do.
It has always surprised me that you are so willing to drive with unvaccinated people. The Amish do go into businesses as you have written about, so they are not isolated.
. They are at extremely high risk for Covid, it has not surprisingly devastated several Amish communities in Pa. Like most people that choose not to be vaccinated, they do seek health care when they become sick. I guess it’s in God’s hands until they get sick, then suddenly, it’s not anymore, it’s in the hands of health care workers. So unbelievably burned out and frustrated here and this population is part of the problem. It makes me sad for them, and for me and all my coworkers.
I understand your position, Anne, especially as a nurse. Covid is almost unheard of in the Amish population, perhaps because they stay away from crowds of English. I don’t feel sad for them, they do believe it’s in God’s hands, and I don’t have a way to discard their faith. Thanks for the note and for caring. I just got my booster shot two weeks ago, and I often wish I could leave all of these decisions to God. We have to make our own judgments about that. I love the nurses who care for me, every one of them would applaud you.
My heart goes out to all health care workers. I have MS (plus other problems) and my partner has cancer. Neither one of us has gotten the medical care we need. I don’t believe there are any reasons for people not to get vaccinated and not to wear medical grade masks. This is not a political issue, the flu, a hoax, or anything else. It’s a public health crisis. And it’s everyone’s responsibility to take measures to protect themselves and others. I will get my booster because I have no choice. Thank you again.
Thank you Jean, and good luck..
Your description of the terms of your friendship with the Amish reminds me of Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall,” which describes the action (and thoughts) of two neighbors who are working together to mend their stone wall which separates their two properties. In one line the narrator says that they are so different, each one believing that their position is better: “He is pine and I am apple orchard.” Because of your essay, I went back to re-read the poem. It sounds a lot like you and Moise and your protection of each other’s friendship by honoring the boundaries, The poem is one that is most often included in many anthologies, along with “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Thank you for nudging me to return to this poem. It is still just as meaningful as it was when first written.
Thanks Molly, I love that poem…
This is based on a gut-level feeling, I imagine if before your surgery you asked the Millers for some assistance with feeding your animals, and dropping off perhaps some bread and cooked veggies, just for a couple of days, they would have gladly stepped up. Perhaps because they do live by the Grace of God, the Amish are able to ask for and receive what they need, when sometimes people like me are too stubborn and independent to accept help.
Your friendship with the Amish is a gift for all involved. Best Wishes on your continued recovery and your upcoming creative collage class.
Interesting Antionette, I have this feeling you might be right; I didn’t think of it; I didn’t want to put them in a spot. Moise won’t ever defy an article of faith, but I am sure he would help if asked. But I can’t say for sure that he would like to be asked..
Thank you, Jon, for the best post you have written so far! Your friendship with the Amish goes beyond boundaries—it is the rare example of unconditional love for your neighbor. That’s not easy to do. It takes patience and the willingness to learn. You inspired me and also taught me a point of view about Amish culture that helps me understand them. Bravo!!
Blessings, Connie
Thanks, Connie, lovely note. I am intrigued that when people are touched by something I write, they declare it the best thing I have written, which is always a pleasant surprise.
Speaking for me, I have no way of gauging that, and since I’ve written 30,000 posts, it’s a neat thing to hear. You wrote that touched me the most because I helped you understand something complex and difficult to describe. That means a lot to me as a writer, and thank you—more than anything, that’s what I hope to do. So maybe you wrote the best post I’ve received so far! 🙂