A Personal Statement
from Nevin and Esther Bender found the church a place of intense joy and, occasionally, of painful disappointment. For Mennonites and Amish, or any people who take their community of faith seriously, this community can be loving arms of support or a smothering embrace that stifles an honest search for truth. For Nevin and Esther and their family—and for so many others then and now—the church became a combination of these two experiences. During his teenage years Nevin Bender was known as "a hickory," according to his cousin Ezra Bender. A hickory in that Springs, Pennsylvania, community in the early 1900s meant he was adventurous and not easily squeezed into a mold. Ironically, Nevin later became a minister and bishop in the newly formed Amish Mennonite Conference, where pushing people to fit in was seen by many as a necessary virtue in a bishop. Even after a profound spiritual experience in his mid-20s, ordination to the ministry, and being chosen for the office of bishop, he found himself suspect among certain kinds of leaders. This young hickory turned minister and bishop is our father. The love of his life, Esther, is our mother. She left us in 1967 and he in 1975. Yet in many ways they are still with us. In Nevin’s Amish Mennonite Conference, fear of change caused many pastors of congregations to demand conformity to rules. These rules were generally a reflection of the leader’s beliefs and those of an inner core of men. (Neither women nor youth played key roles in decision making in this conference during the early years.) The rules were based on Scripture, parishioners were assured. Nevin faced a growing inner tension. On the one hand, Nevin’s peers, many Amish Mennonite Conference leaders, reflected fear of a dangerous drift toward "worldliness" by the larger Mennonite church. ("Worldliness" in that era focused on giving up distinctive clothing.) On the other hand, Nevin was developing a growing uneasiness that people with questioning minds were being isolated from the church. In retrospect it seems clear the most important distinction between Nevin and some of his more conservative fellow conference ministers was not related to the specific church traditions being considered. He had respect for the depth of convictions about these traditions. However, for Nevin, a higher priority was creating active dialogue with church members during the process of considering change. He believed church members could grow in trust and respect for each other if they talked with rather than past each other. Nevin and Esther Lauver were married in 1925. They were lifelong partners in his church leadership efforts. Through any stretch of the imagination they were not co-pastors by today’s standards. Esther never felt comfortable in the public limelight, but she had a humanizing influence through her personal relationships. For her there was no such reality as class difference. Her sense of justice was instinctive and deep. She reached out not only to trusted friends but also to those who were different from her. No one doubted the humanity and compassion with which she related to others. As children we sensed her keen disappointment when a person, any person, was excluded. We never saw her try to hurt anyone, even those in an adversarial role with her spouse. Esther’s relationship to Nevin had a profound impact on his ministry. She was his lover in the deepest sense of the word—a trusted confidant and a lens through which he could view the world as he and Esther moved toward increasing acceptance of a wide variety of persons as daughters and sons of God. (We must hasten to say that our mother would have been embarrassed to call our father her lover in front of her children. Their deepest intimacy was too private for that. Yet Esther was obviously pleased when Nevin’s playfulness and affection occurred in the presence of their children. Her children remember Nevin reaching out as Esther passed by and pulling her into his lap on numerous occasions. She always cooperated with a pleased and bashful expression on her face.) Nevin had risen rather quickly from being a teenage hickory to being trusted by influential leaders in the Amish Mennonite Conference. These leaders had parted from the Amish tradition, yet many tended to mistrust the larger Mennonite church. Nevin was increasingly invited to preach in those Mennonite circles. He was finding the mistrust of Mennonites by many of his Amish Mennonite colleagues divisive. When Nevin was ordained, many of the major leaders who had begun the new conference were emphasizing the role of "church discipline" in avoiding "worldliness." This meant keeping a clear-cut distinction between their church members and everyone else in the community. An influential player in the new Amish Mennonite movement was Mike Zehr. He took Nevin under his wing and had a conservative effect on him during his early years as a minister. One time Zehr, an older church leader, small in stature but stout of heart, became quite ill with asthma and was advised by his physician to move to Arizona. Illustrating their close relationship, he asked Nevin to accompany him by train. Gladly Nevin made this trip with him—one he would always remember. He never lost his deep respect for Mike and his camaraderie with him. Hearing the opinions and concerns of a wide variety of people was a trademark of Nevin’s ministry. His ears were open to his fellow Amish Mennonite leaders such as Mike Zehr and other conference colleagues. He maintained dialogue with a variety of people in the Mennonite church, welcoming the voices of women and youth. What seemed to some a gift of listening seemed to others a danger to tradition. In sermon notes among the files his children have kept is the constant concern to recognize those beliefs which are based on unchanging principles, maintaining traditions which stand the test of time. He opened his ears and heart to a wide variety of people to an extent that was unusual in his Amish Mennonite Conference. During the 1940s and early 1950s, Nevin Bender reached a place of considerable influence in the conference, now calling itself the Conservative Mennonite Conference. Nevin had been active in this name change. As a member of the Executive Committee with responsibilities to mediate dissension in congregations, he increasingly urged church leaders to "take the voice of the church." He believed members should be involved in finding peaceful solutions. To those oriented toward top-down decision making, this was dangerous. Nevin had become a "square peg in a round hole" in the eyes of a number of increasingly conservative conference leaders. Why did Nevin and Esther not simply walk away into the larger Mennonite church? For Amish and Mennonites this is more complex than it seems, especially for those who have deep roots in either tradition. When an Amish or Mennonite family finds its beliefs out of step with its church there is inescapable pain. Church is seldom a casual experience, especially for those whose roots, both doctrinal and genealogical, run deep in this faith community. Far more than a creed binds us together. We experience ourselves as a family that stands together, a community of faith in which each looks out for the other. Church is about taking Jesus seriously when he said, "Follow me," as he refused to hurt or destroy people. It is about being misunderstood for nonviolence, especially during times of armed conflict when anger toward "the enemy" abroad creates less patience for those who disagree at home. There is a downside to this glue that holds Amish or Mennonites together. When people suffer because of unjust institutions, the temptation for some Mennonites is to look the other way and leave such problems to "the world." This keeps our hands cleaner but gives "heartburn" to those who see this as dishonest. The church that provides a context for vibrant togetherness can carry this protective shield so far that some of its members find it "hard to breathe" and necessary to search for a vigorous relationship to persons and institutions outside its own circle. When change is essential to faithfully meet the challenges of a new day there can be a heavy price to pay for not fitting in. Unless a Mennonite is on the periphery of the community, walking away can be a painful option. Nevin and Esther’s roots were deep in the conference in which they served. They tried to stay even when Nevin’s approach to church discipline became a minority view. In the local Greenwood Conservative Mennonite church where Nevin was pastor, the bond of mutual trust between most of the members and Nevin and Esther remained strong during their entire ministry. When tension increased through voices of dissent that were alarmed about the "worldly drift," the result was to draw the nine children and their spouses into greater respect for their parents and each other. Probably we are not fully aware of the extent to which each of our journeys has been shaped by this mixture of painful and exhilarating times together as our family sensed impulses within the church against inclusiveness toward those who differed. For us there was always our family. Here we experienced love and faith. There was vigorous dialogue that made clear we were not carbon copies of each other. There was questioning and laughter—always laughter. It is clear that the spouses that came into the Bender family each brought valuable experiences to our family from their own family traditions and enriched ours. For this we are grateful. Today nine siblings and eight spouses get together regularly. These are "The Seventeen" who all participated—to varying degrees—in this story of our parents/parents-in-law, Without the Loss of One. We believe there is no degree of tension that can ever tear us apart. In this book we share with you the story of our parents. Without the Loss of One orders:
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