A couple of weeks ago Judi and I cruised the lower half of the Mississippi River. One stop was in the town of Natchez, Mississippi. Civil war stories and antebellum architecture were highlights there. St. Mary’s Basilica was also on the itinerary.
We were first off the bus and hurried toward the entrance to the church. As we walked up the steps a few people were loitering by the doorway. I thought perhaps they were docents, but they gave us a nervous look and seemed surprised we were there. Several others were seated inside. These were nicely dressed people. Elegant dresses. Impeccable make-up. And men in jackets and a tie. Some of the men were even wearing tuxedos.
The fact that caught my attention says something. There was a time when such fine dress at church wasn’t uncommon. When I was a child I had regular clothes and Sunday clothes and you didn’t wear one to the other. Not if you knew what was good for you! As America has become more casual, that custom has fallen by the wayside for many, myself included when I’m not preaching, though I have some limits.
The dress code for church is still a notch above Walmart, but not by much in some places. A few weeks ago I saw a guy assist with communion wearing a NY Yankees jersey. That would probably cause any decent Red Sox fan to think twice about participating in the service and whether or not he could, in good conscience, be counted as a member of the Body of Christ.
During the pandemic, Judi and I served as interim co-pastors for a small congregation just up the road from us. I knew it had a casual dress code, which was fine. But on the first Sunday, I had a jacket and a tie. That is who I am when I preach. I used to be considered well-dressed; now I’m probably thought of as a dinosaur. Some say ties are out of fashion. A member there told me I didn’t need to wear a coat and tie. In fact, they’d prefer that I didn’t. I decided to compromise. On the Sunday’s when I spoke, I wore a tie but no jacket. On Sunday’s when Judi spoke and I was the associate, I had an open collar. It must have been okay because they still invite me back occasionally when they need a speaker.
Back to St. Mary’s. It was a Friday so whatever was about to transpire, I knew it probably wasn’t Mass. I said to one of the well-dressed men, “Looks like you’re getting ready for something.” He gave a nervous laugh and answered, “We have a wedding starting at 3.” It was 2:25. I said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be long gone before then.” And we proceeded onward toward the front of the church. After all, we were on vacation. This was included in our tour. We had paid for the right to be there. There were sights to see and photos to be taken! We were discreet of course, moving quietly down a side aisle; but noticeable all the same.
For starters, in contrast to the tuxedos and other formal wear in the room, we were wearing shorts and hiking shoes. We had Canon cameras looped around the neck and were photographing stained glass windows and icons and the altar and so forth. And to make matters worse, there were 48 more coming behind us! They just happened to be slower.
At the front of the church, I watched Judi contemplate whether to walk across the front so that she could photograph the other side or go back down the aisle and cross over in the back. In that moment I shifted from vacation mode and remembered all the weddings I’ve officiated. And I thought about my own wedding as well and what it would be like to have such an invasion just before the bridal march. And it hit me. Good grief! Half an hour to go. Guests are already arriving. I’ll bet we are freaking out the wedding party. All the planning. All the elegance. All the money spent! All the emotion invested in this moment depending on things going as planned. And now, 4 dozen hillbilly looking cousins have just crashed your party. They mean no harm, but they are not dressed for the part and are not coloring within the lines of the expected wedding protocol.
I know that God is not a respecter of persons when it comes to dress. It doesn’t matter if ties are out of fashion or if you continue to wear them when others choose not to. But that day, in that time and that place, it sure made it obvious who belonged there and who didn’t! And the combination posed a bit of a problem.
The same man who spoke to us on the way in met us about halfway back up the aisle as we headed toward the rear. He was kind, almost apologetic even. The decision had been made, he said, — a nice way to be able to not take responsibility for what is about to be said– the decision had been made not to allow the tour inside. We were glad we’d been speedy and had a few moments inside, but we totally understood.
Having been there before, I could appreciate the decision. There was a tie. Not of the neckwear variety. Not a fashion choice. A tie. A bind. A connection. It trumped the demands and expectations I might have had as a tourist. We had different agendas for the day, but some common points of view. Like the purpose of the church. The sanctity of marriage. The importance and stress those ceremonies can create. There was a commonality that, if we considered it, allowed us to stand together in support of an important goal. As Judi and I walked down the sidewalk, a horsedrawn carriage delivered the bride to begin her walk down the aisle. We had left the premises just in the nick of time.
Tie or no tie, formal or casual I have mostly not cared what people thought of my fashion choices during my life. In my late teens or early twenties, “members only” jackets became a fashion sensation. Everybody had one. Well, almost. I never wanted one. First, I didn’t want to be a walking billboard and two, I didn’t want be like everyone else. Judi was a little wary of me when she first met me because in that late summer/ early fall at Duke I usually wore shorts and flip/flops to class. Just what you’d hope to see from your minister in the making. During an interview with a Friends meeting several years ago, I came wearing my western boots. That has been my footwear of choice for years. A member asked openly to the group, “Are we going to allow him to wear those boots if we hire him?” Across the room, another member of the committee was wearing bib overalls in church (I immediately knew I’d like him!). Seeing him dressed as such, I thought, “How can you even ask that question?” I’ll never forget by year two, she recommended that a “boot budget” be included in my compensation package! It didn’t happen, but it was a nice thought! It is nice when we can find ways to come together despite differences of opinion and personal taste.
It is funny that we form strong opinions about such minor things. It is sad when the minor things become the major ones, and even more sad when those opinions get in the way of greater purposes. Sometimes ties divide us. (To wear or not to wear!) But blest be the ties that bind. The causes that unite. The occasions when we can work together on things that matter. Look out across the landscape of our communities, our country, and our world, and you’ll see there is plenty of opportunity.
There is an often-overlooked story in Exodus that describes the construction of the tabernacle. Prior to Solomon’s building of the Temple, this was the portable tent that housed the Ark of the Covenant. Since the ark symbolized the Presence of God, and it resided in this tent, the tabernacle was, in effect, God’s house. It was portable housing for a people on the move. Who knew? God had an RV before it was popular!
Think about this. Because of its purpose, the construction of this structure is more than just pitching a tent. This is a commitment to a sacred task. It is a contribution to a project that will be an anchor for the people’s identity and a focal point for the community.
At the start of the section, Moses says “This is what the Lord has commanded. From what you have, make an offering for the Lord.” You know, commands (especially in the Bible) don’t typically allow room for negotiation or choice. The 10 commandments say “thou shall not,” not “if you don’t mind” or “would you consider.” But there is a repeated statement in this story that should catch our attention: “those who are willing.” They brought the necessary items. Gold, silver, yarn, goat hair, acacia wood, olive oil, and more. They contributed time and labor to the construction. Those who were willing helped complete the tabernacle – even more, contributed to a sacred task. After laying it all out, the Scripture says, “And everyone who was willing and whose heart moved them. . .” came. And they constructed what became a center piece of their life together.
The secret to success lies not in the power of the command issued, even if comes with ultimate authority. Rather success comes when those who hear it have hearts that are moved, and as a result are willing to add to the task at hand. In my experience, hearts are more easily moved by the ties that bind. And if there are none . . . good luck! But when those ties exist, oh, the things we can do together.
One significant moment during my courtship with Judi occurred on a cold snowy day in Durham, N.C. I was home sick in my apartment with whatever version of the flu was going around that year. She came by to check on me . . . She decided that what I needed was a bowl chicken noodle soup. Well of course, bachelor that I was, I had no soup in the cupboard. She, who was influenced by a grandmother who survived the depression, has for as long as I’ve known her had nearly everything a person might ever need tucked away somewhere in the house—a fact I’ve come to admire and appreciate. So of course she had soup at her apartment – only it was probably a mile and a half away from mine. The roads by then had gotten too bad to drive. But if that is what I needed, then that’s what I would have. So she bundled up and walked to her apartment, got the soup, and walked back. Tried to take a short cut. Had to climb over a fence and fell into a creek along the way.
Why would she do that? She could have just let me tough it out. But there was an emerging tie that bound us, so that her heart was moved, and she was willing to commit to what, even in my sickened state, felt like a sacred task. And oh, the things we have done together since!
Our world is suffering at the moment because ties are out of fashion. We have lost sight of the ties that bind us. Excessive individualism and preoccupation with expressing our “own truth,” whatever exactly that is, blind us to the fact that contributing to the sacred task of building God’s community is beneficial, vital, even essential for us all. Sometimes it means setting aside our personal preference or agenda for the sake of something greater.
Wedding vs. tourist is a minor example. There are so many ways that we find ourselves on the opposite sides of a moment or an issue. Because we are so certain of our right to take that side, we lose sight of the ties that bind us in fundamental ways.
I’ve heard it said on occasion that we need a common enemy to unite us. I can’t help but wonder, what if we had a common love instead? A common devotion? One that involved us in creating a tabernacle in this world –not a tent or a building, but systems and structures – that served God and inspired humankind?
Fashions and fads come and go. What was in last year is out this year, only to return a bit later. Perhaps it is time to bring back the tie. If not the neckwear, then at least the ties that bind. Those who are willing. Those whose hearts are moved. May we hear the call of the ties that bind, and may they motivate us toward the extraordinary in our life together.
