If we’ve traveled across the great United States, we know that each state does things a little bit differently. Sure, this is clearly true in governmental bureaucracy, but it can manifest itself in simple little things like the way signs look or the way traffic lights operate. I can remember being in New Orleans as a kid, for instance, about 25 years ago, and around there you weren’t allowed to turn left. No left turns at the traffic lights. Instead, you would drive down the road, and they had areas where you could pop a u-ey. Just the way it was in those parts. Or, how about the freeway in Utah. I remember for some stretch of road the speed limit was 80 mph. Never seen a sign with that large a number on it. Was told they were trying it out to see how it goes. So little differences in the rules in different places. And so it is, we understand, with the different Amish church districts, and the various settlements.

       So, in getting specific, what are some differences we can find in the Amish districts and settlements? Well, first coming to my mind (not really sure why), is the use of power lawnmowers. We know a lot of low-churches prohibit their use, like the Swartzentruber. Yet, we know the higher churches allow them—gasoline powered for sure, and probably electric in some cases. Maybe. Not sure. But I have personally witnessed plain people using both. I have seen an Amish person struggling in the heat of the sun with an old-fashioned powerless mower, the kind with the spiraling blades. Hard to push. My Dad had an old one in the garage and let me try it when I was a kid. It was tuff. I didn’t last long with it. And, more often I have seen the Amish using the gasoline powered ones, just as if they were English. It is usually the women pushing them, which surprised me. I figured the men would do that, but considering what is expected of a lot of men, I guess this task has been pushed down to the women.

       But, it certainly just isn’t lawnmowers. Another thing that comes to my mind is the use of electric lights on buggies. The low church buggies perhaps don’t have any lights at all. Most Amish carriages I have seen have some lights—usually a middle ground. Maybe a couple headlamps on the front of the thing and then a couple taillights on the rear. However, I have observed some buggies which were totally decked out on the back, say 10 or 12 flashing lights. You can see them from far away driving out in the countryside at night. They are yellow and red lights. Might as well be a fully powered buggy at that point. More flashing lights than an English car. Interesting. Different though. They’re all tied into a car battery located somewhere in the carriage I understand.

       What else is different? Certainly the dress. While the dress doesn’t interest me as much, I understand there are differences. Use of buttons and what not. Whether to use buttons or whether not to. Zippers I think can be a thing. Dress length for women. Or cap size. Perhaps the larger, further protruding cap, the lower the church? Seems right. Then there are some caps that seem to be almost disappearing. Although, I think this is more in Mennonite circles. I recall talking to a Mennonite woman at a gas station whose cap seemed to be so small I questioned why she would even wear one at that point. Couldn’t have been much bigger than a half-dollar at the center of her head. She did a little explaining with regard to her cap, and I was polite of course.

       Anything else? How about home decor? True, whether we consider the inside or outside of the home. Outside, I know some higher churches are allowed nice looking signs advertising their home businesses, much like the English have. They decorate their yards real fancy. Beautiful flowers of many colors carefully landscaped in front of the house. Not so with the lower church. Signs often look as if a chicken scratched them out. This was observed on one occasion going to pick up some doughnuts in Knox County, here in Ohio. Looked like a sign you wouldn’t want to follow. But upon getting there and biting into the doughnut, well worth the trip. Very good doughnut truth be told; Oreos even sprinkled the top. Yet, pulling out, no flowers. No landscaping whatsoever. No rock drive. Dry mud everywhere.

       Inside. Yeah, let’s move inside for a second. Couches. Fluffy, comfortable couches allowed? Certainly not everywhere. Nah, those aren’t there but have been substituted with uncomfortable hard wooden furniture. Ugh. Yup, it’s true. Seen pictures here and there of it. Just like in the church services, though, this furniture has backs. Hardship. Suffering. It must be present to be truly alive it is believed. Nevertheless, if you don’t know any better, perhaps it’s not that uncomfortable. However, I would venture to guess, in all likelihood, they know better. Seems impossible for them not to. English neighbors probably wreck the secret. What about cars? They have soft seats. Being driven around would expose the secret.

       All these things, believe it or not, cause arguments. Yes indeed. The Amish can feel very strongly in regard to these matters, such as whether power lawnmowers should be used or not. And, believe it or not, it’s these type of matters that can in fact split districts, split churches. For sure. Meetings will be held. Things will be debated. And if a consensus cannot be made, some people might choose to go another way. Move even. We might be tempted to think, “What is wrong with them, getting that upset over such small matters?” But we English should not be so high horse. Think about it. English people, for instance, leave their jobs all the time over small differences, and go and get another job. I have witnessed it several times among people I know.

       Is moving the right choice, still yet, for an Amish family, or really Amish man, who disagrees? (What I mean is that I believe it’s usually the man, the head of the house, who is disagreeing; seems as if the women are more willing to work things out, but I could be wrong). Anyway, I don’t know that it’s necessarily the right choice. Probably depends on what it is that people are in disagreement over. I have seen in Amish writings that some plain people move to districts which are more conservative in hopes of living a deeper, closer to God let’s say, faith. And then, of course, despite that they likely wouldn’t admit it, there are those who move to get less rules, less restrictions. Doesn’t actually seem wrong to us, I don’t think. But some Amish Bishops and ministers would probably be quick to disagree.

       I mean, why is it wrong for an Amish family to move because they want additional freedom? I guess the fear would be that where does the freedom stop? Think about it. If a family moves in order to use a gasoline lawnmower then won’t that lead to using other things they didn’t use before? Will the bar just keep getting pushed further and further until it is pushed all the way out of Amishood? Could it be that it would lead all the way to owning a car, for instance? Will the family become Mennonite and buy that car? I believe that’s the fear. And truly, it’s a real issue. What I mean is that, yes indeed, some Amish have gone all the way to becoming Mennonite instead.

       I met a man once who actually did this. He was now the owner of an English getaway, a resort of sorts for lack of better word. Large pine trees lined the place as one drove back the long drive. Staying there one Fall, I met him outside while he was cleaning the side of the dark brown garage which was used for storage. Struck up a conversation with him. Was born and raised Amish. I would of never known it, for now he had no beard and was wearing English clothes, a polo and some blue jeans. I asked him about it. He said he felt that the church rules were just too strict, and so one day, in a time long, long ago, he left. He said he was allowed to own a car being Mennonite, pointing over to his black sedan sitting there. Nice guy. Got to know other’s in his family who actually worked at the place as well. All Mennonite now, but what about fifty years from now? If I could travel there, would their descendants simply be Evangelical? Who knows.

       Freedom. Liberty. It’s really a wonder, isn’t it? What is the cut-off to it?

       Then, of course, in moving there is the problem of the children. Stop and consider. If the children had been raised in a district or settlement where the rules were more lax, how are they going to feel about rules which are more strict? If the move was for a deeper faith for the man, then what about everyone else in the family? Could cause problems I think. What if the daughter was used to using a power lawnmower and she can’t do that anymore under the new district’s church rules? That ain’t going be so great in the July heat. Could cause children to rebel maybe. I mean, if they were already on the fence, what about now? Certainly, the ways things were done before is already ingrained into them. That’s going to be hard to change, especially if they don’t want to.

       There is the thought of compromise, of course. Perhaps that’s what the man should do before considering moving his family. He should find the middle ground, setting aside his personal beliefs on little matters because they don’t matter all the much anyway, right? Of course, it probably depends on the depth of the matter, but considering we are considering small things here, like lights on the buggy, then it really shouldn’t matter. Pride. One has to surrender his pride around the issue. Can be hard to do, especially for a person who feels strongly. I think it is in knowing the wisdom of when to go to battle and when not to. Perhaps if it was a religious issue, such as, say, reading the Bible everyday, one would want to stick up to a challenging minister who said that’s becoming Scripture-smart. Something like that, yes, I believe we can safely say should be fought over.

       So, what is the result of it all? For the people who won’t compromise, there are splits. And the splits divide up family and friends. Not good. Sure, liberty may be gained, but at what cost? Is it truly worth it? Better be.

       It’s funny. I think a lot of Amish believe there should be less freedom because freedom leads to sinning. Like I said, the more you allow, the more liberal one becomes, then where does it all stop? How far does one go? The English, on the other hand, value freedom greatly. We want to become as free as we possibly can. We certainly don’t want our church telling us what to do. Working less and playing more is highly valued. The easier one can obtain additional money, the greater the freedom it is believed. Buying whatever one’s heart desires isn’t really even given that much thought. It is a taken-for-granted liberty that we enjoy. The betterment of self is always considered. With the Amish, it is as if the betterment has already been decided. Is it the one with less self-wants who is the one who is greater in their view?

       So, who is right at the end? Is it better to be as free as possible, only following some parameters, or, in reality, is the greater the restriction the better way? Can people truly handle freedom? Interestingly enough, I believe the answer is being surrendered in all things. That is, one is free when one doesn’t insist on his or her own way, but when one can want something but not be devastated if he or she doesn’t get it. It’s only natural to want to be free. However, if our desire for things, whatever those things are—for our own way in the rules, to be able to do something we haven’t been able to in the past, to be able to buy whatever it is we want to buy—is too strong, we will find that we will suffer. I don’t agree that suffering is good. I don’t think the Creator invented people to suffer. Yet, there has to be some rules or undoubtedly there is no freedom.

       The question then is, does it all matter really in the end? And I think the answer is that one needs to decide what is worth it and what isn’t. Weigh the pros and the cons unbiasedly. Not just considering yourself, but considering all those involved. What is the greatest good possible that can be brought forth? This is where the true value is, where true happiness comes. It is knowing the right choice was made, not because it is what I desired, but because it is what is in the greatest good for all. Some things are worth fighting for, but actually, if you carefully ponder it, I believe a lot of things that are fought for are not worth it. A lot of the time they are just rooted in pride. And one who cannot surrender his or her pride will be the most miserable in the end.

- Daniel Litton

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