By Jon Rutter
Sunday News
LANCASTER, Pa. — Daniel is a publicity-shy member of the Old Order Amish Church.
But it thrills him to jump into an ambulance vibrating with wailing sirens and flashing lights.
The 24-year-old Leacock Township father of two recently became certified as an emergency medical technician.
For five years previously, he was a firefighter.
His brown eyes shone as he described the excitement that motivates him to “run” with the Gordonville Fire & EMS Co., 3204 Vigilant St.
Inside the station on a stormy summer night, he leaned against a truck and struggled to express the incongruity before saying finally, “It’s unexplainable.”
But not quite.
Amish men and women put great stock in service to others. In civilian life, sprinting willingly into a burning home or bandaging a wound at a graphic accident scene is the ultimate expression of that idea.
Said Rachel, an enthusiastic Weaverland Conference Mennonite teenager who was certified with Daniel at Gordonville: “You can look at volunteerism as a ministry.”
Many have done so in the eastern and southern parts of the county, where some Plain families have served their neighbors for three generations.
Today, said Lancaster County Emergency Management Deputy Director Phil Colvin, local communities are attended by up to 300 Plain sect firefighters and a lesser number of EMTs.
English and Amish emergency crew toil seamlessly side by side. Colvin and others agree that the Plain sect contribution is essential at a time when volunteerism is declining and the need for responders is growing.
Church leaders have become much more accepting of EMS involvement over the past 20 years, as more and more people have joined in, said Sam, an Amish man who heads Gordonville EMS.
Yet the path can be bumpy.
Some in the conservative, separatist Plain communities remain “dead against” being in the EMS spotlight, Sam said.
(Like all of the Amish and Mennonite sources in this story, “Sam” spoke on condition that his real name not be used.)
Then there is the trend toward paid ambulance crews.
New state guidelines are expanding the scope and cost of the volunteer EMT certification program, which overseers acknowledge will likely dampen interest in it.
Harrisburg Area Community College, meanwhile, plans to consolidate classes at its Lancaster campus.
Plain sect recruits might skip signing up if the course is not offered at Gordonville, according to Steve Zweifach, a veteran instructor who has taught student EMTs there for five years.
On the other hand, as Sam pointed out, 80 percent of Gordonville volunteers are Amish and Mennonite.
Most are in their teens and 20s, and they’re likely to keep lending a hand far into the future, Sam said.
“I kind of feel the reason for that is we’re all helping neighbors.”
Amish civic activity varies considerably across 500 settlements in this country and Canada, according to Dr. Donald Kraybill, an Elizabethtown College professor and senior fellow at the Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies.
Volunteers commit to causes such as blood donation, hospice, disaster relief and participation in benefit auctions for the Ronald McDonald House at Hershey and other organizations, Kraybill said in an email.
Because the local settlement is the biggest, he added, and because many church members live in rural townships, “Amish involvement in volunteer fire companies is very extensive and, I think, higher than in most settlements.”
Gordonville alone responded to 982 ambulance calls last year.
Volunteers back up the company’s paid crew during the day and are the principal responders at night and on weekends.
Daniel is a publicity-shy member of the Old Order Amish Church.
But it thrills him to jump into an ambulance vibrating with wailing sirens and flashing lights.
The 24-year-old Leacock Township father of two recently became certified as an emergency medical technician.
For five years previously, he was a firefighter.
His brown eyes shone as he described the excitement that motivates him to “run” with the Gordonville Fire & EMS Co., 3204 Vigilant St.
Inside the station on a stormy summer night, he leaned against a truck and struggled to express the incongruity before saying finally, “It’s unexplainable.”
But not quite.
Amish men and women put great stock in service to others. In civilian life, sprinting willingly into a burning home or bandaging a wound at a graphic accident scene is the ultimate expression of that idea.
Said Rachel, an enthusiastic Weaverland Conference Mennonite teenager who was certified with Daniel at Gordonville: “You can look at volunteerism as a ministry.”
Many have done so in the eastern and southern parts of the county, where some Plain families have served their neighbors for three generations.
Today, said Lancaster County Emergency Management Deputy Director Phil Colvin, local communities are attended by up to 300 Plain sect firefighters and a lesser number of EMTs.
English and Amish emergency crew toil seamlessly side by side. Colvin and others agree that the Plain sect contribution is essential at a time when volunteerism is declining and the need for responders is growing.
Church leaders have become much more accepting of EMS involvement over the past 20 years, as more and more people have joined in, said Sam, an Amish man who heads Gordonville EMS.
Yet the path can be bumpy.
Some in the conservative, separatist Plain communities remain “dead against” being in the EMS spotlight, Sam said.
(Like all of the Amish and Mennonite sources in this story, “Sam” spoke on condition that his real name not be used.)
Then there is the trend toward paid ambulance crews.
New state guidelines are expanding the scope and cost of the volunteer EMT certification program, which overseers acknowledge will likely dampen interest in it.
Harrisburg Area Community College, meanwhile, plans to consolidate classes at its Lancaster campus.
Plain sect recruits might skip signing up if the course is not offered at Gordonville, according to Steve Zweifach, a veteran instructor who has taught student EMTs there for five years.
On the other hand, as Sam pointed out, 80 percent of Gordonville volunteers are Amish and Mennonite.
Most are in their teens and 20s, and they’re likely to keep lending a hand far into the future, Sam said.
“I kind of feel the reason for that is we’re all helping neighbors.”
Amish civic activity varies considerably across 500 settlements in this country and Canada, according to Dr. Donald Kraybill, an Elizabethtown College professor and senior fellow at the Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies.
Volunteers commit to causes such as blood donation, hospice, disaster relief and participation in benefit auctions for the Ronald McDonald House at Hershey and other organizations, Kraybill said in an email.
Because the local settlement is the biggest, he added, and because many church members live in rural townships, “Amish involvement in volunteer fire companies is very extensive and, I think, higher than in most settlements.”
Gordonville alone responded to 982 ambulance calls last year.
Volunteers back up the company’s paid crew during the day and are the principal responders at night and on weekends.
“It has crossed my mind that I don’t know what I would do without God,” added Rachel, who noted that she sometimes says “a little prayer” to help her get through a call.
Rebecca, another Weaverland Conference Mennonite teenager who serves with Rachel, said, “You need to stay calm for [the victims], especially the ones that are screaming and yelling.”
Sam said the harsh stimuli from some incidents imprint themselves, such as the characteristic odor of burned flesh from a 9-year-old boy.
“I helped put him in the body bag,” he said. “That was 20 years ago. ... I’ll probably never forget that one. It just hurts you inside.
“You have to be willing” to be an EMT, Sam added. “You have to run a couple of calls a week” just to keep skills honed.
But service also benefits the servers.
Rachel told of the time an elderly woman she’d aided sought her out in the emergency room and thanked her.
“It was so cool,” Rachel said, adding that another huge reward of the job is “the relationships you build” with other volunteers.
The emergency fraternity is “a brotherhood, sisterhood,” said Jim Kiscaden, board president of 79-year-old Strasburg Fire Company No. 1.
“You’re a firefighter. You’re not an Amishman, you’re not a Jew, you’re not a Christian, you’re not an atheist.”
Like their “English” counterparts, Plain sect emergency responders often follow a family member into service.
Rachel grew up watching her EMT grandfather fly out the door to calls.
“My grandpa has run for 40 years,” she said. Today, the two sometimes ride on the same ambulance.
Abe is a second-generation firefighter at Strasburg.
“My dad started volunteering, and what started it is he had a fire” in his hog barn in 1972, said Abe, leaning back in a chair in his repair shop.
“He was so appreciative” of the people who helped him, Abe added. “He wanted to repay that.
“I started following Dad’s footsteps” at 21, said Abe, who helps coordinate fundraisers for the company. “My son, when he was 18 years old, he joined.
“It’s a tension buster” that varies the daily routine, said Abe, who emphasized that volunteers must still put family and church first.
For example, said Daniel, the Gordonville EMT, “It would be very looked down upon if your pager would go off in church.”
A friend, John, noted that “it’s a little bit different if the church is next to the fire station and the siren goes off.”
EMTs at Gordonville say they have three or four minutes to respond before a call is redispatched.
Rachel and her Mennonite friends drive themselves to the ambulance station.
Some Old Order Amish responders arrange with their neighbors for transport.
“In most cases,” Kiscaden says, “they’re within a mile and a half of the fire station, and you’d be surprised how quickly they can be there just on those scooters they have.”
Noted Zweifach, the EMT teacher: “They come to class in horse and buggy. Some were on roller skates.”
Training is a big part of emergency response.
Zweifach said his students study human physiology and learn about emergency treatment for a wide range of illnesses and traumatic injuries.
They must pass state-administered tests and take 24 continuing education credits every three years.
“I find some of the boys struggle with the written part of it,” Zweifach said, while some Plain sect females are initially squeamish about bodily contact during practicums.
However, he said, “they have no problem with technology,” such as computers, defibrillators and oxygen rigs and other medical equipment.
As a group, he added, “They are more dedicated than the English. They’re more respectful toward their instructors. Their work ethic is amazing.” Once they’re certified, they continue to volunteer.
But future students face singular challenges.
One lingering issue for firefighters is whiskers.
The state requires trainees to be clean-shaven so protective masks seal tightly against their faces.
That’s a catch for Amish men, who follow what they see as a biblical injunction to let their beards grow after they wed.
It’s not a deal breaker, said John Stoltzfus, a 35-year-old former Amish church member who is an EMT and assistant fire chief at Strasburg. “The majority of them are getting [training] done before they’re married.”
In March, state Rep. Gordon Denlinger, a Republican who represents eastern Lancaster County, vowed to reintroduce legislation making firefighter certification laws tolerant of people’s religious freedoms.
The EMT course expansion poses another potential hurdle for would-be students, especially those from Plain sect groups.
The state health department is raising certification requirements to conform to federal standards, explained Rob Bernini, instructional program coordinator for HACC.
The college, which is the authorized training institute for the state, is beefing up its EMT course from 140 classroom hours to 220, Bernini said.
The school also is streamlining operations by moving most of its emergency response education program to its Lancaster campus, he added; no classes have been scheduled anywhere in the county this fall, “an exception to the norm.”
Gordonville, the busiest HACC satellite training site, might well have hosted its final EMT class this spring.
The ramifications are not lost on students and instructors.
Because Old Order Amish bishops frown on contact with colleges ---- which, as a rule, also are farther away and harder to reach than local fire companies ---- “Taking the course at HACC might not go over so well,” Rachel said.
Still, back at the Gordonville station on Vigilant Street, spirits were strong as Rachel and her peers wound down a meeting and went home to await the call.
“I always say I don’t want people to get hurt,” Rachel said, “but if they do, I want to be there to help.”
Copyright 2008 LexisNexis, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.