Copyright: © 2001 Paul F. Bosch.
This document may be freely reproduced for non-commercial purposes with credit to the author and mention of the Lift Up Your Hearts web site http://www.worship.ca/ as the source.

In my declining years, one of the newer joys in my life has been the presence, albeit at a distance, of an Irish son-in-law, a lovely fellow with a charming, but barely discernable, lilt to his speech. The other day, on a visit to their home, I was comparing with him our differing backgrounds, mine as a Lutheran in Buffalo, NY, USA, his as Presbyterian in Belfast, Northern Ireland. With a twinkle in his eye, he maintained that in his public schooling, one could enroll in a course he called "HUSS-ih-free."

"HUSS-ih-free?" I asked incredulously. "Spell that, please!"

"Certainly," he replied cheerfully. "H-o-u-s-e-w-i-f-e-r-y. It's cooking, sewing, house-keeping: what you Americans might call Home Economics."

(Actually, it's what we Americans, in these days of "education-speak," call "Family Studies".)

And it was my wife's major at the University of Minnesota, these many years ago. And long before that, as a Minnesota farmer's youngest child in "4H", she had learned from her mother and her older sister how to cook, sew, and "keep house." And how to enjoy it.

All her life, Kathy was a passionate sewer, weaver, knitter, quilter. And these are skills she taught our daughters. She designed and made all my vestments --this is the point I'm getting to-- and, indeed, it sometimes seems, designed and made the vestments of half the clergy in the ELCIC's Eastern Synod. At her funeral --attended by 500 people, including our Bishop and the entire Synod Council-- the chancel was lovingly decorated by two of Kathy's clergy friends and fans, hung with handsome chasubles she had made in a riot of splendid colours and textures.

And, importantly, she taught me to love fabric. So much so that I cannot enter a fabric store these days, or the fabric department at, say, Sears or Wal-Mart, without pausing to look and feel. What would Kathy have made of this? Could this gorgeous material be used somehow in a banner? ...a parament?

I won't repeat here what I've said earlier about vestments, in Essay 21 et al. Suffice it here to recall that vestments, like other signs in Christian worship, carry three burdens of meaning: the utilitarian, the pedagogical, and the historical. Beyond that, these three principles must always be kept in mind:

1.Vestments are themselves symbols. An alb, a stole, a chasuble: each of these functions as a symbol in Christian worship. There's no necessity, therefore, to applique a further symbol, or set of symbols, on what is already a potent symbol in itself.

Since the vestment is itself a symbol, it necessarily follows that, along with the fabric's colour, its texture, its weight, its "feel," its drape are all qualities to be considered in selecting what you'll use to make that symbol. Additional appliqued symbols are not necessary at all, and can in fact distract from the power of the primary symbol: the vestment itself.

None of my vestments, for example, has any applied symbols. Their fabrics alone --lovingly selected by Kathy for, not only their colour, but also their texture, their weight, their drape, their "hand"-- provide each vestment with its sole "symbolism." My lenten purple, for example, is a rich and royal (and heavy!) wool, shot through with "slubs" of red and blue. My red, for Pentecost and saints' days, is a magnificent lightweight cashmere wool that looks as though it has been dipped in the blood of the martyrs. My green is (yes!) a crisp cotton denim, shot through with threads of yellow and brown and blue. My scarlet for Holy Week is a rich burgundy red that drapes beautifully.

(In contrast, I've seen some really tacky polyester ceremonial copes worn by Bishops at Synod events: a consequence of 1) considering colour alone in their selection, and 2) supposing that a few appliqued symbols will rescue the effect. Steve Martin: "Do you realize how many polyesters had to die to make that garment?")

2. The principle of mana: Mana is, as I have it, a Polynesian word meaning "special power or gift": what we might call out of the Christian tradition a "charism." In the context in which I use it here, it means simply this: Respect the gifts of the gifted. If you have a Kathy Bosch in your congregation, put her to work. Recall Jesus' Parable of the Talents: Not everyone has been given the same gifts, and some have more than one gift. But each of us has at least one gift. Find that one, and try to find a way to use it, to the glory of God, and to the building up of God's people.

3. Finally this, about the word "amateur." It's from the Latin by way of the French, and it means "one who loves what she is doing." There's no question: Kathy was a very gifted amateur. And she loved what she did. Hence this principle: Nobody should be allowed to design and make vestments for Christian worship who does not love doing what he or she does. And know and love all that pertains to its doing: know and love fabric, know and love scissors and needle and thread and pattern. (Nobody should be allowed to design or build a church building who does not know and love stone and steel and concrete and wood, and know and love hammer and saw and plane and level. Nobody should be allowed to preach or pray in public worship who does not know and love language and words and even grammar! Nobody should be allowed...but you get my point.)

A final true story: A couple of years ago, our Synodical Worship and Arts Committee asked permission to designate the next twelve months as a Year of the Arts, and requested of the planners of our Synod Assembly that the arts be given special honour at that event. Worship at that Synod Assembly was extraordinary, each eucharist highlighting one of the various human art forms: music, architecture, dance, the various visual arts. Selected Biblical heroes were associated with each of the art-forms: David for dance, Dorcas for fabric arts, and so on.

Worship planners had a neat idea for the service at which this last was to be celebrated: Arrange the worship space in such a way as to provide a kind of platform for Kathy, where she could work, throughout the Service, in full view of worshippers, with her loom and threads. The loom idea was soon discarded as too noisy. But they did request that Kathy seat herself throughout the rite on a central platform, surrounded by a variety of fabrics, working with needle and thimble and thread in finishing the neckline of an actual chasuble. It was an enchanting experience, as all who observed or participated will be willing to testify.