It was the (so far) hottest day of the year today at St. Stoic-by-the-Lake. Temps were due to reach 100+ with Heat Index in the neighborhood of 110. (That's in the snow-belt, gentle readers!) Luckily, the brilliant folks at St. Stoic saw fit to add AC when they did an otherwise historically accurate restoration of our 95+ year old building a few years back (before my day).

Even with our AC chugging away, and the ceiling fans working their little hearts out, it is a tad warm in the sanctuary--warmer than it was last summer--especially with the nice sized crowds we have been blessed with this summer.

There are candles on the communion table. They are very nice candles. I'm told that some very prominent members donated them to the church. The problem is, if the candles are lit and the fans are set on "high", the candle wax gets blown all over the table. Although there is plastic on the table, this is very disconcerting to some of the elders.

To add further confusion to the mix, I *need* the fans to be on high, especially when I am robed in the summertime. The fans make being robed in the chancel bearable. Black polyester+ 100 degrees = a pastor who can get very sick from the heat.

Many, many members have suggested to me that I give up the robe in the summertime. I have declined, politely. The choice comes down to the candles or the robe. I choose the robe.

I have a hard time explaining to members why it is important to me to robe, even in the heat of summer. Something happens to me when I put on that robe. I don't become Superwoman, able to leap the communion table in a single bound, but a part of me changes. My role in the congregation changes.

After I graduated from Semi-Famous Theological Seminary, there were some 22 months before I found the church God had called me to. I ordered my robe before graduation, in anticipation of wearing it for the first time on my ordination day. And it hung in my closet, as a reminder that the process hadn't finished yet.

I waited until my ordination day to robe. To me it symbolizes my willingness to wait for God's call on my life, a willingness to live in servant leadership. I also wear the robe in solidarity with those who cannot yet wear it, in a sad recongnition that I have a place of privilege that not all my brothers and sisters in Christ have been welcomed to have. I have clergy friends who wear the collar for similar reasons--in recongnition of those who have died wearing the collar, such as Archbishop Oscar Romero, or of those who are denied the collar.

Although it is difficult to explain to those who tell me it would be easier to just give it up for the summer, still I persist.