Wearing the Uniform
Most days (for some portion of the day) I wear the standard issue black clergy shirt with an attached "collar". I think when I first started wearing these odd duds, I thought they were about "fitting in". The uniform assisted me in reflecting upon the role of a clergyperson. The predictability of the outfit reminded me of my place in the "college" of clergy -- keeping me attentive to the understading that the ministry of Word and Sacrament I carry out is not "my" ministry, rather it is the ministry of the Church conveyed upon an individual at ordination.
Lately though, I've been wondering if I wear the uniform in the wrong location, since mostly I'm seen in it at church functions by church people. In this venue, the uniform serves as the special clothes of a "professional" caste. It witnesses to a role I serve within a particular community of faith. It marks me as "the religious leader".
What if the uniform isn't simply about fitting in? What if it isn't about identification with a "respectable profession" in the American white collar landscape?
Perhaps the uniform presents another kind of opportunity (and challenge). When I move about in public, the uniform marks me explicitly as different. I can't fit in -- no matter how hard I may want to. Maybe that's a gift...the gift of being an identifiable follower of Jesus. Maybe it's time for me to take that identification more seriously.
Most days (for some portion of the day) I wear the standard issue black clergy shirt with an attached "collar". I think when I first started wearing these odd duds, I thought they were about "fitting in". The uniform assisted me in reflecting upon the role of a clergyperson. The predictability of the outfit reminded me of my place in the "college" of clergy -- keeping me attentive to the understading that the ministry of Word and Sacrament I carry out is not "my" ministry, rather it is the ministry of the Church conveyed upon an individual at ordination.
Lately though, I've been wondering if I wear the uniform in the wrong location, since mostly I'm seen in it at church functions by church people. In this venue, the uniform serves as the special clothes of a "professional" caste. It witnesses to a role I serve within a particular community of faith. It marks me as "the religious leader".
What if the uniform isn't simply about fitting in? What if it isn't about identification with a "respectable profession" in the American white collar landscape?
Perhaps the uniform presents another kind of opportunity (and challenge). When I move about in public, the uniform marks me explicitly as different. I can't fit in -- no matter how hard I may want to. Maybe that's a gift...the gift of being an identifiable follower of Jesus. Maybe it's time for me to take that identification more seriously.
posted by FrGaryB | 7:40 AM
2 Comments:
I've pretty much stopped wearing my collar, except for Sundays, during the Summer. Actually, the Winter, too. And parts of the Spring. Occasionally in the Fall. For me, it's more about the distance I feel from everyone, church people included, that makes me want to take it off. It's another reason why I dropped "Father" when I came to my new parish.
This is an interesting thought. "The uniform" I have had them off and on through my working life. I have a couple of friends that are police officers, and no they don't wear their uniforms when they are not at work. This also led me to think about conversations. You are at your local coffee shop and just got a ticket on the way there. How would your conversation go with a uniformed officer off duty getting coffee compared to that with anyone else? Be if respect, fear or intimidation, your conversation would be altered by the presence of the uniform. Sort of like when I just started in CDI (Church Development Institute) and finding out how many "under cover" priests there were.
On the flip side, if I am looking for help or directions I would be more apt to walk up to a uniformed police officer for such help. May that not also hold true for the clergy? Fr. Gary, back at your unplanned conversation at the coffee house, were you collared or not and how do you think that affected the direction of the conversation?
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