I’m fully with you here on the no spaghetti straps, and fully on board for no bare shoulders for anything official, though I’m not sure for church softball games or that sort of thing.

But the no hawaiian shirt thing doesn’t jive. I live and work in California and my conference includes Hawaii and hawaiian shirts are it–Annual conference, I think that might be all the men wear, and for many of us who are in the desert where you will literally pass out from heat stroke if you wear a robe in 100-120 degree heat, Hawaiian shirts are seen in all kinds of pulpits–it’s sort of the norm out here–casual and liveable for those inferno months…I’d love for you to reconsider your advice on this. (Even as a woman, I know Hawaiian shirts are fairly safe in the summer and much easier than figuring out which short sleeve blouses do and don’t show too much arm or cleavage….

And here is my response to Deb, gentle as always

Deb, I’m horrified!! It’s bad enough for male pastors to wear Hawaiian shirts, which communicate a casual I’m-totally-on-vacation-get-me-a-beer vibe, but to suggest that women wear them too for comfort’s sake is ludicrous to mine ears! Girl, that’s why God made cotton blouses in solid colors! It’s 96 degrees here today, for instance, and I am wearing a white cotton skirt, sandals, and a plain black short-sleeved T-shirt with an elegant boat neck. I am just as comfortable as if I was wearing a (shudder) Hawaiian shirt and I look professionally acceptable for tonight’s Annual Meeting.

I stand firmly by my conviction that no one on the planet will really take another person seriously if they’re clad in a Don Ho shirt — except in Hawaii. The whole look was invented to communicate “Don’t Worry- Be Happy! And Let’s Get To That Limbo Contest While I’m Still Really Wasted!” That is NOT the gospel I want to non-verbally communicate with my attire. If my pastor showed up wearing a Hawaiian shirt I’d assume one thing and one thing only: he’s been interrupted from a vacation. See my lips? They’re SO pursed right now!!! - PB

There’s a reason woman are asked to cover their shoulders at every cathedral in Europe; it’s called respect. Bare shoulders are way too informal to be part of your on-duty clerical wardrobe. Spaghetti straps are the worst, but I am against anything sleeveless unless it’s a very steamy day and you’re at a picnic or out boating with your folks.

Guys, no Hawaiian shirts for you. I’m just making this up here, but let’s say it’s roughly the equivalent.

PeaceBang is making a very stern face about this and if you argue she will purse her lips disapprovingly at you.

Perfect example in these two pastor gents.

Exhibit A, Paul S. from Vermont:

Right? Rural, lumberjack-y, approachable, warm, plaid. I’d like to see him trim the beard up a bit but I’m mostly just saying that because he already wants to kill me for taking this photo, so “HEEEEEEEY, PAUL! Smile, you’re on BTFM!!!” That’s not a smile he’s got on his face, it’s a homicidal grimace. I thought you’d want to know that, in case you were worried.

Exhibit B, Daniel K. from Dallas:

Now, is this one cool cat or what? From head to toe, this man is cosmopolitan, sophisticated, hip, and very polished. His hair is awesome. His glasses rock. His shoes are fantastic. The whole thing is really great looking. If he was in Vermont, people might look at him funny, like, “Just what are you trying for there, there, city slicker?” But for a large congregation in Dallas he’s got leadership presence and a sense of himself that’s unmistakably right for that setting.

Just in case you wanted to dig those specs up close, here they are again:

I don’t know how I managed to make such a good looking guy look so goofy, but that’s my photographic skills, not Daniel’s handsomeness factor. Trust. Sorry, DK.

Lower back-pain sufferers, can I get a sympathetic “AMEN?” If I tell you that I was flinging around heavy furniture on Wednesday, will you still sympathize, or will you smack me upside the head as I deserve? Don’t be afraid to do the latter; what was I thinking ? I know better than that, I really do.

So I awoke this morning in a friend’s guest room in too much pain to put on my pants from a standing position, to reach for the radio dial in the car without gasping and wincing, or to do much but take two Advil (Lord, spare my stomach lining!)and hope that a brisk ten minute walk before class might help with my general alignment. I knew I would be in class from 9-5 and prayed for the stamina to make it through.

I am eternally grateful to my professor and the others in our small class for encouraging me to do “whatever it takes” to be as comfortable as possible throughout the day. I decided to follow their advice and got up frequently –and I hope, unobtrusively– from my chair in order to walk quietly around the room, do some gentle bending or to get my knees moving. At one point I stretched out on the floor in the back of the room, hidden by chairs, and carefully pumped my right leg straight up into the air. I am convinced that this fifteen-minute period of yoga stretching and working out that leg saved me from many additional days of suffering because I felt immensely relieved afterwards.

Except that of course it must have been distracting even from behind an armory of chairs and I’m sure I looked most undignified. Had I been in a ministerial setting I would have most certainly excused myself from the gathering in order to contort myself in this fashion — and it occurred to me that I might need to discuss this issue with you all, my Lovely Incarnate Ones.

Were you at that conference with me when one of the attendees took out her insulin and needles at the dinner table and proceeded to loudly call attention to herself and her subsequent injection, causing me to almost swoon to the floor when the needle pierced her skin? She wasn’t a minister, but she will forever be my poster girl for the Indiscreet Sharing of Those Things That Should More Appropriately Remain Private Ministrations. On the poster with her might be the Minister Who Clips His Toe Nails During TV Time On Retreat, the Pastor Who Digs a Bit Too Busily In His Nostrils With His Hankie During a Vestry Meeting, the Reverend Who Wears a Heating Pad For Cramps During Counseling Sessions,* and the Priest Who Excuses Herself From Eating Bread at The Dinner Party With a Lengthy And Graphic Explanation of Effect of Celiac’s Disease On Her Digestive System.

Oh darlings, I’ve done it. I’ve over-shared. When I had serious and debilitating gynecological problems this past fall that led to overuse of Advil that led to a trip to the Emergency Room ’cause my stomach lining was basically in shreds, some parishioners went with me and told others who worried, and of course I gave them the gist of my medical situation. I love and trust them, and they love and care about me. But there is a time and a place, and that time and place is at a relatively private moment outside one’s study with a small gaggle of dearly beloveds, not at a dinner party or at coffee hour. Not at social time at the retreat, and not during Religious Education class.

Use your best judgment. Getting up from your seat periodically and gently stretching is one thing. Engaging in full-out calisthenics on the floor like a fat waterbug is entirely another, and although I’m willing to subject a supportive class of seminarians and ministers to the sight, never would I be caught in such an inelegant position by my parishioners. There are some positions only my chiropractor should see me in. Maintain some mystery, darlings. Just plunk it all in under the general heading of Boundaries and be well.

Me, I’m heading back to bed with my cat snuggled under one arm and my beagle snuggled under the other. Neither of them has any boundaries whatsoever and I love them for it.

*Nursing a baby, however, is fine and need never be apologized for. There are all kinds of ways to do so modestly without sharing portions of your anatomy that you’d rather stayed your private business. The heating pad doesn’t need to be explained — any woman will know what it’s for and if any man asks just tell him it’s an old sports injury. With a straight face. How about, “It’s from an old sports injury I got when I rowed for Harvard Crew.”
When he says, “I didn’t know you rowed crew,” you can say, “I didn’t. But will you spread a rumor around church that I did? And by the way, my health is perfectly fine, thanks for asking.”

The scarf routine is my typical vacation look.

A pretty, zaftig gal about my age working at the local cafe was wearing long pigtails and I thought they were cute and told her so. “You’ve got to stay young somehow!” was her reply, and I thought exactly…and there’s a time for that and a time NOT to do that. This type of hairdo is fun when we’re not in work mode, but pigtails and derivations thereof can scream “LITTLE GIRL” and should therefore be assiduously avoided when we’re pastoring. That goes for cutesy barrettes and any style that prompts you to look in the mirror and say, “I wonder if that looks too immature for me.” Fellas, you can look too boyish, too, if you slick your hair to the side like a first grader going in for his school portrait, so keep an eye on your own mop, too. And for God’s sake, no pigtails on you!!

And no, braiding the pigtails doesn’t make them any more appropriate for professional wear, nor does wearing two messy buns as I did a few months ago when I was trying new fun clips and was enjoying my longer hair. Hey, how can I advise you if I don’t make some bloopers myself?

And then Peacebang attended a Ceremonial Event and one of her colleagues was wearing Bierkenstocks with vestments. But not just that: Bierkenstocks with panty hose.

And PeaceBang knew her work was far from done.

As you may recall, PeaceBang got bit by the love bug back in January and brought home more than seashells from her January vacation to Marco Island, Florida. After spending a mere four days together, she and a big, chubby hunk of a modern-day Viking named Greg decided to throw caution to the winds and he drove up the East Coast and straight to her parsonage.

When he finally got here, braving snow and ice and traffic galore, what did PeaceBang do? She threw her arms around him, helped him unpack his one duffel bag, guitar case and small knapsack (don’t you just LOVE a man who says he embraces voluntary simplicity and actually DOES?) and whispered in his ear, “Honey… let’s go to Macy’s.”

PeaceBang knew that her ocean-eyed sweetie’s wardrobe consisted of:
1. shorts
2. a grody pair of flip-flops
3. some jeans
4. a horrible, shapeless leather jacket (shhh, he thinks it’s cool)
5. maybe some other random shoe-type items that were on the verge of falling apart
6. some denim shirts, always worn untucked and distinctly unflattering to his, uh, figure

Much to her surprise, SweetieBang proved not only amenable to a trip to Macy’s but a darned good sport about letting her pick out clothes and finding some good buys himself. We found him several nice dressy shirts (with some mod factor to them, because he’s the opposite of preppy), one tweedy brown sports jacket and one camel corduroy one, some nice black Johnny Cash-like T-shirts and a few sweaters. We got everything at “wicked” sale prices, as they say here in Massachusetts. We are still arguing about pants (he was back in shorts as soon as the weather “warmed up” to 55 or so) but for a devoted minimalist who was living on an island in a bathing suit, I was amazed by his flexibility and willingness to accumulate more …(cue ominous music) possessions.

And I’ve created a monster. Last weekend HE wanted to go to Filene’s Basement to find a summer-weight blazer (!!!) and we went shoe shopping FOR HIM LAST NIGHT AND HE TOOK OVER AN HOUR TO PICK A PAIR OF SHOES. I know this is karma.

Why all the fuss? One reason, my friends: when SweetieBang arrived, he needed no convincing that he would now be a vaguely public figure in town and a major celebrity in our church, and he wanted to look the role. He understood without having to discuss it that he should dress nicely for church and for other events at which he would be accompanying me in an official capacity as Mr. Rev. PeaceBang. As big a change as it was for him (and I mean CHANGE - he grew up Jewish and is now a Buddhist, if anything) Greg instinctively knew that the Rev’s S.O. doesn’t show up at church in jeans and a fleece pullover, or in shorts and a floppy denim shirt. To do so would have been disrespectful and clueless.

It seems important to raise the subject now, because I’ve had two or three letters in the past week asking how one might spiff up one’s spouse, or how one might sensitively suggest to the pastor this his or her spouse is, quite frankly, woefully under-dressed for church. Both questions point to the reality that to be a minister’s partner is to be a public figure oneself, and that whether they want to or not, clergy spouses and partners need to put some thought into the matter of their clothing and grooming. Is this fair? Not necessarily, but it’s how it works in the real world. Ask my cousin, who was married for many years to a rabbi, what the expectations were of the rebbitzim; yes, even into the 21st century.

Clergy partners do not represent the church, but they do reflect on the health of the ministry. I remember one local colleague who was always nattily turned out himself, but whose wife always looked shoddy, hollow-eyed and unkempt. I knew there must be serious problems in that household. It turns out that my instincts were correct: he was dismissed from his denomination a few years after I made his acquaintance. Like it or not, the minister’s non-clergy significant other needs to be a good visual match with the minister and with the church. Both should take their cues from the congregation as to what constitutes “dressed up” for church and aim at least that high, with an extra spit-shine to communicate respect for the work and respect for the honor conferred upon them as spiritual leader and spiritual leader’s chief helpmate and emotional support.

You may ask, how would one sensitively broach the subject to Reverend Spouse that his or her attire is inappropriately informal, too hubba-hubba sexy, or whatever else the problem may be? Should the intervention be attempted by the Ministerial Relations Committee, for instance, and the expectation placed upon the clergyperson to tell his or her honeylamb, “Honeylamb, I love you, but they’re saying over to the church that you’re kindofa slob.” PeaceBang has no easy advice for this but to tread carefully and with tact, but not so much tact that no one knows what’s being said. Too much subtlety will never do. Don’t ask, “Gee, Rev., does your wife come straight to church from chopping wood/swimming at the gym/fixing the carburetor? I was just wondering.” The answer might be “Yes,” and a lot of ministers won’t think to inquire, “Why do you ask?” You know why? Two reasons. One, we have other things on our minds. Two, denial. Rev. might know exactly why you’re asking but not feel like dealing with it. Be direct.

Perhaps something like, “Pastor So-and-So, it didn’t escape my notice that you were wearing a tie and sports jacket to our stewardship dinner. That was so appropriate and so much appreciated, as it represented to me that you considered the event an important and formal affair even though it was held in our parish hall. To me, it really struck the right chord. This is hard for me to say, but did Mrs./Mr. Partner Pastor know that we were committed to making the dinner seem special? S/he was dressed so casually, I wasn’t sure.” Notice the use of “I” language here. Be very intentional about using “I” language UNLESS YOU ARE SURE that the distress about the pastor’s partner’s attire is truly a community concern. If so, say so.

Leave your inquiry open-ended. It may be that Mr. or Mrs. Pastor’s Partner thought they’d be helping out in the kitchen and chose to dress accordingly. Voila! If so, you have the perfect opportunity to discuss expectations of the minister’s partner and to allow your pastor to save some face (”Oh, how sweet of him/her to want to help with clean-up!! Does s/he know that we always keep a stack of sturdy aprons in the kitchen for just that reason?”).

Another tactic is for someone on the Ministry Committee to ask the pastor if their partner has had an opportunity to meet with other clergy spouses in the area or in the wider UUA. If the answer is no, they might say, “Oh, we hope that /she will. It seems to us that being a minister’s partner is almost as complicated as being a minister. Don’t you think that s/he would benefit from the camaraderie? We were thinking about recommending this to you because we have a concern about HoneyLamb that we hesitate to bring up because it seems so trivial, but it has come up several times in recent weeks and it seems only fair that we have an opportunity to talk about it.” Topic launched. This won’t be an easy discussion. But if it’s about being overly-casual in jeans and T-shirts, say so. If it’s about body odor, say so. If it’s about incredibly foul breath, say so (because there might be a health issue involved, and you’d be giving your pastor a chance to discuss that). If it’s about too much cleavage or bare, hairy chest, butt cleavage or chokingly heavy perfume or aftershave, say so. Your specificity can only help. Don’t drop coy hints and then drop the subject. The idea here is to find solutions to an anxiety-causing issue in the system, not to create more anxiety.

If there is no caring and trusted individual who might be deputized to raise the matter with the minister or his/her Significant Other and to give it a personal touch, the matter should be handled by the Ministerial Relations or equivalent committee, NOT by the board of trustees. To do the latter would be overkill and would imply that the minister’s employ is in some way threatened by his or her spouse’s bad sartorial choices. If the minister’s spouse causes problems on the policy level of the congregation, it is fair for the board to raise the matter as they would about any other member or friend of the church. But image and attire are private matters with a public dimension for clergy and their partners, and it seems to me that suggestions about a clergy partner cleaning up one’s act should come from the minister via a trusted individual or the Ministry Committee.

What say you, dear ones?

P.S. Greg still flatly refuses to own a tie. But I will prevail. God as my witness, I shall prevail in this.

I decided that the people who looked like juicy grace on a bun all had one thing in common: they radiated some kind of energy and purpose, an inner light, a joy that wasn’t a scary-ebullient “Up With People” kind of joy, but a down deep This All Has Meaning And I’m Glad to Be Here Despite All the Hills and Valleys I’ve Been Up And Down joy. They seemed like they were carrying an interesting story around with them; you wanted to stop them and say, “Would you tell me your story?” You knew it would be good, because they have obviously been paying attention to life and weaving some sense out it.

These folks weren’t necessarily smiling up a storm, they just looked alive and attentive. One heavyset, middle-aged woman who was no one’s idea of a traditional beauty looked like so much fun wearing a jaunty beret and driving in traffic on the expressway with an expression of total patience, good-naturedness and openness. I wanted to wave at her just for fun but I didn’t want to weird her out or cause her to wrack her brain for the rest of the evening going, “Who the HECK was that woman in the Honda who waved at me? Do I know her?”

Wouldn’t it be great if ministers were the kind of people who looked open, attentive, full of joy, humor and brimming with good stories? Instead of so often dragging around exhausted, put-upon, drab, completely lost in church concerns and obviously having totally lost perspective and connection to the larger world outside the parish? I’m not picking on you, kittens — I’ve been there, too and I have the photos to prove it. I’m just asking all of us to consider: when someone sees us walking by in the store, striding down the hospital corridor, or driving by on the expressway, what are we communicating non-verbally through our facial expressions, posture and demeanor? What would it take for you to look like juicy grace on a bun? Does your outward bearing betray the fact that you’re BFFs with the Light of the World? Let it shine, boys and girls. Let it shine.

I feel that we have said so much together in the past two years and there’s SO much material in the archives for you to browse and hopefully from which to benefit. I have been writing quite a lot over at my PeaceBang blog – please do go look and see what flits through my noggin when I’m not ruminating on lip gloss — and haven’t had many BTFM inspirations.

Which is where you come in. What are you seeing, wondering, thinking? Not just about your own shoe choice for the spring (I’m so sorry, but I simply can’t respond to all the personal e-mails I receive and must limit myself to those that are professionally urgent, as in “I have an interview coming up and I don’t own anything remotely presentable, help!”), but about your own professional image, how it’s all going out there, and what gaffes we’re still making as messengers of the good news.

Today we open a new category called “The Naughty Corner.” In it we will put all those reports of startlingly inappropriate attire among our brothers and sisters of the cloth. PeaceBang promises not to publish ANY identifying information. We aim here to be informative and challenging, never punitive.

I watched most of an “Oprah” episode yesterday where she had on two fashion experts whose goal was to help frumpy women in their 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s keep from dressing “old.”

They did have some great advice, such as
1. Just because it still fits doesn’t mean you should be wearing it.
2. Dressing old (as in old fashions) makes you look old, and (in the words of one of the experts) “clueless.”
3. As you get older, show off your shape through excellent and flattering fit, not by revealing skin. The older you are, the less skin you should be showing (not that this means covering up from neck to toe, it just means wearing opaque stockings with the shorter skirts, etc.). Getting older = becoming more elegant.
4. Highlighting your waist is always a good idea, says Stacy London of “What Not To Wear.” Get the line of the bazoom where it should be through the judicious use of effective undergarments and draw the eye to the natural curve of the waist. If you truly have no waist, draw the eye to the lovely swanlike neck, or to the face, or somewhere else, I suppose.

HOWEVAH, many of the make-over outfits were really awful, ugly and what I would call “try-hard;” that is, they looked nothing like what a normal woman would wear for a normal day of work, running after kids, etc. It was more like, “This is SO FIERCE! I am a Hollywood fashion person and I live in total unreality about what an actual middle class woman can wear and afford, and also in total unreality about what actually looks good! Listen to MEEEE!”

Some of the pieces were admittedly terrific, but it was FAR more the hair and make-up improvements that made these gals shine than the new clothes they were sporting from Nordstrom and Saks.

The moral of the story is that there are a lot of self-proclaimed experts out there who are in bed with the clothing manufacturers and designers and whose bread is being buttered by the fashion industry. It is therefore in their best interest to persuade you that a huge, wide, patent leather belt over a chunky sweater is JUST THE THING you should have right now, or that really, a BIG PONCHO will truly highlight your fabulous yoga figure if you wear it with “figure-skimming” white pants and a fitted t-shirt that probably cost $175.

PeaceBang, on the other hand, gets ZERO dollars from anyone for writing this blog, for advising her readers, and for testing products. Her bread is being buttered by her church and only her church, with occasional gifts of thanks coming in by PayPal from those grateful for her advice and caring. Which is why, if PeaceBang ever seriously advises your wearing a big ole poncho or cape over tight white pants, you can bet she has seriously considered its usefulness for your lifestyle, your image, and your pocketbook.

It had to be said, so I said it. Kiss, kiss.