An Evening of Trivial Pursuit with the Amish
Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
Amish Proverb
While in Pennsylvania researching this book, I was invited by an Amish friend to attend her family’s Trivial Pursuit party. During the winter months, this family has a monthly gathering of friends: mostly Amish, some Mennonites, a handful of English. Ruth, my friend, is the heart of this collection of friends. She is warm and outgoing, loving and nonjudgmental. Ruth’s friends adore her, it’s plain to see.
We spent the day getting supplies for the party: ice cream, juice, popcorn, and some ingredients for an unusual treat that Ruth called “bachelor hats.” Back at home, she layered a Ritz cracker with peanut butter, then cut a marshmallow in half and stuck it on the peanut butter. A few minutes under the broiler, and the “bachelor hats” truly look like little Amish straw hats . . . minus the black band.
Ruth’s grown sons helped clear the furniture out of the family room and set up two long tables and folding chairs. Ruth was busy popping popcorn and laying it out on large baking sheets. She salted it lightly, then drizzled melted chocolate over the popcorn and set the trays in the basement to harden.
At seven in the evening, buggies started arriving. A few cars, too. Within a few minutes, the room was full with moms, dads, babies, toddlers. Older children slipped down into the large finished basement to play Ping-Pong. These people knew the Trivial Pursuit drill. They got right to work. Men on one table, women on the other. It’s the same edition of the game that we play in our home. The only change they made was to use Bible trivia questions to replace Arts and Entertainment questions. Fair enough.
I took my seat and hoped all of my synapses were firing. I used to be pretty good at this game, but I knew enough about the Amish to know that this would be a challenge. These people were readers, and their minds were refreshingly uncluttered from TV and movies. Their memory for detail always astounded me.
It wasn’t long before I shook my head in wonder. Both sides—men and women—answered questions correctly that I couldn’t even wrap my head around. “Which two colleges played the first football game?” “Princeton and Rutgers!” And oh my . . . they knew their Bible! Though the men had a “ringer,” the bishop, they didn’t have to rely on him. “Which queen in the Bible did away with her grandchildren?” While I assumed Jezebel (wrong!), someone else called out, “Queen Athaliah!” (right!).
Ruth quietly worked around the table, passing around bowls of chocolate-drizzled popcorn, bachelor hats, potato chips, and a beverage of orange soda. Nothing fancy, but delicious and game-friendly.
But here’s what really stood out to me: their kindness.
If the same event—a board game of men versus women—were happening in my home (and I don’t think my home is unique in this), competitiveness would reign supreme. “It wouldn’t be long before insults would be zinging across the table in my home!” said one friend as I explained the evening to him. How often, in your home, has a family night of games ended when one sibling rushes out of the room in tears because he lost, or because something hurtful was said by another sibling?
In this Amish home, kindness reigned. The men gave the women plenty of time to think out a question. There was no buzzer to time a team out. When someone answered a question correctly, compliments and approving raised eyebrows abounded. Babies were passed between moms and dads. Children ran up to the table to whisper something to a parent, then they would quietly disappear again to play. Jokes were gentle and good-natured, with plenty of belly laughs. But no cutting remarks or sarcasm were fired off. Not one! The Amish foster a culture of kindness.
When the game was over (after a nail-biter finish, the men won), families helped clean up and put things away. And then they all thanked Ruth and left in their buggies or cars to head home in the dark. Happy and satisfied after an evening of fun and fellowship, just as it was meant to be.
It’s a shame that kindness is almost rendered meaningless in our culture. It isn’t modeled much. Just the opposite. At times, I think the popularity of reality television has to do with a pleasure we take in meanness, in seeing someone humiliated. The more sarcastic, the ruder the comments, the more drawn in we get. Would American Idol have soared in popularity without Simon Cowell’s acerbic tongue? Someone said, it’s like all of America attended Smart-mouth College.
The Amish relate to each other differently. Kindness first. It’s a simple concept, but it’s not always easy to implement at home. Yet kindness can change dynamics in relationships: between husband and wife, between parent and child, between siblings.
Sound too simple? A study at Kenyon College conducted a test in cooperation with the US Navy to find out how the tone of the voice affected sailors when they were given orders. The conclusion found that the way a person was addressed determined the kind of response he would make. When a sailor was spoken to in a soft voice, he would answer in a similar manner. But when he was shouted at, he shouted back.
What we say and how we say it not only makes a difference in the reaction we’ll receive, but it also determines whether conflict or peace will result. “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Prov. 15:1 NKJV).
In a world where callous thoughtlessness and selfish indifference are all too common, kindness can transform lives. When our walk harmonizes with our words of witness, simple kindness can make a compelling impact on others by pointing them to the type of love God has for them in Jesus Christ. What a difference such kindness can make in our homes, our neighborhoods, our schools, our churches, our communities! But especially in our homes.
Why be kind? There’s no better reason than because that is how God treats us (Eph. 4:32).