An Amish Family Christmas (5 page)

A
fresh snowfall came in the door with Bishop Fischer and the ministers Sunday afternoon. Naomi and Rebecca helped them hang their coats and hats on pegs and then served them coffee as they sat by the woodstove in the parlor. Micah joined them. The two women went into the kitchen, leaving the men to their talk.

“Not so hot as the desert, eh?” asked the bishop, holding his hands toward the stove and rubbing them.

Micah smiled. “Summer days and summer nights are both warm in Kandahar, it’s true. But nights in Kabul are cooler.”

“I suppose it didn’t make any difference to you with the work you did.”

“No, sir. You go to the sick and wounded no matter what the weather conditions are or how hot the temperature is. The same way you would go to someone in the church if they were hurt or ill, Bishop Fischer.”

“Well. It’s not the same thing, Micah.”

“Why not, sir?”

“I would go because it is a bishop’s duty, a calling from God.”

“I did it for the same reason.”

The bishop breathed out noisily. “Micah—”

Micah looked at the bishop over the rim of his coffee cup. “If one of your draught horses was injured on Sunday, would you bring in the vet?”

“No, no, not if it wasn’t serious. It could wait for Monday.”

“What if it was life threatening?”

The bishop tugged at his untrimmed gray beard with his thick fingers. “I see where you’re going with this, young man. Still, it’s not the same. We are in a Christian environment here. A war zone is not a holy place.”

“Just suppose, God forbid, two drug gangs had a fight along one of our roads here, in front of several of our farms.”

“Nonsense.” Minister Yoder, bald, spectacled, with a long black beard and huge arms folded across his chest, glared at Micah.

“Suppose one car was chasing another, shots were fired, a car crashed, more gunfire—a gang war right in the middle of our Amish community. Then one car speeds away and leaves behind a burning wreck and bodies in the ditch.”

“We call the police,” growled Minister Yoder. “And the ambulance.”

“Of course. But it will take them some time to get here. What will you do until then?”

“Pray.”

“Yes, Minister, pray, but meanwhile men are bleeding to death. These are not holy men, not churchmen, not Amish men, but they are men made in the image of God. What will you do?”

“You and your trick questions,” Minister Yoder rumbled. “Suppose, suppose. We do not live in the world of suppose, suppose. Such a thing would never happen here.”

Micah sipped at his coffee. “Jesus lived in the world of suppose, suppose.”

“What?”

“All his stories. All his parables. The events never happened. But he told the stories so he could get people to think about what they believed, about what they would do. He told them to get people to think about what they
should
do. Just as I’m doing now.”

“He was the Lord Jesus Christ and you are not!”

Micah set down his coffee cup. “Who is your neighbor, Minister Yoder?”

The door to the parlor was closed, but Naomi and Rebecca could hear the men’s voices as the two women sat at the kitchen table and sewed up the tears in Luke’s clothing.

Rebecca shook her head and smiled. “They will never out argue Micah.”

Naomi had stopped using her needle, listening for a response. But the parlor was silent until the bishop spoke again.

“I see where you’re going with this. Yes, we would care for them just as you cared for men on the battlefield. The difference is, you went looking for trouble but we deal with what the Lord brings across our path, no more than that.”

Naomi heard Micah’s reply. “Jesus went looking for trouble.”

“Nonsense.” Minister Yoder again.

“He could have stayed in Nazareth. Made people come to him. But he didn’t. He went to them. Even to the war zone.”

“What war zone is this?” the bishop asked.

“Jerusalem. Where he knew they wanted to kill him. But he went anyway. Healed the sick. Cured the lame. Made the blind see. Closed up wounds. Stopped the bleeding. Dealt with head injuries and eye injuries and back injuries. He was a divine medic. A holy army surgeon.”

“He was no medic or surgeon, young man. He did not heal men so they could fight again and take other men’s lives.”

“But he did. Don’t you think the Roman centurion fought? Don’t you think his servant helped him prepare for battle? Yet Jesus healed the servant.”

Silence.

Micah’s voice again. “Jesus didn’t ask many questions. If a person had faith, that was enough. Do we know what every man or woman was like before they came to Jesus for help? Were they all pure?
Were they all good? And what happened after they were healed? Did they make mistakes and errors in judgment, did they curse or lie or steal or hurt others? Or were they perfect for the rest of their lives?”

More silence.

“The war with the Romans came thirty or forty years after Jesus was crucified. Some of the men he healed, especially the young, would have taken up arms against the Roman occupation. They would have fought and killed and been killed. Yet Jesus healed them anyway. He healed everyone, knowing that some of them might do harm with their new lives, might rob, murder, or blaspheme. He healed men who worked for soldiers and men who would become soldiers.

“I don’t know what all the men and women I bandaged and gave blood transfusions and saved did with their new lives.
Ja
, some went back into combat. But others went home. What sort of people are they now? Good, kind, gracious, forgiving? Petty, cruel, bitter, harsh? I have no idea. That’s in God’s hands. I only tried to do what Jesus did—go and find the hurt and wounded and heal them, whoever they were and wherever they were. I wanted to be like him in Afghanistan. Just like him.”

Naomi closed her eyes and bent her head.

But he is right. Everything he says is right. His words are much stronger than they were a year ago. He has thought about this. He has prayed about this. They must agree with him.

“You have a lot to say, don’t you?” Minister Yoder’s voice was deep. “A lot to say and you think you are Jesus now. You go to the desert and come back Jesus, hm? But you are only a man, a sinner, and your words are worthless. You took your vows, you were baptized, and you knew when you joined the army—yes, even as a medic—that you were breaking the
Ordnung.
All this fancy
talk of yours is pointless. Either you repent or you don’t. It is as straightforward as that.”

“It seems to me you have meant well.” The bishop said more softly. “You did nothing in malice or with deceit. But we do not go to war, not even to heal, no, not even for that. Will you lay this down before the Lord? Will you confess your disobedience?”

The two women couldn’t hear Micah’s response.

“Very well. So the
bann
will go into effect once again at the end of the day, at the stroke of twelve. You know all that you must not do while this is in force. To everything else, I add this—you will do none of your medical work among us, all that you learned at the military base here in America, all you learned in Afghanistan, all the army taught you...no, none of it you will practice. Do you understand?”

“I do understand,
ja
.”

“So we pray and leave you with your soul and your conscience in the hands of the Lord.”

It was quiet for five minutes though both women could hear murmuring as the men prayed. Then the parlor door opened, and the ministers and Bishop Fischer filed out. They nodded to Naomi and Rebecca, put on their coats and hats, and left, snow swirling thicker and faster over their shoulders and backs. The wheels creaked and the horses snorted as their hooves chopped the ice and frozen mud. They were gone. Rebecca shut the door tightly.

“It’s almost dark,” she said.

Naomi was standing and looking at her husband, who had emerged quietly from the parlor.

“My coffee got cold.” He held up his cup. “I talked too much and didn’t drink enough. The talking part won’t be an issue for a few months or years now that the
bann
is in force again.”

“You reasoned well,” said his sister.

“Not well enough. I thought I had a better approach than a year ago, better ideas, better Scriptures...but apparently not.”

“It
was
better, brother.”

“Was it? It swayed no one.”

Naomi came and took the cup from his hand. “It swayed me.”

He looked at her sharply. “What?”

“What you said was right. I know it. I couldn’t refute your arguments. Neither could they. So they ran and hid behind the
Ordnung.
You broke their rules, and that’s all that matters to them. Should the
Ordnung
be changed?
Ja
. Will they change it? No.” She smiled. “At least, not yet.”

Half of his mouth curved upward. “You think you can get someone like Minister Yoder to change the
Ordnung
? You think you can get someone like Minister Yoder to change his mind?”

“It’s not necessary to change Minister Yoder. It’s only necessary to change the bishop. If he says
ja
, it is
ja.
If he says
nein
, it is
nein.
”

“And you think that will be easy?”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.” She grasped his hand and led him to the table. “Sit. I’ll pour you the coffee you never enjoyed because you were too busy preaching your sermon.”

“A sermon that fell on deaf ears.”

She pinched his ear. “Am I deaf?”

“Hey! That hurt.”

“So remember who heard you. I should be a big enough convert for you for the moment.”

“Then you’re saying you understand?”

Naomi emptied his cold coffee in the sink. “No, I’m not saying I understand. Just that I believe your argument is sound. And scriptural. But do I understand? You could have accomplished the same thing by joining an EMS team here in Pennsylvania.” She
poured fresh coffee from a pot on the stove and set his cup down in front of him. “They save lives too. But not in a war zone.”

“So you don’t understand.” Micah stared into the dark coffee, wrapping his hands around the mug. “You don’t understand why it had to be Afghanistan. Neither of you do.”

Rebecca mussed his hair. “As we like to say in this house, that’s God’s problem. He put the call in your heart. So if he wants to, he can explain the call to us. Or not.”

Naomi sat down with her own coffee. “That goes for the bishop too. You could argue till you’re blue in the face and get nowhere. God has to show him.”

“I could argue with Yoder.”

“Yoder, well, with Yoder your face would be purple.”

The three of them laughed. Rebecca brought matches from a pocket in her dress and lit the candle on the table. Then she walked around the room, lighting other candles and lanterns.

“I must go check on Luke.” Naomi patted Micah’s hand. “He was sleeping soundly through all that business with the leadership.”

“No. I’m already on my way up.” Rebecca was carrying a lantern in one hand and coffee in the other as she climbed the staircase. “You two need to talk. In a few hours you’ll be like Trappists as far as speaking with one another is concerned.”

“Thank you, Becca.” Naomi put a hand over both of Micah’s as he held the hot cup of coffee. “Just because I don’t understand now doesn’t mean I won’t understand tomorrow.”

“What will it take, I wonder?”

“Being there. But that will never happen. Naomi Bachman shall never set foot in Kandahar or Kabul. Micah Bachman did, yes, for that was his call. It is not mine.”

“If it takes being there to touch your heart, your heart will never be touched.”

“Well, you know the saying—what’s impossible with us is a short day’s work with God.”

The small smile she had missed for more than a year came over his lips. “I’ll miss your voice, Omi, once the
bann
goes into effect again.”

“You will hear my voice every day.”

“But not directed to me.”

She squeezed his hands. “The
bann
will not last forever.”

“You said it the other day—how do we know? One day is as a thousand years to God.”

“The Lord will do something. I don’t know what. But our story isn’t going to end in silence with you under a
bann
because you saved dying men’s lives.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I love your faith.”

“My faith isn’t faith in myself or my abilities, Micah.”

“I know that. But I love it just the same. Just as I love you.”

Her warmest smile came to her face. “A woman doesn’t need words to tell her man she loves him. There’s no
bann
against looking at me. I think you like to look at me.”

“Oh,
ja.
”

“So look into my eyes every morning, every afternoon, every evening. Look as long as you like. You will hear everything you need to hear right there.”

His small smile became a large smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, I don’t care what it is. Just stand before me, and I will face you and you may gaze as long as you wish.” She winked. “So long as the favor is returned and I may gaze at your handsome face whenever the notion strikes me.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard a favor to grant. But suppose I never break off my gaze? Suppose I get lost in those dreamy eyes of yours and never walk away?”

“Suppose, suppose. We do not live in the land of suppose, suppose, Micah Bachman.”

“I do. All people of faith do.”

“
Ja
.” She stood up, slender and dark, a burning in her eyes. “So do I.” Standing over him, she placed one strong hand at the back of his neck, tilted his face toward her own, and bent down to kiss him. Strands of her hair fell over his closed eyes and his cheeks. Then all her dark hair seemed to be covering him, and he took in its spicy perfume. He reached up and pulled her into his lap. Her prayer
kapp
was gone, and so were her pins. The avalanche of sweet blackness overwhelmed him.

“I love you, Micah,” she murmured as they kissed. “I ached for you while you were gone. I was literally in pain. No one will take you from me again. No army, no
bann,
no bishop. Every day look at me. Every day gaze at me like you gaze on a field of red poppies or a herd of fine horses grazing in the tall grass. I will not disappoint you. Each morning my hair will be washed just for you. My face scrubbed and fresh. My dress smoothed of wrinkles. Did they say I couldn’t smile at you? I will smile as if you were the sun on my face and the blue sky of summer in my eyes. I will smile as if you were the moonlight and stars of August. No one will stop me from loving you. I don’t need German or English words. It’s as the Scriptures themselves say, my speech will fill your ears even if there is no sound.”