Post by Brother Ben on Oct 14, 2006 19:21:45 GMT -5
Why the Amish Forgive:
Tales of Redemption at Nickel Mines
by Donald B. Kraybill, Ph.D.
The blood was hardly dry on the bare board floor of
the Nickel Mines School when Amish parents sent words
of forgiveness to the family of the killer who had
executed their children. Forgiveness? So quickly and
for such a heinous crime? Of the hundreds of media
queries I've received in the past week, the
forgiveness question rose to the top. Why and how
could they do such a thing so quickly? Was it a
genuine gesture, or just an Amish gimmick?
The world was outraged by the senseless assault on 10
Amish girls in the one-room West Nickel Mines School.
Why would a killer turn his gun on the innocent of the
innocent? First, questions focused on the killer's
motivations -- why did he unleash his anger on the
Amish? Then, questions shifted to the Amish. How
would they cope with such an unprecedented tragedy?
In many ways the Amish are better equipped to process
grief than many other Americans. First, their
religious faith sees even tragic events under the
canopy of divine providence -- having a higher purpose
or meaning that is hidden from human sight at first
glance. The Amish don't argue with God. They have an
enormous capacity to absorb adversity -- a willingness
to yield to divine providence in the face of
hostility. Such religious resolve enables them to
move forward without the endless paralysis of analysis
that asks why -- letting the analysis rest in the
hands of God.
Secondly, their historic habits of mutual aid -- such
as the barn raising -- arise from their understanding
that Christian teaching compels them to care for each
other in time of disaster. This is why they reject
commercial insurance and government-funded Social
Security, believing that the Bible teaches them to
care for each other.
In moments of disaster the resources of this
socio-spiritual capital spring into action. Meals are
brought to grieving families. Neighbors milk cows and
care for other daily chores. Hundreds of friends and
neighbors visit the home of the bereaved to share
quiet words and simply the gift of presence. After
the burial, adult women who have lost a close family
member will wear a black dress in public settings for
as long as a year to signal their mourning and welcome
visits of support.
In all these ways Amish faith and culture provide
profound resources for processing the sting of death.
Make no mistake -- death is painful. Many tears are
shed. The pain is sharp, searing the hearts of Amish
mothers and fathers like it would any other parents.
But why forgiveness? Surely some anger -- at least
some grudges -- are justifiable in the face of such a
slaughter. A frequent phrase in Amish life is
"forgive and forget." That's the recipe for
responding to Amish members who transgress Amish rules
if they confess their failures. Amish forgiveness
also reaches to outsiders -- even to killers of their
children.
Amish roots stretch back to the Anabaptist movement at
the time of the Protestant Reformation in 16th century
Europe. Hundreds of Anabaptists were burned at the
stake, decapitated, and tortured because they
contended that individuals should have the freedom to
make voluntary decisions about religious faith. This
insistence that the church, not the state, had the
authority to decide matters like the age of baptism
laid the foundation for our modern notion of religious
liberty and the separation of church and state.
Anabaptist martyrs emphasized yielding one's life
completely to God -- even to death in the face of
torture. Songs by imprisoned Anabaptists, recorded in
the Ausbund, the Amish hymnbook, are regularly used in
Amish church services today. The 1200-page Martyrs
Mirror, first printed in 1660, which tells the martyr
stories, is found in many Amish houses, and is cited
by preachers in their sermons. The martyr voice still
rings loudly in Amish ears with the message of
forgiveness of those who tortured them and burned
their bodies at the stake.
The martyr testimony springs from the example of
Jesus, the cornerstone of Amish faith. As do other
Anabaptists, the Amish take the life and teachings of
Jesus seriously. Without formal creeds, their simple
(but not simplistic) faith accents living in the way
of Jesus rather than comprehending the complexities of
religious doctrine. Their model is the suffering
Jesus who carried his cross without complaint. And
who, hanging on the cross, extended forgiveness to his
tormentors: "Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do."
Beyond his example, the Amish try to practice Jesus'
admonitions to turn the other cheek, to love one's
enemies, to forgive 70 times 7, and to leave vengeance
to the Lord. Retaliation and revenge are not part of
their vocabulary.
As pragmatic as they are about other things, the Amish
do not ask if forgiveness works; they simply seek to
practice it as the Jesus way of responding to
adversaries, even enemies. Rest assured, grudges are
not always easily tossed aside in Amish life.
Sometimes forgiveness is harder to dispense to fellow
church members, whom they know too well, than to
unknown strangers.
Forgiveness is woven into the fabric of Amish faith.
And that is why words of forgiveness were sent to the
killer's family before the blood had dried on the
schoolhouse floor. It was just the natural thing to
do, the Amish way of doing things. Such courage to
forgive has jolted the watching world as much as the
killing itself. The transforming power of forgiveness
may be one redeeming thing that flows from the blood
that was shed in Nickel Mines this week.
Tales of Redemption at Nickel Mines
by Donald B. Kraybill, Ph.D.
The blood was hardly dry on the bare board floor of
the Nickel Mines School when Amish parents sent words
of forgiveness to the family of the killer who had
executed their children. Forgiveness? So quickly and
for such a heinous crime? Of the hundreds of media
queries I've received in the past week, the
forgiveness question rose to the top. Why and how
could they do such a thing so quickly? Was it a
genuine gesture, or just an Amish gimmick?
The world was outraged by the senseless assault on 10
Amish girls in the one-room West Nickel Mines School.
Why would a killer turn his gun on the innocent of the
innocent? First, questions focused on the killer's
motivations -- why did he unleash his anger on the
Amish? Then, questions shifted to the Amish. How
would they cope with such an unprecedented tragedy?
In many ways the Amish are better equipped to process
grief than many other Americans. First, their
religious faith sees even tragic events under the
canopy of divine providence -- having a higher purpose
or meaning that is hidden from human sight at first
glance. The Amish don't argue with God. They have an
enormous capacity to absorb adversity -- a willingness
to yield to divine providence in the face of
hostility. Such religious resolve enables them to
move forward without the endless paralysis of analysis
that asks why -- letting the analysis rest in the
hands of God.
Secondly, their historic habits of mutual aid -- such
as the barn raising -- arise from their understanding
that Christian teaching compels them to care for each
other in time of disaster. This is why they reject
commercial insurance and government-funded Social
Security, believing that the Bible teaches them to
care for each other.
In moments of disaster the resources of this
socio-spiritual capital spring into action. Meals are
brought to grieving families. Neighbors milk cows and
care for other daily chores. Hundreds of friends and
neighbors visit the home of the bereaved to share
quiet words and simply the gift of presence. After
the burial, adult women who have lost a close family
member will wear a black dress in public settings for
as long as a year to signal their mourning and welcome
visits of support.
In all these ways Amish faith and culture provide
profound resources for processing the sting of death.
Make no mistake -- death is painful. Many tears are
shed. The pain is sharp, searing the hearts of Amish
mothers and fathers like it would any other parents.
But why forgiveness? Surely some anger -- at least
some grudges -- are justifiable in the face of such a
slaughter. A frequent phrase in Amish life is
"forgive and forget." That's the recipe for
responding to Amish members who transgress Amish rules
if they confess their failures. Amish forgiveness
also reaches to outsiders -- even to killers of their
children.
Amish roots stretch back to the Anabaptist movement at
the time of the Protestant Reformation in 16th century
Europe. Hundreds of Anabaptists were burned at the
stake, decapitated, and tortured because they
contended that individuals should have the freedom to
make voluntary decisions about religious faith. This
insistence that the church, not the state, had the
authority to decide matters like the age of baptism
laid the foundation for our modern notion of religious
liberty and the separation of church and state.
Anabaptist martyrs emphasized yielding one's life
completely to God -- even to death in the face of
torture. Songs by imprisoned Anabaptists, recorded in
the Ausbund, the Amish hymnbook, are regularly used in
Amish church services today. The 1200-page Martyrs
Mirror, first printed in 1660, which tells the martyr
stories, is found in many Amish houses, and is cited
by preachers in their sermons. The martyr voice still
rings loudly in Amish ears with the message of
forgiveness of those who tortured them and burned
their bodies at the stake.
The martyr testimony springs from the example of
Jesus, the cornerstone of Amish faith. As do other
Anabaptists, the Amish take the life and teachings of
Jesus seriously. Without formal creeds, their simple
(but not simplistic) faith accents living in the way
of Jesus rather than comprehending the complexities of
religious doctrine. Their model is the suffering
Jesus who carried his cross without complaint. And
who, hanging on the cross, extended forgiveness to his
tormentors: "Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do."
Beyond his example, the Amish try to practice Jesus'
admonitions to turn the other cheek, to love one's
enemies, to forgive 70 times 7, and to leave vengeance
to the Lord. Retaliation and revenge are not part of
their vocabulary.
As pragmatic as they are about other things, the Amish
do not ask if forgiveness works; they simply seek to
practice it as the Jesus way of responding to
adversaries, even enemies. Rest assured, grudges are
not always easily tossed aside in Amish life.
Sometimes forgiveness is harder to dispense to fellow
church members, whom they know too well, than to
unknown strangers.
Forgiveness is woven into the fabric of Amish faith.
And that is why words of forgiveness were sent to the
killer's family before the blood had dried on the
schoolhouse floor. It was just the natural thing to
do, the Amish way of doing things. Such courage to
forgive has jolted the watching world as much as the
killing itself. The transforming power of forgiveness
may be one redeeming thing that flows from the blood
that was shed in Nickel Mines this week.