Beauty Tips for Ministers

PeaceBang At The Festival Of Homiletics

Hi dears,

I will be reveling in the fabulousness of people like Barbara Brown Taylor, Fred Craddock and the members of Sweet Honey In The Rock in Nashville this week at the Festival of Homiletics.

I hope to keep up with comments from the hotel computer, and new, pre-authored posts will appear on the PeaceBang Blog daily. I will be taking notes on clergy image and taking photos of willing conferees during the week and will blog upon my return.

I myself badly need a haircut and am heading upstairs to pack because there’s not a blessed thing I can do about that right now.

Kiss of peace,
PB

P.S. I feel a psychic sense that some of you will be wanting to buy me a gift for the tenth anniversary of my ordination on June 14th. What a lovely thought. But really, you shouldn’t.

Dressing Well For A Specific Place

I attended a professional gathering last week where one woman was wearing a kind of sundress with a jacket over it, Tevas, and a huge mop of totally unruly hair.

As an individual, she was fun and striking.

As a minister, she looked sloppy and disrespectful for the setting: a gathering of ministers of venerable New England congregations.

I wrote in the comments recently that when I get dressed on Sunday mornings, I ask myself if I appear to be worthy to be the identified spiritual leader of my specific congregation. If the answer is “no — my own comfort has clearly taken precedence over my responsibility to look appropriate to my role today” — I go back to the closet and do it again until I get it right.

Not only does the tendency of my own congregants to dress nicely for church factor into my efforts, so does the beauty of the building and the history we represent. Humor and attitude-wise, we can be a pretty wild bunch. I love that about us. But there seems to be a tacit agreement that we dress to honor the ancestors and the “moments of our high resolve,” as Howard Thurman so beautifully said.

Many of you have said this before: you have to know your setting. You have to know your people, and to appear to be worthy of the high calling to which they have ordained and sent you forth.

I feel that even though I serve within a notoriously casual and even unkempt denomination, I should dress to the standards of the most formal among us. Why? Because although I believe in progress in many areas, no one has ever managed to convince me that increased lack of attention to the finer details of attire and grooming constitute progress in the religious sense.

I contend that lack of attention to attire and grooming are progressive only in the individualistic sense, ie, “I’M more comfortable this way, so I’M going to dress the way I want.”

Since this stance does nothing to strengthen community, I have never supported it. I believe that dressing with care and as much elegance as one can muster does strengthen community; it is a way to say “I honor being here with you to encounter together our highest ideals. You can tell by the way I am dressed and prepared to be here that I respect myself, you, and the church.”

Sometimes people are hurting, are in trouble, and are unable to put themselves together for the sabbath experience. It’s helpful when that occurs, for then the community can identify when someone isn’t doing well.

That person should never be the minister. If the minister feels unable to preside, he or she should get the help, care and support he or she needs. Dressing in a slovenly manner should never be a passive-aggressive alarm to the gathered congregation that Pastor Jill or Jay is falling apart.

I’ve seen that statement made before, and it caused a great deal of anxiety among the people. I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again: the scrutiny placed upon us may not be fair, but I believe it comes more from intimacy and love than just a judging and critical eye. I’m sure that some of my own congregants are eyeing my expanding girth and thinking, “Our girl needs to take care of herself and go on a salad-eatin’ vacation.”

That’s all I have to say on that subject except to share with you that the graduates at Andover-Newton Theological School were looking very handsome at their reception yesterday afternoon. Having seen some of them only in schlumpy class-wear, I was thinking that they sure did clean up nice! Congratulations, ANTS!

They Like My Accessories At Starbucks

PeaceBang had a singing gig with her group today at Andover-Newton Theological School (which celebrated the inauguration of their fabulous new chapel!), and is wearing flared jeans, cowboy boots, a black blazer and black sweater, a big scarf wrapped in her hair, big scrollwork gold hoops and a long gold teardrop shaped pendant.

Nothing too special — just a touch of jazzy. Special effort with the make-up.

I have a concert to attend on the way home tonight so I figured I’d bring the old computer and get some work done on my sermon rather than schlep all the way home and all the way back up,repeating about 60 unnecessary miles.
I never do this, but I decided to hunker down at Starbucks where I was double-team complimented by two young, hip barristas who claimed to LOVE my accessories.

Cute Boy Barrista started it by saying, “I must say, I love your accessories.” And as I was blushing and thanking him, the Cute Girl Barrista chimed in: “Yea, your scarf matches your hair.”

One thing led to another and I said I would BLOG them and they were all into it, and so I am.

(Hey, Cute Boy Barrista, LOVE your side burns. LOVE your glasses. You should cut off your ponytail and give it to Locks of Love! Seriously! You’d look FAB and they’d love to have your hair!)

Miss Melly, This Is For You

I have a colleague who likes to wear hats to our General Assembly.

I was thinking she might like to borrow this one from Star Jones, who was wearing it at the Kentucky Derby. You could have your own little worship service under there!

First The Crocs, Now These

You have to understand, my dear and compassionate readers, that PeaceBang has been feeling old and huge and sloggy lately. She has a rash on her chest that she thinks she got from testing a new tanning product, or possibly from wearing itchy African beads. Her face has broken out into a bizarre rosacea situation as a result of having her hair colored today. She is just one big bundle of kvetch.

This is what the cartoon bubble over my head said today,

“Oy, my back is still sore… why did I schlep all that recycling out last night…I should have left it until next week.. oh, but I’ll be at the Festival of Homiletics all next week… what am I going to WEAR? My hotel is a long walk from all the events and all my footwear is CUTE and IMPRACTICAL… and I can’t wear SNEAKERS… now that I’m PeaceBang I can’t just schlump in in any old thing… I have to be put-together… and oh Lord, I wonder if my summer stuff is even going to FIT…”

It was a banner self-esteem day, I tell ya. I stopped by the Andrew Zona studio on my way to picking up dinner (who can COOK when you’re kvetching?) and asked the advice of a lovely aesthetician named Lorna who told me, by the way, not to ice my flare-up. She also told me that I should keep my make-up brushes off the vanity table because dust can be a big irritant to super-sensitive skin. So I pass that on to you, pigeons.

ANYWAY, you must regard me with the heart of compassion and forgiveness when I tell you that after looking and looking and looking over a period of months for cute, professionally appropriate sandals that I can walk a mile or so in, I finally broke down and got these:

They are frumpy. I know it. I accept it. And yet, on the scale of frumpiness they are pretty low, I’d say, and their comfort factor is so very high that it was worth the exchange to me. They look rather cute on. They are called “Lolita” by Dansko. Who are they kidding with that sexy name? Lolita who? Lolita Steinowitz of Boca Raton, maybe? Surely not THE Lolita of Nabakov’s novel?

So you can tease me if you want for totally going into Classic Frumpy Clergy Footwear. Bring on the sass. I can take it.

Because my feet won’t hurt while I’m at the Festival of Homiletics, and that’s all I care about right now. That, and Dove Mini-Dark Chocolate bars.

Blister B-Gone!

Gang!

I bought a product today called Activ-Flex Blister Block by Band-Aid.

It claims to invisibly prevent blisters and “instantly reduces rubbing on skin.”

Now, some of you more adventurous types may try it on your thighs, but little ole me is going to limit use to my foots.

I’ll let you know how it works.

And meanwhile, you scandalous people, your comments on the most recent “hot thighs” post are just making me blush! BeHAVE!