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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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)

This Sunday I will be participating in an installation (wearing vestments to the service, but there’s the reception to dress for, too) and then meeting friends for a casual dinner. It would be so tempting to wear a cute dress with a long, granny sweater, boots and big earrings and do the Boho Look, but that just wouldn’t be appropriate for the historic congregation. I feel that a formal occasion in the church calls for structured clothing on the clergy. Therefore, I will be wearing a black suit, these shoes in blackbrown-belladonna.jpg, and try to add some “interest” factor with a neat belt and scarf. I’ll have to be overdressed for dinner but there are benefits: that belt and slightly snug blazer will probably keep me from chowing down too enthusiastically!

Pigeons, hear me on this: no minister should wear corduroy anything to an installation. It’s too informal. We have so few truly special occasions left in this jeans-and-Crocs world, the clergy should be impeccable at these events. It’s a visual way of connecting with the past and honoring the present.

Furthermore, my fine feathered friends, our conduct at installations and ordinations should be as elegant as our dress. It pains PeaceBang’s heart and makes her blood pressure rise when ministers get into the pulpit at an ordination and make jokey, social-clubby work of the Charge to the Minister, the Right Hand of Fellowship or any of the other elements. This is wildly inappropriate and PeaceBang ardently wishes she never felt the need to say anything about it, but she finally must. An ordination or installation is not a party, it is a religious ceremony. An installation is not a clergy hazing ritual, it is a sacred rite which establishes bonds between congregation and their chosen minister (I speak from a congregational polity perspective, of course). It is one thing to use warm humor and a personal touch in our moments with the ordinand or new minister; it is another thing altogether to chortle and fumble our way through some aspect of the liturgy that we have not thoroughly prepared on the theological, emotional and purely technical level. The former is delightfully human, the latter is inexcusably sloppy and disgraceful.

If we are asked to participate in an ordinaton or an installation, it is our responsibility to know where our piece fits in the liturgy, to meet with the liturgist (or at least speak with him/her) about our part, and to think through not only our words but our “staging,” if there is any. We should arrive early enough to robe and to receive our instructions regarding how and when to ascend the pulpit, and when to leave. Are we introducing a hymn? Should we remain up at the pulpit while another colleague gives a prayer or reading, and exit with him/her for symmetry’s sake? We must think not only of our piece, but of the transitions in and out of it.

There’s an awful lot of showbiz in these services, and as it is the participants’ responsibility to learn our part, so is it the responsibility of the ordinand/installee to stay in close touch with the presiders and to provide them with all the information they need. There should be a marshall chosen and trained in advance to “run the show,” if you will, so that the ordinand or “installee” is not troubled by these details on this big day. A water pitcher and glasses, tissues, cough drops and sufficient copies of the Order of Worship will all be appreciated in the robing room, as will a full-length mirror and un-messy, un-sugary snacks for pastors on the run who had no time for lunch. If we wonder why so few of our colleagues attend ordinations and installations, PeaceBang would tend to guess that low blood sugar and late-Sunday exhaustion has a lot to do with it. Set out some coffee and little sammies for the preacher boys and girls and we may see our district attendance rising at these events.

If they are traveling any considerable distance, a sit-down meal should be provided afterward for major participants (whom we may assume are especially dear to the ordinand’s heart and therefore a delightful prospect as dinner guests): they should not be expected to fill their bellies while on their feet during the busy din of a reception. This meal should be planned with the Ordination/Installation Committee and can be as simple or as fancy as the church budget allows. It should not be omitted for any reason, however, as it is most inhospitable to import colleagues from a distance and then fail to feed them before they get back on the road home. What have we come to that we should expect either busy colleagues or eminent retirees to travel to our church on our behalf, deliver carefully prepared words and prayers, stand on their feet for an hour “working the crowd,” and then climb back into the car or plane exhausted and unfed? I’m sorry to say it so bluntly, newbies, but a generation that considers gracious hospitality optional is a sorely deficient generation of the Church.

Hear ye! Preachers for the event should receive a gift in the mail within a month of preaching your service: they have, after all, taken extraordinary pains to craft a special sermon for your special event and very possibly their second of the day. It is an enormous honor to be asked to preach at your ordination or installation, but also a burdensome responsibility. Do not fail to recognize, and to appreciate, this. PeaceBang has preached one ordination sermon in her life that took her no less than 15 hours to craft to her satisfaction( and during her vacation, no less)! She doubts that this gets much easier with time and experience. Other participants should receive a written thank-you note within a few months.

Although we are in an era of modernizing the church and its programs, installations and ordinations are occasions requiring the utmost decorum and attention to detail. They are teaching moments for the Church and shining examples of our polity in action. Above all, congregations themselves should be educated well in advance of the installation or ordination on the history and meaning of these occasions so that they are not, as PeaceBang has too often seen in the Free Church, sitting in the pews under the impression that they are passive, fond observers of this ritual, but understand their centrality to the proceedings.

(Random photo: I have no idea who all these Piskies are but they look nice for this event.)

http://boyinthebands.com/archives/a-sip-of-water-in-the-pulpit/

This video from Fashion Week in NYC is a fantastic study in personality, presence and image.
http://www.tiny.cc/pVPp8
Watch how some of these women manage the runway with a great sense of humor, grace and confidence, and how some of them (Rachael Ray, shame on you!) don’t.

The thing is, PeaceBang is pretty sure that anyone who isn’t a professional model must feel silly walking the runway. It’s a silly thing to do, for heaven’s sake. Strutting around like your dress is the most news-worthy item in the world is silly. But darlings, that’s show biz, and it sells dresses.

To make a ministerial analogy, no one loves walking in a wedding or ordination processional, either. There’s that gracious Queen Elizabeth smile one always has to wear, and then there’s the triple challenge of reading the words to the hymn while walking and singing, and trying not to trip on the hem of one’s robe in the meanwhile.

PeaceBang remembers one particularly awful processional at West Point, when she had just finished officiating at her beloved Uncle Marvin’s funeral and it came time to walk out to the cemetery to inter his ashes. The grief of the assembled loved ones was intense, and you had better believe that PeaceBang felt supernaturally self-conscious walking behind that cadet as he marched solemnly ahead with my dear uncle’s human remains in a mahogany box. I was trying not to sob and trying not to burst into hysterical laughter. But honey, when all eyes are upon you, grimacing and clutching at one’s gut and rolling one’s modest little eyes a la Rachael Ray is not the way to do it. We straighten the spine, compose the face, focus the eyes straight ahead, relax the mouth muscles to manage any trembling, and think, “Elegance, darling, and we’ll have a martini when it’s all over.”*

Rachael Ray, PeaceBang extends to you the Pursed Lips of Disapproval.

As to the rest of you, do not for a second think it’s silly to rehearse your processional walk. No one’s looking, and you may thank yourself for it some Sunday afternoon when you’re gliding along singing “Forward Through the Ages,” looking fantabulous, and not tripping on your robes.

* I cannot lie. The moment I stepped away from the grave and the trumpeter began to play “Taps,” I sobbed quietly into my hankie. But I was quiet. And I had a lovely white hankie.

Dress up a little, for God’s sake. Have a little respect for your colleague, for the congregation, and for the ministry. You aren’t any busier than the rest of us who came skidding in from a full day, and you got your invitation to process a month in advance just like the rest of us. Shine a pair of shoes and keep ‘em in the car if you must.

And on a personal note to my colleagues who were just shiny gorgeous beings, LOVING your beauty!

P.S. Whoever said you can’t wear dangly earrings in the pulpit is over-generalizing. I saw one classy broad wearing a great outfit with danglers. And one of the presiding clergy was wearing fantabulous earrings the size of a baby’s head, and they looked AMAZING. You have to know what you’re doing.