Uncomfortable in my clothes
06/03/14 05:03
Jesus is very clear. In the Gospel of Matthew he warns: “Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them” and a bit later: "And when you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by men. . . . But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by men but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
I’m no good at any of that. And Ash Wednesday is a day in which I indulge in too much show even for my own comfort. I don’t often wear a clerical collar. I wear one on Ash Wednesday, and on Good Friday, and sometimes other days during Holy Week. I wear a collar sometimes when I visit in the jail. Sometimes I wear a collar when I am doing other duties as Sheriff’s chaplain. Most of the time, I wear street clothes. And which clothes I wear has changed fairly dramatically with the times. I remember well when I used to wear a white shirt and a tie almost every day for work. This wasn’t the case when I lived in North Dakota, where I dressed up for church on Sundays and for weddings and funerals - I was mostly like the other people in the churches I served. When we moved to Boise, a bit larger town with a bit larger church, I started to dress up for work more often. When I started in this congregation I wore a tie almost every day.
Then, after a while I started wearing colored shirts. And then I stopped wearing ties except on Sundays and other special occasions. And then I wore a t-shirt to work one day. I wasn’t the only one who was changing my clothing choices. Bankers started wearing jeans on Fridays and then the traditional banker’s suit was replaced with golf shirts with the bank logo. The times change. We change with them. Most clerical clothing is simply a hold back to the way people used to dress. Robes were adopted because it was the garb of common folk. Chasubles were first worn by clerics because it was the garb of a working man. But we are generally slower than the general public at adapting to change and following fashion.
In the early days of the church, clerics were directed to distinguish themselves by their learning and their faith and not by their dress. Later, in the 6th century canon law began to describe appropriate clothing for clerics. The early rules called for clothing that was closed in the front and free from extravagance. A wide variety of colors were adopted and discarded and vestments for special ceremonies became more and more extravagant. The simple black shirt and pants with a white band at the collar was an attempt to simplify the clothing worn by clerics.
During the Protestant reformation, most Protestant clerics abandoned the Roman collar, with the notable exception of Anglican priests. There is a whole lot more history to the clothing worn by clergy, but the practice of the United Church of Christ minister wearing a collar only appeared within the last 30 or so years and it still is not a common garb.
As I said, I don’t wear it often.
So why do I choose to wear it on Ash Wednesday? It is already a day when I go around with ashes on my forehead. I am not unaware that some see my choice of clothes as the kind of hypocrisy that Jesus warned about. I am, after all, going about in clothing in a way that marks my identity - that shows to others who I am and showing before others the choices I make in this season.
For me, however, it is not about showing off for others. It is about claiming an identity. The roman collar says to those who see it “Christian minister.” People who are not active in churches might not see a distinction between Catholic, Episcopalian, Methodist or Luteran. They probably put all people who wear that kind of collar in the same category. And that is OK with me because it is a category to which I belong. The collar is, for me, a kind of shortcut. It doesn’t reveal the inner disciplines of prayer and fasting and study which are important in my relationship with God. Rather it is an open and public acknowledgement of a lifelong commitment to serve God as a minister. Most of the time I don’t feel a need to identify myself. I’m perfectly glad to just be another person.
Some days, however, I don’t want to have to start at the beginning when I tell my story to a stranger. I’m perfectly happy to have the people I meet start with their assumptions about ministers - even if those assumptions are inaccurate. And I want to make the statement to the people in my congregation that these days are important to me. I have cast my life into the forms of the seasons of the church and I choose to live in those rhythms.
When I wear my faith in my choices about clothing, however, I am not completely comfortable. There is a part of me that understands and respects the choices of those who do not go about with ashes on their foreheads.
As is often the case, it is the children who help to put things into perspective. Last night I was visiting with 2 year-old Elsa and her parents. Elsa didn’t seem to notice the collar on my shirt. She didn’t have any trouble recognizing me. Elsa is at home in her world and at home in her church. She knows who I am and calls me “Pastor Ted” because that is what her father calls me. But Elsa was impressed with the ashes on my forehead: “Pastor Ted, do you have a tattoo?” she asked.
I was giggling on the inside as I tried to be calm on the outside. “It will wash off, I said.” The answer was good enough for Elsa. She was just checking to see how much I had changed. She won’t be surprised the next time she sees me and there is no ash cross on my forehead.
Maybe that is the most important part of Jesus’ message. It isn’t what is on the outside that matters. I can change my clothes. I can wash my face. What matters is what is on the inside. As Samuel was advised by God when searching for the one to anoint as king of Israel: “People look at what’s on the outside, but God looks at the heart.”
I’m no good at any of that. And Ash Wednesday is a day in which I indulge in too much show even for my own comfort. I don’t often wear a clerical collar. I wear one on Ash Wednesday, and on Good Friday, and sometimes other days during Holy Week. I wear a collar sometimes when I visit in the jail. Sometimes I wear a collar when I am doing other duties as Sheriff’s chaplain. Most of the time, I wear street clothes. And which clothes I wear has changed fairly dramatically with the times. I remember well when I used to wear a white shirt and a tie almost every day for work. This wasn’t the case when I lived in North Dakota, where I dressed up for church on Sundays and for weddings and funerals - I was mostly like the other people in the churches I served. When we moved to Boise, a bit larger town with a bit larger church, I started to dress up for work more often. When I started in this congregation I wore a tie almost every day.
Then, after a while I started wearing colored shirts. And then I stopped wearing ties except on Sundays and other special occasions. And then I wore a t-shirt to work one day. I wasn’t the only one who was changing my clothing choices. Bankers started wearing jeans on Fridays and then the traditional banker’s suit was replaced with golf shirts with the bank logo. The times change. We change with them. Most clerical clothing is simply a hold back to the way people used to dress. Robes were adopted because it was the garb of common folk. Chasubles were first worn by clerics because it was the garb of a working man. But we are generally slower than the general public at adapting to change and following fashion.
In the early days of the church, clerics were directed to distinguish themselves by their learning and their faith and not by their dress. Later, in the 6th century canon law began to describe appropriate clothing for clerics. The early rules called for clothing that was closed in the front and free from extravagance. A wide variety of colors were adopted and discarded and vestments for special ceremonies became more and more extravagant. The simple black shirt and pants with a white band at the collar was an attempt to simplify the clothing worn by clerics.
During the Protestant reformation, most Protestant clerics abandoned the Roman collar, with the notable exception of Anglican priests. There is a whole lot more history to the clothing worn by clergy, but the practice of the United Church of Christ minister wearing a collar only appeared within the last 30 or so years and it still is not a common garb.
As I said, I don’t wear it often.
So why do I choose to wear it on Ash Wednesday? It is already a day when I go around with ashes on my forehead. I am not unaware that some see my choice of clothes as the kind of hypocrisy that Jesus warned about. I am, after all, going about in clothing in a way that marks my identity - that shows to others who I am and showing before others the choices I make in this season.
For me, however, it is not about showing off for others. It is about claiming an identity. The roman collar says to those who see it “Christian minister.” People who are not active in churches might not see a distinction between Catholic, Episcopalian, Methodist or Luteran. They probably put all people who wear that kind of collar in the same category. And that is OK with me because it is a category to which I belong. The collar is, for me, a kind of shortcut. It doesn’t reveal the inner disciplines of prayer and fasting and study which are important in my relationship with God. Rather it is an open and public acknowledgement of a lifelong commitment to serve God as a minister. Most of the time I don’t feel a need to identify myself. I’m perfectly glad to just be another person.
Some days, however, I don’t want to have to start at the beginning when I tell my story to a stranger. I’m perfectly happy to have the people I meet start with their assumptions about ministers - even if those assumptions are inaccurate. And I want to make the statement to the people in my congregation that these days are important to me. I have cast my life into the forms of the seasons of the church and I choose to live in those rhythms.
When I wear my faith in my choices about clothing, however, I am not completely comfortable. There is a part of me that understands and respects the choices of those who do not go about with ashes on their foreheads.
As is often the case, it is the children who help to put things into perspective. Last night I was visiting with 2 year-old Elsa and her parents. Elsa didn’t seem to notice the collar on my shirt. She didn’t have any trouble recognizing me. Elsa is at home in her world and at home in her church. She knows who I am and calls me “Pastor Ted” because that is what her father calls me. But Elsa was impressed with the ashes on my forehead: “Pastor Ted, do you have a tattoo?” she asked.
I was giggling on the inside as I tried to be calm on the outside. “It will wash off, I said.” The answer was good enough for Elsa. She was just checking to see how much I had changed. She won’t be surprised the next time she sees me and there is no ash cross on my forehead.
Maybe that is the most important part of Jesus’ message. It isn’t what is on the outside that matters. I can change my clothes. I can wash my face. What matters is what is on the inside. As Samuel was advised by God when searching for the one to anoint as king of Israel: “People look at what’s on the outside, but God looks at the heart.”