Let me depart from the world of crazy celebrity/royal fashion and eye cream recommendations for a moment to talk about self-care a bit.

I was talking with a newbie minister the other day who was being very hard on herself for “breaking the covenant” she had made with God to be healthy and especially to refrain from compulsive overeating.

As you know, PeaceBang knows PUH-LENTY about compulsive overeating, and about the struggles to keep from comforting oneself with an overly-full tummy.

This new pastor had had some particularly tough losses in the past months and was experiencing for the first time ministering when you’re feeling fragile and pulled in seventeen different directions, trying to meet too many people’s needs. She ate over it. Lots of sugar. And not only did she physically feel lousy, she felt like a sinner. We mulled over her decision to use the word “sin” to describe her overeating. Yes, technically it is a sin to do harm, even to oneself. But is that language helpful or harmful in this situation? She had chosen it intentionally because she wanted to think about her binge theologically. Which is a good place to start. What we do with our bodies is most certainly about our relationship to God and our understanding and experience of God’s presence or absence in our lives. We are all broken; we are all sinners. When we use the word “sin” to express the sense of our own brokenness, does that seem like condemnation or does it invite compassion and reconciliation?

I asked her, “If you had a friend who was hurting herself in some way because she was under so much stress, would you consider her a sinner?” As it turns out, no. She would have compassion for that hypothetical friend. She would try to support her.

The point here is pretty obvious but let me make it anyway: although it’s true that some clergy persons are sick little bundles of denial, engaging in secret, dysfunctional and destructive behaviors that will harm themselves and their congregations, my experience informs me that most of us are painfully aware of our failures, shortcomings and addictive tendencies and are, in fact, quite unforgiving about them. We are spiritual and professional perfectionists, many of us, trying not only to do the right things but to think the right thoughts and to have the right feelings. This is the aim of our spiritual disciplines — “God, make pure my heart within me” — “May my the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord my rock and my redeemer,” etc. Good God, kids, do you think the average investment banker, schoolteacher, hairdresser, waitress,retail clerk or engineer puts themselves through that kind of rigorous self-policing throughout the day? Hells no!

Pigeons, forgive yourselves. Put down the chocolate bar, the pizza, the pastries or whatever it is that plagues and poisons you, wipe off your mouth with a nice napkin, and move on. You can always flagellate yourself later, after you’ve had a nice long walk, a bath and a cup of peppermint tea. Why kick yourself when you’re down (or on a bad “up” from too much sugar, fat and carbs)? What good does that do you, and how does that honor your covenant with God?

I myself, after finally having hit the 20+ lbs. lost mark last Saturday, am having a bad week with food. And why wouldn’t I? The weather is dreary, I’ve been seriously crampy and headachy for days, my lower back hurts (I’m carrying tons of tension there but yoga poses are helping a lot), people I dearly love are terminally ill, in hospital with various other painful ailments and suffering other kinds of losses (and isn’t that always the case in parish ministry?). I’m post-Easter weary, I’m dreading my May sabbatical time (funny, in’t that?), I’m tired of being disciplined around food and I just want to eat huge bowls of Kashi cereal with dark chocolate chips in them. And so what. My job as I see it right now is to hang on to my little boat while the waves swell and crest, to weep freely as I need to, and to monitor my eating not for Weight Watchers compliance right now but just to assure that my eating doesn’t go from Tired Girl Indulging territory into Good Lord, All Hell Has Broken Loose and Now She’s Into Serious Buffalo Wing Abuse territory.

No, I won’t get to the gym today, either. I’ll get there tomorrow and both God and I will forgive me for it. If I gain a pound, that’s a trespass that can be forgiven, too.

Being beautiful, vibrant and polished as a public religious leader does not mean achieving perfection. It means being alive in God’s presence and unafraid to communicate that presence to a broken world. If today all you can manage is to lay your burden down and rest in God’s care, do it. You’ll know you need to when you find yourself too exhausted to apply mascara or to properly comb your hair. Be careful out there, my lovely ones. Attend to yourself as you would a visiting dignitary, with all due respect and hospitality. For if you do not, your psyche and your body will go out together for coffee without you and devise mischievous schemes to get your attention.

Put down the donuts, back away from the ciggies, get back to a 12-step meeting for over-spending, overeating, alcoholism, sex or drug addiction, stop being a superhero. Toss the M&M’s in the trash, smash the Doritos and run water over them, douse the ice cream with kosher salt. Unplug the phone, cancel a meeting, ask for help. Delegate, see your therapist, let God run the world for a day without you.

God has made a good gift in you. Love yourselves, forgive the sins, and move on. Better yet, move to the bed and take a nap.

Transitions are hard. It is hard to transition from being a stay-at-home mama to being, for instance, a working woman in the corporate world. It is hard to transition from being a working person to a retired person. It is challenging to transition from being a movie star to being a rehab resident. It is hard to transition from being a seminarian to an ordained clergyperson.

What happens when one of your friends doesn’t seem to be making the transition well? You must pull him or her aside and say this:

“Honey Lamb, I love ya like a house afire, but your look is still too Hanes-oriented to make the professional scene. You’re undermining your own authority by wearing shapless sweatclothes, and it still doesn’t work if they’re skirts or pants or shirts with buttons; they’re not appropriate. Please let me go shopping with you and we’ll make a super fun day of it and try on tons of stuff — even stuff you don’t think will look good on you — we’re going to explore, not necessarily to purchase — and we’re going to find the more beautiful, polished YOU I know is in there. And you’re going to agree to this or I am going to send Marvin the Torch to your closet and there will be a Very Tragic Accident there.”

The point is, you must be blunt. You gotta be brave, ya gotta be bold, ya gotta be stronger. That’s not just a great karaoke song by Des’ree, it’s also a truth about friendship relationships. Friends do not let friends leave the house with muffin tops and rear-end cleavage. They call their sisters on dresses that have become a Festival of Inappropriate Sharing and offer to loan a camisole if necessary. Dudes pull their dude pals aside and say, “Let me loan you my electric razor, pal. Better yet, I’ll come over ten minutes earlier tonight and shave those gorilla hairs off the back of your neck for you, which, by the way, wouldn’t hurt to scrub now and then.” This is a given. But God also helps those who help themselves, and those of us who know that we’re going to be making an important life transition will do ourselves a world of good if we prepare earlier, rather than later, for that transition. For ministers-to-be, this means:

1. Get out of your sweats and jeans once in awhile. Own at least a couple pairs of pants that could serve in a professional setting, and know what size and cuts flatter you and FIT. Why wait until pre-candidating week, when you’ll already have enough on your mind? What’s your dress size? Hate dresses? What’s your skirt size? Fellas, do you own at least once decent tie? Get on it. Sports coat, a few decent shirts? Borrow if you have to. Develop a spectrum of looks and make some conscious choices about where and when they work for you. When in doubt, overdress a bit.

2. Assemble your grooming and/or cosmetics products as soon as you can, and start a routine of using them. Sure, you can go to class with witchy dry hair or scraggly facial hair, crust in your eyes and pallid, puffy skin that identifies you as someone who hasn’t seen the light of day since you started Intermediate Greek, but don’t get used to yourself that way. Step it up when you can. Don’t start bad grooming habits in seminary and expect it to be easy to break them once you’re a working pastor. This leads to the type of whining that causes PeaceBang to want to spank you: “I don’t have tiiiiiime to style my hair! I don’t have tiiiiiime to wear blush or lipstick!” Well then, poochikins, you don’t have tiiime to project an image of leadership, pride in your calling and dignity of the pastoral office, either, and PeaceBang doesn’t have tiiiime for that attitude!

3. As early as possible, start an organizational system for your liturgical and programmatic work. The first time someone asks you to preach, start a file for that service under theme or date or however you choose to do it. File away prayers, file chalice lightings, invocations, funeral/memorial readings, baby blessings, orders of service …. develop a system and start using it devotedly at the earliest possible moment. This isn’t about your external beauty but your interior calm when you start leading and crafting worship yourself, and (pssst), if you have an organized study (PeaceBang’s books are arranged, for instance, by subject all over her parsonage), you’ll have the tiiiiime you need before a wedding or Sunday morning service to iron your shirt and shine your shoes, fill in your eyebrows and apply some lip gloss, do ten minutes of deep belly breathing, and show up poised, peaceful and prepared.

As the world gets more chaotic and uncertain, my doves, we must be ever-more-conscious, centered and grounded representatives of HaShem, the divine Presence. If we come shooting through the door in drab jeans, hair sprouting from our ears, white gym socks where there should be black dress socks, faces and bodies that tell a tale of self-neglect, we contribute to the sense that God is not in His/Her heaven and all is not right with the world.

Tell a different tale. Tell it with your very being. Start today. Go be beautiful.

Christmas is long gone and we’ve recovered. Easter is coming but we’re deeply into Lent and although the days are getting longer, we’re still… well… deeply into Lent. It’s not that we want to skip Lent, but Lent can be so Lent-y, and a girl can only spend so many hours a day in prayer, penitence and self-denial. The round of visits, meetings, newsletter columns, sermons, advocacy, rites of passage, potlucks, classes, continue unabated (thanks be to God) and although we might be dutifully taking care of ourselves in the most basic ways (eating well, resting enough, exercising, engaging in spiritual practice, getting out for some fun with friends/family now and then), we can feel in a bit of a rut, wearing the same four or five outfits every day, eating the same sandwich for lunch, and even thinking a lot of the same kinds of thoughts. We haven’t made a new recipe in eons, we haven’t put time aside to noodle on the piano (or banjo), we haven’t painted or thrown a pot since Advent, and we just know that our calendar won’t allow for any creative pursuits for awhile yet. It’s too early to garden, and although we’re grateful to God and mostly content, we just want a little zippy something to look forward to.

It’s when PeaceBang starts to feeling this way that she tries to breathe deeply and embrace the season, to listen to the same meditation music every night, stay the course, and to see God in the ordinary — but also to make sure she walks the fine line between Lenten interiority and just plain Drab Winter Doldrums carefully lest she tip over and get a whopping case of the blues. And therefore, somewhere between her mid-January birthday and Mardi Gras, she likes to tuck a few fun things away that she can pull out come early spring that will put a huge smile on her face and give her a little shot of the girlie joy. Yes, it’s materialistic and shallow, perhaps, but it’s also about celebration, hope and anticipation of warmer and sunnier days ahead.

This year, my Mardi Gras put-it-away-for-later-because-life-is-not-just-a-vale-of-tears purchase was made at the Dillards in Naples, Florida. You can blame Rali if you hate it — (mine is a bit of smaller print and has different, cuter buttons) — it was on major, major, major sale (like 70% off) and she convinced me that it looks great on me:

The other purchase was a small one, a little rock-and-roll girl eyeshadow by Urban Decay called Narcotic that is this exact color:

It looks good, I promise. Not as trashy and saucy as it does on her,
but dramatic and gorgeous for a date night out (not, for heaven’s sake, anywhere near church!).

These are my two little give-me-a-giggle fashion treats to look forward to. The fact that some friends just gave me a ukulele as a gift just adds to the glee. A UKLELE!! I am SO excited!! Of course I will happily play it like a 6-year old, but it’s a beautiful instrument, have you seen this exquisite video?

God knows ya gotta have some glee, children. PeaceBang thinks that glee can be worn by pastors, and should be, as long as they
know what they’re projecting, and are doing it with confidence, panache and a sense of whimsy. Go get you some glee.

And here’s to those who love us, whether romantically or not, with special appreciation to those who think we look good without a stitch of make-up on, or when we are wearing very low fashion indeed.

About six years ago, PeaceBang took a “vacation” after the holidays which consisted of driving to New Hampshire (2 hours or so away), staying in a hotel, eating meals alone, and sliding home down the highway through a blizzard two nights later. This experience was more depressing than 21 straight days of rain in May (that happened one memorable year, too, and just the memory of it makes me want to stick a fork in my eye), and the following year PeaceBang said to her Board of Trustees and Worship Committee, “I’d like to take two weeks of my vacation time in January, if you please.” Because they are good and wise people, they said, “Why, certainly.” I gratefully packed myself off to Mexico, and a January vacation has remained a cherished institution in my life since then. Not only restful but productive: I outlined no fewer than four sermons after good, long, uninterrupted afternoon naps, and read several eminently preachable books and articles.
We NEED TIME OFF AND AWAY, my doves. We are not automatons, we cannot drive to the great spiritual filling station on a random busy afternoon and expect to get a full tank of the Holy Spirit and drive away humming “How Great Thou Art.” The body gets tired, the brain gets weary, the spirit starts to drag and stagger, and the psyche craves deep time in the well of silence and restorative sleep.

You must advocate for vacation time for yourself. You must put aside savings for it. You must understand that you need and deserve REAL time off. No, Jesus did not go on vacation. But let’s remember how short his earthly ministry was, my friends. You are in this for the duration and the last time I looked, none of ya’ll could walk on water, either.

So PeaceBang came home from vacation and noticed today that the TULIPS ARE BACK in the florist shops, a fact that made her sigh with rapturous, sensual pleasure (oh, those oranges! those lipstick pinks! Delicious!) and a blunt, creaturely yearning for beauty. She filled her eyes with their saturated colors and thought of all of you, all of us, and wished this wish:

“I hope my powder pigeons are right now pushing their chairs back from their desks, looking out the window for a friendly chickadee or slash of turquoise sky, laughing belly laughs with a trusted friend, feeding themselves with something exquisite and nourishing instead of grabbing a granola bar in the car, and taking a few moments on the way out of the hospital to stop in the gift shop to play with the stuffed animals before they head to their next meeting. I hope some of them are stopping to inhale the smell of their children’s nap-sweaty heads, getting a massage, painting their toenails Dutch Tulip red, sneaking off for an afternoon at the movies, stirring a pot of intoxicating chowder for a posse of pals, or making love. I hope they are stopping to breathe, to absorb color and light, to let music wash over them like a divine anointing, and allowing themselves uninterrupted moments of simple human pleasure.”

Here in the northeast we’re just starting the Drab Time of year. So from here on in until the chinook starts blowing in, I will try to have tulips in my home to remind me of all the glory that abounds, even under the tired-looking snow and in the austere New England winter landscape.

Be beautiful!

But I stopped in today because the shopping gods were being good to me (I scored two wonderful items that I really wanted on super sale at Lane Bryant and found exactly, precisely what I needed* at Macy’s, also on sale) so I thought I’d pop in to Coach see if they carried watches.

I’ve been looking at watches for about a year because I’ve never owned a really nice one and tend to switch back and forth from inexpensive, fun little items. That’s fine, but I happen to think that a watch is a Grown-Up Signature Piece and I’ve had my eye out for the perfect one for me.
I knew I wanted a two-tone style that I could wear with gold and silver. I knew I wanted a white, rectangular face. I knew I didn’t want anything too petite and girly, and I knew I wanted something contemporary but not so of-the-moment that I can’t wear it for many years to come. I knew I wanted something elegant enough to wear with nice outfits but classic for everyday. I knew I wanted something that felt gorgeous on my wrist and that would look good with my wide variety of rings.

I’ve looked online, I’ve looked at various stores and boutiques, I’ve looked on people’s wrists and nothing has really thrilled me.

But today at the Coach store, of all places, I found my dream watch.

(it’s so much prettier in real life!)

It’s also over 5 times more expensive than any other watch I have ever owned, so that’s a little daunting. But I’m an old responsible lady now. I very rarely lose or break jewelry any more and I hardly ever lose sunglasses or umbrellas either. I think it might be a perfectly acceptable goal to save up for this watch and to cherish it for many happy Grown-Up years. I remember the sense of satisfaction I got when I saved all my wedding fees for a long time in order to buy my first couch and dining room table. I still love them, even though the couch is getting kind of mashy and I really should re-stuff the cushions.

As I get older and more myself (not to mention that there’s literally MORE of myself), I find it harder and harder to find clothing, shoes and accessories that I really love and feel good about. I have learned that it’s much better to walk away from the store empty-handed rather than to collect items purchased out of desperation (”I hate everything in my closet and I NEED a new skirt for church!”) or delusion (”Even though the shoulders on this coat make me look like a linebacker, it’s a good deal and I’m sure I’ll wear it all the time”), even if that means weraring the same pair of black pants twice a week for three years.

I feel that we should shop carefully and only accumulate wardrobe pieces that truly work for us and give us a sense of confidence. It’s worth the wait to find something you really, really love. And if you find it and it’s beyond your price point, get out the ole piggy bank and feed it until you achieve your goal. As long as you’re not compromising your financial ethics to do so ( I mean, I hope you wouldn’t cut back your charitable contributions so that you could afford a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps– I mean, in my girlish heart I would UNDERSTAND, but I’d have to say “Hey, sister minister, let’s rethink how you’re going to feel if you make that choice, and have you noticed that Louboutin heels are all red, as in SATAN? Don’t go there, sister! Come back to Jesus!” And then we might have to do a shoe exorcism and invoke St. Franco Sarto or something… but I digress). The point, and I do have one, is …

God has made a good gift in you.
And you don’t bring an unwrapped gift to God’s party.

And that, my friends, is the Gospel of PeaceBang. Amen.

* “Dear Fashion Fairies, it would give such a lift to my spirits if I could find a cute sweater that wasn’t a bloody cardigan, and a really great sleeveless blouse with a bow tie that I can wear under my blazers like I saw in Lucky magazine. Thank you for your help!”

Many of my clergy bros and sisters are going on retreat with their congregations at this time of year, giving them an opportunity to kick back, relax with their feet up, swim, play tennis, sleep late, read trashy novels if they feel like it, or stick their faces into the latest theological tome for uninterrupted hours on end. Right?

Chyuk, chyuk, chuyuk! Do I hear an international chorus of clergy chortling? Me thinks I do! And believe me, PeaceBang chortles along with you.

What’s it really like, mon sweet potatoes? More like, wake up early and prepare the morning worship service (”only” 20 minutes long, which means that you can prepare it in, say, an hour, depending on how long you’ve been doing this sort of thing), think about and perhaps research the Bible study you’ll be leading later, prayerfully prepare yourself for encounters with folks who will relish the opportunity to share deep thoughts and ideas with their pastor, and compose the blessings over breakfast, lunch and dinner (or enlist a layperson to do so).

What to wear for your day? Who cares, right? Because you’re on retreat! You can wear shorts and a tee-shirt and your Tevas and give the impression that you’re relaxed and at ease like the rest of the participants!

Except that you’re not relaxed and at ease. You’re at work. And by wearing shorts and a tee, you’re basically telling your people that this isn’t work for you.

You know my crusade by now, dear readers. My usual approach is to emphasize the importance of dressing and grooming well so that we present as competent, put-together leaders of today, doing our best to express in our exterior selves the beauty and integrity of our interior lives.

But this is a bit different. I’m not saying that you should spruce up while on retreat because you need to present a leadership image so much as I am suggesting that you do so as a way of communicating that you are at work.

“Gee, Pastor John, you look so spiffy in your khakis and golf shirt all tucked in, and you’re wearing a belt and everything! Relax, man, we’re on retreat!”

“Well, Cliff, I’ll be leading the worship service at 1 pm and I knew you wouldn’t want me to do that in my bathing suit (chuckle). I’m glad to see you looking so relaxed, though. Have a great tennis game and I’ll see you for lunch and the service.”

Cliff walks away thinking to himself, “Of course. John has work to do here. He’s not really on retreat like the rest of us. If he’s already dressed for the worship service, I’m sure he’s put a lot of thought into it. But of course he would; my pastor never offers anything sloppily put-together. I’ll be sure not to miss that worship service, even though I had planned on maybe napping then.”

Sometimes it’s important to maintain the illusion that what we do well comes with a kind of magical ease. For instance, when my guests show up for Thanksgiving dinner, I want them to feel welcome, nurtured and wrapped up in the fantasy of New England autumn. They should not be eating their mashed potatoes and thinking, “Wow, Vicki must have been planning and shopping for this dinner for weeks. I bet she worked herself into a drenched sweat shopping for all the groceries, getting the house cleaned, the wines chosen, the CD’s of special music burned, the turkey in the oven and the pies baked.” Sure, some of my friends pick up on my spazzy anxiety (I’ve gotten so much better over the past five years though, right James?), but I hope most of the friends who come by to feast don’t dwell on that. I want them to feel nothing but hospitality and to experience good food, good music, and good company.

Pastors so often show up at events and to people’s homes with a friendly, happy-to-be-here, open demeanor that it rarely occurs to churchfolks that to do so may have required serious emotional or programmatic preparation on their behalf.

In my own case, even as a strong extrovert, I sometimes suffer attacks of stage fright before church events. I have no idea why, but it usually happens after a quiet day of study and sermon preparation. I have spent the day in a very interior place and the thought of walking into a room full of my gregarious, smart, engaging congregants temporarily paralyzes me: who am I to be someone special for this impressive gang?
I know I can’t just show up and blend into the wall, so what do I do? I shower, I pray, I put on some show tunes and sing loudly, I choose my outfit and apply my outfit especially carefully, I call MotherBang or SisterBang or another friend just to hear my own voice, I square my shoulders and put on a big, confident smile and I go. As soon as I see everyone, genuine love and affection carry me through the door but heavens, getting to the door can be a real journey through debilitating insecurity.

Can I get a witness!!? I mean, how many of us have spent an hour composing a simple grace over a meal in our heads before an event, or worked ourselves into a frustrated panic trying to plan adequately for an adult education class or a committee meeting? Yet we breeze through the door the very picture of grace and ease. This isn’t work for me. I find that condescending and manipulative: it suggests to laypeople that ministry is a set of skills that some are miraculously gifted with — as though by virtue of ordination the Holy Ghost becomes each minister’s ghost writer or amanuensis. Bah! Macho posturing, I say! (”Want me to lift those 400 lb. weights out of your way? No sweat, baby!”)

Some of you will reject my suggestion to visually remind your beloved community that you are at work while on retreat by dressing up a notch as unrealistic or even insulting. I hope you will reconsider, or just consider. Being “at work” for a pastor is not a drag. I mean nothing negative by it. Being at work for a pastor means to apply oneself to a personal and communal ideal of religious leadership, to hold one’s heart and mind in the “open and available” position even when one is distracted or feeling less-then-inspiring, and to be there for others to a degree that is not expected of anyone else in the community (although some are, and bless their many hearts).

Be honest, friends. If you’re leading worship, presenting a couple of workshops, facilitating Bible study, and spending your free time chatting with parishioners on the beach, you are not on retreat. You are working, and working hard. Foregoing shorts and sandals for a more polished image at pertinent times throughout the day reminds your community of that fact, and leaves them much less likely to question why you may very well need a couple of days off following your “retreat.”

Sartorial choices for pastors on retreat might include chinos, Docksiders and button-up shirts (roll up the sleeves if you like) for men and cotton skirts paired with colorful belted tee-shirts for women.

If you’re on a clergy retreat, dress however you like. If you’re in a leadership or facilitator position, you may choose to dress up some while presenting as a sign of respect for the work of ministry. I certainly would.

If you’re on a real, honest-to-God RETREAT, I hope it’s wonderful and that you don’t think about clothes, hair or make-up at all. I prefer cotton muu-muus and flip-flops myself.

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!

Thanks to m’dear Philocrites for sending this fascinating tidbit from the NY Times along.

“Women do spend $1,069–$246 more than men do–on clothing every year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics 2004-2005 Consumer Expenditure Survey.
But that’s chump change compared with what single men spend on car ownership ($846 more than single women), eating out ($752 more), alcoholic drinks ($280 more) and audiovisual gear ($143 more).
Cutting back on needless spending isn’t a bad idea for anyone, but ‘renegotiating your credit-card balances or getting a lower cost on your IRA probably saves you a lot more money,’ says Christian Weller, an economist at the Center for American Progress. ‘That’s much more prudent advice to women than saying ‘Don’t go buying all those Prada shoes.’”

You have PeaceBang’s full permission to join her in lusting after these Prada beauties. Because despite Jesus’ admonition, darlings, lusting is FREE.

Rev Sean wrote,
I agree that a lack of concern for appearance can communicate a certain smugness and I totally agree about the darwin fish, but I don’t think dressing casually (think shorts and sandals) is “a lack of concern for appearance.” I have a friend who carefully irons his tshirts and shorts. He cares about how he looks, he just wants to be cool and comfortable as well. There are so many assumptions going on under this conversation. That people don’t care about how they look or are purposefully sloppy and slothful may sometimes be true. But isn’t it a stereotype to see someone who truly loves how it feels to wear their hippy skirt and assume it’s either cluelessness or selfishness that they’d wear something you think is inappropriate for clergy?
And oh, the regional differences. I minister in the West. Here, showing up in a suit and tie communicates that you are probably an outsider to our culture. An assumption of arrogance may be made as well. People here dress practically. I’m not sure they even think of clothes as a means of communicating how much or little they value something. Clothes are like tools–you wear what’s going to be useful and comfortable.I’m not trying to be argumentative, but ever since you started this blog, I’ve been slightly troubled by it. (At the same time I love it b/c your wit and humor just right.) I guess I just keep feeling like there is a fine line between judging people’s “style” and judging–well–people. I guess I’ll just keep being uncomfortable and keep reading too.

Then I said:

Sean my dove, no prob.

I don’t mind your pushing back, and I know you’ve been slightly uneasy but that you keep having fun here nonetheless. I do try to be clear, though.

When I say “wrinkled khaki shorts and teeshirts” I really do mean that, not hippie skirts. Hippie skirts are fine, too, when paired with neat and put-together tops.

I exaggerate disapproval for certain garments to make a point and to be outrageous. No one pays attention to the gal who writes thoughtful little suggestions about clothing. You gotta grab people, get ‘em thinking, get ‘em laughing and occasionally ticked off. Then we’re getting somewhere.

As you know, I’m against drab and thoughtless and sloppy outfits that project either, “Don’t notice me” or “I’m too spiritual to bother with grooming details” — all of which I still see so much of in the clergy gatherings I attend that I’m going to keep ‘Banging away about it.

There’s nothing wrong with being clueless: most of us aren’t super confident about our appearance in the first place.

But here’s the thing: no one has ever suggested to clergy what’s appropriate to wear. So I’m making it up as I go along based on pretty serious thought and analysis, and so far a good number of readers have validated that I’m doing an okay job of it.
Certainly everyone understands that this is all being offered in good faith.

Some people have critiqued me for setting out “elitist” standards but I’m simply taking my cues from careful observation of other leaders in positions of public trust and respect that are roughly commensurate with that of the clergy.

For us to blithely thumb our noses at that in favor of what’s most comfortable is not just missing an opportunity, it is actively misrepresenting ourselves. I know clergypeople to be charismatic, sharp, dynamic, funny, deeply alive people and dammit, our attire too often projects another reality entirely!

I deeply believe it will be a GOOD thing (thank you, Martha Stewart) if more of us align our exterior image with our interior vitality. I’m tired of clergypeople’s charisma, brilliance and contemporary savvy being one of the most well-kept secrets in American society. That’s why I’m putting myself out there publicly to do this work. It’s a risk, I know it, and I’m ridiculed by many. But honey, here’s where we have to cue up the big showstopper about how I won’t quit,

because…”EVERYTHING’s comin’ up ROSES for YOU and for MEEEEEE!”

Or, if you prefer,”I… AM… what… I AM.. and what I AM needs no excuses…”
11:25 PM