That darn collar, revisited
I finished facilitating my last Bible Study series at St. Columba this week. The most recent series focused on Paul, and specifically his letter to the Galatians. I love that book–for both it’s simple/difficult message of freedom, unity, and Christ’s benefits.
One of the Galatians study activities was to speak of what it means today, that Paul writes, “There in no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all are one in Christ.”
I put “What does being one in Christ mean?” up on the board, played a song, and asked folks think for a few minutes, and then we had a discussion.
In the back of my mind during the discussion was this darn clergy collar question. I first took up the question back in November when I launched this wordpress blog. That post, “Coping with the Collar ” still gets a good number of google hits.
Over six months later, with a fair amount of reflection, I still have the same view that on the whole, I’d rather not wear a collar every day, since on the average, I think the collar closes as many doors as it opens. Here’s my most recent anti-ish collar thoughts.
First, I’m not a big fan of ordination–ok, CPM don’t freak out. What I mean is that I’m especially cognizant of how an overly high view of ordination conflicts with Paul’s description of the gifts of the body in Ephesians, or our oneness in Galatians. When we say “priesthood of all believers” but give ministers special benefits, undue respect by virtue of their office, and treat them with an especially friendly attitude that should be given to all our sisters and brothers, I get a bit nervous of what our actions communicate. Ordination does not mark a specialness above any other who is in Christ, and I get bothered when it’s treated as such.
So wearing a collar, which says to some “look at me, I’m a professional Christian unlike you” may send the wrong message. Rather than a servant’s uniform, the collar today can be seen as a uppity uniform. Worn with a nice suit, it communicates a certain air of authority and expectation of respect. I’m projecting hugely, of course, but this view is the one I discern, mostly from those outside of my congregation. Societally, the church is seen as a bit too sure of itself, a bit crusty perhaps, a bit set in its ways, and my perception is that the collar only affirms this negative set-apartness.
Second, and perhaps more important for me, is that a collar functions by putting up a visual clue that encourages prejudgment. When I wear a collar, I feel like my uniform is saying, “You may speak to me, but you may only do so realizing who I am.” A fake must-speak-kindly-as-I’m-speaking-to-the-minister develops.
Heck, one way to put it is to say a collar is un-American. Rather than being judged by the content of one’s character, one is judged by the ordination process of one’s denomination.
I want to be able to speak for myself. Sure, I’ll do so aware of my calling, but hopefully out of humility. I want to be judged as a clean slate. Sure, I know folks will judge me by my clothes, whatever they are, but I’d rather be judged on my basic polo or shirt and tie than a collar which says so much to so many that is out of my control.
I know there are many strong and positive reasons for wearing a clergy collar, as my previous post points out. But after months of daily wearing, I’m still not convinced of its value as an everyday must-wear uniform.
Sometimes you should just follow the instructions
I’m a rule follower. I hate walking across the grass at Columbia – to my classmates’ and professors’ continued amusement. If I have a cafeteria plate with clear sections for different foods, I make sure they stay in their assigned section. I think my church’s constitution is beautiful. I park legally, drive safely, and always indicate with correct arm signals while riding my bike.
But a few weeks ago when our front lawn was attacked by dandelions, I went ahead and took the advice of friends and used the weed killer they suggested. Sure, the bottle said very clearly, “Do not use on weeds growing in grass. It will kill the grass too, you idiot.” Or something like that. But, stupidly, I heeded my friends’ suggestion.
Hey, at least I’m only have to bear the shame for another month. Then I will fly home, my bags under all appropriate weights, my carry-ons legal sizes, taking my shoes off whenever instructed, following all signs, instructions, and regulations forevermore.
The Wright Stuff
There’s several different theories as to why Wright emerged from his press hideout to throw grenades at America, the media, our political system, and Obama’s campaign. On one extreme, pundits posit that Wright knew exactly what he was doing: throwing himself under the bus of public opinion so that Obama would have to completely cut off their relationship. According to this theory, Wright’s imploding was an act of martyrdom for a parishoner, and for America’s best interest. One other other extreme, the theory posits that Wright was out totally for personal gain and his ten minutes of mass media fame–and to sell his upcoming book. While this theory is familiar, it doesn’t seem to jive with what I know of the man in terms of the Christian circles in which he hangs, the theology which he reads, the social justice programs which he organizes. Overall, I don’t subscribe to either of these theories. I’m just confused.
But Carol, over at Tribal Church, asked me specifically,
When a member leaves a church, it’s always difficult. And watching this pastoral relationship dissolve in such a public way has been particularly painful. What are you learning, as in intern and seminarian, about the relationship between pastors and members?
Carol tends to write beautiful blog posts with a illustrative story intro and her brilliant perspective at the end. Not so with me, especially with three evening commitments this week and my parents in town. At A Wee Blether you get ugly, simple, boring, but hopefully somewhat helpful numbered points.
What I am learning–and what I still need to learn–about the relationship between pastors and members.
1. Pastors and members don’t need to be best friends, but they need to respect one another as fellow sojourners in the Christian faith. In any community, some folks will bond quickly with some, and not become fast friends with others. In a congregation that’s fine, that’s probably healthy, and it’s at least to be expected. The pastor’s job is not to become everyone’s best friend, but to be a pastor. A pastoral relationship is based in mutual respect, dialog, kindness, and love. That said, a pastor must also be careful not to distance some members because of her relationship with others, or to allow cliques to function unchallenged. If mutual respect is a governing doctrine, many a predicament may be averted.
2. Pastors are people too, but they’re still pastors. It’s a fallacy–functioning in some seminary circles–that pastors can be “on” from 9-5 plus Sundays and meetings, and then be islands unto themselves for the rest of the time. Perhaps this sounds appealing on paper, but it just doesn’t work. Congregation members shop at the same stores, drink at the same bars, and are on the other line of the phone when you’re angry at the local government. How a pastor treats her son’s soccer referee reflects on herself, and on her congregation. If a pastor writes an editorial, or endorses and political candidate (in her public citizen part of life), or sends an angry email, the pastor will find it very difficult to explain to the session, “But that had nothing to do with you, it was after hours.” Politicians get this; old school pastors too.
3. When you screw up, say so. Mike Huckabee, though I disagree with many of his positions, is a decent person and was probably a great pastor. When he screws up, he says so. I love his line, “That’s not the first stupid thing I said, nor will it be the last. I’ve apologized to _______, and reiterate that apology again now.” It’s not just effective politicking, it’s faithful to the gospel. When we sin, we should confess. Pastors who admit their many faults to their congregation contribute to strong, real, and faithful relationships with members.
4. Finally–because it’s weird to preach about pastors when I’m not yet ordained and have only served as one for 11.5 months–I’ll leave with my questions about this subject. How has the role of pastor changed as society as a whole has become more educated? (A pastor’s master degree is not as impressive as it once was in smaller town pre-21st century America.) To what extent, in a society suspicious of institutions, is a pastor’s relationship with her denomination helpful or hindering in pastoral relationships with members? When is it okay for pastors to accept gifts from members? When is it okay for them to ask for a favor?
I’ve greatly enjoyed this blog tit-for-tat with Carol regarding Jeremiah Wright. Many thanks to Carol for her wise words, and for you readers. Until the next religion-related controversy–or Wright flare-up–I’m going to take a break from Jeremiads.
image used by permission from Gabrielle Nowicki
Series: What I learned about America by living in Scotland, I
I’m pretty swamped right now, and have lots of fantastic post ideas but no time to write. But I wanted to at least begin a series both fun and ideal for quick posting. The series is: What I learned about America by living in Scotland.
Ok, so it’s a really bad name, but at least it’s descriptive. Over my final (*tear) last six weeks in Scotland I hope to reflect on a few of learnings from people to politics to religion to dirt.
First reflection: America is big. No, really, American is BIG!
Sure, I knew America was big before staying for a year in Scotland, but more of the implications have surfaced for me this year. We drive bigger cars because we’re in them longer, we drive longer distances, we have wider roads, and we’re bigger people (aka fatter.)
Scotland can fit into the United States 127 times. Scotland can fit into Georgia twice. The population of Scotland is very similar to the population of the Atlanta metro area.
Everything is smaller here: cartons of juice, refrigerators, cars, bags of chips, cans of soup, shoe sizes, yards, houses, fairways, even blades of grass (one exception is the new Church of Scotland hymnal, but we won’t go there).
The implications of these size differences are many. Scots have a clearer understanding that they are citizens of the world, not just their country (the United Kingdom questions help this). I’d say Americans are much more showy in their patriotism, much more arrogant in their citizenship than Scots. When Scots visit other countries, Americans visit other states. This makes Americans a little more nearsighted (in the real eye doctor sense, at least).
I also feel like Americans think a little bigger sometimes. Their horizons are so distant, their country so vast, perhaps their ingenuity is piqued by the sheer amount of possibilities in a country so large.
Big generalization here, but I also feel like Americans live more secluded lives, especially in terms of our class structure. While in Scotland it’s common to have a more shady neighborhood just a few blocks from an expensive one, American neighborhoods are often so spread out they don’t ever see the other. Many Americans get in the SUVs to drive to work behind tinted windows. Scots are much more likely to walk, ride the bus, or take the train. This increases Americans’ individualism.
America, obviously, has many more regions than Scotland; it’s much more diverse geographically in many ways because it’s so much bigger. Americans then have a bit more regional identity than Scots. It’s difficult to compare this assertion, since folks from Glasgow and Edinburgh (only an hour apart) have different accents and culture. But, I would say there are more possible differences at home, and more regional identity claiming. Not totally sure about these implications, but perhaps it makes Americans more likely to tell their own story about their own place to explain to others from other places. Maybe it makes us more narrative? Ok, I’m no sociologist so will stop here before I get myself into trouble.
Cheerio.
image by Billy Alexander
Review: "Hokey Pokey" by Matthew Paul Turner
As my first official Ooze book bloggers review, I read Hokey Pokey: Curious People Finding What Life’s All About by Matthew Paul Turner.
Hokey Pokey is about calling and life’s stories and Turner’s take on where and when the two shall meet. The work seems to be targeted at folks trying to figure out their vocational lives or who enjoy looking back at a previous vocational muddle. Though Turner’s work is far from academic and a bit touchy-feely for me, he does approach vocation from several angles and discusses it in fairly wide-ranging ways.
For Turner, vocation is not about one specific path that God has for you, nor even about one’s occupation, but about how one lives one’s entire life. Fair enough. He emphasizes the importance of asking questions, staying open to new possibilities, and that questions of vocation can be quite tricky.
Throughout the work, Turner tells longish anecdotes about himself or others, describes interviews with others on vocation, and asks discussion questions to the reader.
I wanted to like this book, but I didn’t. Turner’s more surface level approach and clunky writing just didn’t do anything for me. He’s got some good humor in there, but also some theology that makes me a bit squirmy.
If someone came to me with vocational questions, I’d recommend Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak” long before Turner’s Hokey Pokey, but perhaps he’s writing to a different audience than I’m used to. He comes from a more conservative evangelical background, and seems to take on questions from this perspective rather than mine in the liberal mainline.
Hokey Pokey isn’t quite what life’s all about and it’s not a grand read, but it does take on important questions regarding vocation. Writing a book on vocation is neither horseshoes nor hand grenades, but perhaps a close miss is well enough.
Funny stuff
Though I’m a proud and true Presbyterian, I’m real friendly with Lutherans. As this video shows, they can be quite funny…and clever…but mostly funny.
UPDATE: The YouTube video has unabled embedding, so you have to click here to watch it. It’s well worth, it though.
Back across the pond
I didn’t realize it a week ago, but I needed a vacation. Ministry is hard, time-consuming, intense stuff and it takes your energy and you don’t even realize it.
I’m a solid Myers-Briggs “introvert”–as are most pastors–so though I work with people all day long, I find it does zap my energy. If I’ve been with people in a professional situation for more than 10 hours for more than a few days running, I need a break. Usually, I’ll play golf by myself, or hang in a coffee shop with headphones, or read for a few hours, or go on a ten-mile run. Ok, kidding about the ten miles.
Interestingly, though this week I’ve seen people for at least 10 hours several days running, I was energized rather than zapped. That’s what quality conversation with good friend will do, I guess.
So I’m happy to say not only am I returning to Scotland with a bit of sunburn and a hankering for golf, but with good energy for my remaining six weeks.
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