The Pastor Goes to Ann Taylor (Part 1)

So what do pastor types do when they are waiting on a church to call them?

When I found myself in a new city with this dilemma, I didn’t have a clue.

The idea of temping by being sent to a new random office each week and sitting daily behind a computer seemed boring (as much as the required spelling test to make it into the temp agency’s data base scared me). Furthermore, my resume is very church . . . I was afraid people would be afraid of hiring me. (I could, after all be a Bible-beater or something strange like that).

But luckily an opportunity came along to get me out of the house everyday. This opportunity happened to be in retail at the popular women’s dress store called Ann Taylor.

I consented to this opportunity based on my need for more professional attire (the employee discount is GREAT) and desire to work in downtown DC where all my friends are. But little did I know that my pastoral self would find strong similarities between church life and retail. While it bothers me sometimes that my success at Ann Taylor depends on my sale numbers which encourage American consumerism (which I will describe later on), overall I’ve found my current job to be a good situation to land for a while. I’ve had numerous occasions encounter the human personality similar to the ones you find within any church setting.

For example, Ann Taylor is a great place to observe the rich/ poor socioeconomic dynamic. While women (and sometimes men) who are obviously well enough off to spend $118 on shoes or $78 on a shirt look through our store inventory, there are several homeless persons sitting on the benches outside the store.

My favorite is a Caucasian man probably in his mid-50s who has often has set up his bedding on the bench to the left of our front door. He has a long white beard and dirty clothes, typical of many of the homeless around D.C. There is nothing particular attrative about him. You can smell him from a mile away. I like watching him sleep because he's so peaceful as the pace of crazy city life goes on. The world inside Ann Taylor seems miles away from his slumber.

I often wonder if anybody else sees him from inside the store. I wonder if he or his wife or relatives would ever be allowed to set foot inside without being asked to leave immediately. I wonder how his life would change if a couple people a day decided to forgo matching earrings with the purchase of their suit and gave the $25 to the homeless shelter.

I doubt these things it because we as humans are generally are pretty self-absorbed. It takes a radical way of life for those of us who have to SEE those who have not . . . even the churchy types like myself. Moreover, may I suggest that our individual blindness is a reflection of the communities of faith in which we participate. If our church doesn't care, why should we?

Maybe I'm stretching things a little, but observing the homeless outside the glass windows of Ann Taylor has given me a great parable for the way many of our churches operate. We have the opportunity to see the needs of those outside OUR glass windows, but often our sight does nothing to inspire us to act. It is easier for many of us to stay inside and keep shopping— you know, following the standard routine of the way church has always been done. Because after all, doing things the traditional way is where people who look like us live. It is what keeps us busy so we don’t have to notice our neighbor in the sleeping bag on the bench.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not anti-nice things (I’m learning to love Ann Taylor clothes, by the way) or tradition. But as I’ve rung up $200, $500 or even $864 purchases of clothes over the last three weeks with the homeless looking on, I’ve often thought to myself: there is something sickly wrong with our culture and especially the attitudes of our churches that look very similar to the world of Ann Taylor.

What do you think?