Being A Priest


I am running a temperature of 101.8 after Advil. I have slept as much as my aching body will allow for now; I’m that weird combination of woozy and bored I get when I’m sick like this. My iPad has become a source of mild amusement. Sherod and I have this table where we drop our collars as soon as we can get them off after church on Sunday. That’s what I can see when I peer through the camera viewer.

I am reminded that in 1988 I was deeply conflicted with the church and also the bride of an Episcopal priest. In the diocese of Alabama, Bp Stough was beginning to tiptoe in the direction of ordaining women. Enough that by then, there was a group called the Clergy Spouses of the Dio of Al. That was good. The name of their monthly publication was Ring Around The Collar. The masthead included a picture of a nice, manly-man clergy collar threaded through a petite, obviously feminine wedding band. That was not so good. Poor Sherod. This feminist, disillusioned wanna-be priest would send him down to the mail room to throw away that damned rag before it entered my home.

I much prefer the two collars in our not so tidy room. I know our PB is woman and there are plenty of women in the church. On a lot of days though, I suspect at least some of us wonder if the main part of our work is still about rolling that Sysephian rock more than we should. That’s hard to think about; I am going to catch me some more sleep…

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