Reverse Culture Shock: Return to the Mennonites

Reverse culture shock, or re-entry, is simply a common reaction to returning home from abroad. It is an emotional and psychological stage of re-adjustment, similar to your initial adjustment to living abroad.

If I have to answer one more question about why I have my nose pierced, I think I’ll have to have to head to the nearest bar.

But wait.

There ISN’T a bar in this town!

Click below for more small town news. You won't be disappointed.

My Aunt Glee is robust, rotund, and jolly. She and Uncle Will have thirteen children, and 78 great-grandchildren. When she sits down in a house full of her Mennonite prodigy, there are 203 of them.

Zero divorce rate; 100% percent retention to the Mennonite faith.

And then there’s me: the little black sheep.

I grew up in a small town, where my kinfolk were 100% Mennonite, a sect not unlike the Amish in Harrison Ford’s “The Witness.”  My father was a deacon, and then the minister of our church. My grandparents and mom attended a one-room schoolhouse, and life revolved around church. I am one of the few of my 25 cousins to have a college education. Unlike some Mennonites, our house had a car, electricity, and running water. But, we had no TV and absolutely no alcohol on the premises. We weren’t permitted to attend movies, wear jewelry, pierce our ears, or go to dances. My mom stayed at home and cooked homemade meals, and the food on our table came from our garden. Even the root beer and the clothes we wore were homemade.

I left home over 20 years ago to attend college, and when I tell my friends of my background, they are shocked and look at me in pity. But, in many ways, my childhood was idyllic. Minus TV, my sister and I made our own fun, constructing Lincoln Log villages, creating songs, and reading books- all Christian, of course. Though I often felt different from the others in my school, especially when my mom dropped me off in her plain clothes and everyone stared, I wouldn’t change much about my childhood.

However, coming home for me is more of a culture shock than moving overseas. My aunts and uncles dress in plain clothes, like the Amish, so when I show up at family reunions, I am often the Entertainment of the Year, with my stories from abroad and the various foreign boyfriends that I’ve toted along for the ride. They’re curious, and they love to hear my stories of riding elephants and flying in airplanes and eating strange food. Last year, having forgotten to remove my nose ring, my cousins were duly impressed. I try to censor what I say, like refraining from a phrase I use daily “Oh, my God!!!” since this would deeply offend them. (One of the Ten Commandments is “Thou shall not use the Lord’s name in vain.”)

My 74-year-old Aunt Dee (my grandfather’s younger sister) called me today. Since she got my Christmas card and letter, she wanted to thank me. She tells me how she loves her Bible study, how her 15 grandchildren are home schooled, and how much she’s praying for me. She suggests a few religious books I might enjoy, and gives me the titles. Sweet Aunt Dee, who prays for me. I’ll take all the prayers I can get, but hold off on the books. She tells me, “We all need each other, don’t we?”

My mom shares with me a letter from Aunt Dee’s sister, Aunt Glee: the one with 203 descendents. In her perfect, cursive penmanship on stationary printed with a Bible verse on top she writes:

… If it’s love that makes them grow little “W.A.” gets plenty of that, with 6 above him in age he gets plenty love. Some times this great-grandma gets concerned. They drag him around like a rag doll, sometimes I tell them watch his back or put your hand back of his head. They go so fast when they carry him. I’m afraid his little head will get banged or they will drop him.

I can just picture W.A.’s brothers and sisters treating their younger brother more like a doll, than a human being. He’s a toy, and better entertainment than Play Station. But then again, they don’t even know what Play Stations IS!

What strikes me most when I’m home is the overwhelming care and concern that members of the Mennonite community have for others, both in and out of their church. Sure, it can all get a bit too much, especially when this same “care and concern” develops into gossip and judgment. (There’s a reason I left, mind you! If you want to be a ballerina or a painter or an artist or a pilot or writer of non-religious books, there’s not a place for you here.) But underneath the prayer veils and aprons and black stockings of my aunts, and the plain suits and hats of my uncles, and the black cars of my cousins, there’s a strong sense of commitment to community. Everyone helps everyone out in time of need- in sickness and in health. They help to build each other’s barns, cook each other’s food, raise each other’s children, and heal each other’s wounds.

I’ve spent years running away from my roots.

Only lately have I grown to appreciate the tender, good parts of my heritage.

Comments

[Tish G]

I think sometimes it's a combination of growing older and being more confident with oneself that allows for one to see that where one came from wasn't all that bad.

When I go back to NJ, I see where I came from as this wonderful, ticky-tacky melting pot that is drastically different from where I now live. There are times when I miss it, and then there are the reminders of why I stay away.

Have a wonderful New Year, Shamash! read you next year!

[Pups]

We cannot escape our roots. This is not to say that we cannot change, but that ultimately we choose, consciously or unconsciously, what part of our roots we want to maintain. Your wholesomeness is so evident in who you are. This is a good thing and is a great complement to the exotic world adventurer side of you.
Happy New Year.

[Jeff Hess]

Shalom Shamash,

Happy New Year.

I too grew up in a rural environment. It was nowhere's near a restrictive community as yours, but my friends in Cleveland sometimes ask questions like When did you get your first pair of shoes?.

I go home three times a year: Father's day, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually spend three or four days and I'm ready to leave.

The Service and college were the escape mechanism for me. My father and I are the only one's in the immediate family who went to either.

Now that I've passed the half-century mark I find myself less critical of life in Marietta and more comfortable during my visits. It is what it is and the differences don't seem to be as important as they once were.

B'shalom,

Jeff

[Michiel]

I wanted to thank you for sharing this little bit of history with us, I just never got around to it :P

And Mennonite, well, Menno Simons was a Dutch guy, and specifically Fries. I could tell you stories about the Friesen! ;)

[Jeremy]

I'm so glad Michiel left this comment, because it meant that I got to read this fascinating post -- I must have missed it when you posted, Shamash.

My wife and I also grew up in a small Mennonite church town, so I'm also on the journey toward appreciating the best parts of those deep roots. I love your outline of the thin wedge separating support and caring from judgement and gossip.

You may have already read it...a complicated kindness by Miriam Toews is a fascinating read for those of us with these kinds of backgrounds. Sample chapter here and a friend's review here.

Cool to find some shared heritage online...
: )

[shamash]

Michiel: What a wierd feeling to read the name "Menno Simmons" from someone who isn't Mennonite. Not too many people know who he is, even though he's an instrumental part of my Mennonite heritage, and I grew up hearing his name often. I had forgotten that he was Dutch!

Jeremy: What a small, small world. Via 43 things, and via similar life values that keep us connected in the blogosphere, two people from Mennonite backgound and from two different continents meet in cyberspace. How ironic is THAT?

I haven't yet read "a complicated kindness" by Miriam Toews, but just reading the link to her one chapter brought tears of sadness AND laughter to my eyes, esp. the part about Menno Simons! And the reviews are just: well, perfect. Thanks for the links... I thought about them all day.

[Jeremy]

Oh, I'm so glad it resonated with you. As I said in my comment on Lesa's site, I found the book emotionally difficult in the same way you've just described...quite moving.

Did we find each other through 43Things? I had forgotten that. "Similar life values" probably can emerge from shared lists of goals. You might also be interested in a little discussion of creativity that we had going a while back.

[Jeremy]

Another thought on shared values and new connections...I noticed you had an Adbusters link in your sidebar, which is certainly value-laden. A friend-of-a-friend (and Mennonite) was managing editor of Adbusters, founder of Buy Nothing Christmas and has recently started publishing a new magazine called geez.

I don't necessarily share all of his views, but it makes me think that there is a set of non-faith Mennonite values (anti-consumerism being the main one in these examples) that I do still share after distancing myself from the culture. A focus on pacifism, social justice, helping those in need, family ties...these are not unique to Mennonites, but they are values that have stuck with me even after the food, language, songs and faith have been mostly lost.

[shamash]

Anti-consumerism, "a focus on pacifism, social justice, helping those in need, family ties...these are not unique to Mennonites, but they are values that have stuck with me even after the food, language, songs and faith have been mostly lost."

I couldn't have said it better, Jeremy.

And: I had no idea that a Mennonite was involved in "Buy Nothing Christmas", yet alone Adbusters! But, in retrospect, it makes sense. Those antibaptists always were a radical bunch, always doing something against the status quo. It's in the blood, I guess.

Thanks for the heads up, and the links.

[cheryl]

I too grew up conservative Mennonite in PA, and I read a few of your blogs. I love your style of writing, but I also just really felt like I understood where you are coming from. I struggle with keeping the good of my heritage and forgetting the past, figuring out what to pass on to my kids and what to rise above.

It really never is possible to leave the Mennonites, even after you have left...