Abstract
This study analyzes the ways in which one community newspaper connects a broad, diverse population bound by a common ideal. The subject of the research is the national edition of The Budget, a weekly newspaper produced by and mailed to Amish and Mennonite readers. The newspaper’s correspondents typically pass along information about local life, such as illnesses, marriages, and descriptions of community activities. Using Benedict Anderson’s construct of “imagined communities” as a framework, this research explores the portrayals of Amish and Mennonite life in those dispatches and considers the ways those portrayals unite readers. The study identifies four dominant themes around which imagined Amish and Mennonite communities may coalesce: emphases on community, tradition, worship and spirituality, and outward symbols of community membership. The study argues that those common themes are especially important to the Amish and Mennonite communities given their growing geographic dispersal. The study illustrates the way a media outlet may affirm community membership in a diaspora. By providing a platform for writers to share daily routines, the newspaper creates a space for the vicarious experience of community.
In late April 2011, an Amish woman in Canton, Missouri, took a horse and cart to visit her sister, who lived about three miles down the road. After a brief visit, the two women looked out and saw that the horse had freed itself from the hitch rack and disappeared, along with its cart. After searching all over the neighborhood for the horse and cart, the Amish visitor got a ride home from her son, who happened to be working at a nearby sawmill. Not long after they left, the visitor’s brother-in-law came home and discovered the missing horse behind his barn; apparently, the horse had been there the whole time.
The story of the “missing” horse brought a smile to Henry Schwartz’s face, so he shared it with the readers of The Budget, a community newspaper with an international following. Every week, Schwartz and hundreds more Budget writers—most of them Amish or Mennonite—share stories of humor, inspiration, sadness, and most often, regular life, all from their own Anabaptist communities. On April 27, 2011, the day Schwartz’s piece about the missing horse appeared, The Budget’s correspondents filled 40 broadsheet newspaper pages with accounts of car crashes, farm accidents, weddings, births, illnesses, deaths, the weather, and the relationships on which their communities are built. That issue also documented some unusual events, such as news about the creation of a new settlement and a story about an encounter with a non-Amish man who questioned an Amish practice. In The Budget, atypical events are considered newsworthy, to be sure, but so are happenings that many might consider routine, even mundane—for example, listings of who attended local worship services (and who did not), stories of locals who returned from vacation, and descriptions of the previous week’s weather.
The 125-year-old Budget is unusual for a U.S. community newspaper in that it publishes two editions that serve two distinct (although sometimes overlapping) audiences. Its local edition covers the town of Sugarcreek and nearby communities in northeastern Ohio, which has one of the largest concentrations of Amish communities in the nation. That local edition is a typical community newspaper and is produced for the broader community rather than just for the Amish and Mennonite subculture. The Budget also produces a separate national edition produced for and mailed to Amish and Mennonite readers across North America. As such, the national edition of The Budget is an atypical community newspaper: It serves not a geographic community, but a dispersed community of shared interests.
The two editions are fundamentally different in terms of appearance, content, and production procedures. The local edition is created by newspaper workers in the traditional fashion of many community newspapers—a professional journalist covers local news, community members contribute news items, and editors rigorously proofread and package that content. The national edition, however, is written almost exclusively by Amish and Mennonite “scribes”—volunteer writers who send in dispatches (often handwritten accounts sent through the mail) about life and happenings in communities of Anabaptists—the broader faith system from which the Amish and Mennonite belief systems emerged—all over the world. 1 Those scribes face a few editorial constraints—overtly evangelistic writing is prohibited by editors, for example, to keep letters short and deter religious arguments—but by and large, they are free to write about whatever they like. Most pass along local information about the weather, church visits, people who have fallen ill, marriages, and other routine aspects of community life. Some pen longer dispatches that include colorful anecdotes about goings-on in their communities or reports of serious farm accidents. Photographs are rare, and compared with other newspapers, little space is reserved for advertisements. The editor and some other writers pen weekly columns, but scribe letters make up the vast majority of editorial content. In the words of the newspaper’s publisher, “The letters are what we’re selling” (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012).
At a time when many newspaper publishers are dealing with falling circulation numbers, many readers are still interested in buying those letters. In the spring of 2016, The Budget’s national edition circulation was about 18,000, a number that has changed very little over the past four decades; the newspaper’s approximate circulation in 1971 was also 18,000 (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, April 20, 2016; G. R. Smith, 1990). Because of the culture and routines of Amish and Mennonite households and communities, it is expected that single issues are often shared among families and neighbors, although such sharing is difficult to quantify.
This qualitative study of The Budget provides an example of the ways media can be used to reach out to extended communities of former residents or residents who are compelled to leave the immediate geographic community for long periods of time (e.g., college students or military members). Every small town has a diaspora of sorts—a dispersed group of people who still have personal ties to their old community. The Budget is unusual in terms of editorial content and means of production. However, an understanding of the way the newspaper reaches its audience and helps bind readers together can be applied to other community news outlets. Common themes of Amish and Mennonite life revolving around faith, tradition, and social cohesion appear consistently in the hundreds of scribe letters published weekly in The Budget. Those themes create a platform for readers to experience a mediated sense of community.
The study is grounded in Benedict Anderson’s concept of “imagined communities,” which theorized that the idea of “community” is based not on arbitrary geographic boundaries or personal relationships with all other members, but instead on shared experiences or ideals. As is the case in a nation, for all the members of a national or transnational “Amish community” to personally know one another would be impossible. Instead, they come to identify their community and build familiarity with each other through perceptions based on traits they imagine fellow community members to have. Mass media, including niche publications such as the national edition of The Budget, are important contributors to the formation and maintenance of those perceptions and to the collective-mindedness that accompanies them. In examining The Budget, and the history, values, and belief structures of Amish and Mennonite life, complex historical and cultural issues arise that complicate the construction of imagined communities and raise interesting questions about the roles the niche national newspaper plays in the lives of its Amish and Mennonite readers.
By creating a place where hundreds of Amish and Mennonite writers can share personal stories, seek out and give advice, and coalesce around certain beliefs, traditions, and ideals, The Budget serves to maintain personal networks among an ever-growing Anabaptist diaspora. In the process of creating and maintaining those relationships, the newspaper establishes broader “imagined community” among a group of people who, paradoxically, place high premiums on personal familiarity and geographic proximity. Since their inceptions, both the Amish and Mennonite belief systems have resisted any centralization, and instead encourage a great deal of autonomy for local sects (Kraybill, 2003a). There are some commonalities inspired by the central tenets of the faith. All faithful Amish men and women profess allegiance to God and emphasize family and neighbors, among other shared values. Nonetheless, Amish church districts operate independently; each has its own Ordnung, its own set of rules (Kraybill, 2003a). The roots of that independence can be traced back to the Protestant reformation, when Anabaptists’ conviction that religious groups should be self-governing and free from government control clashed with the beliefs of the Catholic Church and other Protestant groups (C. H. Smith, 1950).
As their members strive to be “in the world but not of the world” (J. A. Hostetler, 1980, p. 93), contemporary Amish communities distance themselves from broader civic involvement and intimate relationships with the non-Amish, focusing instead on internal relationships and congregational independence. Although they may take part in community efforts such as volunteer fire departments, they are generally less inclined to identify with larger “communities” (such as states, provinces, or nations) for fear of tying themselves to worldly concerns (Kraybill, Johnson-Weiner, & Nolt, 2013). Given that the Anabaptist community emphasizes insularity, one might expect that the idea of a broader imagined Amish community would hold little appeal. However, the content and popularity of The Budget’s national edition seems to indicate otherwise. The newspaper serves as a virtual space where “over-the-back-fence” conversations take place among family members and former neighbors separated by hundreds of miles. Budget scribes facilitate that communion by sharing information and anecdotes that not only reinforce the central aspects of the Anabaptist belief system—a faith in God, the importance of family, and a commitment to community—but that also reflect the diversity of practices and rules among the many different sects within the broader community.
It thus projects and embodies community ideas, as communication scholar James Carey wrote, to create and maintain for a growingly dispersed population: An artificial though nonetheless real symbolic order that operates to provide not information but confirmation, not to alter attitudes or change minds but to represent an underlying order of things, not to perform functions but to manifest an ongoing and fragile social process. (J. W. Carey, 2009, p. 15)
Carey argued that media were more than simple repositories for content—they are also, he argued, facilitators of tangible communion and cultural identity (see also, Dollase, 2003; Johanningsmeier, 2004; Reader & Moist, 2008). This study demonstrates the way The Budget serves to facilitate social communion among its readers.
Using textual analysis informed by Alan McKee (2003) and Norman Fairclough (2003), this study of The Budget offers a glimpse of how Anabaptist life is portrayed in reader-submitted letters published in the national edition of The Budget and how an imagined community is formed. The Budget may not result in readers uniting in the same way Anderson envisioned in his research on the origins of nationalism. In fact, the notion of a broader “Amish nation” would run counter to the central tenets of the Anabaptist faith. During the 16th-century Protestant Reformation, the Anabaptists broke with the Catholic Church and became known, in part, for their staunch opposition to centralized control of religious activities (C. H. Smith, 1950). Today, local church groups operate autonomously and create community-specific rules and cultural norms regarding matters such as acceptable means of travel and technology use. However, through the reinforcement of a central belief system and the “mass ceremony” (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 35) of reading, the newspaper does encourage a sense of familiarity among strangers, and that imagined familiarity is key to Anderson’s theory. As explained below in the discussion of the Anabaptist diaspora, a number of contemporary societal developments have led to the widespread geographic distribution of Amish and Mennonite communities in North America. Despite the geographic distances between various enclaves, readers of The Budget may, by their readership, express that they wish to maintain (or in many cases, create) levels of familiarity that are fundamental to their value system. That sense of familiarity is further reinforced via the writings of the scribes, who are de facto representatives of each enclave. A deeper examination of the narratives within the texts of The Budget adds to the understanding of how community journalism can tie together people in a diaspora, and its findings may inform studies of other diasporas that use various media (online-only, print-only, or multimedia) to express and maintain community cohesion.
In the sections that follow, I briefly describe the central tenets of the Amish and Mennonite faiths. I then consider contexts and applications of Anderson’s “imagined community” framework, focusing particularly on the ways media make it possible for diasporic populations to coalesce through the consumption of (and, in some cases, through the shared process of creating) media content, and then the history and current editorial practices of The Budget. Much of the rest of the study is dedicated to describing the dominant themes found in scribe letters—themes around which, I argue, readers are able to build connections. I conclude with a discussion of the broader implications of the study to scholars and practitioners of community journalism.
The Anabaptists
Amish and Mennonite roots can be traced to earlier times, but the Anabaptist faith emerged during the European Protestant Reformation of the 1500s. Over time, the faith splintered and evolved, and practitioners crossed the Atlantic Ocean, settling in southeastern Pennsylvania and then spreading across North America. Although often lumped together under the general umbrella of “the Amish,” the groups and subgroups within the Anabaptist faith are distinct: Different sects may live in relatively close proximity but maintain their differences. In the Americas, the Amish and Mennonite belief systems are the largest and best known. The modern-day beliefs and traditions of the Amish and Mennonites are similar in several ways, but subgroups hold different beliefs on issues such as transportation and dress. Diversity exists even within the Old Order Amish, the most orthodox group typically identified by their conservative clothes, beards on men and bonnets on women, and their use of horse-drawn buggies for transportation. For example, the “ultra-traditional” Swartzentruber Amish reject some technology that other Old Order Amish accept, such as indoor bathrooms and natural gas refrigeration, while other more modernized groups will allow limited use of the Internet and cellular telephones (C. Anderson, 2013; Elder, 2014; Kraybill et al., 2013). 2 In 2015, an estimated 300,000 Old Order and New Order Amish lived in North America (Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies, Elizabethtown College, 2015). 3
If diaspora is understood as a “real or imagined relationship among scattered fellows, whose sense of community is sustained by forms of communication and contact such as kinship, pilgrimage, trade, travel, and shared culture” (Mai, 2005; Peters, 1997, p. 20), then contemporary demographic shifts among Amish and Mennonites provide a strong argument that the population may be considered a diaspora. The number of Amish adults and children in North America more than doubled between 1992 and 2013, with Amish communities established in nine new states. 4 Much of that expansion took place outside of the three states where Amish communities in the United States have historically been situated. In 1992, some 71% of the country’s Amish population lived in Pennsylvania, Ohio, or Indiana; by 2013, their share had fallen to 64%. During that same time period, Amish populations grew by more than 150% in eight other states (Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies, Elizabethtown College, 2013). 5 Research suggests that new settlement is driven by a desire to find fertile farmland, economic shifts toward non-farm work, a search for rural isolation, and efforts to resolve church or leadership conflicts, among other factors (Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies, Elizabethtown College, 2013). Population growth has been attributed to large families and average church retention rates of 85% or more (Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies, Elizabethtown College, 2013).
An agricultural identity lies at the core of Amish lifestyle, although the economic structures in many Amish communities are changing. The “mythic stereotype” (Kraybill, 1994, p. 13) of Amish families toiling on remote, idyllic farms has in the early 21st century all but given way in many communities to cottage industries, small business, carpentry, construction, and industrial work (Elder, 2014). The amount of available farmland has been steadily shrinking due to industrialization and suburban growth. At the same time, as Amish populations have grown, Amish individuals have found themselves looking for new ways to sustain themselves and their families; two thirds of Amish families find that their primary income comes from an industry other than farming (Kraybill et al., 2013).
Amish and Mennonite societies are built around centralized-family/church/community structures that facilitate easy face-to-face contact (C. Anderson, 2013; Bryer, 1979; J. A. Hostetler, 1980; Kraybill et al., 2013). Because they believe they should be separate from the world, the Old Order Amish are limited in terms of forming social circles, and that element of their society is an important cog in the creation and maintenance of the Amish as a separate social group within a larger community (Elder, 2014; J. A. Hostetler, 1980). Traditionally, the Amish do not participate in the broader affairs of their non-Amish surroundings. That being said, the Amish neither seek nor desire complete social isolation (Ems, 2014; J. A. Hostetler, 1980). The Amish will interact with non-Amish neighbors (often referred to collectively as “the English” 6 ), help them with farm work, and assist them during emergencies. The outside world also provides an important market for Amish products. Although they are friendly to outsiders, the Amish often keep the English at arm’s length. A growing friendship with the outside world, they reason, may distract them from spiritual pursuits (Elder, 2014; Kraybill et al., 2013).
Symbolic communication plays an important role in Amish discourse. The theological, denominational, and revivalistic terms common in evangelic Protestant dialog “are conspicuously absent from the Amish vocabulary. . . . Their central beliefs oppose those movements whose military style thrives on conquest” (J. A. Hostetler, 1980, p. 373). However, within Amish communities, consensus is vital, and reaching it requires constant discourse that may differ from community to community. Conservative dress is seen as a symbol of obedience to God and as an outward rejection of worldly values. Clothing also serves to clarify an Amish person’s position within society. For example, young men who have recently married wear a hat with a wide seam around the brim and a rounded crown. Most Amish fathers wear hats with flat crowns. In his seminal work on Amish life, John A. Hostetler noted that although many outsiders would not notice the differences, to the Amish, they “indicate whether people are fulfilling the expectations of the group” (J. A. Hostetler, 1980, p. 234). Width of hat brims and bands around crowns can also serve to distinguish modernized Amish congregations from those that are more orthodox. Beards serve to show a man’s marital status: Married men grow them, but unmarried men do not. Those symbolisms serve as a second language for the Amish and Mennonites, effective in communicating differences to the outside world, but even more effective in communicating differences within Amish communities (Kraybill et al., 2013).
In large part because their beliefs are so different from the mainstream, the Old Order Amish fascinate many Americans and draw much attention from the American media, not all of it welcome. The Amish typically shun publicity, but because their stories “play well,” they often find themselves portrayed by outside media as idyllic slices of American life or, conversely, sensationalized caricatures of wayward saints (Kraybill, 2008). It should be noted, however, that the Amish are active participants in the mediation of their lives. “They speak, write, publish, and read. Although they do not make movies or engage public relations firms to communicate their messages, they participate in mediation processes on their own terms, for their own purposes, using their own means” (Umble & Weaver-Zercher, 2008, p. 15). Old Order Amish are heavy users of books, newspapers, and magazines, and some Amish people have embraced mass media means to share their views. Typically, those mass media messages assume that other Amish people are the target audience; Amish correspondence aimed at primarily English audiences (such as newspaper letters to the editors) occurs less frequently (Umble & Weaver-Zercher, 2008). Still, Umble and Weaver-Zercher observed, “The Amish are not just virtual images created and circulated by English mediators. They are also actors who create their own images of Amish life and, in various ways, respond to the images they encounter (Umble & Weaver-Zercher, 2008). Correspondent newspapers such as The Budget serve as one platform for Amish and Mennonites to create and circulate images of themselves, their communities, and their values.
Imagined Communities
In his study of nationalism, Benedict Anderson (1983) theorized that citizens of a country establish national identities based not on geographic boundaries but rather on shared cultural norms and ideals. Anderson described those collectives as “imagined communities.” A view of a nation or community as a network of social relations and shared beliefs rather than a physical thing or place per se—something to be experienced rather than a geographic and/or social container—is central to Anderson’s understanding of imagined community (Appadurai, 2003; Budarick & King, 2008; Cover, 2013; Malkki, 1992; Williamson, 2014). Anderson argued that any community larger than a tiny village (and perhaps even social collectives that small) was, in fact, imagined, because community members develop a kinship with one another through shared ideals, experiences, or beliefs—a “deep, horizontal comradeship” that forms regardless of actual inequalities or stark cultural differences that may exist within the group (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 7). Although Anderson focused on national identities, the concept can be, and often is, applied to other types of collectives in which most members of the community do not have direct contact with one another. Richard Jenkins observed in his critique of Anthony Cohen’s The Symbolic Construction of Community, “The ‘community’ of locality and settlement is no less imagined than the ‘community’ of the nation, and no less symbolically constructed” (R. Jenkins, 2004, p. 114).
Anderson suggested that media—books and newspapers—act as conduits for the creation of “national imagination” (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 30). Print media such as newspapers and books, he wrote, “made it possible for rapidly growing numbers of people to think about themselves, and to relate themselves to others, in profoundly new ways” (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 36). Media content is an important aspect of that reaffirmation. So too is the shared ceremony of consuming that content. Anderson applied this argument to newspaper reading specifically: We know that particular morning and evening editions will overwhelmingly be consumed between this hour and that, only on this day, not that. . . . The significance of this mass ceremony . . . is paradoxical. It is performed in silent privacy, in the lair of the skull. Yet each communicant is well aware that the ceremony he performs is being replicated simultaneously by thousands (or millions) of others of whose existence he is confident, yet of whose identity he has not the slightest notion. Furthermore, this ceremony is incessantly repeated at daily or half-daily intervals throughout the calendar. What more vivid figure for the secular, historically clocked, imagined community can be envisioned? (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 35)
Scholars have conceptualized the mediation of imagined community as the expression of a shared social space (Funk, 2012; Gupta & Ferguson, 1992; J. Jenkins, 2016) or as a common set of values developed out of an affinity for certain types of journalistic or literary work (Delgado, 1998; Dollase, 2003; Johanningsmeier, 2004; Webb, 2006). Groups viewed as outsiders have used community media to create functional effective communities, expressing shared identity and combating oppression and stereotypes in a shared site of ideological struggle (Budarick & King, 2008; Novek, 2005; Rose, 1996). Steiner noted that periodicals produced by woman suffragists in the 19th century served as a tool for the definition of the movement’s community spirit: “Suffragists professed common goals and shared interests; they saw themselves, both as women and suffragists, as bound up in a common fate” (Steiner, 1983, p. 1). Just as The Budget does for its Amish and Mennonite readers, papers and magazines such as The Lily and Una allowed readers to “share a unique history and destiny” (Steiner, 1983, p. 4) and “dramatized major celebrations and ceremonies so that readers at home could feel that they too had participated” (p. 5). In doing so, the publications established grounds for shared community. Writers for prison newspaper likewise helped readers build community “out of the common experiences of adversity and outlaw status” (Novek, 2005, p. 283). In both studies, the bonds generated through consumption of media are social rather than geographic.
Because they are grounded in interaction and social experience, communities are continuously made and remade. So what it means to be an American, a New Yorker, a member of an imagined Amish community, or part of any other group is in a constant state of flux (Berlant, 1991; Silberstein, 2003; Vukov, 2003). A community’s continued existence is dependent on the active involvement of its members, and attempts to create community through its niche media fail if potential members are not willing, active participants (Reader & Moist, 2008). The development of kinship, a sense of home, and other “natural ties” are vital to the creation of imagined community (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 143), and individual interpretations of those factors can change over time. That making and remaking of assumed commonality need not consist of grand language; the “routinely familiar habits of language” also may reinforce sameness (Billig, 1995, p. 93). In his study of nationalism, Billig suggested small words such as we, here, and this in news stories create opportunities for readers to place themselves in a narrative (Billig, 1995).
That interplay among media, individuals, and a broader imagined community brings us back to a consideration of The Budget’s position in the Anabaptist world. John A. Hostetler (1980), Donald Kraybill (2008), and other scholars with expertise on Anabaptist culture (Galindo, 1994; Nolt, 2008) have written that The Budget and Amish correspondent newspapers reflect Amish values and connect readers within an Amish community. Nolt (2008) argued that the newspapers do more, serving “in fact [as] agents in the creation of that community” (p. 183). Relying on Anderson’s concept of imagined communities, Nolt (2008) wrote that The Budget and Die Botschaft (“The Message” in Pennsylvania Dutch), another broadly distributed Amish newspaper whose content is produced by “scribes,” turn people in unfamiliar places into neighbors based on a shared set of values and normalized traditional aspects of Old Order Amish life (such as the use of horse-drawn buggies). 7 Although Nolt’s observations are insightful, he offers little explanation of just how The Budget and Die Botschaft go about establishing the social norms that promote Old Order life over more liberal ideals. Other scholars who use Anderson’s work have been similarly criticized; although imagined communities are frequently discussed in academic literature, comparatively little attention is paid to how these are formed (Webb, 2006). By exploring The Budget, this study contributes to a greater understanding of how niche and community media contribute to the formation, maintenance, and evolution of imagined communities.
Community Media in Diasporas
Community news outlets, Chicago sociologist Morris Janowitz suggested, do much more than simply inform readers. In his canonical study of urban community newspapers, he argued that they also “interpret relevant external events to the local community in a meaningful and affectual context” by emphasizing commonality and “help the individual orient himself in time and space in the local community by building and maintaining local traditions and local identifications” (Janowitz, 1967, p. 61). Community media outlets and niche publications provide glimpses of life within a community (either geographic or experience-based) as seen through the eyes of members of that community (Galindo, 1994; Janowitz, 1967). The community press’s role in society has been well studied: Essentially, it serves to chronicle “the everyday lives of ordinary people,” as Pulitzer Prize–winning weekly newspaper editor and co-publisher Bernard L. Stein observed (Lauterer, 2006, p. 3). Community media emphasize similarity over difference and practice the “‘reproduction and representation of common (shared) interests’ and ‘the community serves as a frame of reference for a shared interpretation’” (M. C. Carey, 2013; Cover, 2013; Janowitz, 1967; Milan, 2008, p. 25; Williamson, 2014) and maintain social structures by “drawing attention to what is acceptable and not acceptable within the dominant norms and values of the community” (Tichenor, Donohue, & Olien, 1980; Viswanath & Arora, 2000, pp. 41-42). They reinforce the rights and values of people in communities they serve (Janowitz, 1967). Groups also may use community news outlets to counteract negative or overly simple portrayals of community members or the broader collective in mainstream media accounts (Budarick & King, 2008; M. C. Carey, 2014; Rose, 1996).
Many scholars have explored the development of identity in diasporic communities—communities bound by common culture whose members have become dispersed geographically. In most diasporas, members believe that the expression of their own sense of uniqueness, and consequently the image they want to project, are critical for maintaining their ethno-national identities, as well as for stressing the more essential . . . features of their national entities in a world that demonstrates antagonism toward “others,” including ethnic minorities, migrants, refugees, asylum seekers, and ethno-national diasporas (Sheffer, 2005, p. 3).
Although its European roots can be seen in facets of Anabaptist life (such as language), the Anabaptist diaspora does not coalesce around a national identity. It is instead united by a spiritual identity. Collective identity and individual identity are perpetually built and reproduced, cultural studies scholar Stuart Hall wrote. The way we recognize our personal and group identities hinges largely on what we might become, how we have been represented and how that bears on how we might represent ourselves. . . . [T]he belongingness, the “suturing into the story” through which identities arise is, partly, in the imaginary (as well as the symbolic) and therefore, always, partly constructed in fantasy, or at least within a fantasmatic field. (Hall, 1996, p. 4)
By their very nature, diasporas require various forms of mediated communication so that dispersed individuals or enclaves can remain connected. Globalization, mobility, and deterritorialization have complicated the tasks of identity maintenance and of constructing and maintaining communities in the traditional geographic sense. The idea of diasporization—“the relocation of people in space and their ability, desire and persistence to sustain connections and commonality” (Georgiou, 2006, p. 2)—forces society to rethink what is meant by nation and nationalism and realigns the relationship between citizens and their nations (Braziel & Mannur, 2003). Diasporic populations worldwide—Sudanese, Chinese, Jewish, Iranian, and others—wrestle to achieve inclusion in new home countries and to maintain a sense of connection to the motherland (Bernal, 2006). Media (i.e., forms of communication that transcend interpersonal communication) “have become institutions and organized mechanisms of great significance for constructing identities in local, national and transnational contexts within modernity” that play “a growing role in defining the meanings, uses and appropriations of cultural and social space” (Georgiou, 2006, pp. 11-12). When media become grounded in particular social settings (as appears to be the case with The Budget among Amish readers), then media come to be intertwined with group identities, and changes in the media can serve to alter the dynamic of the diaspora (Georgiou, 2006). Media and other cultural products produced by and for diasporic peoples affirm and defend “social and cultural diversity” that may be threatened as members assimilate into a new culture (Cottle, 2000, p. 2) and establish a sort of mediated local space for diasporic audiences, grounding their imagination in familiar places and cultural symbols that can reinforce ideals and emphasize the similarities and differences that bind members of diasporas to one another (Bernal, 2006; Georgiou, 2006; Shi, 2005; Zhou & Cai, 2002). The ties need not be based on geography—generational or genealogical links, shared memory, common history, common language, and cultural traditions can be equally as vital to maintenance of diasporas (Boyarin & Boyarin, 2003; Sreberny, 2000; Sun, 2006). By establishing a set of “common reference points” (Shi, 2005, p. 66), diasporic media facilitate socialization among consumers in the diaspora, and between those consumers and the homeland, creating “placeless cultures” (Cottle, 2001; Husband, 2001; Shi, 2005, p. 56) around which individual identities and imagined communities can be built. The very act of using diasporic media helps bind members of a community; people routinely consume media together, or they do so separately and then come together to discuss it (B. Anderson, 1983; Elias, 2008; Georgiou, 2006). Producing content for diasporic media and consuming it may produce different effects: Galindo observed that writing for the Amish newspaper Die Botschaft signaled an affiliation with one’s local sect, whereas reading the newspaper signified affiliation with “the larger Amish community” (Galindo, 1994, p. 80). 8
Participatory Journalism
The ubiquity of online communication is often argued to be the impetus for what has come to be called “citizen journalism” or “participatory journalism”—that is, news content being generated by members of the audience rather than by trained professional journalists. Although the technology that facilitates it in much contemporary media is relatively new, the concept itself is an old cultural practice. Newspapers have a long history of encouraging reader participation. In the 17th and 18th centuries, newspapers in England and the American colonies sometimes left blank space on one page; the extra room allowed readers to write in their own comments before sending the publication on to acquaintances (Hermida, 2011). Advances in technology and changes in media culture and economics have resulted in an increasing interest in user-generated content through “participatory journalism,” which is also sometimes called “citizen journalism” or “grassroots journalism” (Briggs, 2013; Glaser, 2006) Participatory journalism represents an interactive conversation among members of a community, as opposed to the one-way conversation of traditional media (Min, 2005). The changing gatekeeping standards also help construct what Manuel Castells called a system of “mass self-communication,” a communication model that is “self-generated in content, self-directed in emission, and self-selected in reception by the many that communicate with many” (Castells, 2007, p. 248). In a more small-group or individualist sense, the emergence of mass self-communication, Castells (2007) argued, “offers an extraordinary medium for social movements and rebellious individuals to build their autonomy and confront the institutions of society in their own terms and around their own projects” (p. 249).
Kenneth Neil Cukier, a technology correspondent for The Economist in London, was quoted as applauding participatory journalism as a “reformational movement” within the media: [T]he Internet is affecting journalism just as the printing press affected the Church—people are bypassing the sacrosanct authority of the journalist in the same way as Luther asserted that individuals could have a direct relationship with God without the intermediary of the priest. The Internet has disintermediated middlemen in other industries, why should journalism be immune? (Glaser, 2006)
Although the national edition of The Budget is a print product and not electronic, Cukier’s analogy is especially pertinent to this study. Given the history of the Anabaptist movement, particularly its oppositional stance toward active civic involvement, its inclination toward congregational independence, and its arm’s-length approach toward non-Anabaptists (each of which is discussed in more detail below), it would stand to reason that consumers of an Anabaptist news product would be more inclined to use a medium that minimizes outside (non-Amish) influence on content. The newspaper is paginated and printed by non-Amish newspaper workers, and some who make editorial and policy decisions that influence content (including the newspaper’s publisher at the time of this study) are not Amish. Budget policies, however, minimize the outside editorial influence of “middlemen” on letters.
The Budget
The Budget (then called The Sugar Creek Budget) first appeared on May 15, 1890. Its founder was John C. Miller, a commercial printer who lived in nearby Walnut Creek. Having moved his printing business to Sugarcreek, Miller felt the town needed a local newspaper. Miller originally envisioned The Budget as nothing more than a community newspaper that would cover the town and surrounding communities. In the newspaper’s centennial edition, former Budget Managing Editor George R. Smith (1990) described the evolution of the national edition: [Miller] began mailing some copies of his paper to Amish friends who had moved farther west. Some of these friends began to write letters for The Budget, telling of farming conditions and opportunities in their part of the country. These letters proved so popular that Mr. Miller encouraged other writers and by the second year the letters began to take up much of the space in The Budget. (p. 2)
In 1892, The Budget was being mailed to 463 post offices in 18 states; by 1906, its circulation had passed 5,000, and it “became known as the Amish newspaper” (G. R. Smith, 1990). Because of ailing health, Miller sold The Budget in 1910 to a group of Mennonite churchmen led by the Rev. Samuel H. Miller, a prominent Mennonite church worker and popular public speaker in the early 1900s. The newspaper placed many additional demands on his already busy schedule, so he sold The Budget to S. A. Smith in 1920. Smith ran the newspaper until 1936, when he became Sugarcreek’s postmaster and his son, George R. Smith took over (G. R. Smith, 1990). The Smiths were Lutheran, but they kept The Budget’s pages open to a wide variety of Amish and Mennonite news (Nolt, 2008). George R. Smith served as publisher until 1969, when he first leased and then sold the business to two employees, Sylvester R. Miller and Don E. Sprankle (Nolt, 2008). Sylvester Miller sold his portion of the newspaper to Sprankle in 1974, and the next year, Sprankle sold the newspaper to a group of Budget employees that included Sylvester Miller (G. R. Smith, 1990). In 1980, The Budget was sold to Albert Spector. Spector had no newspaper experience, and he was Jewish, not Amish. However, he did have a personal interest in The Budget—his family’s fabric stores were one of the newspaper’s largest advertisers (Hilliard, 2002). In early 2016, Spector was publisher emeritus, and his daughter Sonia Spector-Cohen was its president.
In 2012, four of The Budget’s 16 employees were Mennonite, including the editor of the national edition. An expansion in Amish settlements in the late 1960s and early 1970s pushed the newspaper’s circulation up to 18,000 in 1971 (G. R. Smith, 1990), and The Budget’s national edition circulation has remained relatively stable over the last 40 years (Ansberry, 2013; F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, April 20, 2016; Rabinowitz, 2010). Roughly, half of The Budget’s subscribers live outside of Ohio, and of those, approximately 85% are Amish or Mennonite; the rest are English readers who have friends in the Amish community or are interested in the Amish lifestyle, according to the newspaper’s publisher, who was not Amish (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Typically, the national edition of The Budget consists of about 44 broadsheet news pages (Figure 1). Photographs appeared in a few paid anniversary announcements and advertisements, but the overwhelming majority of the national edition’s news content is text. For U.S. subscribers, a 1-year subscription to the national edition of The Budget cost US$45 in 2016. The newspaper is also sold at stores and racks in Sugarcreek and other communities with large Amish populations.

The front page of the Budget, 25 August 2010, page 1.
The correspondents who provide the bulk of the content are called “scribes.” Scribes range in age from their teens to their 90s, and women write for the newspaper more often than men. They are not paid for their work; they become scribes by volunteering to write for their communities. To qualify to have a scribe, a settlement must have at least six families and a minister, and the newspaper allows only one scribe per settlement or church district, according to the newspaper’s national editor (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Many, but not all, scribes write letters every week. The Budget has a roster of about 840 scribes and typically publishes between 450 and 500 letters a week (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Much of the information in scribe letters is gathered as scribes go about their daily lives; scribes often provide accounts of places they go and things they personally see and do. Accounts of community events are often given firsthand, and if a scribe misses a local event for some reason, he or she will often acknowledge that the event took place, and that he or she was not present. Letters reflect the fact that community members contact scribes and ask them to include certain pieces of information in their letters. The majority of scribe letters are sent to the newspaper through the U.S. Postal Service, although some come by fax; in 2016, about 70 to 80 a week were submitted by email (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, April 20, 2016).
When scribes begin writing for The Budget, they get a set of guidelines that explain what types of information are and are not allowed in scribe letters. The guidelines have been revised by publishers and national editors several times; the most recent significant revision occurred in 2001 (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, April 20, 2016). They instruct writers to omit information about, among other things, unremarkable local visits, “stories of bygone years,” “stories you read in other magazines, newspapers, etc., that have nothing to do or relate with the group you report for,” and “items that could be considered ‘preaching.’” The guidelines are present in large part to encourage brevity and to prevent disputes over dogma from appearing in the newspaper, but are largely uncontroversial, and require little enforcement. The national editor said “preachy” articles became a problem so these were subsequently excluded: We’re a community newspaper for news. We’re not a religious newspaper. Our readers are Amish and Mennonite groups that are religious, but it’s not like our paper is a religious newspaper. . . . It can really be a sticky thing between the groups, because they have so many little “my hat is this big,” and “my dress is this long” . . . So why go there? It’s not what we’re doing. We’re not trying to convert you to “my hat is this big.” (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012)
The Budget’s editorial guidelines instruct scribes to keep letters to 12 column inches, but “part of our unwritten agreement is if they write it, we’ll get it into the paper,” the publisher said (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Newspaper employees who work with scribe letters try to keep editing to a minimum; the letters are not edited much for style. Severe errors in spelling and grammar are sometimes fixed by the newspaper’s staff, but more minor errors are often left in because the newspaper’s staff wants The Budget “to be real and be conversational, because that’s what Pennsylvania Dutch [a language spoken in many Amish communities] is,” the publisher said. Some Budget writers sprinkle Pennsylvania Dutch phrases into their letters, and the newspaper includes a column written entirely in Pennsylvania Dutch that target readers who are very comfortable with the language. “And for the English who pick it up and read it, they find that’s part of the charm in it. They know it’s conversational” (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012). The national edition editor said scribes typically “know what we do or do not leave in. So . . . it’s not edited except for certain things we don’t put in” (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012).
The Budget and similar publications serve as “collective diaries, spaces in which order is brought to bear on group life, highlighting particular commonality and suppressing certain types of diversity” (Nolt, 2008, p. 184). Rene Galindo’s research portrays Budget scribes as reporters who deliver news their readers want to consume, an act that in turn lays the groundwork for community development: “In Amish society, interpersonal relations are the basis of community life, and newsletter reports of social events contribute to the interpersonal focus of community life by making known to the readership the occurrence of those events” (Galindo, 1994, p. 100). Budget newsletters, Galindo reasoned, could “lessen the effects of distance between settlements created by geographic space and the absence of telephones in Amish homes” (Galindo, 1994, p. 101). The newspaper’s publisher and national editor said they viewed The Budget as a sort of communication middleman that received information from communities, packaged that information, and redistributed it to those same communities. The national editor said The Budget serves as “a connection” for readers who already know each other, as well as those who have no personal relationship: It’s a communication with many of their friends, their relatives, and people they don’t even know across the United States or wherever. Every week, they read about their lives and it’s a great way of connection. I think they feel that connection even if they personally don’t know them. . . . The Amish people are very community-minded. . . . Even if they’re not local, they’re still part of my community. (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012)
The publisher of The Budget voiced a similar idea that through the statement of shared values and the sharing of personal information, the newspaper tied readers in different parts of the world together.
Design
The textual analysis used in this research follows Alan McKee’s (2003) advice about using cultural context to guide analysis and also applies Norman Fairclough’s more systematic approach to consider “equivalences and differences” (Fairclough, 2003, pp. 100-101). Fairclough suggests that the practice of sense-making involves the “simultaneous working of two different ‘logics,’ a logic of ‘difference’ which creates differences and divisions, and a logic of ‘equivalence’ which subverts existing differences and divisions” (Fairclough, 2003, p. 100). At the instant of interpretation—what Fairclough calls the “textual moment”—the intermixing of differences and equivalencies can provide evidence of themes of identity: In this study, themes relate to what makes Anabaptist readers of The Budget the same and what makes various orders/sects different within the broader Anabaptist culture. By focusing only on the rhetoric of differences and equivalencies, the study focuses on the themes that relate most directly to the concept of “imagined community.” The poststructuralist approach to textual analysis used here does not assume any singular “right” way of interpreting the text at hand. As McKee observed, “We make sense of the reality that we live in through our cultures, and . . . different cultures can have very different experiences of reality” (McKee, 2003, p. 10). No one representation of reality can be the single accurate representation—“other cultures will always have alternative, and equally valid, ways of representing and making sense of that part of reality” (McKee, 2003, p. 11). The goal of poststructuralist textual analysis is to broaden the understanding of how certain groups perceive texts at certain times.
The method involved multiple readings and re-readings of the texts, starting with what cultural studies scholar Stuart Hall referred to as “a long preliminary soak” (Worthington, 2001, p. 172), to become familiar with the texts and to conceptualize broad themes. During the second reading, the researcher applied the cultural-context lens; this also involved categorizing individual texts (hereafter, “scribe letters” or simply “letters”) into those broad themes and identifying additional themes likely to be evident to Amish and Mennonite readers of The Budget. A third reading was used to evaluate the credibility of the analysis—to refine logical interpretations and reject initial interpretations that on second thought seemed unreasonable. The fourth reading used the theoretical framework of “imagined community” to provide an overall analysis and discussion of the findings within that theoretical framework.
A random sample of national editions of The Budget published between January 2010 and June 2011 was analyzed. This covered 9,261 scribe letters published in the 18 issues chosen for the sample. Each letter in each of the selected issues was analyzed. The sample was constructed by selecting the first issue of the first month, the second issue of the second month, the third issue of the third month, the fourth issue of the fourth month, then the first issue of the fifth month, the second issue of the sixth month, and so on. An average national edition includes approximately 500 scribe letters. An analysis of all 78 issues of the newspaper published during the 18-month time period would have required the reading of approximately 39,000 letters, which was unfeasible. The researcher would have considered a larger sample had the point of “theoretical saturation” not been reached—that is, if analysis of the sample had not ceased to reveal substantial new information (Strauss & Corbin, 1990).
Dominant Themes
Analysis of scribe letters in The Budget revealed four primary, often overlapping content themes around which Budget readers could build imagined community: an emphasis on community, an emphasis on tradition, an emphasis on worship and one’s relationship with God, and outward symbols of community that differentiate readers from outsiders, and occasionally from each other. Each theme is discussed below.
Emphasis on Community
Social networks that create community are central to many Budget letters, and the newspaper reinforces the importance of an intimate community as one value around which imagined community is constructed. The maintenance of an intimate Anabaptist community stretching beyond the borders of a single settlement or town can be challenging, and recent trends in Mennonite and Amish life such as the increasing mobility of families, economic pressures that have forced shifts in traditional labor practices, and the growing physical distance between settlements have only added to the challenge. The national edition of The Budget acknowledges those challenges, and in a sense, it attempts to serve as a counterweight to them. The newspaper emphasizes the value of geographic proximity, community intimacy, and personal presence, and it makes those things available in a virtual sense to readers who cannot always experience them firsthand. Scribe letters also reinforce the idea that the Anabaptist world is a small one, and by introducing readers to one another and providing detailed descriptions of writers’ surroundings, the letters can create virtual relationships among readers and generate sense of “being there” and knowing people that reinforce imagined communities.
An emphasis on geographic proximity as a vital component of community begins with the assembly of the national edition of The Budget itself. The newspaper’s index, which appears on the front page of every national edition, organizes letters based on geography rather than author, sect, or topic, so readers can seek out letters based on their points of origin. Scribe letters are always one column wide and begin with the town and state designation in bold type (e.g., Adamsville, OH; Loyal, WI) rather than a headline that indicates the content of the letter. In many cases, the town/state designation is accompanied by smaller, boldface subhead that provides additional detail—usually either a more detailed geographic designation (such as an address) or the name of a congregation or church district. In areas with large concentrations of Amish and/or Mennonite residents, multiple scribes may be writing from the same general locale. The subheadings can be particularly useful in differentiating those letters. For example, in the June 9, 2010, edition, six letters were from Sugarcreek, Ohio. Subheadings serve to differentiate those letters, making clear which ones went with which communities.
The hometowns of individuals mentioned in letters are also important. When local residents are traveling, or when they are mentioned in groups that include non-locals, scribes often take care to identify the local residents as local. Letter writers often mention the homes of people who come in to visit church services or attend weddings. Geographic ties are established in other ways. When a letter writer describes the landscape in his or her locale, the description helps readers visualize those particular places. Homesteads are sometimes associated with families who previously lived there, indicating how much families are tied to distinct locations, as is the case in this example: “David Raaen from Resaca, Ga. moved into the community on the 21st to make this his home. He will live in the small house close to the church/school house where Nick Alleys had previously lived” (Martin, 2011). In describing a familiar landscape (or at least suggesting to readers that the landscape is familiar to the scribe with whom they are communing), letter writers fuse the world inside the newspaper with the world outside it, allowing readers to think “of the representative body, not the personal life” (B. Anderson, 1983, pp. 30-32).
Scribe letters in The Budget also emphasize the importance of personal presence in the daily lives of Amish and Mennonite readers. Assembly is a dominant theme in scribe letters—most will mention church meetings, family reunions, and other forms of community gatherings. The number of people who attend worship services, weddings, family reunions, or funerals is often reported. Poor attendance at such events is sometimes noted—for example, “[i]t seemed somewhat empty in church this morning . . .” (L. Hostetler & Hostetler, 2010). Scribe letters frequently mention individuals and families who are missing from church, and readers are usually told where they were. For example, “East church was at Joas Millers’ . . . . The Monroe Miller family was missing, as they went to Kingston to the funeral of Joe Mattie” (Nissley, 2011). One letter writer mentioned the presence of a visitor at his church and then explained the absence of her husband: “Oren was in the area too, but chose to spend the forenoon with Mark Gingerich” (E. D. Stutzman, 2010). When they do not know where absent members are, some writers will expressly say so. Scribes also sometimes use their letters to explain their own absences from church or social events, reinforcing the subtle idea that it is natural to be together. An emphasis on face-to-face interaction and the oral tradition also can be seen in scribes’ descriptions of the flow of information through their communities: “Word passed through the community late last evening of the passing away of Mrs. Rhoda Yoder, 84.” (A. A. Mast, 2010) and “Joe Hershbergers got word from Brodhead, Wisc. that a cousin passed away” (M. M. S. Yoder, 2010). By illustrating how news of those deaths spread in their communities, scribes emphasize the importance of conversation in social settings.
Scribes often highlight the fact that news comes from interactions with others in their geographic or networked community. Scribes and others get information through those interactions, and when scribes are absent from those social settings, they sometimes suggest news is absent from their letters. In December 2010, a scribe in Nappanee, Indiana, wrote “I was informed that it was too icy for grandmas to be out and about, so that means less news this week” (A. M. Burkholder, 2010b). Another writer observed, “We came home from Dela. yesterday where we were visiting several days, so local news is scarce” (T. H. Detweiler, 2010). Writers sometimes prioritize news based on what their communities are talking about. In June 2010, one Ohio scribe began his letter: “The subject of the weather has probably been in the majority of conversations the past week” (Erb & Erb, 2010). By tying the newsworthiness of information to the fact that local people are discussing it, scribes again place value on traditional modes of Anabaptist communication and social assembly and reflect an understanding of news first and foremost as communal interests.
Visitation is another important part of Amish life, and it often requires travel. When members of an Anabaptist settlement or town are absent from the proximate community, scribes often explain where the individuals went, why they are traveling, and when they will return. The following is a typical example: Mark J. Troyers and Roy M. Hershbergers left early Fri. morning for Ill. to visit friends of Marks. Two weeks ago the heavy snow caused them to turn back home in Wooster, and again it snowed, but we assume they drove out of the storm in western Ohio. Plans were to be back Sun. night. (W. Mast, 2011)
Scribe letters present travel as a major, often difficult undertaking, one often worthy of a great deal of discussion. Travel is most often linked with the attendance of important life events, such as weddings or funerals, or with visitation of friends, family, or acquaintances, although scribes do mention traveling for other reasons (such as mission work or honeymoons). Scribes sometimes make subtle or direct suggestions as to when someone might desire to be visited (e.g., an individual who is injured and homebound might appreciate company to pass the time). They sometimes suggest instances where visits might be inappropriate, as did one Delaware scribe who noted an ill member of his community: “Andy Miller stays about the same. He gets a lot of visitors, which can also be tiring for him” (R. Miller, 2010). Visiting is important in that it makes possible the face-to-face interactions that have historically been vital to Amish social life.
In the imagined community fostered in The Budget, the traditional importance of going to families’ homes and greeting them in person is emphasized, and the act of visiting is often tied to traditional Anabaptist activities such as knitting or farm work. A visit is often seen as one of the best gifts one can receive, and those gifts are often surprise visits, which are mentioned regularly in The Budget. The surprises are sometimes fairly elaborate. An example from an Iowa scribe reads, And last but not least the big surprise visitors, Melvin and Sadie Troyer (Vernon Kathryn’s parents) of Dela., who very unexpectedly drove in at Vernon’s on Sat. evening around 4:30, sitting in backend of the van. The driver told Vernons to come out as she has someone who wants to look through an Amish house. So Vernons had a total surprise when coming out and looking into the van. (J. Yoder & Yoder, 2010)
Letters in the newspaper also occasionally reflect the notion that families should expect company and be prepared to receive visitors at any time: “Many visitors are expected in the area, so we should get it cleaned up around here in case someone stops in” (Byler, 2010).
Face-to-face interactions are important in large part because they build more intimate friendships. Scribe letters often depict the history of a community as the history of open, intimate relationships, as is illustrated by a Kentucky scribe: Henry Detweilers were at their son Bishop Lonnie Detweiler’s for a few days. On Mon. forenoon they made a welcome stop here. Sarah and I had been 5th grade classmates at Pleasant Valley School in Geauga Co. the first year it was built, which was the school term of 1952-53. My dad, Uria R. Byler, was the upper grade teacher, and the former Esther J. Miller taught the lower grades. Esther later married Crist E. Fisher, who just recently passed away. Then Sarah’s family, the Menno Hostetlers, moved to Jamesport, Mo. The last time Sarah and I had seen each other was around 1962. Their visit was way too short. We had barely scratched the top of the pile before they had to leave. They wanted to visit Sarah’s cousin Cora, the Joe D.J. Millers, then catch the bus to start their journey for home in Sarasota, Fla. (E. L. Yoder, 2010)
Letter writers reinforce the importance of individual connections among Budget readers in a number of ways. Scribes sometimes refer to community members by their first names only. Local residents are sometimes identified through things that happened to them without the provision of backstories. For example, a scribe in Cochranton, Pennsylvania, relayed the story of a local family who “attended the funeral on Fri. of the Shelter boy that was accidentally shot in Fredonia” (Marner, 2010). Local landmarks such as old homesteads, farms, and school buildings are sometimes used rather than street names to note locations. For example, one scribe wrote, “Five miles from here at brother’s house they had rain today at noon so that there was mud! We never quit making hay” (The Troyers, 2010, emphasis added). Those examples illustrate the culture’s insular nature. The Amish place a high priority on knowing individuals and places discussed in the letters. That knowing is important to community maintenance and integration, and The Budget helps establish its requisite knowledge base for readers. Even if one does not have a relationship with the people or places involved in specific scribe letters, that reader may, through the act of reading, connect with the writer and the broader imagined community.
Church and community visitors who are not frequent attendees are often identified in scribe letters by their names and by their affiliations with familiar individuals. The common acquaintance provides an outlet by which readers may find a connection with the visitor. For example, a scribe from Ohio shared this story: “The van drivers were the 2 short in stature (dwarfs) from our area, being friends to Johnny Miller (Josie’s brother), who is on a wheelchair due to a construction accident” (W. D. Miller, 2010). By linking the van drivers to Johnny Miller, and linking Johnny Miller to Josie (a community member), the scribe illustrates the connection that brought the two van drivers into the community. Church visitors are regularly identified in Budget letters, often by linking them to regular members. For example, an Ohio scribe wrote: “John P. Gingeriches from Tenn. were in church the last time. They were here to visit their daughter, the Emanuel F. Hostetlers. Emanuels now moved to his parents’ in the new building” (H. Hostetler, 2011). Some scribes refer to church visitors as “strangers,” even when the visitors have a connection within the community. Community newcomers and new church members also face lower levels of familiarity; several scribes occasionally “introduce” new families to the broader Budget community and sometimes briefly profile families who have lived there for years, as this Mennonite scribe couple did: I’m finally getting back to my family introductions. Paul Horst is the son of Ralph and Dorcas from Pa. He came here to live with us in 2005. In 2008 he married Ruthanne Byler, (David) and Barbara. Paul works at Rod and Staff. They have 2 little boys. (Weaver & Weaver, 2011)
Familiarity and proximity combine to make one a “member” of the community, as is reflected in one letter from the Shippensburg, Pennsylvania, scribe who was listing church visitors: “It was a pleasant surprise to have Adrian Martin as our chorister. He’s considered a visitor these days since he and Carolyn are residing in the Quakertown area, but it’s always nice to have them back at Rowe” (Horst, 2010a). A Mennonite scribe couple
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from Missouri made this observation about a couple who attended church in their community: “Seths are becoming regulars at our services so I will no longer list them among our visitors” (O. Stolzfus & Stolzfus, 2010). Letters also encourage people to interact with others, even when they do not think they will be known: On Sun. morning we ventured out again, this time to Monterey, Tenn. where Marsha’s cousin Melody Horst lives. We attended Pilgrim Christian Fellowship for their worship service. I assumed I’d know absolutely nobody, so I was totally surprised when a cousin of my brother-in-law, Tim Rutter, came up to me after the service and told me she knew my sister Jena and Tim. It’s a small, small world! (Horst, 2010b)
The national edition of The Budget does more than simply reinforce the notion that readers should get to know each other. In some cases, it serves as a catalyst for unacquainted Anabaptist readers to learn about other enclaves, to make contact with others, and to establish a commonality on which a social relationship can be built. Scribes seem to serve as connectors in that activity. One Ohio scribe shared the following story about an encounter at an airport: Sitting off to themselves was an Amish couple, obviously waiting for the same flight. “Are you from Holmes County,” I asked. “Yes we are,” the man replied, “Are you Roy Gingerich?” I was somewhat taken back, because I didn’t know them. But, they had just read my most recent Budget article mentioning my flight plans and so weren’t terribly surprised to “bump” into me. I had an interesting conversation with J. D. Miller and his wife Laura from near Walnut Creek, who were on their way to Atlanta to set up a display booth for their company. (R. Gingerich, 2010)
Most Amish or Mennonite readers may not have the opportunity to have such encounters. However, by reading the national edition of The Budget, they are able to experience a sense of familiarity with others and relate themselves to others in their imagined community.
Emphasis on Tradition
Much as the hats Amish men wear indicate whether those men are living up to traditional church expectations (J. A. Hostetler, 1980; Kraybill et al., 2013), descriptions of family life in The Budget can serve as symbols that reflect an adherence to, and reverence for, Amish and Mennonite life. Scribe letters cover topics that range from ultra-conservative to fairly modernized. In the sample reviewed for this study, many writers made reference to the iconic horse and buggy typically associated with conservative Old Order Amish. Others wrote about their use of email and the Internet, and one even discussed the social-networking website Facebook. High values are placed on many of the traditional aspects of Old Order Amish life, however, and even the more modernized writers pay homage to those notions in their letters. By emphasizing tradition as important in several different ways, Anabaptist writers create and reinforce a stable, familiar narrative through which an imagined community can be achieved.
Scribe letters often refer to family roles and family values and, in the process, to the patriarchal social system that dominates Anabaptist life. “Menfolk” and “womenfolk” have distinct duties in Amish culture, and those duties are often spelled out in scribe letters that reflect traditional gender roles based on interpretations of the Bible (Kraybill et al., 2013). Married women who are scribes will sometimes sign their letters using their husband’s names (i.e., Mrs. Henry Yoder or Mrs. Ivan Miller). Men are portrayed as workers and providers and, as one scribe couple expressly put it “the head of home” (E. Miller & Miller, 2011) while women’s job is to provide meals and tend the home. The distinctions are often clearly illustrated in descriptions of visits or social events. For example, a Mennonite scribe in Missouri described a youth work project: “On Sat. the youth boys were on the job early for a work project. They had a hay shed to build and wanted to beat the heat. The youth girls served snack and took lunch to them” (O. Stolzfus & Stolzfus, 2010). An Illinois scribe wrote, The ladies had different projects going this week. Some were here to help us quilt a few times. Youth girls helped Emma Yoder quilt Wed. evening. A few of us ladies helped (Marcus) Anna Mary make noodles one day, and girls helped wash off walls in preparation to having service there. (J. Troyers, 2010)
The gender roles are sometimes assigned at birth: Baby boys may be identified with male duties, such as the “husky little wood chopper” born in Iowa (Borntrager & Borntrager, 2010) whereas a baby girl may be recognized as a new “little dishwasher” (M. A. Miller, 2010). Families are often described as social units by adding an “s” at the end of the patriarch’s last name. For example, a scribe refers to the grandparents of the “husky little wood chopper” as the “Roy Yoders” and the “LeRoy Millers.” By focusing on the distinct duties of men (e.g., farming, building, hunting, leading the household) and women (cooking, sewing, taking care of the home), the national edition of The Budget reinforces the culture’s strict gender roles for readers, introducing opportunities for members of the same sex to imagine common bonds.
Patriarchy and family structures manifest themselves in other ways as well. Large families are often discussed with pride, particularly in death notices and obituaries. Letter writers also often report on births, especially births that result in a couple becoming parents (or grandparents) for the first time are often noted as such. Those reports typically give the names of parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Young people in the community are often referred to as a group—sometimes called “the youth” or “the youngie”—and their names appear in scribe letters less frequently than do those of older community members. Old age is a virtue, and elderly people who can still fill their assigned social roles and take care of themselves are often revered. An Ohio scribe described the ladies of Plain City, Those elderly ladies are a plucky bunch attesting to the fact that a 93 year old furnished the church lunch complete with snitz half moon pies, baked fresh Sat. evening to be at their best for Sun. lunch. (F. L. Miller, 2010)
Because they have accumulated knowledge over their lifetimes, the elderly are seen as upstanding examples for others, as illustrated by an Illinois scribe who described two sermons that touched on “what a blessing a sweet old grandmother can be at home, in church, or in the community. And this good virtue does not just start at an old age but when she is a young mother” (H.O., 2010). Scribes occasionally refer to their parents simply as “mom” or “dad” without providing any names, another practice indicating the status of older community members in Amish culture.
The value of hard work and the importance of “staying busy” also are frequent themes in scribe letters. They are important parts of traditional Anabaptist culture and themes around which Budget readers can coalesce. The notion that the routines of everyday life make for a “busy” existence is an important aspect of Anabaptist religious beliefs (the Bible warns against idleness), and by extension, the Anabaptist lifestyle. Scribes themselves often connect the busy nature of their daily lives to their work for the newspaper. Scribes who do not submit letters regularly will sometimes apologize for being too busy to write. Work obligations are often seen as a way to justify the ending of letters—household work should take priority over writing, as one Pennsylvania scribe wrote after penning six paragraphs (282 words): Well, am kind of news-less and have a pile of ironing to do, and the oil stove smoked in entrance yesterday so should wash off the walls again, which I did just before Christmas. At least it’s just the entrance walls, as the kitchen door, luckily, was closed. (Coblentz & Coblentz, 2010)
Another writer ended her scribe letter with this note: “Take a lesson from the clock, it passes time by keeping its hands busy” (Esh, 2010).
In addition to the value of “busy work,” the importance of sharing hard work also is emphasized in scribe letters. Often, those letters reflect not a single person toiling alone, but a family or community group laboring together, building bonds through shared effort, as did this group from Kentucky: Monday evening most of the church men got together at Elmer’s to bale hay. . . . Wow! And bale hay they did! They worked at it till dark and still didn’t get it quite done. They stacked the bales in one of Elmer’s sheds and plan on selling it at Elmer’s sale for the school fund. Some of us ladies helped Elmer (Rosanna) quickly get some supper on for the hungry crew, afterward! Many hands make light work. (The Yoders, 2010)
That letter mentioned both men and women facing rather large jobs. By banding together to tackle those jobs, they maintain community. The social worth of not only working hard, but working together, is a value that is often heralded in scribe letters. The ability of a community to come together to sustain itself—and for individuals to do their part in that work—is a common theme in the national edition of The Budget. Along with one’s ability to attend church, one’s ability to work is often used as a measure of personal health, as was the case in this scribe letter: “A report on Allen Mast, who has cancer. He feels good, uses some natural remedies, and is able to work in his father-in-law’s harness shop (N&A Harness). He is able to come to church regular” (F. Yoder, 2011).
Although other types of work such as day labor, carpentry, and factory jobs are mentioned, farming is typically the central work focus in most scribe accounts. Those accounts emphasize farming and a rural lifestyle that helps national edition readers—even those who may not farm—take part in an imagined Anabaptist community based on traditional values tied to the land and nature. Writers also suggest that the culture exists in harmony with nature. Scribes often discuss songbirds, flowers, weather, gardens, and crops in the context of an idyllic, natural environment. Every national edition includes reproductions of drawings submitted by Amish and Mennonite children. Those drawings frequently depict farm scenes or other rural activities, such as hunting. A majority of the letters mention specific crops being harvested in that community at that time. During winter months when there is little to harvest, letters sometimes reference “seed catalogs” as being important—the shared experience of planning for the forthcoming growing seasons. Other aspects of farming discussed, such as the sale of farmland or the local prices of crops, can serve multiple purposes. That information helps reinforce the importance of agrarian life in the imagined Anabaptist community, and it can also provide a competitive edge to the farmers who read the newspaper (although that was never expressly stated in the letters reviewed here).
Farming is often portrayed as a family activity. The importance of keeping farms in the family is often mentioned, such as one letter from Pennsylvania: This is the third generation Amish farming on that farm, the only one I can think of in Brush Valley. There are several places in Sugar Valley where the 3rd generation is farming. They had more older people moving, which is a very good idea. (C. J. Stolzfus, 2010)
Describing efforts to buy a large piece of land, a Tennessee scribe noted the importance of the agricultural lifestyle: Our community has been looking for land to buy to start a new community for several years now without much success, at least in part due to the fact that what we were looking for is rather difficult to find. We are looking for 300 plus acres with good part tillable and of reasonable soil quality, preferably within horse and buggy driving distance from here, and all of that at an affordable price where we can hope to continue sustaining our families in an agricultural based lifestyle. (Martin, 2010)
The importance of finding a place where families can live in “an agricultural based lifestyle” is something that other writers refer to, even when that lifestyle does not dominate their personal lives. Scribes who find themselves in other settings temporarily described how they missed the simple rural lifestyle, as was noted by a couple who were staying in a hospital with a sick child: “A person has a hard time to think anything else besides this hospital life. It is something quite different than a country life!” (J. Schwartz & Schwartz, 2011). Letters often include jargon related to farming and Anabaptist lifestyle. Many of those references would be unfamiliar to readers who have little or no background in agriculture. For example, a New York scribe reported, “Spelts is being cut and oats are turning yellow. Early field corn is coming in tassel” (D. A. Miller, 2010). A Kentucky scribe noted the struggles of a large-scale tobacco farmer as follows: “Since the government bought up all the base 2 years ago it is now more of a risk to plant [tobacco] and have a market without a contract” (D. V. Miller, 2010). Readers unfamiliar with spelt wheat, the harvest of corn, or growing tobacco might find those passages difficult to understand. However, readers rooted in a farming tradition would likely comprehend the jargon.
Farming is not as commonplace in Amish life as it once was (Elder, 2014; Kraybill et al., 2013). However, the agrarian lifestyle is still important, even for scribes who do not work the land. One scribe from Michigan wrote, It is a fall morning of 45°, though we’ve had temperature in the 70s this week and has been rainy some also. The 2 families that farm have been busy chopping corn and hauling out loads of silage. A lot of this corn was planted on our land. (Wagler, 2010, emphasis added)
Another writer in Pennsylvania explained, We are just grateful that the hay is in, since John [the scribe’s husband] doesn’t have a lot of time to do it. I would be ready to call it quits as far as making hay, but he enjoys it and gives him something else to do beside sit in a truck all day! I actually did get out of helping this year since I was at work when he made it home to bale it. (Wengerd, 2011)
Farming is discussed in each of those letters, but the practice is not central to the economic lives of either scribe. However, the letters suggest that one need not be consumed by farming, or even take part in it, to be a part of the imagined community. By recognizing the importance of agriculture in Anabaptist identity, readers build connections to the cultural significance of an agrarian lifestyle and the values they associate with that lifestyle, such as dedication, sacrifice, and hard work.
Scribe letters address the importance of keeping other traditions alive as well. Distinctive dialect and traditional phrases are seen in many scribe letters, allowing readers to build connections with one another through the use of words such as “gma,” “youngie,” “nava huckers,” “maude,” “bestelt,” and “fremte.”
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Speaking (and occasionally writing) in Pennsylvania Dutch (a German dialect) is another way to build imagined community around traditional language. Every Budget national edition includes a column written in Pennsylvania Dutch. Scribes also often discuss their use of the language as a way to connect with other Anabaptists, as did this Colorado scribe: An Ohio load stopped hubby out by the road and the driver asked, “Gleichsh du eppleseise?!”
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An unusual saying to us, but guess not in Ohio. After asking for directions to Eli Mast’s home they proceeded there. Not finding Eli at home they left a note of thanks for the use of his rest room. Eli reported they used an unusual amount of toilet tissue for a one time pot stop. Looks like Eli has friends who also like to play tricks. (R. C. Yoder, 2010)
An ability to recognize the Pennsylvania Dutch phrase is crucial to understanding the anecdote. Other writers also share experiences through the traditional tongue: We continue having beautiful fall weather but would be glad for a good soaker! This morning when I drove the children to school up Paul Overholt’s driveway I could hardly see from the “shtaab.” The word “dust” just doesn’t say it like the Pa. Dutch. (P. Yoder & Yoder, 2010) Sunday morning there were these 2 grandfathers asking the 2 grandmothers about walking to church or driving? The grandmothers replied, “It’s a nice morning, let’s walk.” Grandfather replied, “Vel ich musz done der gahl ab chatta” (Then I must unharness the horse). (Stutzmans, 2011)
Many writers provide translations or otherwise recognize that some readers may not understand those passages. By including them, however, scribes build imagined community around traditions that, as a practical matter, may not be part of daily life for many readers.
The frequent repetition of traditional values in scribe letters reflects an understanding that those values are integral parts of The Budget’s community of readers. Their inclusion serves as a reminder of shared commonality. Aspects of Amish and Mennonite life, such as gender roles, language, appreciation for hard work, and relationship with God (developed in the next section) are key to the social structure in many Anabaptist communities. A close reading of Budget content suggests that those values are distinctively (but not necessarily exclusively) ours. The repetition of such seemingly simple benign aspects of life is of no small consequence. Billig (1995) noted that small words and concepts, rather than grand memorable phrases, “offer constant, but barely conscious, reminders of the homeland, making ‘our’ national identity unforgettable” (p. 93). Repetition also establishes a fixity of those shared ideals that, as economic trends in Amish communities show, are in many cases quite fluid.
Spirituality and Worship
The Budget’s guidelines instruct scribes to “[i]n general, omit items that could be considered ‘preaching,’” including sermon topics and phrases such as “Lord Willing.” Direct references to specific religious beliefs and practices were relatively rare among the sampled letters and were most common in letters written by missionaries. However, faith permeates every aspect of Amish life, including scribe letters. Through references to community events and observations about the world, scribes frequently illustrate the centrality of Godliness in their everyday lives. The national editor elaborated, If you read the letters . . . you get a feel for God, you get a feel for who these people are, how they view God, how they live by God and the Bible with their sense of community, helping, that kind of thing. The religion part of it comes through even if it’s not preached as “this is what you do.” I’ve had English people say they get that feel, they have that sense of their commitment to God, community, church, family. So even if we don’t preach in our paper, it’s actually preaching. (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012)
Perhaps the most overt illustration of the importance of faith in scribe letters can be seen in the emphasis on worship services. Reports about regular worship services—sometimes referred to as “gma” or “gmay” by more orthodox writers who use Pennsylvania Dutch—were included in most of the scribe letters in the present sample. Those reports often appeared fairly early in the letters and include information such as where services were held, who visited, and who was absent. Cancellations of services due to bad weather or funerals are reported. Old Order Amish services are held in private homes, so letters often note where upcoming services are to be held. Old Order Amish church districts are often identified by the bishop’s name. Mennonite sects that worship in church buildings are usually identified by congregation name. Both groups often report the same basic worship service information. The inclusion of that information, and its prominence in letters, helps reinforce the already-important role of faith among Anabaptist readers; the description of religious practices underlying other aspects of their commonality will be agreeable to the vast majority of Budget readers and reinforces a “commonly understood sense of ‘us’” (Billig, 1995, p. 102). Regarding some matters of faith, Budget readers would disagree. However, those aspects of spiritual life were not central to the letters. Rather, letters focused on views of God and spirituality broad enough for most readers to recognize and appreciate.
Many scribe letters either begin or end with inspirational quotes or statements. Whether these quotes are humorous or serious, they almost always carry a spiritual or inspirational message. The passages reinforce a value system familiar to The Budget’s Anabaptist readers, regardless of sect, age, or geographic locale. In some cases, those quotes speak specifically to religious beliefs or activities. For example, The prayers that carry the most weight and are of rarest beauty are those in which we don’t demand but just report for duty. (Zehr & Zehr, 2010) We should follow where He leads and swallow what He feeds. (Schrock & Schrock, 2010) Only when we have knelt before God can we stand before men. (Overholt & Overholt, 2010)
Quotes directly referencing God or spirituality occurred with some regularity. Nonetheless, quotes more often referenced faith more subtly by emphasizing values underpinned by the Anabaptist faith system, such as loving one’s neighbor, humility, a realization that God controls the world, and proper perspectives on one’s place in the world. For example, the following were used to conclude letters that appeared in the February 10, 2010, national edition: When you think life is tough, take time to think of someone whose situation is worse than yours. (L. Stutzman, 2010) Friendship is something the blind can see and the deaf can hear. (J. Yoder & Yoder, 2010) An empty heart is a far greater misfortune than an empty purse. (Zehr, 2010)
Although those quotes are not overtly religious, all of them emphasize values that are rooted in the Amish and Mennonite faiths. By bookending their letters with such messages, scribes reinforce fairly broad religious beliefs in ways that would appeal to almost any Anabaptist reader, regardless of sect.
Mentions of church services and the inclusion of inspirational quotes and statements are common, almost structural elements of scribe letters. Other, less formulaic means of storytelling also convey the distinct value systems of The Budget’s Anabaptist readers and writers. Faith is often expressed through stories about everyday life occurrences, such as the weather, crop harvests, or illnesses. For example, Winter Wonderland! Tree branches are hanging down because of their heavy load. We humans could never so quickly and prettily frost the outside world. (Hershberger, 2010) Leroys and Ed Schrocks came home from Crab Orchard, Ky. on Tues. after visiting Joseph Yoder, their grandson and nephew. Lots of prayers have gone up on behalf of this young man that is so critically injured, which is a reason he is still here. (N. Miller & Miller, 2010)
In those examples, scribes emphasize God’s power in everyday life, a belief that would be familiar to the majority of The Budget’s Anabaptist readers.
Similarly, scribe letters reflect the notion that hardships bring individuals closer to their God. That value is often expressed directly, particularly when it relates to health problems or difficulties created by the weather. For example, Little 6 month old Emma (Andy) Schwartz came through her open heart surgery well and was doing as good as can be expected. Poor little girl, hopefully God is sparing her the pain that seems so unfair to her! But, God is in control and maybe she isn’t suffering as much as the parents and family. At such times one feels so small as we realize it is all in the hands of a higher power. (Schmidt, 2010) We were refreshed with .3″ of rain this week, while others got as much as 2″. Eva picked our first peas today, and said the prospects for a bumper crop like last year are not too likely. With our present water shortage, nothing is busting its shirt at the moment, but the summer is not over yet, and we still live in hope. The Lord has never yet forsaken the righteous, although we certainly can’t claim that rank either. (E. D. Burkholder, 2010)
Each example expressly recognizes a faith that God will provide fitting outcomes to difficult situations. Similar ideas can be expressed without direct references to God. For example, because of the physical nature of traditional Anabaptist life, an average national edition of The Budget includes accounts of farm- and work-related accidents. Often, readers are reminded that accidents that did not result in loss of life or serious injury could have been worse. For example, Ben Troyer also had a minor accident that could’ve easily been worse from having a wire on a feeder made from wire panels hitting his face just below his eye towards his nose. It knocked his glasses off and also bled quite a bit. (J. Troyer & Troyer, 2010) Elsie Yoder (Melvin L.) had an unpleasant experience the other week when going on Road 450. Her horse shied from a semi-gravel truck. He took the ditch and overturned the buggy. Elsie wasn’t hurt much, but had a very sore shoulder for awhile. The buggy needed some repairs, too, so could’ve been much worse. (Borntragers, 2010)
When discussing accidents, scribes also sometimes used words such as “mishap” and “setback” to describe injuries that did not kill or incapacitate, even when the injuries required stitches or trips to the hospital. By observing that seemingly bad conditions could always be worse, Budget scribes reinforce the importance of faith and the presence of God’s mercy.
Humility—another core value in the Anabaptist belief system—is expressed in a number ways. One of the more common methods scribes use to remind readers of the importance of remaining humble is through the use of humorous stories and anecdotes from their home communities. Often, those humorous stories involve community members who were involved in minor accidents that resulted in embarrassment more than injury, moments when a child got the better of an adult, or incidences of youthful indiscretion that did not involve moral violations. In some letters, such as the following, the main character in the story (the one who finds himself or herself embarrassed) is clearly identified: One day last week our son Joshua decided to take his paintball gun to work. Guess he thought some excitement on their break would be fun. The crew was busily working inside the new house they are building when their boss, Ervin Miller, comes inside looking for something. He smelled juicy fruit gum and upon seeing the open bag of yellow paintballs grabs two of them and pops them in his mouth. Too late he discovered they were not what he was smelling. The crew wished so bad they could’ve seen the yellow juice he had to spit out, as he later told them the story, and wondered whose paintballs those were. The juicy fruit smell was for real as one of them was chewing that flavor gum. So next time you meet Ervin remember to ask him what flavor yellow (paintballs) gum balls are? (I. Miller, 2010)
In other cases, the main character is not identified by name, as in this account: One lady had an embarrassing moment on Christmas morning when she came to church. She had a blue dress on and a black apron. Such things happen if it stays dark so long. (J. Stutzman, 2010)
In other letters, only members of the immediate community would easily be able to recognize the potentially embarrassed party, as in the following anecdote: When Elis were here, their girls and more of our granddaughters went to son Marvin’s cabin to camp. In the middle of the night 2 boys slipped out of the house and went over to scare the girls. When they were outside the cabin, sounding like a wolf, the girls all went out to see the wolf. The boys took off, but the one boy got caught in the barb wire fence. Now the girls were the wolf. If you want to know how he got loose, ask Joseph. (R. J. C. Yoders, 2010)
By sharing their own embarrassing stories and those of others, and by encouraging proximate acquaintances to ask about those stories, letters actively reinforce humility in their communities and emphasize the value of humility among the broader readership. Those stories illustrate the value of dialog and social interaction as a way of creating meaningful bonds and memories that can be shared by families and/or communities. The importance of building memories—even bad ones—is sometimes expressly stated in stories of personal misfortune, as did this story of a family trip: We toured a part of Mammoth Cave and visited Abraham Lincoln’s birthplace and boyhood home, but the trip was made even more memorable by a flat tire, rain-drenched camping, and running out of gas! (P. Miller, 2010)
Finally, scribe letters often reflect an ongoing cycle of life under the control of an all-powerful God. When scribes refer to the changing of the crop seasons, the passage of months and years, and the transition from winter to spring and spring to summer, they remind readers that the march of time is inevitable. When they write of time, scribes often do so in a way that reminds readers that it is fleeting. For example, Feb. 5—Today 23 years ago something special was going on at my parents’ home in Ky. . . . [sic] our wedding! Contrasting with today’s snowy weather, that day was very mild, sunny and springlike. I do wonder where all that time went so fast! (Kilmer, 2010)
Individual geographically bounded Anabaptist communities are structured around Ordnung that set out specific guidelines for what practices are and are not spiritually acceptable in those communities. The broader imagined community fostered by The Budget is based on the much larger cultural system that preceded and made possible those distinct local traditions. That more general understanding of faith’s role in daily life and social structures allows readers to bond over commonality without dwelling on distinctions that might divide them. In ways direct and subtle, scribe letters remind readers of The Budget’s national edition that their existence should be a faithful, reflective one. The prominence of religion in the letters reflects a basic theme that most readers of The Budget likely would identify with and connect to, regardless of their geographic location.
Outward Symbols of Community
Many of the dominant themes of plain life that emerge in The Budget would be familiar to almost any Anabaptist reader, regardless of his or her sect. However, within Anabaptist life, there are a variety of distinct belief systems, and those systems separate sects from the ultra-conservative Swartzentruber Amish to the more modernized Mennonite Christian Fellowship. Those distinctions can be seen in the melting pot of letters that make up The Budget’s national edition. If a Budget scribe critiqued the belief systems or practices of other Anabaptists, such as whether they evangelized or how they traveled, it would violate the newspaper’s editorial policy regarding religious content and would result in the offending section being edited out of the letter. It would also go against the belief system of many Anabaptists if it were to be viewed as inappropriately judgmental or proselytizing. That is not to say that Budget readers do not occasionally object to the content of some letters on faith-based grounds or that they will always refrain from making those objections known. The Budget’s publisher recalled one instance in which a conservative Amish reader contacted him to complain about the inclusion of letters from international missionaries typically affiliated with more liberal Anabaptist groups. However, such complaints are rare (K. Rathbun, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Several common themes allow readers to distinguish different sects. In most cases, those distinctions are made through the expression of practices or traditions. Scribes occasionally use those same outward expressions to separate Anabaptists from non-Anabaptists, again, the “English.”
In some cases, sects are clearly distinguished in the subheadings of letters. That practice is most common among Mennonite writers who identify their local community by providing the name of their church. Distinctions are occasionally made within letters when both Amish and Mennonite people are involved in the news. That practice is fairly rare; it is most common in letters from Pinecraft, Florida, where many Amish and Mennonite families vacation during the winter. Letters from Pinecraft often refer to Amish and Mennonite church activities separately. In some cases, scribes who have encounters with members from other sects write about the differences and their reactions, as did one scribe from Kansas: We’ve been hosting a 14 year old Mennonite girl from Newton last week and this week. She has no desire to join the Amish that I’m aware of, but her love of reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books and more recently, books about Amish characters, got her thinking it would be interesting to live a plain lifestyle. . . . I must say I was not immediately willing and rather skeptical of the whole idea, but hearing occasionally of her burning desire I gave in to a 4-day trial period. I was pleasantly surprised when Miss Epp came, in a dress as I’d requested. She’s quiet, gracious, polite, but opened up more later and has told me lots about her family and her life, and she’s willing to work, helping with whatever I’m doing. . . . I’m finding that I enjoy her company, she does not make me nervous, but it’s being a neat experience. I don’t think of her as an “English intruder,” but a soul that is just as precious to God as myself. . . . Life in town is quite different than out here in the country on a busy farm, but she loves the quiet peacefulness. (Knepp, 2010)
Generally, however, distinctions between Amish and Mennonites—and among the various sects within those groups—are much more subtle, and they are often based on language and daily practices. Differences are clear between more traditional Old Order writers who use Pennsylvania Dutch or other traditional phrases and others who use modern language. For example, modernized writers might refer to “girlfriend” or “boyfriend,” whereas a more orthodox sect’s scribe might use the more traditional phrase “special friend.” Scribes discuss evangelism, computer use, and education in ways that distinguish reformist groups from more orthodox sects. Perhaps the most common way writers differentiated their groups was through the description of travel. Rather than simply writing that community members “traveled” or “went” from one point to another, scribes often detailed the mode of transportation in ways that give hints about their communities’ beliefs. Not all Anabaptists eschew modern transportation: Some sects allow members to own and use motorized vehicles, and many others allow members to ride with “English” drivers or to use public transit such as busses, trains, and airplanes. Phrases such as “buggied,” “went with a driver,” “traveled by bus,” “drove,” and “traveled by air” help Amish and Mennonite readers recognize the relative diversity of the broader Anabaptist society.
Scribes also write with some regularity about their interactions with “the English.” Typically, the English are not mentioned by name in scribe letters, and their status as non-Amish people is often noted: Scribes write about “my English neighbor” or “an English store,” or discuss activities at a “non-Amish farm.” The following example is also typical: “A couple from Pearisburg, Va. was at the singing tonight. They were neighbors to Andy and Caroline there and came out here to travel back east with them next week. They’re not Amish” (B. Miller, 2011). Non-Amish individuals are sometimes named in when they have a direct connection to the local community. Often, they are in business with the local Amish, or they may be “drivers” paid to chauffer Amish people who object to driving on spiritual grounds. When they are named, their status as English is still noted, as was the case in this example: Yesterday, Oct. 6, word came that Mrs. Sarah (Jake) Graber (non-Amish) also passed away after a short illness. . . . She had been a driver for several teachers and special ed students. (Jess & Jess, 2010)
Letters reflect how the comings and goings of the English are important to Amish and Mennonites. Scribes sometimes discuss the agricultural work of non-Amish farms, often comparing it with those in their own communities, as did a scribe from Ohio describing some planning of crops: “The English used nights also, but the Amish could not do it so fast, as Mon. and Tues. were very hot and humid and horses not used to it” (N. J. Stutzman, 2011). Scribes are also particularly interested when land changes hands between Amish and non-Amish. For example, Our own farmland sold for $1,675.00 per acre. We rejected a $25,000 bid on the building site. Many of the homes were newly built and none brought their money’s worth. There were no plain group
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buyers. To the general population buildings hold little value. (Helmuth, 2010) We stopped at Ickesburg Store for some supplies. The store has now changed hands since last Dec. It is now occupied by Amish. (Horning, 2010)
Writers also sometimes detail their personal interactions with the English, including incidents in which their value systems clash with those of the non-Amish world in which they live. For example, one scribe described being asked to testify in court (the scribe refused on religious grounds), and another recalled explaining to an English person why the Amish did not salute the American flag. 13 At times, scribe letters suggest that Anabaptist life is better than English life. For example, one missionary wrote, “I liked one of our church members comments when she told me she feels sorry for the unbelievers in our midst that do not understand our way of grieving” (R. Miller, 2011). Such references were fairly rare, however, and they came most often from missionaries describing the people to whom they were ministering. Those scribe letters differentiate the writers and their communities from the English, but did not directly challenge the beliefs of other Anabaptist readers.
More often, scribes say it is best to be open and accepting of the English. Outsiders are not typically written about in an overtly negative light, but scribes clearly differentiate the English outsiders from the newspaper’s primarily Amish and Mennonite audience. In some cases, those distinctions are fairly easy to recognize, as was the case when a New Mexico scribe described selling a puppy to a non-Amish couple from Albuquerque: “At last the folks pulled up in their late model Ford Explorer with its ‘Obama ‘08’ bumper sticker. The white-haired man tottered forth holding Tommy, a politically correct, neutered white male, on a leash” (Coon, 2010). The scribe went on to note the English couple’s struggle to deal with his more rambunctious dogs. At the end of the letter, the scribe observed, “I’m sure that Tommy and Tara [the other puppy] are best friends now. It’s just that, in spite of what some dogs owners think, dogs are—well—dogs.” In the same issue, another scribe described an interaction with some Pakistanis: We have done a lot of chicken butchering in the past (over 5,200 birds), but never before did we butcher some for people like we did this week. They are from Pakistan, but live in the states now. Anyway, they came out to bless the chickens as they were dying! And we couldn’t chop the heads off, they wanted to just have a slit cut into the neck and bleed them slowly. Meanwhile the man was going to each chicken, blessing it in his own language, sounding more like “La La La!” Needless to say we were happy when the blessing was done and they went out the drive! The women wears a black scarf wrapped around her neck and head. (W. Yoder, 2010)
More often, however, the English are written about in a more neutral or positive light. For example, a scribe mentioned hosting for two weeks two children from New Hampshire: “We make furniture for their store. . . . They have never been around Amish much and are having a great time. (Beachy, 2011)
Another mentioned an English visitor in church, a college student who is studying culture: I believe these students do this once a year or so, going to different Amish homes trying to learn more of our lifestyle. Hopefully, they don’t need to experience a “culture shock” while adjusting to our way of life during this short period of time. This girl yesterday was dressed like the rest of us and one would never have guessed that she’s not used to wearing a head covering, a long skirt, and our traditional church clothes, except for the revealing fact that she could not understand our Pa. Dutch dialect. I find this all rather interesting and think I could use one of these girls myself at this time to help me out with small tasks, but better yet even just to keep me company! (J. Miller & Miller, 2010)
In each of those examples, the distinction between Anabaptist and non-Anabaptist is important, even though the interactions are generally cordial. Scribes make a conscious effort to share stories about their interactions with English people and to share those stories from distinctly Anabaptist points of view. By making the distinctions, Budget scribes reinforce the notion that readers are “in the world, but not of the world” (J. A. Hostetler, 1980, p. 93), a notion that is central to Amish faith and an idea that is important in the reinforcement of a broader imagined community.
To Anderson, all “imagined communities” were naturally limited: “Even the largest of them, encompassing perhaps a billion living beings, has finite, if elastic, boundaries, beyond which lie other nations” (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 7). By making note of the things that make them different from others, Budget letters help set those boundaries for the newspaper’s readers. Through its user-generated content, the newspaper acknowledges that differences exist among its vast community of readers. The placement of those lines, a task handled more by scribes than the newspaper’s staff, has had significant economic consequences for the newspaper in the past—its largest competitor for Amish readers was formed by a group who believed The Budget’s content had strayed too far from traditional Old Order values (Barry, 2006; Nolt, 2008). Budget letters reflect the range of attitudes toward worship, evangelism, education, travel, and technology that exists among its readers, but they do so carefully and subtly. As Amish populations have grown in size and diversity, many community members find themselves in place-based communities that reflect complex “moral geographies” (Kraybill et al., 2013, p. 116). Kraybill, Johnson-Weiner, and Nolt underscore that “potent signs of cultural resistance” such as dialect, dress, and horse and carriage transportation are important signifiers that “the Amish are still Amish,” despite other cultural changes (Kraybill et al., 2013, pp. 132-133). This study extends their argument to the broader Anabaptist readership of The Budget. Distinctions among Anabaptist groups are often described in ways that establish the writer’s practices and preferences without alienating readers who might have different practices or preferences. When scribes write that “we traveled by buggy,” “we flew,” or “we visited our child in college,” they describe local decisions about which no public judgment is generally passed. Broader signifiers of commonality, such as faith in God and reverence for rural lifestyle, establish broader communion and divide insiders from outsiders.
Distinctions between The Budget’s Anabaptist readers and the rest of the world (vis-á-vis “The English”) are more likely to draw readers into a broader fold by drawing comparisons with outsiders. In the examples above, Amish and Mennonite writers referred to the perceived or witnessed ways their own religious practices, political involvement, attitudes toward animals (and, by extension, nature), work ethic, and spiritual fulfillment differed from the English people they encountered in their daily lives. These comparative passages may serve to create broader social/cultural boundaries that separate The Budget’s Anabaptist Us from a more worldly Them.
Conclusion
At their best, community journalism scholar and former publisher Jock Lauterer (2006) wrote, community newspapers satisfy a desire for “the affirmation of the sense of community, a positive and intimate reflection of the sense of place, a stroke for us-ness, our extended family-ness and our profound and interlocking connectedness” (p. 33). The Budget would seem to meet Lauterer’s ideals: It binds together a community of readers separated by great geographic distances, reinforcing their connections and “us-ness.” The newspaper’s novelty earned it the attention of the national news media in the early 21st century, with some of those news accounts comparing the newspaper to Facebook and Twitter for the Amish (Ansberry, 2013; Cohen, 2009; Rabinowitz, 2010). The mainstream media comparisons with social media are applicable in a sense—content in The Budget is social in tone and personal in nature, as is much content on social media websites. However, The Budget’s print medium creates the nexus for a broader community in that the newspaper gathers and presents “life” information from the entire community, not merely a self-selected group of “friends.”
This monograph represents a detailed study of one very unusual newspaper, but the analysis does have broader value to social scientists and media professionals. In exploring the bonds maintained by the newspaper, this research contributes to the broader understanding of the ways in which media reaffirm membership in a broad collective. The study also makes a modest contribution that may help others understand the ways in which newspapers and other types of media can pull together other diasporas and small communities. In a sense, every community has a diasporic populous—in the case of geographically bounded communities, that diaspora may consist of residents who have temporarily or permanently moved, or individuals who live elsewhere but have biographical connections to that community. Those individuals may use media (either legacy media or new media) to maintain a communal connection to their imagined homeplaces in the same ways Amish and Mennonite readers use The Budget. The newspaper appeals to its audience because of the familiarity of its content and the extensiveness of its scribe network. By providing a platform for hundreds of voices speaking to different aspects of Amish and Mennonite life, the newspaper creates opportunities for individual readers to connect with broad aspects of community life (the general themes discussed in this monograph) that allow them to experience fraternity with others whom (they imagine) share those same values.
That notion of rooting community in everyday life is a central component of The Budget’s economic strategy and cultural impact. In an interview with NPR, 84-year-old Budget scribe Atlee Miller described his job this way: Somebody writes about, well, this man fell out of a tree and broke his back—you know, a lot of people in the world today are not interested in knowing what goes on with people. . . . Life is not all about ourselves; it is about your neighbor. (Rabinowitz, 2010)
As this study suggests, news about neighbors—either physical or virtual—is central to the imagined community established through regular reading of The Budget. Neighbors are not merely recognized by physical proximity. They are also individuals who share common beliefs, values, traditions, and social roles. The Budget serves as a platform for the expression of those aspects of Amish life, and for the vicarious experiencing of them through the “mass ceremony” of newspaper reading.
In Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson envisioned nations of people united by common senses of national values that are reinforced by, among other things, use of common media. The Budget’s audience is not united by nationalism—instead, its readers are united by common religious beliefs and the social structures those beliefs call for, and the important tenets of those beliefs and structures are reinforced weekly through scribe letters in the newspaper. The notion that a newspaper can bind similar people in different places together was clearly voiced by a Budget scribe temporarily staying in Pinecraft, Florida, a popular winter vacation spot for Anabaptists from northern states: On Thurs. noon we did what a lot of other Pinecraft folks do; we attended the “circus” held in the parking lot of the Tourist Church. I have no convictions in attending this kind of “circus,” as it is simply a place where friends meet friends, and where you observe who the other “snowbirds” are that disembark from the Pioneer Trails coach. Surprises, smiles of delight, handshakes and hugs, are all quite commonplace. . . . Coming back to the parking lot where the bus arrives, Thursday’s arrival is a little special and draws a bigger crowd than the other days. Any idea why? It’s Budget day! Whole stacks of them are unloaded, placed on a table, then passed out to those who have dropped their dollar into the jar. Leftover copies are then taken and sold in area restaurants. Outside of our home communities, there’s probably nowhere else in the U.S. where every week, hundreds of Budgets, fresh off the press, find their way into individual homes and help people to become “informed.” Without apology I admit that I was among them. (M. Gingerich, 2010)
The scribe letters that make up The Budget’s national edition are grounded in familiar values of faith, family, and community, and letters are written in a casual, conversational style that mirrors the face-to-face conversations. Those factors combine to evoke an atmosphere of intimacy on the pages of the newspaper’s national edition, and the broad circulation of The Budget distributes that intimacy beyond state and even national borders. Scribes sometimes reference the sense of community they feel through reading and writing for The Budget. Some write about the relationships in direct ways, such as an Ohio scribe: “This will be my last letter for the Budget. It has been a pleasure to make and meet new friends through the Budget” (M. Detweiler, 2011). Others reference community in more subtle ways. For example, one Indiana scribe described a sense of familiarity attained through reading accounts of the weather in The Budget: Well, we have just come through another ultra-warm week with temperatures in the upper 90s. Also very sultry and sticky. I noticed in last week’s Budget that many other states are also experiencing the same. (A. M. Burkholder, 2010a)
Often, the overall narratives of scribe letters present fairly uniform depictions of life: children are born, couples are married, and family members grow old and die. The descriptions are rooted in work, faith, family, and a broad set of common values that emphasize faithfulness to God and relationships among neighbors and family members. Overwhelmingly, those stories are presented not as narratives about places, but as narratives about people who happen to identify strongly with their locales. The significance of a sense of place is an important facet of Anabaptist life. Anabaptist traditions, history, and economic factors create important bonds between individuals and proximate communities (and, importantly, others in those proximate communities). Because of its importance, that identification with locality cannot help but come through in the decidedly non-local medium. The national editor observed, “Even if you [as a reader] don’t personally know them [scribes], you think you know them because you have visited their house every week, or their community. Because a writer writes about a community, so you’ve actually visited it” (F. Erb-Miller, personal communication, March 30, 2012). Within those depictions, subtle and overt cues allow members of individual sects to pick out narratives that speak to their specific belief structures. Although differences among various Anabaptist groups can be seen in the national edition of The Budget, those differences are not central to the content of scribe letters. The majority of scribe letters include content to which many different members of the newspaper’s diverse readership could relate. By focusing on the central themes of faith, family, and community, and by presenting those themes in a style that mimics the Anabaptists’ oral tradition, The Budget contributes to the maintenance of a broad “imagined community” among its Amish and Mennonite readers.
This study represents one person’s analysis of a single newspaper’s content over 18 months. It does not account for the interpretations of Amish and Mennonite readers. Before beginning the systematic readings of The Budget, I tried to learn as much as I could about Anabaptist history and faith, and the basics of contemporary Amish and Mennonite life. Those efforts were invaluable for understanding scribe letters. However, because I am an outsider, I undoubtedly missed some nuances of scribe letters. Research that includes interviews with Amish and Mennonite readers of The Budget would provide a different level of insight into the ways the newspaper builds community among readers. Relying on the writings of scribes themselves brings its own limitations. Because I had not involved in direct communication with scribes, I cannot address questions about their representativeness to their enclaves; some scribes may have lost touch with their local communities.
The national edition of The Budget has been compared with Facebook and Twitter because of the personal nature of most scribe letters and the interaction among scribes and readers. This study helps lay the groundwork for a more nuanced examination of those interactions. In a broader sense, it contributes to the understanding of the ways in which a community news outlet can foster cohesion among its readers. Anderson’s theory of “imagined communities” is particularly useful in explaining media’s role in reinforcing senses of commonality among readers who are separated by geography. As technologies continue to put media production and media consumption opportunities in the hands of more people, explorations of the individual-level aspects of imagined communities become increasingly important. Budget scribes play the role of opinion leaders within a broad network, but they also act as points of entry for community members to access that network. Scribes might be compared with a public computer in a community library—they are accessed by people who wish to spread information, and their letters disseminate that information to a wider audience. Future research could explore the ways in which different types of media (online or print or combinations of both) allow individuals to produce and maintain identities along those same lines. I suggest that a print-only medium can serve as a true “virtual community,” albeit a community that moves more slowly and requires more investment of energy and resources than a Facebook page or an online discussion forum. The medium itself creates the imagined community. That sense of community could not exist without an established set of values around which it could coalesce: farm work, faith, community, and family. In those aspects of life, every Anabaptist member has a part, and each part contributes to the greater whole—that being the local community (J. A. Hostetler, 1980). The national edition of The Budget creates a forum where those roles are discussed and played out more broadly. By serving as a conduit for the “fond imagining” of those values as “our own” (B. Anderson, 1983, p. 154), The Budget reinforces imagined community among its readers and becomes an integral part of communal life.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the comments and suggestions from Linda Steiner, Paul Martin Lester, and the anonymous reviewers, all of whom offered valuable feedback and critique on early drafts of this manuscript. The author also thanks Bill Reader, Mike Sweeney, and Hans Meyer for their suggestions, guidance, and advice regarding this research. Finally, the author wishes to express his gratitude to the staff of The Budget in Sugarcreek, Ohio, for their assistance and feedback. He is especially grateful to Fannie Erb-Miller, Bev Keller, and the late Keith Rathbun, the newspaper’s former publisher, who died on January 26, 2016, at the age of 63.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
