Less of Me, More of God: Some Reflections on Robing

Less of Me, More of God: Some Reflections on Robing February 8, 2006

Less of me, more of God. Less of me, more of God. Repeat after me . . . . This is the mantra of my life. You’d think I would have caught on by now, really adopted, integrated and incorporated the idea. Ha! Still trying.

It came up again for me yesterday when I got an email from a friend just finishing divinity school. She wrote to ask me for advice on purchasing a robe (clerical, not bath).

We Baptists have a particular handicap in the mysterious frontier of clerical robing. See, even today, only very few of us do it. It all goes back to culture and tradition, of course, when Free Church evangelicals were busy settling all over the American West and forgot to pack their robes when they left the East Coast.

And also they did not want to be mistaken for . . . (gasp!) Catholics.

But it’s a new day, friends, and robes are back in, even for some Baptists. So, in light of Elizabeth’s current robe exploration and my on-going quest to live the mantra “less of me, more of God ” I thought it might be a good idea to reexamine the whole clerical robe-wearing phenomenon.

In case you were wondering here are the generally-accepted reasons pastors wear robes: they represent a professional role; they help the congregation focus on worship and not so much on the person; they add to the general solemn feeling of the worship experience.

And here are the real reasons pastors wear robes: they come in colors that go with anything; you can never grow out of them no matter how much weight you gain; if your waders leak during a baptism and your clothes get wet no one will know if you are really wearing an emergency pair of shorts under your robe (this has really happened to me. Twice).

It’s true. Like most things about pastors, while this issue appears to be lofty-minded and holy in origin it’s really very shallow.

I fully admit that this shallow approach to robing could be uniquely mine, but if it is I can only explain that fact by recalling a very early, damaging experience I had when I first started out.

It was probably the second Sunday of my first job on a church staff. I had insisted to my male colleagues that we should all be wearing robes so we’d look uniform up front (even then in my naiveté I had some sense that people were scrutinizing me especially closely. Read my post from December 19 if you want to hear more of my thoughts on this issue . . .). Since I did not own a robe at this time my boss scrounged around the office and came up with an old one that had been lying around. A few minutes of lint-removal later it seemed that, while a little too short, it would work fine until I could acquire one of my own (on another note, do you have any idea how much a clerical robe costs?!?!? They are outrageously expensive. This is just another among the many injustices in this world that must be addressed as time permits). I did notice that the robe we’d found had doctoral stripes on the sleeves but I didn’t have time to either finish my doctorate or remove the velvet stripes before worship so I just wore the robe.

I’ll never forget the telephone call I got that Sunday evening from a congregation member deeply offended because she felt I was being dismissive of her doctorate by wearing a robe with stripes when I clearly had not yet earned a doctoral degree. I think she meant well, she was trying to be honest. But I certainly hope she had no idea how insecure I’d felt up front that morning; how very unsure I was about my own abilities; how I had really been doing just the best I knew how to do. I hope she didn’t because her telephone call was like a very sharp pin in the side of my newly and tentatively inflated self-confidence. I hung up the telephone and cried and cried.

The next day this church member dropped off a high school graduation robe of her son’s that she’d uncovered in the attic after our conversation. It wasn’t suitable for use, and not only because it was made out of some plasticky kind of disposable table cloth material. It also was way too small (thus violating one of the cardinal rules of all clerical robes—they must fit no matter what size you are—see above). And it had long strips hanging down off the undersides of the sleeves.

All of these things combined made me look when I tried it on like a character from one of the Harry Potter movies who had had a very unsuccessful run in Weight Watchers.

I stood in front of the mirror in the church bathroom and cried some more.

Eventually I got my very own personal robe (thanks to my in-laws, who gave it to me for ordination). It is made out of a very light-weight polyester fabric that will not wrinkle no matter what. It drapes beautifully and has worn well for almost ten years now. It has taken me through so many pounds, both up and down, that I can’t bear to type in the number here. And it does not have velvet doctoral stripes on the sleeves. Yet.

In case you are wondering, Elizabeth, here are Amy’s must-have rules for robes:

  1. As lightweight a fabric as possible. Clerical robes are HOT.
  2. Must fall to exactly mid-calf in order to permit occasional lapse into vanity through the wearing of really cool new shoes that at least one person will notice and comment on (I said I am TRYING to live less of me, more of God. I didn’t say I was always successful).
  3. Must have very cool, blousy sleeves for dramatic benedictions and pastoral blessings (but not hanging strips of cloth, which somehow look to me rather witch-like).
  4. Pocket. The robe must have a pocket. Here’s what’s in mine: a breath mint, a small bottle of hand sanitizer and some lipstick. Essentials (but that’s another blog entry).
  5. Must have enough fabric in pleats to accommodate any and all physical changes, including pregnancy and very successful diets (remember, these things are expensive. Nobody on a pastor’s salary can afford to have a “fat robe” and a “skinny robe”).
  6. Must not wrinkle so you can easily pack it in a suitcase, throw it in the trunk, take it somewhere on the Metro and still show up looking pastoral.

Yes, a good robe must have all these qualities and then one more, rather intangible quality. That quality is a little aura, if you want to call it that, that reminds me that when I shrug it on and zip it up I am stepping outside myself and entering a holy opportunity for there to be less of me and more of God (something this world really and truly needs).

So, I think pastors more than most people need to wear robes. After all, we’re the ones who seem to have the hardest time remembering we’re NOT God. Perhaps we need that little extra something, a tangible reminder, that, once again, it’s time to push ourselves out of the spotlight and allow a little room for God to step in.

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  • Anonymous

    This is funny! You are a good essayist, Anne Lamont-like. I know what you mean about the robe. I work in a lab and drape myself in a lab coat that is 2 sizes too big for many of the same reasons . . .

  • Will

    Hi Amy

    That was so nice of you to share that movements to us. I remember my first time trying the choir robe. They had to show that I had the neck part on backwards and another time neck piece was inside out, their was another I put it on and the sleeves was short with a Velcro cuffs. I ask one of the choir members and I found out it belong to Music Director. That was the first time I saw one in my life. From the first time I put the choir robe it was so cool. WOW!!! But now after a good month later it likes putting on my shirt to go to work.

    But every so often I put up my arms and see the wings of my robe. Yes I found out with one of the member of the choir it called angel wing on the robe. WOW!! So cool. But I need to remember less of me, more of choir. Less of me, more of choir and sing clearly. I looking to see you’ll. Plus being in the pulpit it is very nice to see all the Calvary member in a greater community that we have a comment goal in life. Being Christian body that reaches out to the world with the Good News of Jesus Christ. To that end we strive to be welcoming, responsive, trusting, and prayerful in everything we do. Yes that one thing that so offen goes threw my head before we start owner first hymn for the day.

    1 Chronicles 15:27
    Now David was clothed in a robe of fine linen, as were all the Levites who were carrying the ark, and as were the singers, and Kenaniah, who was in charge of the singing of the choirs. David also wore a linen ephod.

    Dear God, we pray for faith and courage to bear witness that we belong to the body of Christ, and for the desire to worship you with our whole being. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

  • A. Lin

    When I took a “Women in Ministry” class in divinity school, I mentioned that we ought to have a discussion on what the female pastor wears in the pulpit. We never got around to having a fashion show though. I think that class could have been more practical and less theological. What we wear is an important topic.

    I have preached a handful of times in pulpits that have been graciously opened to me. I have wore dresses, not too short of course, and not too bright. Once I wore a pantsuit *gasp*. I think that wearing a robe is a great idea, and it does help take the focus off the speaker and on to God. I did wear a robe once in a church where I did an internship, but it was only for special days like Easter.

  • Musings

    I bought a wonderful robe this week which I think meets Amy’s six suggestions. I’m really excited about it! (except how much it cost). What a wonderful blog about one of the “joys” of pastoral life.

  • Tripp Hudgins


    My (step)grandfather, a good old Baptist, wore robes throughout his career.

    Sadly, he passed away before I was ordained. As an ordination gift, my stepmother gave me his robes – the Geneva gown and a light white robe for summer. So, I was ordained in the presense of friends, an ecumenical cadre of ministers and lay people, and my grandfather.

    We are enshrouded in God, and the whole company of heaven. Yeah, that’s what the robe is about for me.

  • Tripp


    This is a great post.

    I wear a robe when I preach. Part of the reason is that I attended an Episcopal seminary. They brainwashed this Baptist. I have even been known to wear a collar. Horrors!

    Wearing my robe has special significance for me. It belonged to my grandfather. I have both of his robes, his Geneva gown and a light white summer robe. More of God, less of me. More of the communion of saints and less of me.

    Amen and amen!

  • Katie

    So, can we see it? Some of us don’t get to see you on Sundays!

  • Anonymous

    Amy, I enjoy getting to know someone my sister admires so much through your blog. I hope someday I will get to meet you, and here your story of how you, shock upon shock, a woman became a pastor and each time you have this grand conversation with him, young women have the courage to someday hope for their own robes and their own conversations. Thanks for that. Thanks for showing my sister that. And thank for showing us that calling isn’t about whether or not you are a woman. It’s about hearing his gentle voice moving in your life journey calling you to him through the scripture, calling you to him through the hands you hold, the ministry you provide, its about you being called to live life with people.. thank you for living that and sharing that with us.

    Ashley’s twin. and hope upon hope..future wearer of a robe all my own.

    April Coates

  • A. Lin

    Ok, ok. I have had to look up this post. I commented when you first blogged on this topic. As of Easter Sunday, I have a position in a baptist church that is more liturgical than any other baptist church I have been a part of. The pastor wears a robe, and he is expecting me to wear one as the minister of youth and children because I will be helping every week with the service (as well as preaching on occasion). Some people at the church have dug up some rather horrid looking robes out of a closet. They remind me of graduation robes (yuck).

    I still feel very lost in approaching this major purchase. My guess is to go to Cokesbury and ask a lot of questions about their robes and how they are purchased. Or maybe I can bother Elizabeth–I noticed on her blog that she does have a robe and it looks great on her. If all she did was follow your advice, then maybe purchasing a robe is more simple than I suspect.

    This poor, little, baptist girl who grew up in a country church where the congregation wouldn’t think much of a vestment-wearing pastor thinks that her divinity school education should have prepared her more for the possibility of wearing vestments. Why does everything seem two steps more difficult for a woman who is a baptist minister?