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.

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

(Creative Commons License – Bec Thomas Photography)

I recently finished an article for the church magazine and, as I got to the final line, encountered the usual problem: what is the best closing phrase?

Yours truly…best wishes…warm regards…yours in Christ…finally done…

I ended up going with an Advent and Christmas theme, as it fit the article, but then I hit another snag.

Rev…..Reverend….Revd…..or just Adam

I chose “Revd. Adam Copeland” as that is how I’m most often described by the people in charge of these things. Part of me, however, feels a bit strange using the “title,” or if we’re being accurate, the “style” or “honorific,” since I’m not ordained. It seems, though, the Scottish church doesn’t make a clear distinction for the “Reverend” address while at home, it’s a bit more cut and dry.

I’m also aware of a school of thought that prefers not to use “Reverend” at all. In case you were wondering, here’s a few quick rules of etiquette.

“Reverend,” strictly speaking, is an adjective that means, “deserving reverence” and has a more specific meaning, “relating to or characteristic of the clergy.” That’s why, in more formal usage, “reverend” should not simply function as a noun.

So if you were wondering–and I know you weren’t–in formal settings it wouldn’t be proper to refer to a minister as simply “Reverend.” And, in direct address and formal settings a minister should simply be, “Mr. or Mrs. Doe.” Others argue that the use of “Reverend” necessitates using more than a surname. So “Reverend Smith” is incorrect but, “Reverend John Smith” or “The Reverend Jane Doe” is correct.

Also, if we’re being crazy strict, it’s not proper to use “Reverend” in formal writing, or at least not “Reverend Jane Doe.” A minister, in formal writing, should simply put her name followed by her degrees.

        Jane Doe, B.A., M.Div., Ph.D.
(I think that’s right. Please correct me if I’m way off here.)

Ok, enough about properness and formality. Apologies to those for whom this is all very important but I don’t think the world will fall apart if people stop using “The” before “Reverend.” In fact, I’m pretty certain we’ll be alright since the common usage has already changed and all hell has failed to break loose.

Ministers of Word and Sacrament prefer to be called many things–I’ll answer to about anything, really–some like Pastor, others Reverend, or Brother/Sister, or Minister, or Priest.

Though it’s not common in the majority white Presbyterian churches to which I’m accustomed, I think I like Brother best since it’s biblical and does not suggest a hierarchy. And I would advocate that everyone in the church should be referred to as Sister or Brother, not just the pastor. If anywhere, church should be the setting in which we can drop formal honorifics and worship and work on equal footing. The distinguished theology professor with two Ph.Ds while teaching children’s Sunday school is just another brother or sister in Christ helping glue the cotton balls onto cut-out sheep.

Of the clearly ecclesiastical descriptors I prefer Pastor. I see Minister as the office to which one is ordained and Pastor as the best descriptor of those duties.

For an example on the other end of the spectrum, here’s Martin Luther’s introductory letter to his 95 Theses.

To the most Reverend Father in Christ and most illustrious Lord, Albert, Archbishop and Primate of the Churches of Magdeburg and Mentz, Marquis of Brandenburg, etc., his lord and pastor in Christ, most gracious and worthy of all fear and reverence—

At the end of the day, I think a minister’s character communicates much more than the honorific or method of address he prefers. That said, I do think the preferred address communicates, to some small extent at least, the character of the minister.

I would love to hear folk’s perspective on this, particularly those ordained or currently working in churches. Do you prefer “Reverend” or not? Is it too hip for your church for the minister to be known only by her first name? For anybody: what does “reverend” communicate to you?