*Originally published February 26, 2016

I needed a pair of shoes dressy enough to wear with my alb when I led worship and preached. At an age too young to recall, I was told that showing your toes was for the beach or other casual wear. Sandals on Sunday morning offended the dress code—especially for a pastor. But then, Jesus wore sandals. Heels make a statement. But I’m not a high heel person. Finding dressy, low-heeled, toes-in shoes is a journey of a thousand try-ons. After an arduous and fruitless search for the standard pump, the shoe clerk brought out a pair of white, heel-out, toes-showing, low heel shoes. I fell in love with them, and they with my feet.
Now my dilemma was, what would the parishioners think?

After ten minutes of hesitation, I decided to ask a fellow-shopper.
She was well put together which gave me confidence in her opinion. But something else made me trust her assessment. She was African-American. I’m probably walking into murky waters, but my experience is that African-American clergywomen—generally—out dress us white clergywomen. When they arrive in the pulpit, their toes and heels are in, and they are standing tall! They are ready to take on any sin. Maybe it was my stereotype, but I trusted this woman to be a credible fashion consultant.

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“I’d like to ask your opinion,” I began.
“Sure.”
I was emboldened by her friendly response. “I’m a clergywoman and I’m wondering about these shoes. What do you think about my wearing them when I preach?”
She was decisive. “Our pastors should be well-dressed.”
My question was slightly different from her answer, but I needed no further encouragement.

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One of the motivations that gets me to a haircut is the reminder that it’s not my own hair. When someone’s in front of the congregation, most people don’t enjoy viewing a mop. I spend few hours in a hair salon. On my salary and on my principles of appropriate use of resources, that’s not a hard call. But it’s not my hair. It’s our hair. And our hair, just like our feet, should be presentable.

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My father’s last pastoral appointment was as a district superintendent, a supervisor of other pastors. I was an adult before I realized his sensitivity to the opinions of others. He was not high on conflict either. Before I grasped either of those traits, he surprised me by saying he had asked his bishop about a particular shirt he was wearing. Was it all right for a district superintendent? The bishop was direct. “I don’t like to see my boys dressed like that.”
I am sure my dad never wore that shirt again if there was the remotest chance that he and the bishop would be in close proximity. It was a shirt with personality, however I can’t recall any shirt my father wore that came close to being too loud. For the bishop it wasn’t my dad’s shirt, it was their shirt.
In seminary, I heard tales of pastors’ being moved because of the ties they wore. That will never be an issue for me, but It may be time for me to get our hair cut.

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