Snow Days

I have served in three different congregations over the past fifteen years, one in central Pennsylvania, one in upstate New York and now on Cape Cod.  In all three calls I have lived in a parsonage adjacent to the church building.  Because of this, I have been slow to cancel services in the case of bad weather.  I can always make the commute.

When I was serving in rural Pennsylvania, the Congregational church down the road had a weather committee (a sub-committee of the property committee). When it snowed, one of the members of the weather committee would get in his four-wheel drive truck and see how bad the roads were and whether the parking lot had been cleared.  Then he would call the other members and they would inform the pastor of the decision of the committee.  The pastor never had to make the choice. 

Whenever I have a discussion of weather policies it usually comes down to the devotion of a "little, old lady."  I use the quotes because in all three congregations the same example has been brought forward.  Everyone is certain that there is a little, old lady who is so devoted to the church that unless we call off our services she will get in her car and drive through blizzards and earthquakes to make it on time.  It's never a large, young man.  It's never an average-sized, middle-aged woman.  It's always a little, old lady who makes this sacrifice.

In my congregations, I have yet to meet that little, old lady.  In any kind of discussion I have had with the ladies of the church, I have been told, "Pastor, you're great, but..."  But I'm not dumb enough to drive through a blizzard to hear you.  But I'm not so foolish that I can't look out my window and know I shouldn't drive.  But do you really think I can't get on without you.

I think that the image of devotion is one that is helpful for our congregations.  Most of the time when the weather report is bad, people have already canceled church in their minds.  Bad weather is a perfectly valid excuse to take church off the to-do list.  It's not that the people don't want to go (at least this is my hope) but it is nice to have a reason not to go, to sleep in, hang out, watch the snow fall. 

We also want to imagine that there is a little, old lady who will risk life and limb to make the trip.  We imagine that she will be there in our place even on those Sundays when it is not snowing but we are too busy or too tired or just need a break.  We want her there as a model of devotion, standing and sitting in our place when we choose not to be there.

Perhaps it does matter than she is imagined to be older.  I think it is common to assume that older generations were more devoted than we are today.  I'm sure when the little, old lady was younger, she could imagined little, old ladies who were far more devoted than she.  It is similar to the way I hear the early church idealized in its unity of faith and devotion.  Yet each generation struggles to maintain faith in its own time and context.  Sometimes the struggle of faith is with animosity.  Sometimes the struggle of faith is with being culturally acceptable.  Sometimes the struggle of faith is with apathy.  The struggle is part of the walk of discipleship.  May the next generation of Christians look back at us in our context and find a model of devotion.