New Havener Of The Year

The Rev. Eldren Morrison doesn’t ​“preach headlines.” He nevertheless found himself at the center of two headline stories in 2014, while a bigger story unfolded behind the scenes on Dixwell Avenue — a story about generational change.

Morrison headed up to Hartford to make a last-minute plea to save Booker T. Washington Academy, a charter school he worked for years to open in New Haven. The plea worked. The school opened in September.

Meanwhile, the reverend convened the Board of Fire Commissioners, which he chairs, to begin determining the fate of an embattled deputy chief and addressing community complaints about racial discrimination at the NHFD.

Morrison didn’t end up in those positions by accident. At 33, he has emerged as the leader of one of the city’s oldest African-American churches, Varick Memorial AME Zion on Dixwell Avenue. While worship is down in parishes across America, it has revived and grown at Varick; three three Sunday services are among the hottest ​“tickets” in town.

Politicians, among others, have taken notice. Gov. Dannel P. Malloy sat in the church’s pews at least three times in 2014. Candidates for local and state offices from both parties consider Varick a must-stop on the campaign trail. They each get what Morrison called ​“their two minutes” to address the congregation. Then it’s back to the gospel.

That’s just one sign of how Morrison has become both a religious and community leader.

Pastors of black churches have played that role in the past in New Haven: The late Rev. Edwin Edmonds, for instance, ran the school board, led civil-rights campaigns, and dispensed government patronage while shepherding the flock at the Dixwell Congregational Church, across the street from Varick, through the mid-20th century.

Today, in a city run otherwise by baby boomers, the younger Morrison is bringing a newer tech- and business-savvy approach to the role. His congregants hear him thunder from the pulpit like a traditional preacher. They also receive text messages about church doings. Those at home on Sunday can watch services live-streamed on the internet.

Away from the pulpit, Morrison has a soft-spoken demeanor. It masks an intense focus, a waste-no-time ambition. Morrison said many in his generation ​“got burnout in traditional church.” He likens his role at Varick to that of Joshua, who led his generation of Israelites out of the wilderness and into the Promised Land. ​“We need to hear something in our context,” he said. ​“We need to see the church endure.”

It’s hard to imagine now that at one point Morrison considered abandoning his post at Varick, when the challenges seemed insurmountable. He was two years into his ministry at the time. Then, on a trip home to South Carolina, he grasped a lesson straight out of scripture — a lesson that Moses, Joshua’s mentor, had to learn to complete his own journey.

The Depths

Morrison grew up in Lake Wiley, S.C., the son of textile workers. He felt called to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, a preacher. Morrison’s first post was at a rural South Carolina church. He liked it there, he said. He didn’t seek to move north; his bishop asked him to assume the Varick pulpit in New Haven.

Varick had a proud history in New Haven dating back to 1818. It had served as a stop on the Underground Railroad. But when Morrison arrived seven years ago, he found a church in decline. Its congregation had dwindled to 300 members; leaders were planning to merge the two Sunday services because of low attendance. A month after his arrival Morrison was served foreclosure papers at the church; it turned out a previous pastor had secretly refinanced the mortgage and allegedly used it for other purposes. He had run up over $1 million in debts for Varick, on the mortgage, even on a fleet of copiers.

“it seemed like if Varick could have owed everybody,” Morrison recalled, ​“we did.”

The roof was leaking. Congregants felt bruised by encounters with Morrison’s predecessor. The elderly congregation was disappearing.

“It didn’t look good,” Morrison recalled.

Talk had begun of closing the church.

Morrison was exhausted. Exhausted from trying to fix the church’s financial troubles. Exhausted from patching relationships between parishioners and the church.

Maybe, he recalled telling himself, ​“you’ve done what you can do.” Maybe he should move back South for good.

He reflected on how he was ​“trying to do everything — visit all the sick people, keep track of debts,” polish his sermons, not to mention devise new initiatives. It was too much for one man.

Moses had a moment like that during the Israelites’ 40-year journey to Canaan. He was overwhelmed with all the tasks before him, especially the settling of disputes. His father-in-law Jethro took him aside. Delegate, Jethro said. Designate judges. Let them handle many of the disputes. Save the big matters for yourself.

Morrison reached a similar conclusion. ​“It’s impossible to do everything yourself,” he decided.

He decided to return to New Haven and turn Varick around. With helpers.

Inspiring A Team

He had met a City Hall staffer his own age, Jesse Phillips, with a similar drive. Over lunch at the Royal Buffet, Morrison told Phillips his vision of rebuilding Varick, creating a new school, and developing jobs and workforce homes. Phillips signed on as Morrison’s new ​“chief of staff,” a full-time job. Phillips said he and others make sure Morrison had time to concentrate on preaching and tending to the flock.

Varick’s longtime trustee board chair was ready to step down. Morrison looked for a younger replacement. He also wanted to make sure to have the old guard’s assent. He asked the chair for a recommendation; they agreed on a man named Curtis Reason.

Meanwhile, Morrison spotted talents that other congregants brought to Varick and encouraged them to share those talents with the church.

Congregant Sharon Brown, for instance, raises money for not-for-profits in her day job as regional director of Community Health Charities of New England. She started attending Varick after hearing from friends about Morrison’s dynamic preaching. She found herself diving into volunteer work. She’s helping Varick raise money, including crafting a strategic financial plan. She is the preacher steward, overseeing other volunteers who attend to the pastor during services.

Morrison hired Greg Morehead (pictured), a Dixwell tech entrepreneur, to fill a new multimedia director post. Morehead live-streams the Sunday services; between 200 and 300 people watch them every week, Morehead said. He also manages the church’s social media.

While parishioners get updates by text messages, Varick continues to print 500 to 700 copies of the weekly bulletin and mails copies to parishioners who don’t have any web access. Morrison chooses not to keep a computer in his study so he can focus on speaking with congregants face to face. (He does have an iPhone 5 for texting.)

At the end of 2014, Varick has paid off its bills, including to the IRS. It raised an initial $70,000 to pay off immediate debts. It has refinanced the mortgage. The roof is fixed. A larger congregation has meant a more robust weekly donation collection. Meanwhile, volunteers stage food drives out of Varick. Their annual summer family day draws more than 2,000 people to the Wexler-Grant Community School campus. The congregation has grown more diverse, with more young families —the children’s ministry is the fastest-growing segment — and more Republicans and independents than before, according to Morrison.

“He’s young. He’s energetic. The way he looks at everything, he puts it in you to want to grow the church,” said Jeanette Morrison (no relation to the reverend), the neighborhood’s alder and a Varick member.

“It’s amazing to look at. He feels as though every member in the church, you need to be doing something in the church. You have a moral obligation to do something in the church. If you work in the bank or in finances, it’s good for you to be a trustee. If you work in child care, it’s good for you to be a Sunday school teacher. Everybody in the church is constantly utilizing their skills. You feel appreciated. You tend to bring people in with you.

“Sometimes when you’re in charge you hold the reins so tight, the next thing you know, you don’t have no reins. He knows that he’s in charge. If anything goes wrong, it will fall upon him. At the same time he’s willing to give the pole an opportunity and do and to help and to grow.”

Hitting Home

Among Rev. Morrison’s most powerful assets is his gift for preaching.

His focus begins with the Sunday sermon, when he has people’s attention. That’s when he can deliver words that can improve congregants’ lives. He works an average of 10 hours a week refining those sermons, he said.

Working from a written text, improvising on key points, he gives his sermons three times on Sunday. He begins the way he speaks in conversation: softly, deliberately.

Gradually, the pace picks up. So does the volume, at times leading to shouts, interspersed with textual analyses and joking asides, a style common to African-American pulpits.

Morrison’s message invariably rests on how to apply biblical lessons to everyday life choices. This past month he has delivered a series of sermons on finances and giving, on ​“what you do with the 90 percent” of income that doesn’t go toward church tithes. Click on the video for a September sermon entitled ​“Are You Dating Material?” In it Morrison drew on the courtship of Rebekah and Isaac to ​“trust God’s confirmation” and consider the broader implications of a life-partner choice.

He spends little time on the news. He mentioned the Ferguson, Missouri-sparked controversy over police killings of unarmed black men only in passing from the pulpit this year. He didn’t center a sermon on it.

“I talk about injustice all the time. This is nothing new to our people,” Morrison said. ​“I don’t preach a lot of headlines. When people come to church, they don’t want to hear about politics. Everybody wants to get through the week. You don’t want to come to church and leave worse than when you came. I want to encourage people, not beat up on people.”

He has thought at length about ​“how we evangelize in a new millennium, how we share the gospel now.” He concluded that he should focus on people’s daily lives, their immediate concerns. To figure out ​“how we can impact lives here.”

Morrison knows his audience. On a recent Sunday he spoke of the footwear people are willing to buy. For the senior-populated 9:30 a.m. service he mentioned Stacy Adams shoes, which became Jordans for the younger 11:30 a.m. crowd. Either way, he made the same point: The holiday season is more about investing in time with family than it is about spending money.

From Pulpit To Classroom

For years Morrison has shared a goal with his church: to build a school. He got the idea after hearing from congregants how upset they were with the choices available to their children.

In generations past, churches offered parochial schools as an alternative. Morrison decided that today required a different route. Too many of his congregants cannot afford tuition, even the subsidized tuition parochial schools offer, he said. He decided to seek to create a charter school — a public school freed of many traditional schools’ curriculum and scheduling rules, but paying for all kids’ education. He was driven by a commitment to give New Haven kids more choices for schools and a better education starting early, he said. ​“I wanted to create a school that championed hard work, that championed early education. Our kids are already behind the eight-ball by the time they get to kindergarten or first grade.”

“I don’t want to turn any kids away” because their parents are poor, he said.

He gained the support of politicians from State Sen., then Mayor, Toni Harp to Gov. Malloy. This April he won a state commitment to support the education of some 300 students at $11,000 each. Booker T. Washington Academy would open in 2014.

All seemed on course until this summer, when a Hartford-based group serving as a partner for the school got into trouble for financial misdeeds.

Booker T. became a target for opponents of charter schools. But Morrison also became a symbol for groups that advocate for charters, which tend to be led and funded by wealthy white people; they embraced a genuinely homegrown African-American charter initiative.

Mere weeks before the scheduled fall opening, the school’s charter was in jeopardy. Scrambling, Morrison found a new partner to run the school. He enlisted the help of New Haven’s retired public-school superintendent, Reggie Mayo. He got assistance for the statewide charter-school advocacy network. In July and August he made his pitch to the State Board of Education. The board OK’d a revised plan to open the school with 120 students.

“It was a rough summer,” Morrison acknowledged.

He prevailed. The school opened this fall with kindergarten and first-grade classes. The day starts at 6:30 a.m. with breakfast and pre-school activities; it runs until 6:30 p.m. with after-school activities for working families. Some children don’t want to leave, their parents tell Morrison.

Morrison has in turn helped the charter network’s cause. On Dec. 3 he spoke (pictured) from the stage at a controversial rally on the New Haven Green staged by advocates to pressure state legislators.

That rally drew criticism even from charter allies like Mayor Harp and the schools’ Superintendent Garth Harries for its attacks on the public-school system. Morrison said he was careful not to employ the rhetoric of the rally’s talking points.

“I’m careful with my words,” he said. ​“I was careful not to say [students are] ​‘trapped’ [in ​‘failing schools’]. If they’re trapped, then we’re all trapped. We have 100 kids at Booker T. The majority of our [Varick] kids still go to [traditional] public schools.” He said he envisions charters as a supplement, an alternative to traditional schools. He also claimed that Booker T. does not cream students. It does not turn away special-education students, for instance, he said.

Morrison has also watched his words in mediating the ongoing fire department controversy, he said. He gave NAACP leaders a chance to address the fire commission this fall to air their complaints; he promised they’d be heard. Meanwhile, he’s scheduling hearings on a request by the fire chief to Assistant Chief Pat Egan.

“What’s going on in the police department, the fire department, is really a picture of what’s going on in our American society,” Morrison said. ​“Race is still a big issue in our society. If it’s a society issue, certainly it’s going to be a department issue. I see myself as being a voice for my community and also a watchperson. When I see things that are unfair or unjust I can speak to them. It may not change today. Most times it doesn’t. Change happens slowly. [And] change isn’t just about laws. It’s about changing people. It takes time to change people’s hearts.”

Part of his job at the commission, he said, is to give the new chief time to carry out his long list of planned reforms. In conducting meetings, he makes a point of speaking with participants beforehand in the event of anticipated controversy. ​“I’m a person that minimizes conflict. I don’t seek to embarrass people at meetings. I don’t want to be embarrassed. Let’s talk it out” beforehand.

The reverend did not seek the commissioner’s position; the previous mayor asked him to serve on the commission, and his fellow commissioners elected him the chair. He called his service an example for his congregation: ​“If you’re asked to serve on a commission, you should. It’s an honor.”

The Promised Land

As a year of accomplishments comes to a close for Morrison and for Varick, the reverend is just getting started. He is working on expanding Booker T.‘s classes to pre‑K and second grade next year, eventually working his way up to eighth grade.

The past few weeks the congregation has decamped to Wexler-Grant School while crews install a new furnace at the church.

And Morrison’s crew of helpers at Varick are working on a long-range plan. They’re renovating their stunning historic sanctuary (pictured) while also looking to build a new, bigger sanctuary for Sunday services, with pews arranged in the round, big screens, and more technology. They’re drawing up plans and readying a multimillion-dollar fundraising campaign.

The new home may be next door to the old church, where Varick currently has an office storefront. Or it may be elsewhere in Dixwell or Newhallville.

The plan also involves adding workforce rental housing on the site, retail stores, and incubator space for new businesses — all of which, except for the church portion of the complex, would go on the tax rolls, Morrison said. Just as the church needs to help create jobs for the community and housing, he said, it needs to help build the city’s tax base.

In a sense, he said, ​“the church is a business,” and its business, according to the Bible, requires ​“rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s.”

The new project is the Promised Land to which this Joshua-inspired reverend aims to lead his congregation. They’re not there yet. But he and his flock did come closer. They got a good view.

“We need to get to our place of stability and permanence,” Eldren Morrison said. He is on his way.

Previous New Haveners of the Year:
• 2013: Mnikesa Whitaker
• 2012: Diane Polan, Jennifer Gondola, Jillian Knox, Holly Wasilewski
• 2011: Stacy Spell
• 2010: Martha Green, Paul Kenney, Michael Smart, Rob Smuts, Luis Rosa Sr.
• 2009: Rafael Ramos
• 2006: Shafiq Abdussabur