Rachel and I drove around the Amish settlement in Daviess County today and came across this guy spreading manure. (Poor quality, I know.) It was still cold today but the strong sunshine felt like a promise.
After looking around the Odon Locker, we walked across the parking lot to a shop with a sign saying something about Amish goods, with the requisite buggy image. Turned out to be one of those faux Amish shops meant for tourists and church ladies. There’s a certain style of religious kitsch that you always find in these places. Signs made to look hand-lettered that say things like “gather” or “it is well with my soul.” Cookbooks with pictures that are typically described as “quaint.” A little section for the men with beard balm displays and shirts that say “Man of God.” You know that “wine mom” aesthetic you see at wineries? This is the evangelical version of that. We took one step inside the shop, looked at each other, and walked back out.
We visited more genuinely Amish/Mennonite stores in the country south of Odon. Groceries stores and variety shops and a shoe store that sells so much more than shoes. You can tell these places are meant to be the sort of place that sells everything one of the plain folk might need: groceries and bulk goods, herbal remedies, and copies of Ausbund, Luther’s German Bible, Rules of a Godly Life, and Raber’s Almanac.
The kitsch shops are frustrating because they represent that malignant power of the marketers to sell you the form of godliness while denying the power thereof. It’s fashion for those whose values run skin-deep.
The more substantial lesson we can learn from the Amish is the power of life under vow. I’ve been considering this a lot lately because it is a hard lesson, and one I’m not quite sure what to do with yet. Thankfully, it is neither marketable nor available for sale.