The topic of the day was Gelassenheit. I cast my eyes downward at my clasped hands in what I hoped passed for meditative focus.
The Bishop’s voice rolled over us like thunder:
“The world Outside is full of doubt, of violence and turmoil. It is natural to experience fear. And the answer to fear is not questioning. The answer to fear is faith—faith in the will of God.”
I could feel the weight of the Bishop’s scrutiny on me. I whispered “Amen,” and felt his gaze move away.
“Gelassenheit is not something to be accepted when life moves smoothly. We need to recognize the will of God when times are troubled. As they are now.
“We have experienced a great deal of loss in our community recently. The loss of Rebecca and Ava Yoder, Mary Fisher, Seth and Joseph Miller . . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut. The Bishop was admitting that they were as good as dead. A hysterical sob was muffled. I looked up to see Ruth crying into her apron with her sisters’ heads bent over her.
Sarah stared up at me with round eyes and whispered: “Are Seth and Joseph really gone?”
“I’m afraid so, Sarah.”
“Are they in heaven with their mother?”
I swallowed hard. I looked at her innocent eyes, thought of how devastated she would be by the idea that the boys who had been with her all her life were lost. I also thought of all the places that Mrs. Parsall had said that God had saved: the Vatican, the mountain in Japan, even the pagan temple in New Jersey. I could not believe that God would be unkind enough to leave Seth and Joseph behind.
I leaned in to kiss Sarah’s forehead. “Yes, liewe. They’re with their mother. She’s taking care of them now.”
When I looked up, I found the Bishop staring hard at me. I was certain that he could not have heard our whispered conversation over Ruth’s weeping. But he sensed my rebellion, even from across the yard. I lifted my chin defiantly. I would not tell a little girl that the young men who had been brothers to her were gone for eternity. There was enough time for her to find out on her own.
“But, even in the face of these losses, God has given us a gift,” the Bishop continued. “He has given us a great reward for observing Gelassenheit. He has given us safety.”
A low murmur rustled through the congregation like dry leaves.
“Yes, God has blessed us and has provided for us. The world Outside has been devastated.”
The murmur crackled. There had been rumors, and all were aware of the Elders’ edict that no one was to venture beyond the gate.
“But he has saved us, saved us to reward us for our obedience. And as long as we remain obedient, we shall be safe.”
My fingers chewed the hem of my apron. I knew that this wasn’t true. We were not his chosen people. We were safe, to be certain, but so were others. The image of the pagan army in New Jersey kept popping into my mind. I imagined that they were much like us, dressed in black, fighting against the monstrosities at their own Laundromat.
I was brought back to myself when the Bishop gave up the floor to the next sermon—a lay sermon from Herr Miller.
My heart ached for him. Herr Miller had never been a public speaker. He stood at the front, his hands clasped before him.
“I want to speak today of fellowship, of the warmth and gifts that Elijah and I have received from the congregation during this difficult time. Since we’ve lost . . .” His voice broke, and he tried again. “Since we’ve lost . . .” Again he faltered, and he covered his eyes with his hand. His beard trembled.
Elijah leaped up to embrace his father. His father broke down in his son’s arms, and the congregation lowered their heads in tears and prayer.
The Bishop intervened. “We shall take a short respite before the communion service. The men and women who will be baptized today are asked to leave, to take consideration of their faith. Only those who will take baptism shall return.”
Sarah leaned into my side, and my mother and I wrapped our arms around her. I could not imagine what it was like to be in Mrs. Parsall’s shoes, with no family. I bit my lip and stared at the ground.
My mother prompted me to stand and go with the others: “Katie.”
Sarah looked up at me. “Are you to be baptized today, Katie?”
I shook my head and hooked my hands in the bench beneath my knees, as if I could root myself here. “No.”
I could see the fear and disappointment in my mother’s eyes.
A shadow passed by. I looked up, saw Elijah. He was in the group of young men and women who were leaving. I saw Ruth stand up, hesitate, and then sit down again. Hannah and Sam walked past, smiling at each other. This was surely a prel-ude to marriage for them. My eyes locked on Elijah’s. I silently challenged him to sit, and he challenged me to stand. I did not break that hold until he passed into the threshold of the house.
The Bishop directed us to sing from the Ausbund. I kept one eye on the door. Only those who decided to go through with baptism at this time would return to the service. There was no penalty for reconsidering, and I hoped fervently that Elijah would take this chance to slow down, to wait for spring. There were always one or two who decided to wait.
One young man came back to sit on the front benches, then another. Two girls came next, sisters holding hands. Then Sam and Hannah, walking together . . .
I counted as each of them passed, in spurts and lulls as we sang. No Elijah. All the young men and women filtered back into the congregation, but Elijah had not returned by the time our hymn ended.
I looked up to the sky, smiled in gratitude at God. We would have time.
A shadow passed over me. I squinted up to see Elijah limping down the long aisle on his crutches, and my face fell.
I felt numb as he went to join the other young men and women who were kneeling at the front. Numb as the Bishop reminded them that they were making a promise before God and the witnesses of the congregation.
I wanted to close my eyes, not to witness this. But I had no choice.
The Bishop asked them the first of four baptism questions: “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God?”
Elijah responded in the affirmative. I could see his lips moving but could not hear him.
“Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior who died on the cross for you?”
He responded with the others, in unison.
“Do you renounce the world Outside, the devil with all his insidious temptations, as well as your own flesh and blood to serve Jesus Christ, whether it costs you your life or your death?”
I saw his lips say: Yes.
“Do you promise to walk in Christ’s word and be faithful to the Amish Church for the rest of your life, never to depart?”
Yes.
The prayer bonnets were removed from the girls, and the Deacon followed the Bishop with a bucket of water and a tin cup. The Deacon poured water into the Bishop’s hands and the young men’s and women’s heads, three times each.
When they came to Elijah, I wanted to stand up, shout at him, but I remained rooted in place, my voice jammed in my throat.
Water splashed on him three times: “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we extend to you the hand of fellowship.”
The Bishop lifted the men and women to their feet, one by one. “Arise as a faithful member of the church.”
Elijah’s face was glowing like the sun overhead.
I felt something in my chest break.
I had witnessed Elijah’s baptism. It was real now, real as the vampires I’d seen yesterday. I tried to smile and make benign chatter with the rest of the congregation after the service, but I wanted nothing more than to flee. Elijah was surrounded by well-wishers, and I managed to avoid him and any questions about my own baptism by busying myself in the kitchen. Once the last plate was served, I made to slip away from the throng.