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Mennonite Mirth
by Jep Hostetler
For those in the Mennonite tradition who have Pennsylvania German roots, there are many stories that carry humor to our hearts. Unfortunately, some of the stories cannot be translated into English with any equal measure of humor. There are stories, however, that circulate, grow in magnitude, and are amusing to select groups of people from varying Mennonite traditions.
Stories comparing the various kinds of Mennonites are funny only if one understands the differences between them. Ethnic jokes are funny only if you understand the culture from which they arise. So it is with Mennonite stories. Some are Mennonite-specific and others are simply applied to Mennonites. Then there are riddles and quandaries such as the following.
Q. How many Mennonites does it take to change a light bulb?
A. What? Change!Q. What's the shortest book in the world?
A. Mennonite War Heroes.Q. Why do Mennonites refuse to wear short-sleeved shirts?
A. They are not allowed to bare arms.Q. What is the difference between a Mennonite and a canoe?
A. A canoe tips easily.Stories abound from our history. J.C. Wenger, theologian, storyteller, teacher and scholar, was noted for his sense of humor and the way he could weave a good story into his teaching. I remember looking forward to each of his classes on Christian ethics at Goshen College. It was said that even in his later years he had a sense of humor in the way he invited his visitors to leave. When he would tire of the visit he would simply ask his guests, “Would you like for me to have a word of prayer with you before you go?”
H.S. Bender, a well-known patriarch of the Mennonite church, was the person involved in the following story. My wife Joyce and I courted throughout our four years at Goshen College. To say the least, we were nearly inseparable. What was important was to find places that were secluded enough to steal a good-night kiss or two. On one autumn evening we found ourselves out behind the Goshen seminary (which was later merged into the AMBS group) building. We had found a little entryway where we could get away from the chilly evening. Just as we were saying good night, in our dark corner, we heard footsteps. It was H.S. Bender returning to his office, late, to retrieve some of his papers. “H’m ph,” he said. “It sure is a nice evening, isn't it?” “Yes,” I blurted out, “we think so too” as we moved quickly to escape his stern gaze.
A.J. Metzler, preacher, evangelist and publisher, was familiar to many in his generation in the Mennonite Church. He was an excellent preacher and a gifted teacher. He often spent weekends giving messages and holding evangelistic meetings. His father had these speaking abilities as well, only more so. Abram Metzler, A.J.’s father, was known to get quite enthused about his messages, and he could speak quite loudly and vociferously. A.J. related the following story about his father. At an evening service, during his enthusiastic and energetic preaching, he had to sneeze. Those who knew A.J. or any of his children, know that they have a rather explosive, noisy sneeze. (I think it is genetic.) So was the case with the elder Abram. When he sneezed, his false teeth flew out of his mouth and were headed for the floor directly in front of him. Deft of wit and quick of hand, he caught the false teeth in midair, stuffed them quickly back into his mouth, and continued preaching as though nothing had ever happened. Not even a subdued “Amen” from the amen corner could slow him down. He did comment later regarding what folks would remember about the evening. “Unfortunately,” he said, “ you will most likely remember the teeth and forget the message.”
Then there was a young Amish lad who had a hankering for two fair Amish maidens. As his interest in each of them grew with equal intensity, he decided he needed divine intervention. So, on his way home from a frolic one evening, he decided to allow God to steer his horse correctly. At the fork in the road he simply said, “If Baalam's ass could speak, my horse can choose which young lady I should continue to see.” He released the reins and waited to see which fork in the road the horse would select. If he goes to the left it will be Jonas’ Sadie, if he turns to the right it will be Eli’s Anna. The horse chose neither and charged right straight ahead into the open field. “Honestly,” he pleaded, “I was asking for help from God, not from Paul.” It turns out that he married neither Sadie nor Anna.
Jep Hostetler, Ph.D., Columbus, Ohio, is a humor consultant and author. He is an associate professor emeritus at the Ohio State University College of Medicine. He and his wife Joyce serve as the staff persons for the Mennonite Medical Association.
Mennonite Historical Bulletin, January 2001