Pastor gives away his stoles as a
symbol of solidarity
[3-25-02]
The Rev. John Mann, pastor of Peace Presbyterian Church in St. Louis
Park, MN, has found a creative way to show through his ministry his
solidarity with those who are excluded from ministry. He is giving his
stoles to people who cannot be ordained, and will no longer wear
stoles until they can, as well.
Read how he describes the path that has led him to
this action. But be aware that if you follow his example, you too may
expect what he describes as "vitriolic" responses.
John Mann's Church Newsletter article for March/April, 2001
[3-25-02]
From the Pastor -
My contribution to Tidings this month is a little longer than
usual. I ask that you bear with me. What follows is in answer to the
question, "Why aren't you wearing a stole?"
Ten years have passed since I first arrived at Peace
Church. We observed that milepost rather quietly. Some heartfelt
expressions of gratitude, a few cards and emails. Ten years is the
longest I have served in one position. Something about the passing of a
decade made me start thinking about other important mileposts along the
road of ministry.
I was ordained in 1983. We had a big celebration in
the little churches I served. They were able to share in the culmination
of our three years together. To honor my ordination as a Minister of the
Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church, a family in the church
gave me the pulpit robe and the set of stoles I have worn in worship
ever since. They were the best that money could buy, they said. And
they're reversible, one color on each side. It was a precious gift not
for cost but for the sentiment. I have cherished the gift ever since.
In 1984 I baptized my three children. Jane was 6 years
old, Nick was 4 and Elliott was a baby. Being the one to baptize my own
children was another precious gift. I wore my purple stole that day. I
remember thinking about the promises of baptism, to love them, nurture
them, pray for them and raise them to love and know God. My children
have always loved the church. They have always seen it as an integral
part of their lives. I am happy that in their times of personal
discovery, what some might call rebellion, the church was always a part
of that supportive, loving foundation to their lives. They have been so
enriched by all the wonderful people they have known in the church.
Every Sunday when I get ready for worship, when I put
on my robe and stole, I think about what a privilege it is to lead the
people of God in the worship of God. The stole is just a piece of
colorful cloth that is draped over the shoulders, but it is a symbol of
being yoked with Christ and only those who are ordained as officers of
the church may wear it.
This year our church, the Presbyterian Church (USA)
passed another milestone. For many years there has been a movement in
the church to allow for the full inclusion of gays and lesbians. The
movement has been divisive to the church. Last June commissioners to
General Assembly sent to the presbyteries a motion to change the Book of
Order to allow for the ordination of non-celibate gays and lesbians. The
way our system works is that each presbytery counts for one vote on the
issue. Commissioners to presbyteries cast their votes either for or
against and the outcome is one vote.
By a margin of 3 to 1, the measure to allow for the
full inclusion of gays and lesbians was defeated, thus settling this
issue in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A), for what may prove to be once
and for all.
I had taken a stand on the issue. My opinion was one
opinion among many, but as the preacher in the congregation I worked my
opinion into sermons when I deemed it appropriate. From my perspective I
was taking a "prophetic" stance. A prophetic stance is an
intentional effort to lead the way, even in the presence of resistance.
When one takes what one considers to be a prophetic stance, one must
also expect some resistance. What seems prophetic to one may very well
seem pushy and arrogant to another. Just ask Jeremiah.
What was unexpected for me was the emotional tone of
the resistance. My stance generated in some folks much anger and
bitterness. In some instances people lashed out in their anger and
bitterness. Like the church as a whole, we at Peace Church struggled at
times with the issue of institutional conflict and survival. We came
through it well enough. We are working not so much on settling the issue
once and for all at Peace Church, because that task is impossible. We're
working more on what is possible, like how we communicate, how we care
for one another and what our common ground in Christ may be.
For the present and in the future, when issues arise
that sharply divide people, we will seek ways to share our opinions that
are healthy and that generate dialogue and understanding. At our last
meeting of session we talked about all this. One elder said that we are
privileged to be able to have an opinion on the subject of ordination.
All of us in the room could be either for it or against it, and we still
had our place at the table. For some folks in the church it is not a
matter of opinion, but of reality. The issue has been decided for them,
and they are excluded, regardless of what they might think.
I think about "them." They are my friends,
my family. I think about my little four-year-old boy Nicky and all my
hopes and dreams and the promises that the church made for him when I
baptized him. I know his love for God and his love for the church. And I
know that now, and perhaps forever, he cannot be ordained in his church.
In my church. In our church. Unlike me, my son cannot wear a stole.
Simply because he is who he is.
Where I am with all of this is simply hurting. I'm not
angry. I was for a while, but where I am now is just hurting and sad.
Hurting over my own wounds and sad for the wounds of others. I try to
take ownership of my hurt and sadness and not to blame others for it,
and so I'll get through that in time too.
I thought about putting my cherished stoles away as a
sign of solidarity until all may freely wear them. But in the closet is
not where they need to be. I have decided instead to give them away, as
symbols of hope to those who might someday be able to freely wear them.
I give the purple and red stole to my beloved son Nick. The white stole
I give to my wonderful parishioner and house-sitter, Nikki Kubista. I
give the green and gold stole to my friend Paul Capetz, who set aside
his ordination as a Minister of Word and Sacrament.
If the day ever comes when all of God's children may
freely serve, then I will again wear a stole. Until then, my shoulders
will be bare and I will bear the yoke of Christ in my heart.
