Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy (20 page)
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Authors: Donald B. Kraybill,Steven M. Nolt,David L. Weaver-Zercher
BOOK: Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy
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Psychologists have long observed that both the experience and the expression of emotions are shaped by cultural conditioning. This is true even of anger. “People get angry and interpret [anger] according to the culture in which they live,” write scholars Eric Shiraev and David Levy in their book
Cross-Cultural Psychology.
In collectivist cultures, which stress the goals and identities of communities at the expense of individual freedoms, anger “is seen as an emotion of disengagement from the society” and is therefore discouraged. In individualist societies, on the other hand, tolerance for anger is much higher because people “recognize other people’s rights to independence and self-expression.” This description helps to explain why some outsiders considered the Amish community’s emotional response inappropriately mild. Judging Amish emotions by American cultural norms, they found the restrained Amish response unnatural and therefore inappropriate.
Cross-Cultural Psychology.
In collectivist cultures, which stress the goals and identities of communities at the expense of individual freedoms, anger “is seen as an emotion of disengagement from the society” and is therefore discouraged. In individualist societies, on the other hand, tolerance for anger is much higher because people “recognize other people’s rights to independence and self-expression.” This description helps to explain why some outsiders considered the Amish community’s emotional response inappropriately mild. Judging Amish emotions by American cultural norms, they found the restrained Amish response unnatural and therefore inappropriate.
Unnatural or not, the Amish restraint at Nickel Mines reflected typical Amish views of anger. For the Amish, anger is a dangerous emotion. In fact, one Amish magazine illustrated a series of essays on anger with a diamond-shaped warning sign containing the words “Danger Zone.” Of course, to call anger dangerous does not say whether or not it is acceptable to feel angry. Although every Amish person we interviewed admitted that Amish people
do
get angry, we received mixed responses when we asked whether it was
OK
to be angry. Mary told us, “Feelings of anger are not a bad thing,” a view that’s supported by
Putting Off Anger,
a popular booklet in some Amish communities. The booklet’s author, John Coblentz, describes anger as an involuntary emotion that is “part of the human experience.” Citing Jesus, Moses, and other biblical figures who experienced anger, Coblentz says the Bible forbids only the “destructive words and actions provoked by anger,” not anger itself.
do
get angry, we received mixed responses when we asked whether it was
OK
to be angry. Mary told us, “Feelings of anger are not a bad thing,” a view that’s supported by
Putting Off Anger,
a popular booklet in some Amish communities. The booklet’s author, John Coblentz, describes anger as an involuntary emotion that is “part of the human experience.” Citing Jesus, Moses, and other biblical figures who experienced anger, Coblentz says the Bible forbids only the “destructive words and actions provoked by anger,” not anger itself.
But not every Amish person we interviewed was so willing to condone angry feelings. Demonstrating the literalism with which the Amish approach the Sermon on the Mount, Bishop Eli reminded us that, in Matthew 5, Jesus equated anger with murder. “Anger is not OK,” he concluded, “but it does happen. The main thing is not to carry a grudge.”
Indeed, the most consistent Amish view of anger is that nursing grudges is wrong. Scholars who study forgiveness often make the distinction between
anger,
the first response to hurt, and
resentment,
continually “re-feeling the original anger.” The Amish make the same distinction. They may disagree among themselves about whether initial angry feelings are acceptable, but they agree that angry reactions are wrong, as is resentment and harboring bitterness in one’s heart. Sylvia’s husband put it this way: “We say, ‘It’s OK to get angry, but don’t hit the horse or kick the dog or punch your brother.’” Gid spoke for many about the problem of nursing angry feelings: “If I hold a grudge for one day, it is bad. If I hold it for two days, it’s worse. If I hold a grudge for a year, then that man [Roberts] is controlling my life. Why not just let go of the grudge now?”
anger,
the first response to hurt, and
resentment,
continually “re-feeling the original anger.” The Amish make the same distinction. They may disagree among themselves about whether initial angry feelings are acceptable, but they agree that angry reactions are wrong, as is resentment and harboring bitterness in one’s heart. Sylvia’s husband put it this way: “We say, ‘It’s OK to get angry, but don’t hit the horse or kick the dog or punch your brother.’” Gid spoke for many about the problem of nursing angry feelings: “If I hold a grudge for one day, it is bad. If I hold it for two days, it’s worse. If I hold a grudge for a year, then that man [Roberts] is controlling my life. Why not just let go of the grudge now?”
Gid’s question is a good one, though even Amish people will admit it is not easy to release a grudge. “Forgiveness is something that’s easier said than done,” Mary confessed. “We know we’re supposed to do it. In the Bible it says we should do it. But when we’re tested and tried, it’s not always easy to forgive.” A retired farmer used warfare metaphors to describe how hard it is for some Amish to forgive. “We have a battle with it,” he told us. “We have to really fight the tendency not to forgive.” Of course, the Amish have a very strong theological motivation to move beyond resentment, a point he quickly added: “We can’t be forgiven if we don’t forgive, you know, so we really try hard to overcome that.”
Some reports suggested that the Nickel Mines Amish were not angry after the shooting, and indeed some of our conversations, even with parents who lost daughters, confirmed that fact. On the other hand, some Amish people continued to wrestle with bitter feelings months later. Given the horrible nature of the killer’s actions, it’s not surprising that these feelings lingered. But it does raise a crucial question: Did the Amish
really
forgive the killer after the shooting? That’s what the media suggested. Did the media get it right?
really
forgive the killer after the shooting? That’s what the media suggested. Did the media get it right?
As we consider that question, it’s important to highlight once again the collectivist nature of Amish society. Most studies of forgiveness take an individualistic approach to it: an individual victim gets hurt, experiences negative feelings, and has a choice to forgive. This is how most Americans think about forgiveness: it’s something the victim does, or does not do, to his or her offender. In fact, some who have pondered the meaning of forgiveness argue that
only
the victim can forgive the evildoer.
only
the victim can forgive the evildoer.
This raises an important issue. All of our references to Amish forgiveness at Nickel Mines pertain to Amish adults. Because we did not seek access to the surviving schoolchildren, we know relatively little about their response to the horror they faced on October 2. We do know that Amish families sought help from English mental health professionals to talk with their children about the trauma they experienced. Even so, the challenge of navigating the emotional fallout remains. “We’re not sure what to tell our boys,” confessed one parent. “We don’t really talk with them about forgiveness.”
Implicit in this parent’s confession is an important truth: the responsibility to forgive Charles Roberts was not assigned to the schoolchildren or even to their families but was embraced by the entire Amish community. Indeed, because of their collectivist nature, the Amish would never place the responsibility to forgive an offense of this magnitude on the principal victims alone. Clearly the primary victims at Nickel Mines were the persons Roberts accosted in the schoolhouse, but the Amish of Nickel Mines also knew that their entire community was wounded in Roberts’s rampage; they understood forgiveness as a community responsibility, not as the exclusive task of the individuals most directly affected. Mose confirmed this when he responded to one of our questions. “When the men went to see Amy Roberts on the evening of the shooting, were they extending forgiveness on behalf of the entire Amish community or just speaking for themselves?” we asked. His answer was clear: “They were speaking for the whole community.” Other Amish people agreed.
This is one more example of mutual aid among the Amish. As anyone who has seen the movie
Witness
can attest, barn raisings are a striking example of Amish mutual aid: dozens of people complete a project that would take an individual family weeks or even months. But mutual aid happens in far less visible ways too as church members help one another through difficult times. In the case of the shooting, the Amish helped one another forgive Charles Roberts. At the very least, they helped one another tell the Roberts family their
intention
to forgive.
Witness
can attest, barn raisings are a striking example of Amish mutual aid: dozens of people complete a project that would take an individual family weeks or even months. But mutual aid happens in far less visible ways too as church members help one another through difficult times. In the case of the shooting, the Amish helped one another forgive Charles Roberts. At the very least, they helped one another tell the Roberts family their
intention
to forgive.
Therefore, did the media get it right? Did the Nickel Mines Amish
really
forgive Roberts within twenty-four hours of the shooting? If forgiveness is defined as forgoing the right to revenge, the Amish clearly forgave Roberts immediately. If forgiveness also includes overcoming resentment and replacing it with love, then the answer must be yes and no. As we’ve noted, some bitter feelings lingered. Nonetheless, the community’s commitment to forgive had been set long before Charles Roberts entered the schoolhouse, and therefore the Amish could declare immediately their intention to forgive.
really
forgive Roberts within twenty-four hours of the shooting? If forgiveness is defined as forgoing the right to revenge, the Amish clearly forgave Roberts immediately. If forgiveness also includes overcoming resentment and replacing it with love, then the answer must be yes and no. As we’ve noted, some bitter feelings lingered. Nonetheless, the community’s commitment to forgive had been set long before Charles Roberts entered the schoolhouse, and therefore the Amish could declare immediately their intention to forgive.
Their verbal declaration was soon accompanied by small but noteworthy acts of grace: hugs between Amish people and members of the Roberts family, the presence of Amish families at Roberts’s burial, and Amish contributions to the Roberts Family Fund. Of course, these gracious actions were expressed not to Roberts directly but to his surviving family. Still, they were an outgrowth of forgiving Roberts himself. Gracious words came first, quickly followed by gracious acts—words and acts offered in good faith that kind feelings would eventually replace bitter ones.
All of this falls in line with the research of Everett L. Worthington, who has identified two types of forgiveness: decisional and emotional. Decisional forgiveness is a personal commitment to control negative behavior, even if negative emotions continue. “Decisional forgiveness,” writes Worthington, “promises not to act in revenge or avoidance, but it doesn’t necessarily make a person feel less unforgiving.” Worthington, a Christian, connects decisional forgiveness to two biblical passages that are central to Amish thinking about forgiveness: the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6 (“forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors”) and the parable of the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18. Emotional forgiveness, on the other hand, happens when negative emotions—resentment, hostility, and even hatred—are replaced by positive feelings. Thus, forgiveness is both a short-term act and a long-term process, but as Worthington points out, the two are connected. The initial decision to forgive may spark the emotional change. A decision to forgive does not mean a victim has erased bitter emotions, but it does mean that emotional transformation is more likely to follow.
The Amish at Nickel Mines would not use academic phrases such as
decisional forgiveness
to name what they did after the shooting, but we think the term helps to explain the media reports of that week. An Amish man, interviewed less than forty-eight hours after his granddaughters had been shot, was asked if he had forgiven. “In my heart, yes,” was his simple reply. With these four words, a grieving Amish grandfather expressed his commitment to do something that God expected him to do, a commitment embedded in the history and spirituality of the Amish church. Still, as Gid told us, this commitment to forgive was only the first step. “I’m concerned these families will struggle with the forgiveness issue for a long time. They will have to forgive again and again and again, and accept [the loss] again and again.”
decisional forgiveness
to name what they did after the shooting, but we think the term helps to explain the media reports of that week. An Amish man, interviewed less than forty-eight hours after his granddaughters had been shot, was asked if he had forgiven. “In my heart, yes,” was his simple reply. With these four words, a grieving Amish grandfather expressed his commitment to do something that God expected him to do, a commitment embedded in the history and spirituality of the Amish church. Still, as Gid told us, this commitment to forgive was only the first step. “I’m concerned these families will struggle with the forgiveness issue for a long time. They will have to forgive again and again and again, and accept [the loss] again and again.”
Gid was actually struggling with resentment himself, which surfaced because his twelve-year-old son had recently dreamed of an armed intruder entering their home. The boy’s nightmare “really torqued me up again about the Nickel Mines shooting,” the minister confessed. “I had to forgive Roberts all over again.” His wife concurred: “Regardless of how many times you forgive, forgiveness must be practiced again and again.” For the Amish, this insight comes not from clinical research but rather from experience—and also from the Bible. Invoking Jesus’ instructions to Peter to forgive his brother seventy times seven, one Amish writer counseled his readers to forgive their offenders “repeatedly, unceasingly.” Only then, he concluded, can “the broken relationships that threaten to destroy our families, our churches, our communities, and ourselves” be healed.
As we recounted in Chapter Four, the Amish forgave not only the killer but the Roberts family as well in the days following the shooting. Like other observers at the time, we found these particular references to forgiveness perplexing. The Roberts family was not responsible for the shooting; in fact, they were victims of the gunman’s actions too. They were casualties of a different sort than the schoolgirls, to be sure, but they were victims nonetheless. We later learned that the killer’s wife found the reports about “forgiving the family” cause for some chagrin. “She had no culpability,” one of her friends told us. “She was a victim and didn’t do anything to harm anyone.”
What meanings were embedded in the forgiveness the Amish offered to the Roberts family? First, some Amish people used forgiveness as a blanket term—something they wanted to express toward the killer. With Roberts dead, they transferred some of their forgiveness, which they felt duty-bound to extend, to the family, which became a surrogate recipient of their forgiveness for the killer. Second, many Amish people realized that the Roberts family would feel shame for what their family member had done. A parent of a slain child said, “The pain of the killer’s parents is ten times my pain. You would just feel terrible if you were the parent of a killer.” Thus some used the words
we forgive you
to mean “we feel sorry for you.” In that respect,
we forgive you
doubled as an expression of sympathy for a grief- and shame-stricken family that was also victimized by the school shooting.
we forgive you
to mean “we feel sorry for you.” In that respect,
we forgive you
doubled as an expression of sympathy for a grief- and shame-stricken family that was also victimized by the school shooting.
There was one additional meaning of the forgiveness granted to the Roberts family by their Amish neighbors. It was, we believe, the primary meaning:
despite the evil your family member enacted on our children, we will do our best not to hold a grudge against you.
Strictly speaking, the gift of forgiveness can be given only to someone who has perpetrated a wrong. As we’ve noted, however, the most widely held understanding of forgiveness—in the Amish world and beyond—is refusing to hold a grudge. Realizing that tragedies can quickly spawn bitter feelings, and knowing how easily bitterness can be heaped onto scapegoats, the gift of forgiveness to the Roberts family was the Amish way of saying they would seek to keep bitterness at bay.
despite the evil your family member enacted on our children, we will do our best not to hold a grudge against you.
Strictly speaking, the gift of forgiveness can be given only to someone who has perpetrated a wrong. As we’ve noted, however, the most widely held understanding of forgiveness—in the Amish world and beyond—is refusing to hold a grudge. Realizing that tragedies can quickly spawn bitter feelings, and knowing how easily bitterness can be heaped onto scapegoats, the gift of forgiveness to the Roberts family was the Amish way of saying they would seek to keep bitterness at bay.
In sum, the Amish response to the Roberts family was about tending relationships. In the small-town world of southern Lancaster County, relationships between the Roberts family and their Amish neighbors had existed long before the October 2006 shooting. The words
we forgive you
were a promise to the Roberts family that, in the aftermath of this horrific event, the Amish community would seek to maintain those relationships and not focus their feelings of anger on the gunman’s family. It may be too early to know whether that promise will be fully kept, but the gracious acts that followed their words indicated that many Amish people would work hard to make it happen.
we forgive you
were a promise to the Roberts family that, in the aftermath of this horrific event, the Amish community would seek to maintain those relationships and not focus their feelings of anger on the gunman’s family. It may be too early to know whether that promise will be fully kept, but the gracious acts that followed their words indicated that many Amish people would work hard to make it happen.
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