The Questions We Ask About Church

Our church board is going on retreat for a few hours this Saturday.  When I say "board" I mean the Eliot Church Parish Committee, which is a much cooler name.  Lately we have been talking about our future.  We are--as congregations go--a healthy and dynamic group.  However, with that said, we have noticed what everyone else has noticed.  The world has changed and church...has not.  

Anyway, our retreat this year will be about what it means to be a congregation in this new world.  What does it mean for the institution?  What does this mean for our liberal faith? We don't really know.  What we do know is that the old things we have done aren't working well anymore.  We want to address these issues.  We want to have a conversation while we are still healthy that will prepare us for the future, whatever that may be.  the following is really a letter to them to get ready, but I thought I would share...

Dear Church Leaders,

We have a big weekend coming up and I am looking forward to it.  Our retreats in the past have inspired some of our most lasting ministries.  Things like the Garden, the Ukestra, Philosophers' Club, Pub Theology, Snow Posse, special services like Baseball Sunday, Blessing Sunday and so on. Family field trips,  Family Promise and cool Membership Committee events like the Jack O'Lantern competition have changed the way we do church. Music in the form of our expanded concert series has brought in people who would have never entered out doors otherwise.  Also, we began the building upgrade. We have a table at the Common.  You get the idea.  All of this has come from conversations at retreat.  Maybe not the exact ideas (which were worked out later), but the sentiment and the direction was begun and developed in that context.  Some things worked well and others didn't, but they are in a real and lasting sense the result of conversations refined at retreat.

One tool we are using for our conversation this time is a book by Rev. Dr. Jefferey Jones entitled "Facing Decline, Finding Hope: New Possibilities for Faithful Churches".  I will link to it at the end of this post.  It is a good read.  Jeff, himself will also be with us for our morning session.

His thesis is basically that not all churches will survive and that many of the ones that do will be transformed by the experience.  Phyllis Tickle, a respected expert on all things church, points out that religious institutions re-invent themselves every 500 years.  Jones accepts that idea and points out that we are due for another re-invention.  The world shifts over time.  Our culture, identities, and expectations shift, too.  Eventually the old institutions either adapt or make way for something new that works.  This is a time for adapting or for making way.  In a way it is a bummer.  In another way it is a blessing to be right where the action is.

However, what Jones points out (and I agree) is that we don't really have much consensus around what the "new thing" will be.  There are folks who are experimenting with a variety of models.  Some succeed and some fail but all give us information.  They all forge a path.  Most people and institutions, though, aren't doing this.  They are hoping to get by simply by tweaking here and there.  It is hard to adjust when you do not know what you are adjusting to, after all.  The problem is that tweaking doesn't cut it.  It is a decision for irrelevance.  The other problem is that tweaking is all we know how to do.

This doesn't mean that we need to run around like those metaphorical headless chickens!  In fact, we have some time.  The first step to entering into this new place is to ask some questions.  In fact, the questions themselves need to change from what we once asked, to what we now must ask in light of that massive societal shift that is happening around us.  Here are the questions that Jeff Jones asks in his book.  Again, I will link to it at the bottom if you would like to purchase a copy.  While the questions are Jeff's, the thoughts are mine...

Old Question: How do we bring them in?  New Question: How do we send them out?

You see the shift there right?  The first question is about maintaining that institution.  "How do we--short of kidnapping--get butts in the pews?  How do we make Sunday School more interesting than soccer or sleeping in?"  The second question is about how we empower our members and our community to interact with the world they live in.  There is a risk in asking this question over the old one.  But there are benefits as well if we take seriously the idea that the church is about sustaining people rather than sustaining itself.

Does the new question help answer the old one?  I think it does in this case.  People want to join a faith community that helps them to live authentic and fulfilling lives.  They will join congregations that are able to do this.

Let's try another shall we?

Old Question: What should the Pastor do?  New Question: What is our congregation's shared ministry?

There is that shift again!  The first is about staffing and assumes that the role of the staff (not just ministers) is to do the work of the church so everyone else can go about their business.  The second flips that.  The question is about how the church sees itself.  What does the community do to minister?

Is there a place for the staff in this new question?  Sure!  However we are on a loooong road trip and the driving needs to be at least shared.  Then the staff can take their turn at the wheel...and at the map...and leading the car games...singing the songs...picking the rest stop...changing the tires...you get the idea...

Old Question: What is our vision and how do we implement it?  New Question: What is God up to and how do we get on board?

This is one of those questions where perhaps as liberals we enjoy over-complicating.  We know that the word "God" means different things to different people but, really, it isn't so hard to grasp here is it?  The old question asks how we as a community want  to plan our future.  The new one asks where we are being led or taken.  The pre-socratic philosopher Heraclitus once said something to the effect that "you can never step in the same river twice".  The new question is simply "where is that river taking us"?  It is--no matter what theological language you prefer--a question of discernment.

Here is one that is common for many, many churches these days...

Old Question: How do we survive? (or in churches like Eliot that may be less desperate, "How do we restructure")  New Question: How do we serve?

I am not sure I even need to add much at this point.  There is the shift again.  We are hanging on to the old ways like a climber clinging to the cliff.  How do we let go?  How to we make the leap into the new?

OK, finally, one that has caused some confusion in these parts.  The fact is, our tradition has a particular way of talking that makes it hard sometimes to grasp points and concepts that are written or said in a way that comes from someone else's theological language.  Still, hopefully by this point--given the other examples--we can see the same shift here...

Old Question: What are we doing to save people?  New Question: What are we doing to make the reign of God present in this time and place?

At first in a liberal context the old question may not make much sense.  In our church there have generally been two responses to "saving" language.  There are those of us who do not believe people need saving and there are those of us who believe that "saving" people is something that the Great Whatever works out with individuals.  Both groups make a point of not "witnessing".  HOWEVER, guess what?  We do have strong opinions don't we?  We like to talk about them.  We like to bring folks around to our way of thinking.  Yes, we don't bring people to Jesus so they can get to heaven but we sure do stake out a position.

With that in mind, let's look at that second question in this final pair.  Again, we can let ourselves get hung up on the God language but we are better than that, people!  Our intern Shane points out that the idea of the "reign of God" is the same one that exists within one of our favorite hymns We'll Build a Land.  So the question is simply "Are we just talking or are we doing?"  "Are we trying to bring about the world we wish we lived in?" Or, perhaps more tellingly, "Are we just trying to change others or are we working to change ourselves?"

So there yah go.  The questions.  Maybe we need be asking both sets, maybe just one.  Either way, it is worth discussion.  One thing we do know is that the world is changing whether we like it or not...

I am looking forward to seeing you at retreat and then at our follow-up meetings.  thank you for being willing to take a look at these difficult questions.  You are great!

Yours in Faith and Hope,
Adam

Here (drum roll please) is a link to Jeff's book.

Think Broadly About Bi-Vocational

Busking in the church

It feels like this year the slow-burn of concern about the future of the institutional church has reached a new level of acceptance.  I find this interesting.  There is still a great deal of talk about revitalization and church growth and there should be.  At the same time, we are also recognizing that the world is changing and--for most congregations--what is coming will be very different than what has been.  Some churches will "die" and must choose whether to do so gracefully and authentically or whether to dissolve into a big hot mess.  Other congregations will change into something that none of us can quite anticipate or predict.

General Synod of just one of the "teams" I play for. (UCC)

Honestly, I am not worried long-term for the future of our deeply held faith traditions.  They will survive and flourish in whatever is to come.  Our institutions (things like denominations, traditional town-square church buildings, and full-time traditional ministries) will probably change quite a bit or cease to be relevant.  Is this a bad thing?  Not necessarily.  My faith is not a building.  Nor is it a job.  Nor is it centered on a particular "team" of buildings and jobs.  Like most people, my spiritual life is growing and shifting along its own lines.  Our faith is transcending old forms of identity (like denominations) and moving out into...something...

That said, I do have a very specific investment in the old institutions.  I am a full-time pastor and I love both my congregation and my job.  I like what I do.  The problem is that it isn't all that clear what the future will bring.  What if at some point I can no longer be full-time? Church budgets are pressed everywhere.  More immediately, what about the younger, newer ministers entering the profession now?  A few will truck right along, I know.  Others will discover that the "career track" in the ministry is in the process of exploding.

All of this means that you and I--ministers, congregations, seminaries, individual lay-people--need to start thinking creatively about bi-vocational ministry.  At the seminary level, it might make sense to partner with a community college or trade school.  At the congregational level, it might make sense to adjust to the fact that your pastor may not be a "suit" for much longer.  For individuals (ministers and seminarians) it would be a good idea to get down learning different skill sets.  People should take this up this early on before they get old like me.

So...we need to think broadly about what those skill sets might be.  Right now most seminaries can train you up to simultaneously be a minister and...work in another kind of non-profit.  These dual-degree programs work best when someone is in fact called to both disciplines.  Also they reflect a bias toward the old-school "professions" that isn't helpful.  The problem for many of us is that we aren't interested in other traditional professions. I looked at similar fields and chose the ministry because it fit my skill set and enabled me to do the things I like more than the things I didn't.  So why would I want my other job to be something that is kinda like the ministry but not as fulfilling (for me)?

What should happen instead is that we seek out this new vocation the way we sought out the old one.  What are we called to do?  Where can we continue to give to world while our spirit simultaneously gets filled?  If my church said they didn't need me full time, I would probably attempt being a busker/brewmaster/ukulele-maker/baker.  Then I would narrow it down.  None of these are taught in seminary. All of them take time to perfect.  All of them cost money to get started and a while to build up a customer base (yes, even buskers).  But I would love the work just like I love the ministry.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the day.  The fact is, pretty much any minister born today will have to be part time at some point and probably for an extended time.  If we think of the ways this is a good thing then perhaps we will have more creative and energized ministries in the future.

Here are some links.

This one is to a recent Peacebang essay about some of the stresses on our congregation.

Here is a link to the book we are reading for our Parish committee retreat which discusses asking the right questions as we enter the unknown.

My Advent Racism Post

I went over to the coffee shop downtown today and bumped into my neighbor Rob.  We got chatting about the season and--knowing that I am prone to do this sort of thing--he asked me what I am "giving up" or taking on for Advent.  I told him I was struggling against my own racism.

It is true, but I hate to say it.  It sounds like just the thing a caricature of a liberal Christian minister would say.   It sounds holier than thou.  Perhaps it even appears a bit more pointed.  "Look at me!  I am doing minister-purification stuff! What are you up to?  Just having coffee?"  It is easy to tune out things like that.

However, I don't feel that pure.  I am a Calvinist (albeit a liberal--Universalist--one) and my racism--like many of my faults--stands out to me as a power to be fought.  I first truly clued in to being a racist while I was in high school and working for the Jesse Jackson presidential campaign.  It turned out that over the years of my upbringing, my whiteness (or, really, pinkness) in a white community had instilled certain assumptions within me, certain feelings, certain fears that required (and still require) my attention.  I am a racist.  This is how I see it.

Now, neither you nor I are likely the kind of racist that immediately springs to mind.  We get angry at those racists and we should.   We may even feel a certain superiority.  That, my friends, is the problem.  Charles Blow in today's New York Times writes, "racist is the word that we must use.  Racism doesn't require the presence of malice, only the presence of bias and ignorance, willful or otherwise." Liberals have biases, too. We need to remember to be vigilant.  

I could say that I am a "person with racism" and label it like the disease it is.  However, I worry that it will let me off the hook. "Don't worry about Adam.  He has racism.  He can't help it."  

OK so...why is this struggle my Advent discipline?  This year, it is hard to figure out how it wouldn't be.  For work I think about Advent.  I also pay attention to what is going on in the country.  My days swing between these foci.  Fruitcake...then Ferguson.  Planning worship...then Michael Brown.  Practice the Nutcracker on the ukulele...then Eric Garner, who was 43, exactly my age.  How could I not be thinking about race in this country?  How could I not wonder about those assumptions once again.  How could I not wonder how my daily existence differs from Eric's?  How could I not want to do something about it?  I believe racism is a disease that can--ultimately--be cured.  You need to work at it, though.  Everyone has caught the bug and there is no pill.

A couple years ago I was stopped by the police while walking through my neighborhood.  Someone thought I looked suspicious.  When closer inspection revealed my harmlessness the police wrapped up pretty darn quick.  Back then I wondered what would have been different had I been someone other than Rev. Dr. Adam Tierney-Eliot, pastor of that church down the street.  I kinda knew, frankly, but right now the illustration is stark.

Is there hope in all this?  Yes.  I think there is.  Many of my colleagues are reporting disagreements with people over various aspects of these cases.  I am not surprised.  Folks are at war with each other because they are at war within themselves.  People are struggling with their own deeply embedded notions of their own goodness.  I have received push back, too.  However, I have also been amazed by the outpouring of anger concerning these verdicts and concerning the underlying institutions that make them possible.  I am glad folks are waking up.  After centuries of generally ignoring the unequal response of our society toward people of color--the historical record is embarrassingly clear--we are fighting back against our own dogmatic slumbers.   It is painful but it has to be done. 

The trouble seems to arrive when we have to examine ourselves.  Not everything is holly and ivy and mistletoe after all.  The world is still ugly even when we look away.

Again, why deal with race during Advent?  That is easy.  The Advent story is about oppression.  It is about displacement.  Christmas may be a party but Advent is not. Right now is the best time to take a look at that story in the Bible and to live our way way into it.  The Hope of Advent isn't a hope to maintain things as they are.  The Peace of Advent isn't about hushed silences, carols and hot chocolate but about equal justice.  This isn't a time to ignore the violence we do but to face it.  It is also time to acknowledge our own complicity and to act in the midst of our flaws.

One.  More.  Time.  This is the moment for white people--even or especially the purportedly liberal ones--to acknowledge our complicity.  It is time for the white church--perhaps particularly the suburban one--to acknowledge its (our) complicity as well.

This is the season of preparation for nothing less than the birth of God.  Perhaps we will never be pure as individuals or as a society.  However, we cannot afford to throw our hands up in despair.  This holiday season it is time to fight the racism we see in our institutions and in ourselves.  Let us talk.  Let us march.  Let us act in ways large and small before the moment is lost.

Here is the article that I quote from Charles Blow.

Things We Should Talk About as Long-Term Ministers

One of my greatest weaknesses as a pastor is--quite simply--that I am not the most organized person to ever wear a Geneva gown.  It is a problem that members of my church are rather familiar with.  Over the 11-plus years we have been together we have learned to adapt and adjust.  Like any long-term relationship, we have found ways to bring out the best in each other...most of the time.

However, one of the problems that this creates is that I am suddenly feeling the need to learn more about long-term ministry.  Being in such a ministry will do that to you.  I have changed since I arrived in September of 2003.  My congregation has changed.  The landscape we now are moving through has also changed.  We are doing just fine, thank you, but I feel that I need to reflect a bit to be on my game.

The best way would be an ongoing group or a workshop.  That is the problem.  I am not good at planning.  However, I am good at thinking so I thought I would share with you some of the topics that I think such a workshop or group would have to address if someone more gifted in this way were willing and able to work with me on such a thing.

1) Big Famous Keynote: Yes, we can have one of these. I am affiliated with both the UUA and the UCC.  So is my church.  It isn't hard to think of a few former pastors of big churches who fit into this category and who love to talk. However, what I am looking for from him or her is something very specific.  I want theological and spiritual reinforcement for the value of long-term pastorates.  This is important stuff and plays right to the strength of "Reverend Biggs".  For applied and practical elements, I want to hear from other people who have experience in congregations that are a bit more typical.  

2) How Do You Advance Your Career?: ...and what constitutes a successful career if you have stepped away from a system where bigger is always better? 

We know why Reverend Biggs stayed at the big steeple right?  The pay was good.  Important people had heard of the good reverend's church and wanted to invite the pastor onto committees and such.  There was time off (thank you Associate Pastors!) to write that meditation manual.  This is all fine.  Rev. Biggs worked hard, spoke well, and got the brass ring young enough to also serve in one place for a while.

Most of the long-term pastors I know, however, do not serve "big pulpits".  We labor in relative anonymity.  It is an easy thing to get noticed in that one big congregation in your association.  What do the rest of us do to influence the direction of our various denominations?  How do you get your voice heard when you have stepped off the career ladder for something you find more fulfilling?

3) How Do You Grow Spiritually Together?: Or, if you prefer, "How do you keep from getting bored or being boring"?  A long-term pastorate, like any long-term relationship, can get dull if you don't work on it.  My wife and I go to a lot of concerts, date nights, couples nights, and so on.  We go for long walks to chat.  We have been together for twice as long as I have been at the church.  

Now I am not one of those "ministry is like a marriage" people because, well, it isn't like a marriage at all.  That said, it is still a relationship that needs work. What are the equivalents to these sorts of experiences in a long-term ministry?  I will say that I have had two rather distinct ministries at Eliot.  There was the one before my sabbatical and the one after it.  Both were quality ministries but they were different.  I wonder if some sabbatical planning would make a good workshop.

4) How Do You Grow On Your Own?:  Again, the same people all the time.  The same patterns.  What do you do away from the church to keep yourself sharp?

5) What About New People?: Some long-term ministers are pretty good about integrating new people.  Others not so much.  We have leaders we are comfortable with.  Often we have known them for what feels like FOREVER.  What sort of tricks and techniques would help facilitate lay-leadership growth?

6) How Do You Not Mess It Up For the Next Person (and here I mean Parson)?: This. Is. Important.  A Church isn't after all, about us.  In a long-term ministry it is inevitable (particularly in small and mid-sized churches) that the pastor becomes part of the architecture in some sense.  The church building...the old communion silver...the ancient pastor who baptized both you and your kids...all are permanent and timeless after a while.  What happens to the new person when they show up?  How hard have we made it for them if we have over a decade of service in one place?  I would like to hear from a really good Interim and find out what drives them crazy about us.  I even have someone in mind.

7) God:  This is the most important question.  Where is God in our ministries?  Are we in the same place because we don't want to (or cannot) move?  Is there still life and spirit in the pastoring? These are important questions.  Certainly there are always practical considerations that make us choose to stay.  At the same time we are ministers.  If God says "go" we go.  If God says "stay" we stay.  Perhaps this is where we end with small group discussion inspired by Reverend Biggs' sermon. We cannot let our relationship with God get old.


Anyway, this is my non-exhaustive list.  Can anyone think of other items?  My years at Eliot easily rest among the very best things that have ever happened to me.  I know that every long-term minister would agree about their settlements.  That is why we are still around.  That is why we do the work we do.  The challenge is to keep doing that work and to do it well...

The First Week of September is the Loneliest Time in Church

So I haven't gotten tired of waving at people yet.  This past week as folks have returned from various points there has been a rush of friendly greetings from cars and sidewalks.  In the coffee shop I run in to neighbors and congregants.  The whole neighborhood converges at the school pick up line.  I am a small church pastor.  I am not famous.  Yet most of the people I know and who know me live in a very small geographic space.  Life is noisy and  even joyous right now, like a middle-aged version of college move-in day.  We are back from our epic seasonal adventures.  We are out and about.

I am returning from what may have been the best summer of my life.  I will do my best to write about parts of it when I can.  Now, though, the kids are in school. My wife and I are at work.  I have been sending emails, going to meetings, preaching and picking on Sundays and making phone calls so much that my voice is rough and my fingers hurt.  We are building (or re-building) the community we depend on to keep us grounded in a sometimes impersonal world.  However, the sanctuary is still silent.  It is still clean.  It is static and waiting for the party to begin.  When I get off the sidewalk and walk into the office I share with our Church Administrator, Felicia and our new Ministerial Intern, Shane. I am suddenly alone.

Such is the way with church this time of year.  We are busy, but not for what is "right now".  Instead we are preparing for "not yet".  It is my least favorite part of the church cycle.  Every year I wonder if this will be the one when no one bothers to show up the Sunday after Labor Day. 

Yes, we have summer services.  Yes, the leadership and the staff are prepared and ready.  At the very least that great and vibrant core group will be around.  Still, I have at various times in my life thrown parties where no one ever arrives.  Also, there was that one year some eight ago when it took many members the vast bulk of September to remember that there was a church and they should be in it.  In the silence I wonder.  I wonder if people will remember to bring their kids back on September 7 when Sunday School begins.  Will the Middle School Youth Groupers gather at 9am on the 14th right before our Ingathering and water service?  I sure hope so.  I would miss them if they don't.

 

My prayers these days are for all those people who staff our small and mid-sized congregations.  It is a little surreal running about from task to task in the quiet of an empty church.  We really do know that eventually the folk will return.  It is just strange, that's all.  And it isn't anything we want to get used to....

Does Burbania = Middle School?

A long, long time ago, I moved to Burbania with my wife and (back then) two children.  I had--with the exception of a 9 month internship in Grosse Pointe, Michigan--never lived in the 'burbs.  I am a country boy and have inhabited a number of small towns in Maine both growing up and as an adult.  When I wasn't part of the rural landscape (like parts of college and grad school), I lived in cities (Montreal, Chicago). I was, therefore, a bit unprepared for the basic social dynamics that come with settling in to this kind of place.

You see, our arrival had clearly created something of a ripple in the social fabric.  I don't think this has anything existentially to do with us.  I believe every new arrival in these parts creates ripples.  Everyone, it seemed, was trying to figure out what to do with us both as individuals and as small, tightly knit social groups.

Things sorted themselves out, of course, but there was this confusing phase.  We would be invited to an event at one person's house...and then not invited to another event at another house that had the same people attending.  Our kids would get to go to certain childrens' birthday parties...but not others.  Book Clubs were like that, too.  Really, anything one might describe as a "club" was. Sports teams--ostensibly randomly assigned--would end up with all my sons' friends on the same one...and my son on another.  I spent hours on the sidelines essentially by myself, or talking to another person who was essentially by him/herself.  They, too, were usually new to town.

Like I said, things worked out, rather painlessly.  Both my wife and I have jobs.  Some of my closest colleagues and their families live in the area.  The fact is, we have a broad range of affiliations and friendships.  We also have each other, which is the very best thing.  Also, I now know to bring a book to youth sporting events.  My kids, too, have found places for themselves and seem to be fine.  That said, in the midst of all the confusion around "finding a place", I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, this is just like middle school".  Knowing this is good.  After all,  anyone who has actually been to real middle school should have low expectations for the adult version.

In the very small towns you hang out with whomever there is to hang out with.  There aren't enough people to be picky.  In the city there is so much to do, why would you want to limit yourself to one group? Middle and high school (and college for some) seemed to me to be where you get to worry about who is "in" and "out".  That is when you gossip and have comically serious conversations about who to exclude (or include).  That is where the social standing of your friends (and spouse) still matters.  Then we grow up and move on...right?

Um...right?

 Turns out, in Burbania there is still a strong streak of tribalism and "clubiness" that I don't understand.  I am including a link below to an article from Boston Magazine that examines one--rather extreme--slice of the suburban social scene.  I think it is a worthwhile read for everyone.  The reason that it rises to the level of brief blog post, however, is that if you read the article looking for "institutions of exclusion" (my term) that help to define these small social groups, one of the ones you will find is the church.  It is a heartbreaking story, actually.

The fact is, the church must work hard to keep itself off this list.   It is easy for a congregation to end up becoming--or appearing to become--an exclusive social club.  This is a bad thing.

Sure!  People are allowed to hang out with who they want.  However, a church, regardless of its size or theology, is there to serve the broader community.  It must be open to as many people as possible.   The liberal church--at least in theory--throws its doors and arms wide open to create a diverse and loving community.  It should not be reduced to being defined as "the place where those people go" unless those people are then defined as "open, welcoming, spiritual, accepting, and loving".

Anyway, here is the article.  If it appears to be about folks aspiring to be rich socialites, that's because it is.  It isn't really my experience and it may not be yours. However, in the socially stratified world we Burbanians get to move in, many of the same principles still hold.  People shouldn't be reduced to burying their noses in a book and hoping no one notices how alone they look.  Pastors and other church leaders need to remind themselves of this.  Every. Single. Day.

The Survival of the Liberal Church

Recently my Assistant/Intern Jerrod Oltmann asked me who I meant when I said things like "liberal religion".  The answer, of course, is that I use the term broadly.  I mean the liberal Christianity of the United Church of Christ as well as the more amorphous liberalism of the Unitarian Universalist Association.  I also see liberals in a diverse number of traditions not my own.  Basically, if you see the conversation between "secular" (I use quotes here because life is sacred no matter what compartment you choose) and "sacred" (or the church, or theology, or merely seeking deeper meaning) as a two-way thing, then I think you are at least open to the idea of the liberal religious tradition.  The goal, I think, for all of us, is to integrate all our sources into one understanding.

Of course, there is more to this than reading or reflecting on one's own.  For me, truly formative religion happens in the context of a faith community--formal or informal.  There needs to be intention and accountability.  There needs to be a real and living language that forms the foundation for our thoughts and conversations.  Otherwise that ubiquitous pretty sunset is just oddly moving.  The moment passes and we go back to the same Habitrail we left.  Religion--liberal and otherwise--is a building.  You need a crew. You also need to work at it or it will collapse (or never get built) and then you will be standing like a confused idiot in the rain...talking only to yourself if you even bother to listen.

I have made my life in the context of the church.  I just have.  I work for a church and have for a long time.  Before that I worked for other congregations and attended others.  I have sat in many seminary classrooms.  A large portion of my friends do the same kind of work.  Many non-clergy folks I know and love spend a great deal of time and effort keeping their particular faith community running and healthy for free.  Others just attend when they can and that's fine, too.  For all of us in these categories there is something that makes us come back and connect to the larger community and--yes--to the Divine (however you want to parse that word).

Of course, I also have friends who don't belong to any community of faith.  That's OK.  I don't judge.  I really don't. In fact, if you are one of those people, I like hanging out with you because we get to talk about music and politics and beer and kids which is awesome!  Most of these sorts of people I know have found communities elsewhere.  However, I have never met a person who wouldn't have had their lives enriched or improved by belonging to some kind of congregation.  Most of the people I know would be best fit into a liberal one.

Why don't they all go run off and join a church?  The answer isn't as simple as busy lives and youth sports.  There is other stuff going on.  Much of it the church brought upon itself over the centuries.  If you watched the first episode of Cosmos, for example, you know that religion hasn't always been that tolerant or, you know...liberal.  People remember this.  They remember their own experiences, too.  Sometimes the biggest enemy of liberal church growth is other churches.  We are not the same, but how would people who don't go to church know that?

Others just go on what they see in the media.  News reports love the fundamentalist.  It is so clear and easy to say "all churches believe X".  Why bother with subtlety?  Sitcoms, movies, books and TV dramas throw in a minister or dedicated layperson whenever they need some shorthand for intolerance or prudishness.  Sometimes we are lovably uptight.  Sometimes we are evil.  Rarely are we depicted as the hero.  Almost universally we are depicted at least as "squares".  Perhaps shockingly, the hippest and coolest people I know are clergy and other church people.  This isn't just because I am a minister, either.  Believe me.

All this is just to lead up to one of the challenges we face.  By "we" here I mean the liberal religious.  It is a challenge that I face as a leader and pastor to a particular congregation.  How do we welcome people who don't even know we exist?  How to we bring people in not for the sake of the institution but for the sake of those very people?  It is a struggle with no one answer.  After all, what makes us strong is our diversity as well as our depth.

I read this article this morning.  There are literally thousands like it on the web but for some reason it stuck with me.  You should check it out.  What do you think?  If you go to a church, or synagogue or mosque (obviously the article is written from a Christian perspective, but many of the ideas have parallels in other faiths), does this approach make sense to you ?  If you are not part of a faith community, does this look like the problem?  Have you thought about joining a liberal congregation?

I would love to know what you think.  If you have no thoughts to share, I would love for you to keep thinking about this issue.  We are, after all, talking about the health and survival of the liberal voice in contemporary conversation.

Back In Nature

I wasn't in church this weekend.  I was, however, with many members of my church on our first annual ski trip.  We went to New Hampshire.  Most of the folks who went are actual skiers who stay upright going downhill and look cool while they are doing it.  Good for them.  I am pretty sure I have never looked cool doing anything.  Anyway, on Saturday my wife (who always looks cool) opted for cross-country skis and took two of the kids for the morning.  I went snow shoeing with Son #2.  

There was a period in our lives not too long ago when he and I spent a great deal of time on snow shoes.  Here in this blog you can find numerous articles describing the year when I took sabbatical time and he took a year off from conventional education to hang out with me.  One of our big projects involved trooping around in the woods with me taking pictures and him working on projects (artistic and scientific) based in the natural world.  It was a great year and it was great to be able to spend some time this weekend re-living it.  We are both older, of course, and we have been back to the usual stuff for the better part of three years.  

We also took along Son #1 in the afternoon.  During that time we got lost and ended up in an adjacent wilderness area.  Also my trusty camera froze.  During the home-school year it saw a lot of action and I think there is some water in it now.  Eventually (obviously) we made it back and had stories to tell about what we saw.

Honestly---though I love being in church---it was great having the chance to spend the weekend this way.  My faith (as with that of most of the church's members) doesn't limit me worship in one set form and in one sort of location.  God is still speaking, after all, and God speaks in the slow walk through the snow with sons who have become good friends  (or daughters, I just don't have any).  The falling snow and the frozen stream provide reminders of this vast creation as well as the reassurance that for a short time we get to be a part of it.  For the other folks on our trip I can only imagine that the same sort of relationship and realization occurred while barreling down the mountain with the wind in both ears feeling the terrain under their skis and the rush of excitement as the run came to an end.   Pretty cool, right?

Thoreau begins his essay On Walking with the short preamble: 

"I WISH TO SPEAK a word for nature, for absolute Freedom and Wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and Culture merely civil, — to regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and parcel of Nature, rather than a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement, if so I may make a emphatic one, for there are enough champions of civilization; the minister, and the school-committee, and every one of you will take care of that."

Even though he lists my profession among the champions of civilization I think we religious people need to do more of this.  I don't mean skipping church, of course, but instead of going out of the "civilized world" together.  A community of faith can learn a great deal both in the woods and in the cities.  We can grow in understanding anywhere we can experience something out of the ordinary and reflect on it.  

Then maybe learning will be transformed into doing.  Maybe we will find ourselves motivated to change our lives after experiencing the snowstorm up close or seeing both the joy and suffering in the life of someone else.

So...it was a good trip.  I can't wait for the next one...

My Resolution

So, we are carving our way into 2014 aren't we?

These few first weeks of January are a time when we like to look back.  We are coasting a bit off the good feelings of "the holidays" and have the added blessing of a return to normal life.  Now is the time when we reflect and--sometimes--plan how to change that part of our lives that has been bothering us the most.  Of course, these "resolutions" don't always quite stick.  I remember that when I was growing certain people I know would unveil various versions of what they would call "The New Me".  Most of these iterations looked a lot like the old them.  This is probably why most years I don't bother to make a resolution.  It is hard to change.

However, every once in a while forces conspire to push us in a particular direction and we do make changes.  At those times it makes sense to try to get ahead of that urge we feel inside us to alter our reality and break out of our rut.  NPR pundits counsel us to aim for "doable" (read: small, measurable) goals. That isn't how I work.  Something like that invites failure--if I even bother to notice that I failed.  For me the new year is a chance to turn over a big leaf.  It has to be something that will make a noticeable difference.

So here is my resolution: I want to arrest my slow decline into intellectual laziness.  Yeah, it may sound frivolous to you but to me it is very important.  I am happier if I have somewhere for my brain to go.  If it doesn't have a home, it tends to spin out to focus on whatever tragedy or problem it can find.  It can be real or imagined, past, present, or future.  In any case, I will find it.  Then I get sullen.  I become grumpy.  It drives my family crazy.  It may even drive the church crazy for all I know.

You see, usually I have something going on.  This blog has helped with various projects and you can find references sprinkled about that address them.  Music, worship, and my sabbatical homeschooling all have had their time of intense scrutiny.  My DMin program in preaching took up a vast amount of intellectual energy.  Now "Norm" is happily ensconced in Middle School.  I graduated from my DMin program and the major questions about the other areas I have either answered to my satisfaction...or I have lost interest.  I still preach, pray, lead worship, and play hymns and such on the uke (obviously) but they don't take up as much time as they did.

Also, I have cut back on certain hobbies.  I don't brew nearly as much beer as I used to.  I am boycotting the NFL.  This all adds up to the need for more studies.

Anyway, the NPR folks will be happy to know that I do have a plan, of sorts.  It has many facets but they can basically be forced into three groups...

1) Spend time getting educated about random stuff.

Lately I have been working through various epic Ken Burns documentaries.  I started with "Baseball".  Now I am on "Jazz".  In one sense these are eye-gougingly dull.  Sometimes I suspect the family would rather take their chances we me being bored and grumpy if it meant hearing less about Joe Jackson and Sidney Bechet.  In another way it is very helpful.  I know very little about these things and each time I sit down to a boring documentary my brain thanks me afterward.

The same can be said for long books about the Civil Rights movement in Memphis, apparently.  Also, I am on a kick about 19th Century sermons, which leads me to area Number 2...

2)Take full advantage of my Boston Athenaeum membership. 

Actually, I already use the Athenaeum a whole lot, but now I am going to be more intentional about it.  For starters, the place, itself encourages you to think.  There is the art museum.  There is the silence.  There are the many, many books that are hard to find anywhere else.  There are also the comfy chairs to read (or sleep) in.  It is fantastic!

My plan is to attend lectures.  I have picked out three this winter and if I make even one I will deem it a success.  I will see all the exhibits this year. I also plan to mine the library's depths for sermons and essays by late 18th and early-mid 19th century clergy.  Right now I have to wrap up the James Freeman Clarke collection I got out a couple of weeks ago.  But that should be fun.

3)Manage some sort of project.

I am not sure what this will be.  It will probably integrate some of the things I mentioned earlier.  I am very curious about some of my predecessors here at Eliot Church, for example.   Clarke and Hedge are always interesting.  However, so far I haven't found just the thing to get ridiculously excited about.  Until then, I will just have to do with goals #1 and #2.

To some of you this may seem like too much.  For others it might appear lazy.  I think, however, it will work for me.  Family and congregation can expect to put up with a certain about enthusiasm from me about topics that may seem a bit eccentric.  If you see these folks creeping into readings and sermons, that will be why.

So, what are you doing this year?  Many will choose to do nothing in particular and that is fine.  Others will be seeking to do more in the community, spend more time with family, loose weight, quit smoking and any other number of things.  Whatever your goal, I wish you well.

Getting Underway with Holiday Work

Sun Records Photo by Allison Nelson-Eliot

This is the day when I begin to really get down to work on the "Holiday Season".  It probably isn't surprising, but it rather snuck up on me this year. "Thanksgiving Sunday" is less than a week away and there is much to be done.  A week later (after actual Thanksgiving) is the First Sunday in Advent.  Yeah...we are that close.

For the most part it snuck up on me because of how incredibly busy the church has been.  Morale is good.  Energy is high.  At the same time we are doing new things and modifying old things.  We also seem to be a tad more frantic...in a good way.  Yesterday during Morning Worship, there was a strange sound--a loud hum--that we thought might be coming from the basement.  Various delegations of members and staff (including yours truly and the Music Director) spent the worship hour popping up and down from the sanctuary, touching walls and pipes, discovering more than one problem with the furnace, and generally being busy while everyone else was sitting and listening to our excellent Affiliated Minister preach over the crazy.  It turned out it was the microphone feeding back in a stranger way than usual.  We fixed it and all was good. The Middle Schoolers served us soup.  We had coffee and baked goods.  The joy of a small church is that we all got a good story out of it.  It was a story about being us.  It was about a community being together.

Elvis' Living Room

I also took a few days away this week to recharge.  We went with my dad and his wife to Memphis, TN.  We did tourist things.  The music was excellent.  Graceland was...Graceland.  Sun and Stax were both veeerrry cool.  However, much of our time was spent at the Loraine Motel where Martin Luther King was shot.  Since the museum was undergoing renovations, they had opened the balcony.  It was a strange and holy feeling to stand where he stood.  We also had a chance to talk to Mike Cody, a friend of my father's and a legendary politician and lawyer.  Mike, it turns out, was pretty much there for the sanitation strike, the assassination, and the aftermath.  I have linked to an interview with him at the end of the post. 

I realize that these days we are supposed to be talking about JFK.  However, once the generational experience is removed, history will show (and kinda has) that the King assassination marked a much greater turning point in our nation's history.  This is fitting.  King had a greater impact in life as well.  There is a reason we celebrate his birthday even as we struggle to remember that the work--his work and now our work--is not done.  When I was younger and volunteering for Jesse Jackson (and a variety of other people) I did a great deal of reading on the Civil Rights movement.  I spent a lot of time with labor unions as well.  If nothing else, this trip has helped me reconnect with a part of my youth that I value highly.  Mike recommended a couple of books.  Now I read them a little each night after I am done with those Luke commentaries.

It was a great and moving trip.  I am glad we carved out the time and went. Interestingly, the friends of my youngest insist that Memphis doesn't exist.  I have no idea why.

Loraine Motel Photo by Allison Nelson-Eliot

 

So it was civil rights and music for a few days.  In Memphis, of course, they are intertwined.

That is over now and I am back.  Today I am finishing researching for our discussion of the first nine chapters of Luke this Thursday.  Then it is the Order of Service and uke practice.  It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving Sunday without some ukulele....

Here are some links.  I begin with an old column about buying presents for the holidays.  I know my extended family is already trying to figure out what to do with our ever-growing fam that now includes a contingent in Italy!

Here is the link to the National Civil Rights Museum. 

Here is one to the Stax Museum.

Here is Sun Records.

And a Mike Cody interview.  It is really interesting.  They talk about his office a bit.  It was like a museum...

Here is the book that Mike recommended. It is about the sanitation strike.

Happy RefHallowHainOrmationSox Day!

Yup,

It is that time of year again!  Which is to say the time when all the Christmas music starts in elevators and other public places.  Still...quite a blowout today, isn't it?  I haven't posted lately because I have injured my wrists and I like playing music when they aren't hurting.  Typing...not so much...

Still, it is a special day, so here is my Newsletter Column for the Church Newsletter:

Dear Eliot Members and Friends,

Happy Halloween...or Samhain...or Reformation Day!  This is one of my favorite holiday mash-ups and it happens every year.  It is Halloween (the one you all know about), a fantastic folk holiday on the eve of All Saint's Day.  All Saints Day is also called All Hallow's Day so this is...Hallow's Eve.  It is also Samhain, the holiday celebrated by Druids both ancient and modern.  Samhain traditions found their way into Halloween so in a real sense when you celebrate one, you are celebrating at least part of the other.  Finally, it is Reformation Day, when Martin Luther (presumably dressed as an angry soon-to-be-former Catholic Priest) nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Wittenburg church to begin the Protestant Reformation.  Needless to say, I like to observe all three.

It is also the day when retailers start to put up their Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations.  I understand the urge.  At church we have already begun planning for “the Holidays”, too.  From the staff perspective ,the time between November 24 (Thanksgiving Sunday) and January 5 (Epiphany Sunday) is one long celebration made of interlocking readings and rituals.  Planning for it is fun, but it is a lot of work!  It is always a good idea to get a jump on things.  However you don't have to.  It will come soon enough.  There is plenty of fall to enjoy before we dig in so take your time!  One of the challenges we face as a people is finding ways to be in the place and time we currently occupy.  This is a good time for measured activity and contemplation.  Actually Advent will be, too...

This Sunday we will be thinking about the efforts we go through to maintain that sense of the spirit in our lives.  It takes effort and intention to keep our feet under us is the hustle of every day.  I hope you can make it.  Either way, I wish you a blessed beginning to a time of great festivity.  Let us know if you need anything!  We will see you around...

Faith and Hope,
Adam

I didn't note the World Series in the newsletter, mostly because I (like many people in these parts) am tired.  However, I should say that my favorite moment in the series was the broken pickle play last night.  Now, sadly, Fenway must be put to bed for the winter.

Whatever holiday you are celebrating today, enjoy!  Stay safe and sober...

and eat well.

The Loneliest Day

Yesterday was Children's Sunday and--as usual--it was fantastic.  The kids were great.  the picnic afterward was fun.  We even tolerated the inconveniences of the current building project (full strip and paint) with good humor.  When I got home, however, all I wanted to do was sleep...for a week or so. 

While not officially the case, yesterday's service is viewed by a majority of the congregation as the end of the regular "church year".  Sunday School is over until September, after all, and people are preparing for their summer plans.  The old joke about God going to the Cape around this time of year still has some currency in our church, with many people either travelling or staying put somewhere else for long periods of time.  Still, even the folks who stay around aren't always able to see their way to the church doors until after Labor Day.  I am conscious that over the past few weeks (some church members didn't make it to the picnic), I have said goodbye to a part of my community that I will not see for a relatively long time.  I know they will be back but it is hard on a guy who likes to have people around and misses them when they are not. 

It is the end of a great year with great memories.  It is one for the books.  However, the "new thing" hasn't started and I am recovering from the old thing that ended.

 I am very aware of how my job changes in those hours immediately following clean up.  Now we are in planning mode.  Yesterday's service--as it always does--marked significant changes for our community.  Our DRE/Assistant/Associate Minister for Religious Education is moving on.  So, too, is the person who ran our Confirmation Class.  Our K-2 teacher is helping with a different ministry among us (one you will hear about on the blog I assure you).  We have interviewed a potential Ministerial Intern.  The office is being re-organized.  The church is a construction zone.  Ultimately it falls to me and to the tireless lay leaders to put everything together.  Not everyone goes away for the summer and we have a dedicated group keeping things going while looking toward the future.

 I won't say we put things "back together" because each year is different.  In a small congregation with a seasonal schedule, every summer feels like a new church start.  There are some great things about this, but it is a quick gear change.  It makes me moody.  Normally I try to be all studious and "Sabbath-like" today, but I think I am going to work through it.  Otherwise I will spend it staring out the window and sighing deeply, which is not terribly healthy, is it? There is a whole lot to do...

1) Summer Services: I am preaching this upcoming Sunday.  The next few weeks are a sort of transitional phase with regular-length worship that slowly changes as the summer takes hold.  On July 7, however, we officially go to our summer format.  I will preach most of these services as well.  They are shorter and more casual.  They are also more experimental.  They are all designed to be intergenerational.  I love planning them.  They have been a recurring topic on this blog.  I will include some links for you below...

2) Ukulele Orchestra: Yeah, this is where the K-2 teacher went.  I am looking for a way to diversify the music and worship options at Eliot while also trying to find ways for adults and kids to interact in non-stuffy ways.  This is what I came up with.  The vision is to get a pilot going for adults and high school kids, then to expand it.  Since music in the summer is mostly played on stringed instruments, it seemed like a good idea to start thinking about it now.

3) Fall Planning: Actually, #1 and #2 fall into this category as well.  Things we try in the summer often find their way into the regular services, too.  However, there are other issues.  Volunteers need to be recruited, Interns oriented, ministries altered.  I have Youth Groups to think about.  There is a lot in the air right now.

However...I am not panicking. The church has managed to muddle through somehow since 1828 and it will do so now.  By September I do not doubt that there will still be some hanging chads.  Still, mostly we will have a plan and will hit the ground running.  This is my 13th summer planning for church.  It is my 10th at Eliot.  We will be fine even if it seems a bit chaotic in June.

Today--on the loneliest day of the year--I will make some calls and send some emails.  I will start getting some balls rolling and I know that there are other church leaders--at Eliot and elsewhere--doing the same.  Then I will drive the kids around...and at some point, I have to tune all my cheap ukes.  We have plans, after all, and they will not wait....


Ok so here are some Burbania Posts links about...

Summer Services at Eliot: "Ukulele Hymns and Summer Worship" was written two summer ago and fairly accurately describes the philosophy behind our summer series.

"Summer Worship and Summer Music" is from last summer and talks about what I have learned about leading music during these more free-flowing services.

Monday Morning Comin' Down

 

 

It's official.  The storm is over.  The kids are home again today, though, as there is a great deal of heavy wet stuff to move around.  The sidewalks aren't cleared and most of the roads are missing about half a lane.  Oh yes...and it is raining, making everything very special indeed.  I took the snowshoes to work.  I suspect I looked a tad ridiculous cruising on top of the snowbanks at the traffic's edge.  However, I didn't mind being three feet above the growling, splashing cars.  It was also nice to find a practical use for these things so far south...

 

One aspect of the storm is that it reminded those of us in Burbania that we aren't really as in charge as we often like to think.  We sculpt our surroundings as a matter of course.  We choose our houses and our neighborhoods.  We pick our friends and our leisure activities.  Yes, there is always something we wish we could do that we cannot.  That yearning is a natural part of our humanity.  Still, Burbanians expect a certain amount of order and regularity.  For a couple days that was put into disarray.  Protect the Earth, people, because we are part of it.

 

 

At one point in my walk I passed over the Charles River.  Where I live, this historic body of water is only slightly larger than your average stream.  It gets massive closer to Boston but here it is a lazy spot for geese, ducks, and a couple of herons who also make it their home.  The drifts put me higher up than usual and the river appeared unperturbed so I grabbed a picture.



 

 

I realize that I have been going on about this storm for the last couple of days (see previous posts) but I am really appreciating what it has to tell us.  I realize, too, that as everything gets back to normal it's results will increasingly be an impediment to our efficiency.  I, too, will be (and already am) cursing and sliding about as I try to get from one place to another.  I hope those of you who are dealing with the burdens right now are doing OK.  Let me know if I can help.  I have a few gripes as well but am trying (not always successfully) to not let them take me over.

 

Anyway, that is all for now.  I thought about writing something about the Pope's retirement but as a liberal Protestant I am not sure what I really have to say.  I have to think a bit.  Perhaps later when I am not in a Transcendentalist mood...

 

Here is a link to a similar post from a couple of years ago.  In it I quote William Channing Gannett, a great figure in our movement and the brother of a former pastor of the church I serve.  I like to think of them trooping about on snowshoes over the Charles River in their greatcoats and snowy white beards, being philosophical...and scaring geese...

 

A Crown of Beauty or The Sermon I Would Have Preached this Morning

"A Crown of Beauty"

Rev. Dr. Adam Tierney-Eliot

Eliot Church Natick

2/10/13

Readings: Isaiah 62:1-7, "The Snow-Storm" Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 



 

 

It has been a busy weekend for most of us, hasn't it?  It's a weird sort of busy, though, because for the most part, everything  we thought we would be doing we didn't do and what we ended up doing after purchasing every gallon of milk and every loaf of bread was sitting and waiting, updating Facebook...and shovelling.

Now, there are different schools of thought when it comes to snow removal. There are those who wait for the storm to end and do the whole thing at once.  There are the ones who shovel during the storm so as to keep up, and there are those who get the kids to do it.  I am an adherent of the last two schools.  However, there is something not entirely satisfying about pushing the kids outside then following them out to clear away the snow.  This is particularly true when one looks up at the sky and sees more snow more coming down.  Later of course, (much later on Merrill Road), I get to curse the town plow as it pushes the road snow back toward our driveway and walk.



Now, I have done a lot of shoveling over the years but usually it is in smaller installments.  Today, like many of you, I am not entirely sure I am done...even though my back says I am.  There is a lot of tedium and drudgery in a storm and we have experienced it this weekend.  But you know, there are things that I already miss about the great blizzard of 2013 (and no, I haven't lost my mind). There are things to miss.  Storms are exciting, after all and there is something great about being where the action is. 

But what I miss the most...is the silence.  Not only does snow itself act as an insulator and sound barrier but the driving ban stopped all that traffic on Friday and Saturday.  When you live pressed right up against that part of Union Street that insists on calling itself Pleasant Street, most days the noise of the cars is a constant companion. Usually the cars run all night, too.

But suddenly, thanks to the storm all the sounds of modern life were gone except for the sound of the furnace occasionally...or some electronic device reminding us of its presence.

However, in spite of these obvious technological impediments we could, I think, almost grasp what Emerson was going on about in our reading
The whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm

It is in that sort of silence that we can, if we wish, begin to hear the still small voice of our hopes and our dreams. The yearning of our own souls.

It is in that sort of silence that we reclaim the gift of prophecy.  After all, it was in a world without modern noise that Isaiah heard the promise from God of a new name for his people...Of a new name and a new beginning: You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of God...You shall no more be termed forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed desolate.

This is the sort of promise I think we all would like to hear in the silence, or in the midst of the sounds during the storms of our lives.  For the Israelites in the reading, of course, theirs was a communal struggle...The challenge of exile, of dislocation, living among strangers in a land not their own.  We have communal struggles, too, ones less easily solved than a pile of snow. The weak economy has hit so many people so hard and, in spite of recent successes we struggle with...The continued specters of racism, sexism, and classism...The continued discrimination against the LGBT community...The constant problems of a world and country in a state of continuous war.  All of these and more take up our national discourse and to some extent local discourse. They settle in our hearts and minds as they affect individuals in our community, too.

But at the same time, there are storms in our hearts that are harder to express in community...That are harder to speak out loud even to our loved ones and to our friends.  These, too, require attention.   They require a prophetic voice.  You will be called a new name that the mouth of God will give and here in the silence during and after the storm (or at least after), I think, is where we can find some shelter, some peace.  The Israelites learned this and the Transcendentalists learned it in a different way.

While the storm separates us, slows us down, it also causes us to see things differently, to hear things differently and, perhaps, see the beauty in something that we couldn't see before.  Maybe, even, we can see the beauty in ourselves.

In Emerson's poem he writes about the north wind's masonry; How The snow changes the landscape.  It falls over the rocks and trees, the hills and valleys, the stuff that we have left outside and makes them different somehow.
The storm, in his words
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night work,



Even my crappy 12-year-old Saturn Ion gets a new look.  It seems somehow more majestic buried in the drifts on the driveway than it ever does lurching down the road.  So, too, the storms in our hearts change our landscape for better or worse (Hopefully for the better) and that is something to pray for.
In the end when the storm is over....and we have dug ourselves out....and the power is back on...we will be able to look back and reflect on what we have learned....

To find beauty in desolation
To pause to hear the voice in the silence
To value the hard times
For their hidden joys