It
occurred to me this morning, as I was preparing for a road trip to CLU for
graduation ceremonies this week and removing my vestments from the hanging bar
in the back seat of my Prius, that I haven't had a sacristy of my own for a
while. A sacristy is a small room, normally behind the altar of a
sanctuary, where worship leaders gather before the service to put on their
robes, adjust their "Madonna" type microphones, grab a glass or
bottle of water, and pray with other worship leaders that God would use their
gifts so the service would be offered to God's glory, or some similar prayer.
For
the nearly six years that I have served as a bishop, I have spent a fair amount
of time each week "living out of my car," owing to the distances I
need to drive to visit the nearly 200 congregations I serve. I have a
"go bag" that is packed and ready at all times, since my travels are
almost always a weekly commitment. So if my robes are not draped across
the back seat of my car, they are likely to be hanging in our laundry room --
which has become my "sacristy." It is where my robes reside in
between the Sundays and other days when I am on the road to connect with
the people and congregations of the Sierra Pacific Synod. Only once in
six years have I forgotten to grab my robes before I left the house (ergo the
Post-it note on the door out of my "sacristy." Twice, I have
driven off and left my robes at a church, which is why I now walk them out to
my car before I go to whatever fellowship time or "Q&A with the
bishop" might follow worship.
I
confess to getting a little envious of the colleagues I get to visit when I
come to preach or lead worship in the congregation they serve. As I get
out of my car, I grab my robe, drape it over my left arm, hold my recently
purchased half-caf, nonfat latte from St. Arbuck's in my right hand, and make
my way to their sacristy, where I gather with those whose robes have been
hanging in a closet since they were worn the week before. We gather with
lay leaders, acolytes, music leaders, and other staff persons -- all who have been
involved with the planning of the worship service and who are now gathered to
talk about moving this liturgy from hope to reality. This little
community of worship leaders who are a reflection of the larger community that
is about to gather -- they welcome me into their midst. And that's when I
find myself coveting those relationships.
My
covetousness disappears, however, as I am warmly welcomed into a circle of
prayer and hopefulness that invites God's Spirit to guide and lead everything
we are about to offer -- welcome, praise, prayers, music, the Word, a Table
well set, hospitality, grace, hope, peace, challenge, presence. My
robes, usually hung by that time on the back of a door or perhaps mingling with
other robes in the closet, are ready to be put on as we finish our preparations
for worship. Some weeks, owing to the itinerant nature of this call, this
is one of the most meaningful times of community my robe and I will experience.
Because my co-workers in the office of the bishop and I are committed to
being in a congregation of our synod three Sundays each month, I expect this story
could be their story as well.
So
thank you for welcoming us into your congregations, and especially into your
sacristies. Thank you for the faithful and prayerful preparations you
have made to plan the worship services of which we get to be a part.
Thank you for the invitations to worship with you -- please keep them
coming! Our robes are hanging and at the ready in our
"sacristies."
Pax,
Bp.
Mark
