A Lesson For Everyone
Margery McCurdy Plummer

Since this is Black History Month, I thought this article might be appropriate to use. I wrote it several years ago, and it was published in The Nashville Eye of the Nashville Tennessean.

Near the end of the summer, my husband and I attended Twelve Robes Baptist Church where we had friends performing in a gospel concert. We arrived on a beautiful Sunday evening, a perfect day of the week and a perfect time of the day for a performance such as this.

I had wondered about the significance of the name of this church, Twelve Robes Baptist Church. It wasn’t “First,” or “Main Street” but “Twelve Robes.” And once inside, I was struck by the beauty of a mural on the wall behind the pulpit. I wondered about the figures painted there. Who were these men? Each was dressed in a garment of a different color. The concert was inspiring, and I left with a feeling of love and warmth.

In the days that followed, the question concerning the name of the church and the significance of the mural came back to me. I call the Rev. W. T. Vernon, pastor of the church and here is what he told me.

He explained that the “twelve” represents the twelve tribes of Israel, each symbolizing an entity in the present day church. He listed them as follows: Evangelism, Education, Youth, Public Relations, Political and Social Action, Benevolence and Welfare, Temporal Affairs, Religious Development, Promotion and Programming, Maintenance, Business and Development.

The Robes are symbolic of those worn by Aaron and his sons when they did service in the tabernacle. The figure in the mural are representative of tribal leaders whose occupations were indicated by the colors of the clothing they wore.

It was an interesting story. As I read in the Bible, descriptions such as “a cloth of blue and scarlet and gold, embroidered with golden thread and robes trimmed with alternating pomegranates and bells of gold,” it sounded like a beautiful fantasy. Dan, a tribal leader, was described as “an engraver and cunning workman, an embroider in blue, purple, scarlet and fine linen.”

But Rev. Vernon wasn’t through. What he added to the story related to here and now. He said, “The robes have another very special meaning for us here. It’s in the Black mentality to wear our best clothes to church. We’re not slaves anymore, but we have church members and others in the neighborhood who don’t have best clothes, not even good clothes. Many of them stay away because they don’t feel equal to some others in the congregation. This is especially true of young people.

In the future, we hope to have a robe for every person to put on as he enters the building. Because of financial limitations, we aren’t able to furnish these and provide storage space no. But that’s what we would like to do. We’d like for everyone to feel comfortable here.”

“You mean,” I asked, “that even though we know we’re all equal in the sight of God, there are some situations in which some would feel uncomfortable and unequal, even among his own church people?”

“Exactly,” he replied.

I found myself trying to unravel some complicated thread of irony running through the whole story. Equality in a Black congregation? That wasn’t it at all. I could see that now. This wasn’t Black story. It was a human story, a universal story, a story of love.

And what a lesson it is..... for everyone.