Putting on the collar changes everything, even when you are wearing a hot pink tank top and running shorts. My friend Sarah and I competed in this fantastic ‘Urban Adventure Race’ over the weekend and we decided to enter the costume competition. Every team has to wear matching attire, so we decided to wear our Sunday “uniform.” We got all kinds of reactions. Two women burst out laughing and immediately wanted to know where on earth we ever found “those things.” Sarah and I laughed in return and said, “We actually own them. We are Presbyterian ministers.” They could hardly believe it. We clergy-girls definitely raised some eyebrows.
In my last semester at Princeton I was flying back to Newark and although I was engrossed in a fabulous novel, the gentleman sitting next to me was eager for conversation. The normal barrage of questions ensued. Here were my general answers: “I am in graduate school... studying theology... training to be a minister. Yes, clergy. No, Presbyterian ministers do not have to be celibate, but thanks for sharing your concern...”
He paused for a long time. And just as I turned back to my novel he looked at me and exclaimed, face full of compassion, “Do men EVER ask you out?!”
“You would be surprised” I sneered. But, of course, he tapped into some deep insecurity.
Ministers carry a whole lot of baggage in their vocation and it is amazing the range of reactions I get from people. The collar represents power and the abuse of power. It is plumb full of status, for better or worse. The barista who served me coffee on the morning of the race looked at me and said very seriously, “Jesus loves me too.” Then came my favorite part. She furrowed her brow and said, “But sometimes he is a little late. God can be late.” These are the times that I love being a minister: when people, perfect strangers, choose to open the window of their soul and share a bit of it with me.
I'm tired tonight. Worn out. Maybe it is because I have lots going on. Maybe it is because it was still 85 degrees at 11 o'clock this evening. Walking home from yoga tonight, the trees were thick with the sound of singing secadas and bats waking up for their nightly rumpus. It has been hot and sultry the last few days and it is hard not to succumb to lethargy, but I only have one more month in New York City, so I... must... enjoy... every... second.
I love this photo - is there writing on the tanks to share? AND...just what did the race entail? Do tell.
ReplyDeleteWe were the "sexy vicars" -- more hilarious pics in an album on my facebook page. Sarah and I ran all over Manhattan in a race that was part athletic and part scavenger hunt. 3 hours and 21 minutes later, two very sweaty girls came running back "home" (the flatiron district) after solving riddles, taking pictures at odd sites all over the city, and finding hidden clues. We were wiped, but it was very much worth it!! Glad you like the picture, Peg!!!
ReplyDeleteCarmen, I love reading your blog. I just wish I had time to follow along more regularly. I hope all is well. You mentioned leaving NY...where are you going?
ReplyDeletelove, love, love this entry...thanks for sharing...
ReplyDeleteyou're my favorite vicar.
TL
Enjoy every second of every day, woman! Even when the seconds mean a nap on the couch.:) You are more than entitled.
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