Clergy carries a heavier load

Schwalenberg had been trained to deliver words of comfort in times like these. But on this day, when a room at the church was crowded with curious youngsters, he struggled to find the words.

"How do you explain a national crisis to a 3-year-old?" Schwalenberg asked himself.

Since the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, religious leaders across Iowa say they have faced one of the most trying times in their careers - soothing fears and offering comforting words to people who are downright scared.

Religious leaders aren't complaining. This is why they went to seminary. This is why they committed themselves to the ministry.

Like funeral directors and police officers, clergy members see people at the most vulnerable times of their lives. And they are expected to hold it together.

It hasn't been easy.

"You can see the heavy concern. You can see how heavy it is on him," parishioner Jean Wisneski said of Schwalenberg. "But this is his ministry, and that's what he lives to do."

Parishioners ask tough questions: Where was God on Sept. 11? Why did God let this happen?

Clergy members have provided answers by adding extra services and prayer vigils to their weekly schedules. They have scrapped old sermons and Bible study discussion topics to address new fears. They have spoken at community forums to try to make sense of this whole mess.

At Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church in Polk City, attendance has spiked by nearly 20 percent since the attacks. Last Sunday, Schwalenberg baptized seven people. Another six are waiting their turn.

"That's why I became a pastor - to bring the blessing of peace and joy to people's hearts," Schwalenberg said.

Religious leaders say they are ready to deliver at a time when finding the right words has taken on a new level of importance.

David Staff, senior pastor at First Evangelical Free Church in Ames, developed a brochure for church-goers who are hungry for answers.

The Rev. Keith A. Ratliff Sr., pastor of Maple Street Baptist Church in Des Moines, has taken on extra counseling duties to help parishioners deal with the crisis.

Rabbi Steven Mills of Temple B'Nai Jeshurun in Des Moines has added community rallies, prayer gatherings and interfaith services to his schedule.

The temple also has welcomed more visitors than usual. Many church groups, mostly Christians, have requested temple tours during a time when Americans have become increasingly interested in other religious beliefs, Mills said.

The tours and speaking engagements have added to the work load. "It takes a bit more time, although I'm happy and honored to be able to do that," Mills said.

Even when the official duties end each day, the work doesn't. Clergy members are ministering to their own children and other relatives who are shaken by the attacks.

"Our children have not had to go through anything like this. You have to calm their spirits," said Ratliff, who has three children at home.

The terrorist attacks hit home for Staff when his 21-year-old son announced recently that he wanted to join the National Guard.

"He immediately wanted to do his part," Staff said.

Clergy members say they accept that their jobs come with "round-the-clock duties.

"Our job is to take the things that God has promised, and make those real to people, and to do it especially in times of need, whether there's a death in the family, a severe illness, or a time of national crisis," said Schwalenberg, the pastor in Polk City.

On the day of the attacks, he offered words of comfort to his crying mother, teen-agers at the local high school and parishioners who came to the church to pray.

"The hardest thing was to find the right words to say," he said.

When he met with the children, who attend child-care and preschool at the church's Open Arms Child Development Center, the pastor knew he had to come up with a simple explanation to something terribly complex.

He told the youngsters that God was still in control, even though a really bad thing happened on Sept. 11.

"It was reassuring to the children, and reassuring to the adults who were there, too," said Wisneski, director of the child development center.

Schwalenberg had made it through another day, finding the right words to soothe the fears of little ones.

"That's our job," he said. "That's why I became a pastor."