A Mennonite woman screams inwardly as her husband drags her across the floor to a bed where he forces himself on her - again. When she went to police after years of abuse, church leaders excommunicated her from her church. They won't take her back until she promises to submit to her husband and never call the police again.
An Amish boy's face is scratched by the straw as an Amish man from his church sodomizes him - again. Church leaders tried to make his parents say it never happened. They almost excommunicated his mother for telling non-Amish people about it, including someone who notified police.
A Mennonite woman tries to stop her husband from pinching, kicking and beating their children with a belt, but nothing works. Church leaders told her she needs to submit, be a better Christian and have sex more often so he would be nicer to her and the children.
To many people, the thought that Mennonite and Amish folk - known for their work ethic, humility, gentleness and orderliness - would abuse their spouses and children is beyond belief.
The public sees large families of well-behaved children, straight rows of colorful flowers and tidy homes. They see church members cooperating to send vast quantities of food to poor countries, homemakers delivering meals to a shut-in, strong men ready to lend a hand at a moment's notice and entire churches working together to build a barn in one day.
Many are exactly the God-fearing, loving people they appear to be - even the abuse victims say that. But that makes it even harder to believe that they would not see or would tolerate abuse within their close-knit communities.
"If you're not hearing about it, it's not because it's not there," said Roger Steffy, an ordained Mennonite minister, who admits he was sexually abusive to his wife. "There's a tremendous amount of secrecy around that stuff."
Steffy is currently coordinator of ADVANCE, a batterer's intervention program of Lutheran Social Services of South Central Pennsylvania. He has counseled victims and led workshops for two Lancaster Mennonite Conference abuse groups.
"There's definite sexual abuse and violence that happens in groups of conservative Mennonite and Amish. I have no doubt about that," said Steffy.
Denial of the issue runs high, however, not just in the general community, but from church leaders and members, said Steffy.
"Our people don't do these kinds of things. We're good people," said Steffy, describing the thinking of the churches' own skeptics.
The topic of abuse in these churches - unified in their Anabaptist beliefs of nonresistance, adult baptism and nonconformity to mainstream values - is so sensitive that not one of the 20 victims, family members or conservative church leaders who talked to the newspaper would allow their names to be used. Even some counselors who work with members of these churches would only agree to be interviewed if their names would not be used.
No studies have been done to quantify the amount of abuse that goes on within Lancaster County Mennonite and Amish churches, several counselors said, but a 1997 statement by the two boards which make up Mennonite Church USA suggested that "the incidence of family violence may be as high in Mennonite homes as in the general population."
"We should not have these things," a local conservative Mennonite bishop said, "but at the same time, we're human and we can't say we are what we'd like to be."
The difference, according to counselors and victims, is the way abuse is handled. As members of a tightly controlled church system and tradition-bound culture, the victims, primarily women, turn to their male deacons, ministers and bishops for help.
Instead of the listening ear and help they seek, they feel blamed and shamed instead.
Wielding an uncompromising belief in the sanctity of marriage, man's authority over women, forgiveness and resolution of conflict without the law - all beliefs based on Biblical passages - the leaders "shoot their wounded."
But there's hope, counselors say. A growing number of Mennonite and Amish leaders are admitting their churches need a more effective way to deal with abuse issues.
"There's been problems around for years," said one Amish leader, "but before, they just swept it under the rug."
Now, he and other Amish leaders are reading books and attending seminars on family issues to become a more knowledgeable listening ear for victims in the church. Some Amish quietly support these leaders; others are very opposed, he said, but he's seeing a gradual willingness to deal with abuse.
"The Amish church, as a whole, are seeing this in a different light," he said.
How we did it
• Two women who didn't know each other contacted us about their experience with abuse in Mennonite churches. As we explored the topic, a pattern emerged, convincing us this story had to be told.
• During the next four months, we spoke with at least 10 counselors and 20 victims of abuse and/or their families. We collected documentation: hand-written letters, protection-from-abuse orders, doctors' reports, psychologists' reports. Sources' requests for anonymity or pseudonyms were granted.
• We talked to law enforcement officials and attorneys, and found court records of Mennonite and Amish offenders. We investigated similar cases in Indiana and Wisconsin.
• We talked to husbands and/or men accused of abuse if we were using a major part of their story. Ministers who were accused of insensitive and unfair treatment were also interviewed if we were telling a story that involved them. Some refused to comment.
• We also interviewed church leaders who were taking steps to address abuse.
• In the end, we combined the interviews and experiences into the series that will unfold: "Silenced by Shame."