I hate to get my hair cut. It has nothing to do with some strange phobia about sharp objects close to my body or anything like that. It's the dreaded conversation with the hairdresser. For some reason, they feel they must make conversation. I would be quite content, thank you, to just sit there and let her snip away in silence-- take a moment for myself to zone out. But this is usually not possible, so the first time I go to a new hairstylist, it is somewhat of a nerve-wracking experience.
I wait for that dreaded question: "So, what do you do?"
Unfortunately, I was raised not to lie, even when it was non-consequential, relatively. Why can't I just say I'm a clerk at Wal-Mart? Or that I input date at a Real Estate office? Why must I tell the truth?
"Uh... I'm a pastor."
Oooohhhhhh.
That always cuts the conversation short. What do you say to that? Dear God, she's got a pastor in her chair. I can see her start to go back over our preliminary conversation; did she cuss? did she talk about her boyfriend living with her? did she talk about the great time she had at happy hour?
I want to help her. Save her. Not for her eschatalogical destination, just for the present moment. I want to relieve her panic. "I'm cool," I want to say. "Be yourself," I want to say. But it's too late. It's already out there. The rest of the haircut I get my coveted silence, but it's not relaxing. She seems to flinch at the conversations of her colleagues at other stations, riddle with four-letter words or the great sex they had or the party they went to. I can sometimes see her trying to shut them up with a look. It's awkward.
I don't like to be called Pastor Peggy. I mean, think about it. I don't call you Bank Teller Barbara or Secretary Sue or Police Officer Patrick. I don't call my friend and ask for Nurse Linda. I never hear about Turkey Plant worker Phil or Cashier Carrie. Why call me Pastor Peggy?
Besides, it sets me apart. In seminary they would have said, of course it sets you apart, you ARE set apart. Well, yeah, technically. But. And I mean BIG BUT. I can be a much better pastor if people can see me as a regular person who happens to work as a pastor for a living. It doesn't make me different. It's my job. Now, granted, there are some pastors who really get off on the power trip of the whole role, but not me. I'm just a regular person who loves Christ and is trying to figure out how to be Christ's disciple here on this crazy planet and fulfill the Love Your Neighbor Don't Kill Them commandment. How can I do any good if I'm set apart? If you can only say holy words around me and not be yourself? I understand. I make it my business to understand. I know what it's like to feel pain, to have my heart broken, to get depressed, to feel run over by a truck, to lose a loved one, to be slandered, to try to be myself when the whole world tries to tell me what I "should" be. Who wants to talk to a pastor who is so spotless and holy that they never get their jeans dirty? Who has never yelled at God? Who has never bled? Who has never wanted to quit the whole serving humankind thing and go live on a mountain in Colorado and read a lot of books? Not me.
Besides, I don't think anyone ever called Jesus, Rabbi-Jesus, or Rambling-Preacher Jesus, or Incarnation Jesus. He never would have been invited to that wedding at Cana or the leper's house or that Gentile village. No way. He didn't even wear a clergy collar. Really! I know this for a fact, I forget where I read it.
Plus, if nothing else, Pastor Peggy sounds like you're spitting.
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