My husband likes to watch golf on television. Once I came into the room after a tournament had ended and noticed that the winning golfer was being helped into a green sport coat by the previous year’s winner. The new winner, who had seemed quite jaunty until that moment, suddenly looked overcome by emotion. He seemed about to burst into tears.

My husband explained that this was a very important tournament for golfers and golf fans, called the Masters, and that the green jacket was a symbol of being one of the best golfers in the world. Each year on the eve of the tournament, all the living past winners gather for a special dinner, to which they each wear their green jackets.

The green jacket of the Masters of course pales in comparison to Elijah’s cloak, which was endowed by God with the capacity to perform miracles, such as parting waters. When Elijah is taken into heaven (in 2 Kings 2), his cloak is left behind for Elisha.

Many days when I am putting on my jacket or shawl or overcoat—and always when I am preparing to face a challenging situation in which my Christian values might be put to a test—I imagine that I am being helped into those clothes by someone who has been a mentor to me, and I commit myself to honoring the values they taught me. The person might be someone who affected my life directly and profoundly (my mother or Rev. Jeremiah Wright, for example); it might be a figure from the Bible (Esther, or Isaiah, for example); it might be a Biblical scholar such as David Rhoads or Walter Brueggemann, whose words have shaped my religious path.

I usually include a message to that person with this “ceremony,” such as “Yes, today I will honor what you taught me about manifesting Jesus’s fierce love and compassion in all my actions.” And I walk out the door thinking of the words of Isaiah (61:10): “My soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.”