American Experience (1988–…): Season 26, Episode 8 - The Amish: Shunned - full transcript

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(birds chirping)

AMISH MAN:
Everything has to be done
in love.

If shunning is done
in the true love of God,

it can be effective.

To the outsiders,
shunning seems harsh.



And it can be harsh.

We had it in our home.

It is brutal.

We'd love to sit
at the same table to eat,

and you cannot.

Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter.

They're not a part
of the family.

PAUL:
As one minister put it,

it's the New Testament
equivalent

of stoning someone to death.

That's what shunning is.

You put them out of the church.

If you see them in need,
you're to help them.

But you have no social contact.



You take nothing
out of their hand

under any circumstance.

You don't eat with them.

They're unclean.

(crickets chirping)

SALOMA:
I got a call,

and it was this man saying

that he had just found my name
on the Internet

and he needed someone
to help a runaway

from an Amish community.

I was still in my nightgown.

I was thinking to myself,
"Wow, this could have been me.

This could have been me
34 years ago."

SALOMA:
How old were you when
you joined the church?

Were you sure of it?

So you had somebody in mind?

Yes.

Of course not, I know.

Unfair, isn't it?

So he never asked you
for a date?

Oh, I'm sorry.

(speaking Pennsylvania German):

Why is it that you choose
not to be on camera right now?

What do you think would happen
if you went back tomorrow?

(in Pennsylvania German):

SALOMA:

AMISH MAN:
It's the disobedient people
who leave the Amish church.

They wanted something
that was not allowable,

so they just moved on.

If we're not obedient,
we will fall by the wayside.

But how can you be obedient
when you don't have any rules?

Some people don't understand
our church rules,

and they don't need to.

It's not necessary
that you people understand

all the church rules
that we have.

That's our thing.

When we lose obedience,
we lose the church.

Amen.

NAOMI:
I grew up in a small
Amish community

in Jamesport, Missouri.

It's a very tight-knit,
close community,

and your world is really small.

It's very sheltered.

When I was younger,

I used to be
kind of disappointed

that I was never allowed
to wear, like, a prom gown

and go to prom.

But the Amish have the rules
because they want to hold back.

They believe in keeping away
from the world,

and if you allow
one thing after another,

pretty soon you wouldn't have
the culture anymore.

When I was 18 years old,

we had a call from this lady
named Robin.

She was writing a book
about teenagers

from different cultures
and religions,

and she was interviewing them.

So she wanted to interview
some Amish girls.

She came to our farm,

and she started shooting
a bunch of photos of us.

I remember being
kind of uncomfortable.

Amish do not believe in having
their picture taken.

And we were always told
to not pose.

I'm kind of surprised
Mom and Dad allowed that.

My family has seven kids.

I used to say "just seven,"

but I learned really fast

that in the dominant culture
in America,

seven is a lot of kids.

Me and my sister Marjorie
would milk the cow

every morning and evening.

You learn how to work
at a very young age,

how to do chores.

Things that prepare you
in the future

to be a housewife and a mother.

When Robin came to visit,

it was the first time we had
ever met someone from the city.

She was showing us these
pictures of other teenagers

to show that there's
another world out there.

At that time, I felt very
strongly about being Amish.

But it kind of made you
think about,

"Well, maybe we are
missing out."

(vacuum cleaner whirring)

SALOMA:
I didn't even know
that photograph existed

until many years later,
after I'd left the Amish.

That morning, my mother knew

that it was picture day
at school, and she said,

"If they make you take
the class picture, that's okay."

She didn't say anything
about individual pictures.

I went off to school,

stood in line
like everybody else,

and when it was my turn,
I got right up on that stool,

smiled into the lights
and the camera...

No teeth, you know,
no teeth in the front...

And thought, "Mm-hmm!

Got you, Mom!"

(laughing)

For people who have
a lot of photographs

of themselves as children,

they probably can't fathom
only having a mental picture.

I almost didn't
recognize myself.

I look happy there,

and I didn't remember
being happy.

"Uffgevva."

"Uffgevva" means to give in
or to give up...

To give up your self.

When I went to my first
communion service,

the bishop said,

"Each individual grain must
give up its individuality

"to become part of this
loaf of bread.

"And in that same way,

"each of us must give up
our individuality

to become part
of the community."

I remember thinking to myself,

"I hope I'm one of those grains
that falls off the grindstone."

"I don't want to be ground up."

(water running)

LEVI:
I guess I always wanted
to leave.

I was dressing Amish,

but I wasn't living up to the
Amish rules and stuff, anyways.

For me, I wanted to experience
a different life.

I wanted to go out
and drive a truck

or something like that.

I just thought that was...

"Oh, that would be cool."

You know, live out here,
I have electric, TV, and...

Back then, that was
everything to us,

to have phones, radios
and stuff like that.

Of course, our parents,
they didn't like that.

They would say it's worldly.

It's against the rules.

They always would end up
finding it one time or another.

You'd get careless with it
and end up getting caught.

My dad would either burn them
or smash them up.

I mean, I didn't understand
all the rules, and I just...

I didn't think... a lot of them
didn't make sense.

But then again,

I had a pretty good life
with my family.

I got two brothers
and three sisters.

I knew how hard it was
when my brother left.

To see how heartbreaking it was
to my parents,

that made it hard for me
to leave.

JAN:
I started painting these

in the years
after I left the Amish

to show other people
what I had seen.

I didn't see television,
read magazines.

I didn't have newspapers.

This is what I saw.

I grew up in Akron, Ohio.

I got married early.

In the early '70s,

we moved from the suburbs
of Akron out to the country.

We were isolated,

trying to figure out
how to live on the land.

Needing a lot of assistance.

We weren't doing
a very good job of it.

The Amish lived in connecting
farms all over for miles.

We would go over there
and visit,

maybe just to buy eggs
or something like that.

They knew how to live
off the land

successfully and happily.

We, I guess,
probably envied what they had

and thought, "Well,
if they can do it, we can too."

We probably had been there
maybe ten years already,

and so we were starting to wear
plain clothing

and starting to go to some
of their church services.

And probably, I felt
there would be more acceptance

upon being a member.

I'd be viewed as more committed.

I thought I was joining
for life.

I thought, "This is what
I'm going to do."

PAUL:
My parents were idealistic.

That picture, it's kind of like
the vacation gone awry.

It's the picture taken

before they hop in their canoe
and go down the river.

Everybody's happy.

"We're going to have
a fun ride."

We had no idea what it meant
to be Amish.

We thought a clothes change
and probably a little more,

but we had no idea
how much more.

Learning the functional skills
of the Amish

was relatively easy.

I enjoyed breaking horses
and milking cows

and feeding hogs
and cutting timber.

But that was trivial compared
to learning the language

and understanding the culture.

We were the outsider
in their world,

and we were the butt
of a lot of jokes.

It's a very rigid society.

Everything about your life,

you're told what you can
and can't do.

It is preached often
in the sermons.

It's spoken of by the ministers.

Everyone needs
to know their place.

Everyone needs to remain
in their place.

It's very comforting
to know your place,

in a lot of ways,

as long as you're content
with that.

And if you're not content
with that,

then you're going to have
a hard go of it.

AMISH WOMAN:
It isn't for everybody.

Not everybody can do it.

But if you know where
your boundaries are

and you respect them
and you're happy there,

it brings a freedom.

I remember
when I first had thoughts

about maybe not joining
the church

because it looked like it would
be so much easier to enjoy life.

I mean, not that I didn't
enjoy my life,

but I guess I looked out
sometimes

at the cars and the TVs
and the things,

and I just thought it would be
so great sometimes to have that.

But then, you know,
if you leave,

you just won't have
the connection with the family.

All my aunts and uncles

and brothers and sisters,
cousins,

and the close-knit relationship.

I would be living
such a different lifestyle.

And because I would have broken
my promises to the church,

I almost wouldn't be comfortable
with my family anymore.

It's just not the same.

The growing up, my childhood,
the happiness of that...

I wanted that for my children.

JOE:
When my cousin left,

I remember being
absolutely devastated.

I was 15 years old.

And I remember crawling up
into the top part of a barn.

And I lay down in probably
a half inch of dust.

And I remember
just crying my eyes out,

begging God to save
my cousin Eli.

For those of us who had been
born within the Amish culture,

we had to stay Amish.

We could not go out
into the world.

And if we did,

there was no chance for us
to go to heaven.

I called him up and I just said,
"Eli, think about being in hell!

Just think about it!"

I tried to describe the flames
and the pain and all of that.

I thought I would never do that.

Never, if I lived
for a thousand years,

would I leave the Amish.

JOE:
Eli did come back.

And for almost
a year and a half, two years,

we were best friends.

But at the age of 16,

we just decided to leave it,
leave it all.

I didn't even think
about going to hell.

I just thought about the moment.

And I didn't like being
under the authority

of the church and my parents.

We got together and left notes
in our parents' mailboxes.

That was on a Sunday night,
about midnight.

And then we started walking,

and we walked and walked
toward town.

Later that day,
we both got jeans and a t-shirt

and white tennis shoes,

had just enough money
to buy that.

Then we went out back

and threw our Amish clothes
down.

Never saw those Amish clothes
ever again.

We had no place to go.

We had no job.

Had no idea how to survive
in the culture out here.

Absolutely zero.

ANNA:
I left six weeks now.

Long time.

It seems like six months.

(laughs)

I never see any Amish houses
or buggies since I am out here.

It seems very far away now.

I was in Connecticut, cleaning
and taking care of a house.

But I'm going to live here now
with Saloma.

There are some things
that English don't understand

about Amish,

like how Amish rules are
and things like that.

I were very lucky
to find Saloma,

to talk to her about things.

In my home church,

there was just one boy
that don't have a girlfriend.

There were not a lot of choice
of dating.

There are five different
Amish groups in my area,

but I am the strictest
of those five groups,

so we cannot date
with other groups.

I was 23 when I left.

I was the age where people
would not really think

about having a date with me,

and they would call me
an old maid.

SALOMA:
Do you need any shortening
or butter?

ANNA:
I have shortening.

SALOMA:
Okay, good.

ANNA:
So far, it's nice
to be out here.

I bake bread and cookies
and do weeding,

and now I start making baskets.

Trying to make an income.

SALOMA:
Which size were you making
last week?

ANNA:
It was this size,
because we had to press it...

SALOMA:
So I'll do these smaller.

ANNA:
I think I am homesick.

I miss my family.

I write them three letters,

but they didn't write back
so far.

I don't think that
they have a lot to say

if I am not staying Amish.

LEVI:
I mean, you forget
a lot of the rules and stuff

the longer you're out here.

You don't realize how strict
they really are.

CAR DEALER:
Nice to meet you, guys.

What are you on the hunt for?

LEVI:
Driving a buggy,

it takes you forever to get
somewhere,

and if it's raining
or something, you get all wet.

In the cold wintertime,
you freeze.

CAR DEALER:
You want a two-door, four-door,
four-cylinder, six-cylinder?

Anything that's got
some horsepower to it.

LEVI:
It would be really hard for me
to live that life anymore.

I waited until I was 17,
and I finally...

you know, I got caught
with a phone again,

and I knew I was getting
in trouble for it,

and I just decided to leave.

When the night came,

I crawled out my window
and down a chimney pipe.

My friend was going to meet me

about a quarter of a mile
up the road.

Then my cousin came
and picked us up,

got us haircuts,

and then we got on the bus,
Trailways, and went to Iowa.

They always talk
about the bad stuff

that happens to the kids
that leave,

so I kind of figured
it would be tough.

Once I left,

it was actually not as hard
as I thought it would be.

Actually, I mean,
it was pretty awesome.

DEALER:
I'll sell you the car
for $2,110.

With the tax, title, everything,
it comes to $2,500 even.

Deal.

I'll start printing
the paperwork

and I have to go out and
write down the actual miles...

NAOMI:
It was really hard for me

to not wear my covering
at first.

It's kind of rooted in us

that you wear a head covering
for prayer

and to signify submission.

And for the longest time,

even after I wore
street clothes,

I still had a covering
beneath my pillow

that I would use to pray,
because it was kind of like

I didn't think God could hear me
unless I had my head covered.

(woman announcing flight
over airport speakers)

NAOMI:
When I first left the culture,
I was 19 years old.

I flew to Florida
on an airplane,

and it was my first time flying.

My palms were all sweaty,
and my heart was pounding.

It was a really big step for me.

Really big step.

I had no plans
to leave the culture.

I just wanted to go to Florida,
to get away,

get out of my community
for a while.

I had an aunt and uncle who live
there during the wintertime,

so I had my parents' blessings.

If I would have looked forward

and seen that I wouldn't
come back,

I don't know if I could have
gotten on that plane and left.

JAN:
In the Amish,
everything is tradition.

You do it the way that
it's always been done,

the way that the people
before you and before them

always did it.

I don't think we missed it
initially...

say, the freedom to choose

what color your shoes
are going to be

or what colors you could put
in a quilt.

By that time, we had accepted
the way things were done

as the way they were done.

That was that.

And then my son Paul
got married.

PAUL:
Up to that point,

nobody ever looked real close
at what my parents did.

They just said,
"Well, they're worldly people."

We were off to the edge,
and it wasn't a problem.

But after I got married,

that entered an authentic
German person

into my family's circle.

Her dad was a senior bishop,

and my family
couldn't do the things

that they had done for years
without being noticed.

JAN:
We had the eyes of the community
in our house now.

And it wasn't that we were doing
anything terribly illegal

by Amish standards, or...

We weren't wearing red pajamas
or anything.

(laughs)

But probably some of our thought
and conversation

might not have been approved of.

There was more awareness

that you weren't speaking
Pennsylvania Dutch,

and so you'd try harder,

or maybe you'd not speak,

because she might hear you.

She might tell people.

At that point, I realized
I've given up maybe too much.

I've given up the ability

to even speak freely
in my own home.

That was the beginning
of the end.

We stayed home from church
one Sunday.

Well, you don't do that.

If you are not deathly ill
on a bed, you go to church.

And we didn't go.

By the second time
we missed church,

people started stopping in
to visit,

and the bishops
and the ministers were calling.

The following Sunday,
we were shunned then,

excommunicated
until further notice.

SALOMA:
Even from a very young age,

I always saw this side
of my mother

that wanted a little more
freedom,

questioned the Amish faith.

But then she'd try
to fold herself into that

and be the good Amish woman,
the submissive Amish woman.

And I could never do that,

and my mother took it
as a personal rejection.

I was 20 years old
when I finally decided to leave.

I came down the stairs
with my suitcase in hand,

went out the door.

And I looked back,

and I saw my mother
gazing out the window.

And I waved to her.

And I was thinking to myself,

"Am I ever going
to see her again?"

AMISH MAN:
There's certain things in life
you can't prepare for.

If one of our children
decided to go out there

into what we call the world,
it would hurt terribly.

If they think they like better
what's out in the world

than they do what's in here
with us as a family,

as a church,

the responsibility then would
lay on that child's shoulder.

They made that choice.

We still have to take care
of the ones that are home.

And the influence that child has

on the rest of the family
is huge.

The Bible teaches us clearly,

"Whoever knowest to do good
and does it not,

it is a sin."

And we feel that sin
cannot enter heaven.

But at the same time,

if there's something that we did
that hurt their feelings,

that created bitterness,

we would just go the second,
the third and the fourth mile,

whatever it would take
to bring them back.

If I know that child
has made that choice,

that child would know
Dad's heart is heavy.

Dad's heart is heavy
till the grave.

LEVI:
"Hello, Levi.

"This is around Tuesday noon.

"I don't intend to write
any more Bible verses to you.

"But if the day comes
that you want to come home

"and obey your parents,

"we would want to help you
understand things as we can.

Come home to stay,
please, Levi."

They used to write me
a little bit when I first left,

but now they don't seem
to even write me anymore,

so it's been about two years
since I really heard from them.

I mean, you kind of forget it
after a couple of years.

It kind of fades further
and further away, I'd say.

They probably think
if they stay away,

they don't have to think
about it as much,

and I guess they think
they can get over it better.

Also, you know, if they allow us
to come back too often,

they'd probably get in trouble
by the church.

"How could they say
they honestly love their parents

"if they are so disobedient?

"My dad would have said,
'You know better, '

and he would have been right."

This would have probably been
my mom,

"Dear loved son Levi."

Pretty awesome, I guess.

JOE:
I was out for 30 days.

And during that time,
my dad used to come into town.

He found out
where we were staying at.

And we had this open porch
with concrete steps,

and he'd come in,

and he'd sit there
all night long.

I'd go to bed at night,
next morning I wake up,

he's sitting out there
on the concrete steps.

And during that 30-day period,
he did not eat one bite.

He fasted.

Because in his mind,

his oldest son was
on his way to hell.

And he was willing to do
whatever it took.

At the same time,
I remember when he said,

"Joe, if you don't come home
by the end of this week,

our family has chosen
to cut you off forever."

And he said, "You are never
to come back to any wedding,

any funeral, any family reunion,
or even on the property."

We had 14 children
in our family.

I could not see myself

living through life
away from them,

and so I went back.

I went back to the Amish
seven times, actually.

NAOMI:
It wasn't a decision
that one day,

I just decided to not be Amish.

It was not like that at all.

It was a gradual thing.

I went to Florida
for a second winter.

I still dressed Amish

and was still practicing
the culture.

But I got a car

because it was really hard
to get around in Florida.

So that was the first step.

From there, I started
trying out street clothes.

I worked in a nursing home
for a while.

And that's kind of when
I started asking questions

about nursing,
like what would I need to do

to be, like, a registered nurse
someday.

I've always felt called
to do nursing.

But education is a huge threat
to the Amish.

Having an education means
some big job somewhere

that will take you
out of the community.

The Amish go to a one-room
schoolhouse,

and you only go
to the eighth grade,

and I was 13 years old
when I graduated.

Honoring your father and mother

is really important
to the Amish culture.

And it's kind of hard
to really know,

when do you seek God's calling

over what your parents
are telling you what to do?

At that time, I still believed
that I could do both.

I told myself that I could
go back, and I would.

TEACHER:
You want to chart
how the blood flow goes?

You can start here.

ANNA:
Right atrius?

TEACHER:
Atrium, good.

And then out to the...

Right and left lungs.

Good, and then it comes back...

Back into the left ventricle.

ANNA:
It's actually really interesting
to go to school out here.

I like it a lot more out here
than I did back at home.

So basically, if you measure
around the circle...

ANNA:
We had English, spelling
and math in our school too,

but we don't have
any science books to read.

This is one of the really
important passages

in the book...

ANNA:
The only free time
we had at home is Sundays,

and then we read German.

We don't read
what we call storybooks

or something like that at home.

"Atticus disengaged himself
and looked at me.

"" What do you mean?'

"" Well, it'd be sort of like
shooting a mockingbird,

wouldn't it? ""

RECEPTIONIST:
This is where you start.

If you want to sign your name
right here,

we'll let them know you're here.

Okay.

ANNA:
In my community,
everybody knows who I am.

They're going to ask you
your name,

your date of birth,
and your address...

ANNA:
We don't have to have anything

like ID
or Social Security number.

Now I need a Social
Security number,

driver's license,
health insurance.

Yes!

That's great!

That is great, I got it.

Congratulations!

So now you actually exist!

Yes!

ANNA:
I never had something
with my picture on it before.

I actually didn't feel
Amish today.

I feel really English today.

I was not expecting
how it would be.

It was special for me.

I feel like I am...

I could be more like
whoever I want to be...

with that identity card.

(birds chirping)

AMISH MAN:
It is one of the oldest schemes
of our spiritual enemy Satan

to isolate people.

He knows that isolation
will cut us off

from the wisdom that
multiple perspectives bring.

We all need a community
around us

that helps us to see
the blind spot

that we won't see on our own.

That is what community is about.

That is the reason for adhering
to biblical social norms.

People today,
we have little sense anymore

that we are to join
a church body

and, generally speaking, submit.

Doesn't that word just make us
cringe to its authority?

Submission may even entail
suffering.

We don't like to suffer.

Our human nature tells us

we should maximize our pleasure
and minimize our pain,

and that's what leads
to happiness,

but news flash... it doesn't.

SALOMA:
My mother wrote to me
a couple of months after I left,

and she said, "Well, today,
you were put from the church,"

meaning, "You are now shunned."

A year and a half
after I left the Amish,

I got married.

Though I sent them invitations,
none of my family showed up

and none of my community
members came.

I was letting people down,
especially my mother.

At that time,
people could not ask me

specifically about my family
or about my background

without me bursting into tears.

The first couple times that
David and I went home to visit,

my family would let us eat
right with them.

And then they were discouraged
from that by the church.

And so the next time
we went to visit,

my mother had put a small table

about six inches away
from the family table,

and David and I sat
at the small table,

and they just kept
handing us food.

And then they were admonished
for that, too.

After that, we never ate
with them again.

PAUL:
They can give you a long list
of scriptural reasons.

But again, it's back to order
and maintaining stability.

They want to make you realize
the depth of your fall

and return to repentance
and redemption.

They also want to keep
from contaminating their group

as much as possible
from those influences.

And so for a number of years,

I had no contact
with my parents.

They had stepped
out of the order.

The Amish are serious about
the separation from such people,

and I was determined that
I'll do my part.

JAN:
My son and his wife had their
first child, my granddaughter,

and I went to visit her and them
at their rented farm.

I wore my Amish clothing.

It was awkward.

Brief.

It didn't go very well.

There really wasn't
any fixing it at that point.

I was an excommunicated member,
and he was a church member.

It couldn't be fixed.

ANNA:
On Saturday, I got a letter
from my mother.

And when I was done reading it,

it was just like,
I don't know...

I really don't know
what I am doing.

She didn't have any news.

She was just talking about

how the rules are taught
in church and things like that.

Yesterday, I got a letter
from my preachers.

My preachers write that I'm
in trouble for a lot of people

and I should come back.

If they didn't hear from me,
they're going to put me in shun.

That means out of church.

So I am not anymore
a member of church.

(siren wailing in the distance)

Sometimes, I see pictures
on the television.

Just, like,
if they are using guns

or if something blows up
or something like that.

There are a lot of things
that I never thought of

that might happen
when I am on the outside world.

I never think about dying
before I left the Amish.

I want to be Amish if I die.

If I would die out here,
I might go to hell.

PASTOR JOHN:
I want you to do something
for me this morning.

I want you to take your Bible
and hold it up.

Ain't that a beautiful sight?

We believe this book, Amen?

CROWD:
Amen.

How much of it?

CROWD:
All of it.

Turn to Romans, chapter 12...

JOE:
Something happened when I was
out there in the world.

This was like the sixth time
I had left.

A friend of mine
opened the Bible up

and showed me
how to get to heaven,

and it was through Jesus Christ,
and him alone.

After I got saved,
I went back to the Amish.

But I never forgot
what happened that day.

Came back, settled down,
got married,

and decided I'm raising
my children within the culture.

But when I wanted to know
how to get to heaven,

no one could tell me for sure.

To the Amish,
Jesus alone is not enough.

Working, trying your best,

following the rules and
traditions of the forefathers.

If you do it all just right,

then hopefully
you'll make it into heaven.

PASTOR JOHN:
When you recognize,
"I'm a sinner

and my sin condemned Christ
to the cross..."

JOE:
To me, all the good works

and traditions and rules
and regulations

covered up the simple,
easy plan of salvation.

PASTOR JOHN:
Why would you say no
to Jesus?

Just say yes.

JOE:
My wife and I,
we started reading the Bible,

and the more we read

and the more we compared it
with all the rigid rules,

we all of a sudden decided,
you know,

"Are we going to follow man

or are we going to follow
the scriptures?"

(singing hymn)

JOE:
The last time I left,

the seventh time,

I knew I would never,
ever return that day.

Cried like a baby.

Tried to leave three notes.

Ripped them all up.

I realized no matter how hard
I tried to explain,

nobody would understand.

PAUL:
Once, when I was a teenager,

I had to ask a question
to one of the senior ministers.

He said, "That's not
your place to question.

"You're a member.

You're not a leader
in the church."

"It is better," he said,

"to let us instruct you
on these things

and accept them as they are."

And I was perfectly fine
with that.

I was happy to go back
to my farm.

But later, I became a deacon,

and I was placed in a position
of more authority.

Then things would bother me.

The deacon's duties
primarily are twofold.

One is to look after
the financial obligations

of the church, orphans and
widows, things of that nature.

And the other,
by far the more troubling,

was dealing with anyone that has
transgressed against the church.

Sometimes, the girls would have
their caps pleated too small,

and that was serious.

Sometimes, they'd have
their cap strings untied.

Intolerable.

The philosophy is,

if you don't deal forcefully
with the minor things,

then you'll have major
disruptions down the road.

I would question
some of the tactics, we'll say,

methods used
maintaining the order.

But it has to be unquestioned.

I had to be put in my place

so that the others would not
challenge authority later.

And that's basically
what happened.

The bishop leveled one charge:
I didn't go to a meeting.

No one denied it;
it was easily proven

that I disregarded an order
from the bishop

to show up at his place
at a certain time.

I didn't show, case closed.

The bishop said
that it was unanimous.

I had a marriage
that was coming apart.

The bridge was burning
on both ends.

And so, I said "Fine," and left.

And walked away from it.

AMISH MAN:
I worked in the city
for two years.

I got used to city life,
you know,

the throb and the heartbeat
of the city,

the sirens blasting.

And I liked it.

But the city could be
so full of people,

and you could be so lonely.

Everybody was in a hurry.

Everybody had a place to go.

There's a case
of an Amish bishop here,

it's the most
conservative group,

he said,
"I ran away when I was 17,

came back when I was 19,"

and he said, "I joined church
and was baptized."

And he said,
"That was a mistake."

He said, "I left again."

Enlisted in the Air Force
for four years.

His parents probably had
no contact with him at all

because he would have been
excommunicated and shunned.

He was accepted
by a state university

and wanted to study
mechanical engineering.

He came back to tell his parents
that he's going to college.

They lived in a long lane.

When he turned in the driveway,
the memories set in.

That coming home was so strong,
so powerful,

that he gave up college

from the end of the drive
to the barn.

He went in and asked his dad,
"May I come home?"

NAOMI:
My parents do not shun me.

I'm welcome to come home
anytime.

A lot of Amish don't accept
their children when they leave.

They don't want them to come
back, and it's really painful.

I can't even imagine.

I feel like it was painful
enough for me.

And to think about never
being able to go home again

would be terrible.

My parents are having a reunion,

so we came to help get ready
and to see everyone.

Having younger siblings,

it's very important to my
parents that I respect that

and dress in skirts or a dress
when I come home.

I think there will be a time
in my life maybe

where I will tell my parents

that I won't wear
the Amish clothes anymore.

And that's a really hard point
to get to,

and I want to get to that point,
but I just haven't yet.

When I first went home,

a lot of people didn't want
to talk about it,

that I was going to school
and having this career.

And they didn't really want
to have anything to do with it

or mention it.

And it was such a huge thing
for me at the time.

It's like the common ground
we're missing.

You can't just sit and have the
conversations we used to have.

It does feel more like
I'm on the outside looking in.

Being there and being filmed
was a reminder

that my life is
very different now.

All the memories of home,
of where I grew up

and just having...

It's a profound loss.

I think I still maybe grieve
over the things I've lost,

the relationships.

The idea that I was allowing
someone to film me

made it final.

If I was going back,

I would not have allowed
anyone to film me.

LEVI:
There you go,
a horse and buggy sign.

SAMUEL:
Next 18 miles.

LEVI:
My brother called me
and wanted to know

if I wanted to go back
and see the family.

We drove all night.

SAMUEL:
Whoa, somebody built a house
where the schoolhouse was.

LEVI:
You serious?

SAMUEL:
Yeah.

LEVI:
It's just good to drive around
and see the old places

and see, you know,
changes that they made.

It took a whole hour
to drive from here to our house

in the horse and buggy.

SAMUEL:
It did, didn't it?

Eight miles.

LEVI:
Eight miles an hour.

What does it take now,
about 10 minutes?

Roads seem a lot shorter.

It does.

It's almost like everything
went and shrunk.

LEVI:
The last time I went back

and I talked to my dad
for a while,

he told me that
if I don't want to come home

he'd rather me just stay away.

And I left after that.

Let's go see
what they got to say.

See if we can strike up
a conversation.

Let's see if anybody's
in the house.

If not, we'll walk
through the house.

(knocking)

(knocking again)

Anybody home?

Nope.

(whistles)

LEVI:
My mom was out in the garden.

At first, it seemed like she
just kind of ignored me, but...

I went up to her, you know,
just showed her I care.

And we started talking
a little bit,

and the more we talked,
the better it went.

She was shocked to see us.

And then Dad came home,
and we talked about a half hour.

He didn't say a whole lot,
but...

They didn't invite us
in the house, so...

we just sat on the front porch
and visited for a couple hours.

SALOMA:
Anna cannot let go of some
of her Amish beliefs.

I think she keeps
asking herself,

"Did I do the right thing,
and why am I here?"

And, you know,
I guess I understand that.

Anna has been packing
and repacking her suitcase

for like a week and a half.

I don't think she realizes
how much she's changed

in the seven months
she's been away.

It's going to be very hard

to fit herself
back into the community.

Sometimes when we care
about somebody,

we just want to hug them
and hold them close,

and the situation requires
that we open our arms

and let that person go.

(birds chirping)

AMISH WOMAN:
I usually try to take a walk
every morning.

In the early morning,
I walk about a mile.

And that's when I pray
for my children.

I just pray to Jesus
to save my children.

It's important to us,
our heritage and our way.

I know it takes more
for salvation

than just our lifestyle.

But why it is hard for me
to let go?

And we're told from the Bible

we're not supposed to keep our
hand on the plow and look back,

but you know,
sometimes I have regrets.

I think maybe I could have
done this different,

that different.

Maybe I didn't spend enough time
explaining things better

when they were growing up.

There has been times that I've
kind of battled with it.

I would prefer them
to stay Amish,

but there's a time
we have to let go.

JOE:
You are never taught
to live in freedom.

All of a sudden,
you know, you open the door,

and there's no walls, no roof,
no ceiling, nothing.

It's wide open.

You need somebody to help you.

Otherwise,
you're not going to make it.

When my wife and I
finally got on our feet

and were able to build
our own house,

we specifically built
part of our basement

into an apartment.

We've had many young people
that have come through there.

We can take two to three
at a time.

Right now, we have
two young boys.

One is from Pennsylvania,
the other one is from Ohio.

Usually, it takes them
about six months to a year

to get all the things they need
and go out on their own.

After they leave,
our house is a swinging door.

At any given time,

they might come in here
for dinner.

Then Esther goes in
and she gets them food.

We've become, in a sense,
their parents.

We talk about life.

We talk about goals.

We talk about the Bible.

We talk about salvation.

We consider ourselves
missionaries to the Amish.

Lord, thank you for this day.

We receive it
as a gift from heaven,

and we receive this food
as a gift as well,

and we thank you for it.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

The best thing that could happen

is for our ministry
to help the parents understand

it's okay for their son
or their daughter to get a car

and live differently
than Mom and Dad did.

It might be too hard,

and it might be almost
unthinkable in this generation,

but maybe not in the next.

(speaking Pennsylvania German)

NAOMI:
It's hard for my parents
to say openly,

"We're proud of you."

Being proud is not something
the Amish believe in.

It's still hard for them to see
that the Amish girl they raised

has a bachelor's in nursing.

In college, I worked almost
30 to 40 hours a week

plus full-time classes.

And it was really, really hard.

So it's important to me

that there's some kind of help
out there for people like me

who have Amish parents

who don't support them
going to college financially.

I still respect
the Amish belief,

and it's not like I'm going
to recruit people

to go to college
or tell them they need to,

but the scholarship fund
will be there

if they need any kind of help.

Hi, you're Naomi?

I am.

I'm Stan King.

Nice to meet you,
thank you for coming.

So you're a nurse, right?

Mm-hmm.

Do you have a job nursing now?

Not yet, I'm hoping for one.

I just passed
my state boards last week.

MAN:
I grew up
just like you did.

There were eight of us,
and six are still Amish.

Okay.

In the dominant culture
of America,

I would have been,
like, the good kid,

putting myself through college
and working full-time.

But to the Amish,
I was a little bit of a rebel.

I can just imagine
some Amish guys

stroking their beard
and shaking their head.

And that's hard for me.

I don't want to offend
my culture.

I don't really know
how I would do it differently

if I had it to do over.

But I wish somehow it wouldn't
have to be like that.

LEVI:
You know, I didn't have
my family to run back to.

Basically, I had to step up
and do things for myself.

I work with a couple
ex-Amish people.

Construction work.

We build pole barns.

Two years ago,
I figured I'd buy something.

Make payments on it
instead of paying rent.

I figured that'd be
a better decision.

It's just a small starter house,
nothing fancy.

Just something to get me ahead.

And then I bought this house
a little over a year ago.

It's a three-bedroom home.

And I've got a garage,
which I really like.

Basically, I'm on top
of everything as far as...

you know, I'm not in debt,
so I'm doing great.

When we went to see our parents,

I told them that they could come
visit if they want to.

But I don't really see it
happening.

They're not proud
of the lifestyle I live.

I would like to be able
to feel like I'm their kid,

be able to be together
and just spend time together.

That's what I want.

I try to not hang on to my past,

to just move forward.

Tomorrow is a new day
basically, so...

JAN:
I was very close to my son Paul

before all this mess started up.

But you can never go backwards;
you always have to go forwards.

And so, one step at a time,
we did.

I don't understand Paul.

He left the Amish.

He very strongly left the Amish,

and yet he lives
as if he's Amish.

Does he wish himself back?

I don't believe.

But he lost his community.

He lost his sense of who he was.

I did, too.

PAUL:
My mother enjoyed what the Amish
way of life offered her.

She found real fellowship
for the first time.

Camaraderie,
I guess you could say.

A lot of modern America

has lost touch with the things
that make us human...

being in touch with the land

and religion...

family relationships.

In the Amish,
at least you're someone.

You're a name.

You may not be a liked name,
but you're definitely a name.

In the English-speaking world,
you are at best a number.

You're no one there.

I still love the lifestyle,

but I can't accept
some of the trade-offs.

So it leaves me in between,

lost between cultures
at this point.

JOE:
I'm the closest to my dad
out of all the children.

I was their first born,
you know,

and he just didn't think
he could let go of me.

You know, it went 25 years.

We just had very little
connection.

One year ago, I got in the car

and I drove all the way
to Pennsylvania.

Got there late at night.

Didn't know if they'd even
let me in the house.

You got to remember,
this is 25 years later.

Mom and Dad invited me
into the house,

and for the next 18 hours,
I was there.

They locked the doors

so that other Amish people
couldn't come in and catch us.

And that day,
through tears and forgiveness,

my dad and I reconciled.

Since then, I've realized

that he's still holding me
at an arm's length.

My dad is 60-some years old,

and for him to ever get
to that point

where he can drop
all those walls

and believe that his son is...

could maybe go to heaven,
even in his English clothes...

He probably will never
be able to believe that.

(geese calling)

SALOMA:
On a Tuesday afternoon
around 2:00, my father died.

David and I decided to go
to the funeral.

And when we got there,
we were all lined up

because they wanted us
to go in by age.

Now, that really surprised me,
because that meant

that we were going to be
included in the family

just like anybody else.

They put Dad's casket, open,
outside of the shed.

And then people from the back
rows filed past the coffin...

and then the family circled
around to say our last goodbyes.

And everything got so still.

It was like the birds
stopped singing for a minute,

and all the babies
in the group stopped crying.

It was the loudest silence
I've ever heard.

And I'll never forget
how the 400 people,

all standing in black
in that circle in the courtyard,

it felt like they were
supporting us in our grief.

And it didn't matter at that
point what we were dressed in.

These are people
steeped in tradition,

and the people I grew up with.

I feel sad that that's not
what I'm going to have.

We all make choices
in our lives,

and sometimes one choice
precludes another.

ANNA:
Feels different to be
in Amish clothes.

Feels like a heavy dress.

It don't feel as good as it does
in English clothes.

There are a lot of things
that I'm going to miss,

like ovens, refrigerators...

going to see the movies...

and music.

I like music.

I think my parents
will be happy to see me.

I was all my life at home,

and then all of a sudden,
I was one morning disappeared.

I think that was hard for them.

All my nieces and nephews...
There are 40 of them...

I think they will now
be afraid of me

because I have left.

That will be hard.

But I'm getting to see
my family.

AMISH MAN:
If a boy or girl leave the home,

their place at the table
is always set.

Nobody else sits there.

So three times a day,

they know, "There's a place
waiting for me."

That's a very powerful thing.

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