The View from the Church Steps
Sept. 26, 2009
Went to church yesterday, and it wasn’t bad. The Choir had a right peppy number accompanied by a piano and flute, a nice change from the usual organ dirge. And speaking of change, we’ve added a new guy to the morning line-up. He’s new to us, and new to the whole “ordained” thing, but he’s been active in ministry for several years now. Might serve as a lesson to the rest of us that we don’t need degrees and titles, robes and diplomas hanging on our wall to be doing ministry.
Speaking of robes, the new guy didn’t wear one, presumably because he doesn’t have one. Both the old guy and the really old guy had theirs on, and it made the new guy look even newer, or younger, or less formal; which made the two old guys look stuffy by comparison. Mrs. Bains couldn’t help but comment about it saying, “Why can’t they find a robe for that new fellow. I mean, are we suppose to sit out here and look at him like that? He didn’t even wear a tie. It’s just not right. It’s just not dignified. Why, it makes us look outta balance, katiwampus; like we just can’t get it all together.”
“I think it cheapens worship,” Mr. Studemeyer chimed in. We’re a traditional church and we should worship in the traditional way; complete with robes.”
When I commented that traditionally and historically, ministers of this church didn’t wear robes because it made them look like Catholic priests and they certainly didn’t want to cheapen the Protestant Reformation; well, you can imagine the looks I got.
Then Mrs. Lila Thompson, chair of the Worship Committee, said that maybe we ought to buy the new guy a robe and some stoles and give it to him as a gift.
“I’ve heard that he doesn’t want one,” Betty Brown broke in. “It’s not that he doesn’t have one, or couldn’t borrow one, it’s a matter of principle with him.”
“What sort of principle could keep a minister from wearing a robe?” Mr. Studemeyer shot back. “I mean, a robe covers a multitude of sins, including just about any silly principle of not wanting to wear one. But why should we have to buy one for him. Isn’t that something ministers get for themselves?”
“If the only way we can get him to wear one is to buy it, then I’m for buying it,” declared Lila. “How much can they be, anyway?”
“You remember a while back when the pastor showed up for the Thanksgiving morning worship service wearing his orange bathrobe? What a hoot,” laughed Betty. “Now one of those wouldn’t cost that much; and he might just wear it!”
“Betty, you said you heard he wasn’t going to wear a robe as a matter of principle?” asked Lila.
“That’s what I heard.” Betty continued, “Something about the robe separating the pastor from the people, sort of singling one person out as above the others.”
Bill looked dumbfounded, “Well he is above the rest of us. I mean, isn’t all that ordination stuff about getting closer to God, and that means getting a step or two above the rest of us normal folks who come to church to be fed. He’s got to do the feeding, so he’d better be smarter and more religious and godly, and besides, when they preach they stand on that platform looking down at us. They are above us.”
“He said that he believed we were all in this together and that yes, different people had different gifts, but we weren’t suppose to put robes on people with certain gifts as if they were more important that others with different gifts.” Betty thought for a moment, “Something in the Bible about that. Something about honoring the less honorable gifts rather than the obvious ones. Guess he thinks we are suppose to spread the honor around and all be honored.”
“Well, to be honored,” Lila said, “you have to act honorable. And I think wearing a robe to match the others would be the honorable thing to do. And it would look so much better.”
“Appearances,” Betty declared. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it. Say, what if we asked the other two preachers not to wear robes, then they’d all be the same. Or, how about clerical collars? They could all wear clerical collars and then they’d really match.”
“I hear they come in colors now,” Lila said.
“What?” Betty queried, “Ministers come in colors?”
“Ours are pretty colorful,” Bill quipped.
“No, not the ministers,” Lila continued, “the clerical collars. The Episcopal priest uptown wears a beautiful lavender one sometimes. That would look nice.”
“Matching ministers,” Betty rolled her eyes, “that’s why I come to worship. In fact, when I’m out of town over a weekend, before I go someplace to worship I call ahead.” She put her had up to her ear as if making a call, “Yes, hello; what time is your worship service? Is it traditional? Are you serving communion today? Oh, and do your ministers match?”
“I hear the spinning coming from across the street,” Ella Bains nodded in the direction of the cemetery. “Ya’ll aren’t being serious, and this is serious business. Appearances affect worship, there’s just no way around it. When they change the banner for communion, I notice. It helps me worship.”
“You don’t suppose that this guy will not only not wear a robe, but won’t preach from the pulpit either, do you? If he’s so afraid of being considered above us, you think he’ll come down and preach to us from the floor?”
“You know Bill,” Betty shot back, “that might not be all that bad.” Instead of being preached at from on high, it’d be more like we were all listening for what God might be saying to us through the readings and hymns and prayers and words uttered.”
“He can utter his words from behind a robe and up in the pulpit just as easily as he can while prancing around among the pews. That’s just where I stand.” Bill crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I vote for sandals.”
“Sandals?” Ella Bains head rocked back like she’d been slapped. “Betty, are you crazy? Why, he’d look like a hippie from the sixties. I’ve been through that era once; I do not wish to go back there again.”
Betty persisted, “I think the sandals would lend a more ‘Jesus-like’ appearance to our ministers. If they are all going to wear robes, then how ‘bout sandals too?”
“Jesus impersonators,” Bill mused, “that’s what we need. “Robes, sandals; you thinking they should grow their hair long too?”
Betty thought, “Forget the robes and sandals, and I don’t really care about their hair. But what you said is really what we’re after, isn’t it? Jesus impersonators. In fact, isn’t that what we’re all suppose to be?”
The conversation continued on out into the parking lot, where all good church discussions eventually turn to gossip, but I was headed home to fix lunch. To robe or not to robe, that is the question. But since appearances can be deceiving, I’m going to try to ignore them for a while and look a little deeper. There may be a good deal more there than meets the eye.
