Pastors and pastors-to-be, we’ve never talked about this but it bears saying: you will very likely be driving your own wheels to the cemetery at some point in your ministry. I do like to go in the hearse, as most people think that’s a creepy place to be but I like to chat with the undertaker (our local guy has become a friend and has great stories) and to accompany the deceased to their final resting place. However, sometimes my schedule does not permit the leisurely drive to the cemetery and back to town, so I drive myself. And when I pull my Honda CR-V up behind the town car carrying the family, I’m SO glad it no longer sports a bumper sticker that says, “My Other Car Is A Broom” and that it isn’t splattered with faded peace signs, half-torn off Jerry Garcia stickers and other symbols of groovy liberalism. I do have a few flowers on the side of the car (pretty little magnets given me by a parishioner) and that’s it. I try to keep the car relatively clean, because don’t think that people don’t notice when their minister’s car is filthy inside and out. Likewise, they notice when we use our cars as moving billboards to express hostility toward a particular party/candidate/ideology, so consider what you’re saying with your vehicle, darlings.
8 Replies to “Good Golly, Even My CAR Has To Look Good?”
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PB, my only affinity expressed on my car is for the university’s football team!
Whenever I drive to a cemetary, I make sure the stero is not blaring out Bruce Springsteen or the Grateful Dead.
Thank you for this – rushed off and had my car washed this morning, as I am doing a funeral on Monday!
One thing I learned from a colleague, after expressing my abject embarrassment at having to drive my very sad, dirty, bumper-sticker-encrusted 1995 toyota camry in the procession at no smaller a venue than Arlington National Cemetery, is that the minister can always ask to be transported in the procession by a car from the funeral home (or by the chaplain at the cemetery in this case)
It is a courtesy of which we are we are more than welcome to avail ourselves. And I plan to do so, for as long as my student loan payments make it un-feasible for me to purchase a car that more accurately expresses the same level of time and care I put into my personal appearance (which is much easier to do in a creative way on a budget)
WR
I agree completely with being reserved in one’s choice of bumper stickers. For years, I thought the “Evolve” fishes with feet and tools were really cute and clever. Then the minister’s wife at my first UU church pointed out that it was a defacement of a symbol that another religion took very, very seriously.
If we truly want to present ourselves as religiously accepting (or at least tolerant), we should refrain from making fun of other people’s important symbols.
Portray something positive. We as UUs, and especially our clergy, should take the high ground. Remember, there are often (extremely closeted) Republicans in the congregation!
The first time I ever had an inkling that I was not appropriately dressed, was when I found myself wearing a sunny yellow Columbia coat at the cemetary. It was 30 below with a wicked wind chill, but still; I suddenly felt I should be skiing to the grave side and felt odd about it. No matter the grieving widow was wearing snow boots and a parka….I feel I have atoned for this sin by purchasing a long lined black trench.
This is something I have been thinking about, as a prepare to graduate from seminary and enter parish work. My car currently sports two carefully chosen bumper stickers. One is the standard-issue “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.” The other is a rainbow with the words “Celebrate Diversity.” I don’t think either of these messages will shock my parishioners, but I do wonder sometimes whether I’m not putting my views out there a little too boldly… especially as my car will soon be parked on the street in the center of a major city. But would it be a problem driving it to a funeral? Only if I forget to wash it first.
My former pastor vacillated between driving frugal clunkers (a result of his conscience crying out against poverty) and really slick vehicles (his wife made a very good paycheck). When my grandmother was buried, he arrived in a black Porche with vanity plates that read, “THE REVVV”. [OMG, Pimp My Ride: The Clergy Edition!” – PB]
As a bagpiper retained by the family, I would often avail myself of offers from the hearse, chaplain, minister, etc in rides to the graveside.
As Mine was a rather old and beat up car (with bumper stickers), there were times it was appreciated.
Other times, I just made sure to drive far enough AHEAD of the hearse, that I could park my car in the metaphorical back 40 of the cemetary, so no one had to look at it.