Beauty Tips for Ministers

Privacy, Please

Privacy Please happens to be the name of the lovely, delicate and sheer pink nail polish I’m wearing right now (by OPI), but the issue of privacy also happens to be on my mind this evening, as I drink Gatorade and thank God for having made it through an 8-hour class today. Not only do I have an Evil Stomach Bug, I threw my back out a few days ago and woke up this morning in absolute agony (the bug and the back may be related, I know how that can work).

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.”

Shoe Issues: Good For the Sole

Good day, darlings.
Diane weighed in on a long-ago post about seminarians with this goody, and I didn’t want you to miss it because she’s chock full of stern and sage advice:

This seems like a good place to mention a pet peeve of mine. Here at seminary there are a number of women with “shoe issues.” Some are young, some are older. They are talked about behind their backs, especially when they are walking around the chapel. What are their issues? Well, there are three main ones -

1) Trendy shoes that draw attention away from the service and onto the wearer. In our tradition (Episcopal) one does not walk around in black cassock or white alb with anything other than black or maybe dark brown or dark gray shoes. I know acolytes get away with it all the time, but we are not acolytes. We are preparing to be priests. Even if that means buying one pair of “church shoes” that are conservative black flats, we should do it, and change back into the cute, outfit matching shoes in the sacristy after the service.

2) Loud, clomping shoes. Again, distracting. We have one student who went out to officiate at a service recently and you could hear the clomp, clomp, clomp over the music as she walked. Hello. Again, it’s about the service, not about us. It also makes women seem less professional.

3) Wearing heels you cannot walk well or safely in. Wear heels that work for you, or professional but less high heeled shoes. We all look silly tripping off our heels. Again, it’s distracting and unprofessional. You don’t see the male priests falling off their shoes. Let’s not do it either.

Let me add, Diane, that my only disagreement with your advice is not to talk about our sister seminarians behind their backs. Talk about them TO THEIR FACES. Pull them over, say, “Honey, you sounded like Mr. Ed clomping around out there, you NEED to get a pair of quieter shoes. Let’s go shopping after Homiletics class on Thursday!” Or, “Sister, my sister, I love those heels you’ve got on but I was watching you just now and you’re just destined to break your ankle one of these days. Those aren’t suitable for this work, girl, and someone needed to tell you. I love you enough to be the one.”

If you say it with love and care, she might still get mad but at least you’ve made the transition from petty gossip to supportive future colleague. And that’s good for the soul.

Juicy People

Today I was out and aboot, writing a sermon IN MY MIND (gosh, it was a good one, too! Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that the Holy Spirit will me re-create it tomorrow morning, ’cause today was too beautiful and too full of fighting dust bunnies in the house, cooking and deep breathing to get it out through my fingers and into the computer), and lookin’ at the beautiful people in the world. Some delighting in the sunny day, some too frenetically going about their business to make eye contact, some young, some old, some looking like hell on wheels, some looking like juicy grace on a bun.

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 Love You, Maria Von Trapp!!

Oh, oh, oh!! Did you SEE Julie Andrews this morning on Regis and Kelly? I was picking up a decaf at Dunkin Donuts at the time so I didn’t get to watch her for more than a minute, but darlings, she is the EPITOME of elegance, warmth and PRESENCE.

She’s been wearing her hair the same way forever, but it’s such a timeless style, it just works. It’s soft, full, swept back from her smashingly gorgeous face, and colored a soft auburn. Her eyebrows are penciled in so you can see their expressive, elegant arch. The lips are colored a soft rose-mauve (no big gooey glosses for our Miss Andrews!), lots of mascara to frame the eyes, and best of all, she seems to have had no plastic surgery. The skin is sagging — let’s say softening — where it should be softening on a woman of her years, and her bearing is regal. She is getting, if anything, more beautiful with time.

Her voice is still the cultured voice you remember from your childhood “Mary Poppins” viewings, with that wonderful gravelly undertone and throaty laugh that reassures you that although she’s a piss-elegant Brit, she’s got a good cache of naughty jokes and drinking songs in her repertoire to go along with “Do-Re-Mi.”

She was wearing a dove gray suit accessorized with big square earrings to highlight her face, a thick, classic, flat gold chain around her neck and a soft, ivory chiffon scarf tucked into her suit to soften its tailored lines. SWWOOOOON!!

Her posture and open, attentive expression is a thing of glory and should be studied by us all, men and women. As a singer, Julie Andrews knows how to keep her “mask” open; the part of the face that would be covered if you wore an old-school masquerade ball mask. All ministers should know how to open their mask, as it energizes the expression and makes you look more alive, aware and present.

How to Open The “Mask” of the Face:

Sit in a chair, slightly slumped over. Let your face totally relax, and even settle into a bit of a frown.

Now, pretend that you are Julie Andrews about to teach the Von Trapp children the first notes of the solfege. Sit up straight, but not ram-rod straight. Remember, you’re Maria, not Captain Von Trapp. Taking both your hands, lift them in a gesture that an orchestra conductor might use to signal musicians to pick up their instruments. Let your face open as your hands open. Your skin will feel pulled back, your eyebrows and eyes wide open but not in an alarmed or forced manner.

Practice in front of a mirror until you look poised, present, fresh and attentive but not like a deer in headlights.

P.S. Singers, you already know how to open your mask, since you know we can produce no rich sound without doing so. Teach your friends.

All clergypersons, when presiding at worship, should have an open mask at all times except perhaps when praying. There can be no embodied, relational worship if the presider does not understand or know how to produce an open mask and supported breath required for all good public communication.

The Exquisite Decorum of the Episcopal Good Friday Service

No one does liturgy like the Piskies. They have it DOWN: decorum, demeanor, graceful transitions from element to element, gracious and confident administration of the sacraments. I attended a Maundy Thursday service at a liberal Christian church in Boston last night and Good Friday at the Cathedral Church in Boston. I love the people who presided at both services, but let me just say this:
liturgically-oriented Unitarian Universalists and other Free Church folk, hear me: attend worship with the Episcopalians and see how it’s done, please. I love you dearly but I beg of you. Go thou and study.

I attended today’s service with a friend and his comment at the end of everything was “They are better than anyone else at making a space for the Mystery.” And I said, “I couldn’t agree with you more, but that Acolyte totally should not have been wearing Merrell Jungle Mocs with white socks under her robe.”

Everything else was glorious.

Thanksgiving Ideas And Manners

Hello, my pumpkin pies,

PeaceBang is in the midst of Thanksgiving Madness just now and won’t be blogging for the next week or so. Do enjoy the archives whilst I prepare hearth and home for the holiday. Meanwhile, keep writing it with inquiries and I’ll respond after I’ve roused myself from the chaise lounge where I will have collapsed with a dish towel over my eyes.

Remember: if you’re visiting friends or parishioners for the big day, don’t arrive empty-handed,* compliment the cook even if his or her eats give you heartburn and high blood pressure (you can always sneak out for a Big Mac on the way home), and help wash dishes even if he or she makes little “shoo-go away” gestures (PeaceBang used to do this but now throws an apron at her guests and says, “Go for it!” while she kicks back with a glass of wine. After all this grocery shopping, cleaning and preparation? Are you kidding? What kind of martyr was I?). If dining with parishioners, watch it with the booze. Be prepared to offer the blessing over the meal and observe family dysfunctions that aren’t your own, for a change.

* TEN HOSTESS GIFT IDEAS:

1. A bottle of Prosecco — fun bubbly for under $15! Do NOT bring cheap wine whose quality you cannot vouch for to a nice dinner. This puts your host/ess in the embarrassed position of feeling obligated to serve it, and that’s not fair. At least be prepared to drink it if you bring it (hosts and hostesses, it’s perfectly good manners to tuck away all gift wines for later use, which PeaceBang always does although her friends generally have darned good taste in wine.)
2. A big bunch of fresh sage or mint from your garden.
3. 3-4 bottles of pretty seltzer water with a fresh lemon or lime (always welcome, always get used eventually).
4. A nice bottle of hand soap tied with a bow (TJ Maxx always has them for under $5).
5. A jar of fleur de sel or nice olive oil for the serious cook. Trader Joe’s has wonderful affordable options.
6. A pair of taper candles in neutral or autumnal colors.
7. A small bouquet of flowers (nothing overly fragrant or fancy) that you are prepared to put in a vase of your host/hostess’s choosing as instructed (it’s a help).
8. An offer of a good shoulder rub after dinner (and make good on it!). If that doesn’t appeal to your talents, why not offer to be the Event Photographer; something your hosts won’t have time to do but would truly appreciate!
9. Something super practical, like the time someone came over with a stack of tupperware containers which were SO useful for doling out leftovers after dinner! Great idea!
10. Fill a small jar with chunky sea salt. Sprinkle with a few drops of some essential oil (lavender or rose or rosemary, or whatever combination you like). Shake well. Tie with a sweet bow and give it to your hosts for a refreshing bath or foot soak.

HOW TO BE A GOOD THANKSGIVING GUEST:

1. R.S.V.P. in a timely fashion. Don’t make your hosts scramble to accommodate you at the last minute.
2. Don’t assume you can bring a guest to a formal dinner: ask first. If you’re not close friends with the hosts, don’t ask at all. There may be constraints of budget or space that your host or hostess would rather not reveal, and you may be causing more stress than you know with your inquiry. Again, this doesn’t apply to pals whose home and general financial situation you know can accommodate a few more pilgrims.
3. Arrive on time, or close to it. If your hostess says that drinks are at 3 and dinner at 4pm, don’t come at 4:15. A formal sit-down Thanksgiving dinner is a complex and highly-choreographed event involving many dishes in and out of the oven; you may actually ruin dinner if you hold things up. Don’t. If you get held up, have the courtesy to phone and give your hostess permission to start without you. If she has leeway, she’ll let you know, but consider the timing of the meal and respect the parameters of the invitation. A sit-down meal is NOT the same as a buffet casual dinner party.
4. Help the hostess by mixing and mingling yourself. Because of the nature of Thanksgiving dinner, your host/ess may have to be in the kitchen in the early stages of the party. She will not be offended if you abandon her to go eat appetizers around the fire and visit with other guests. In fact, she’d prefer it. That’s why the appetizers are there. If the appetizers are set up in the kitchen, get yourself a drink and by all means bug the cook.
5. If your host or hostess is single, make yourself a secret Party Spouse. Pick up plates and glasses and bring them to the kitchen. Keep the fire going. Fill the ice bucket. Entertain the children. Answer the door. Be a good fairy.

Thank your hosts before you leave, send a thank you note within a week (unless they’re good personal buds, in which case an e-mail is fine), and return the hospitality if at all possible. Pay attention to detail so that if you have the good fortune of being invited back next year, you can contribute something (”Linda, it must have been so much work to peel all those potatoes, why don’t I make the mashed potatoes this year?”). And that, my friends, is called the lost art of good manners and social etiquette.

Beloveds, may your turkeys or tofu casseroles be succulent and may your prayers of gratitude be sincere. PeaceBang is thankful for you.

[Update: Even the Boston Globe’s Miss Conduct preaches the gospel of PeaceBang! ]

(I did little cafe tables like this last year but this year we’ll go back to one long table)

(Photos from La Casa de PeaceBang, Thanksgiblets 2006)