Barna, Tyndale House, 2002/8
5
Though it’s not widely known, the root meaning of the word
invest is to get dressed; to clothe.
Small wonder clerical robes or “Sunday morning costumes” as Viola and
Barna put it are sometimes more formally known as vestments.
Probably even less known is that the use of the word in its
original sense is to change the appearance and/or perception of something. In a literal sense, when I have a
shower and get dressed, the getting dressed part is an investment: I invest
myself; I clothe myself in my choice of attire.
Why do I clothe myself? Most probably I do it for a range of reasons,
from modesty to climate control. Truth
is though that, regardless of my motivation for getting dressed, my chief
interest is to present myself or appear as something different from my naked
self. Whether I am protecting myself
from the elements, trying to impress someone, or covering up my nakedness to
avoid embarrassment or shame (or arrest!), I am deliberately re-presenting my
body as something it is not beneath the clothes.
And that is one of the chief reasons professional
ministers wear particular garb. In
‘civilian’ clothes, I am one iteration of me; when I invest myself with other
clothes, I am a different iteration of myself.
Military uniforms (including headwear) serve this particular purpose.
As a Pastor, I was deliberate in not doing the
switch from one ‘me’ to another different one, so I chose to not use formal
vestments. As an Australian Baptist
Pastor, that was not difficult as few wear official vestments.
As a person, I dislike suits and ties. Why?
Because they represent, to me, the re-presentation of myself as
something I am not. It is extremely
common for people to change their clothes in order to communicate a switch from
one persona to another – whether that be for honourable reasons (say a Judge
presiding over a Court) or for nefarious reasons (say a scammer attempting a
fraud).
In our times, it is an horrific indictment on what
we call the church that its ministers have been known to use their vestments as
a cloak of both deception and heinous assault of trusting, perhaps gullible,
members of church congregations. It
seems to escape us that every one of these causes someone somewhere to
blaspheme God (see Mark 3 and Romans 2).
I think the title Viola and Barna chose for this
chapter puts it well: covering up the problem.
But let’s not be quick to judge: it’s not just the
ministers dressing up. My dad was a
hard, tough underground coal miner. When
he came to Christ, the local church was quick to tap him on the shoulder about
wearing a suit and tie to Sunday morning services – back in the 1960s. The fact that one of the dominant families in
the church ran a local tailoring business and made and sold suits didn’t have
anything to do with it I’m sure.
But I digress – turning up to church straight off
the street was (and often still is) frowned upon if you’re a vagrant or just a
slob. It never seemed to matter to
Jesus, but it matters to us – all too often.
But what about turning up to church in your finest looking like butter
wouldn’t melt in your mouth but hiding a seething anger or resentment? What about turning up in your Sunday best
making sure your clothes cover the bruises of the past week – or your smile
covers the agony? What about dressing up
in style and fashion to attract someone’s attention?
Clothes hide the truth – regardless of whether the
truth is good or bad, pleasant or ugly.
There is an old saying that goes, “clothes maketh the man.” There’s more than a grain of truth in that.
Some of the North American historical anecdotes in Pagan Chrisstianity chapter 6 are well
worth reading.
But I think this is the real point here (thanks
Frank and George):
Let’s face it. As fallen humans, we are seldom willing to
appear to be what we really are. We
almost always rely on our performance or dress to give people a certain
impression of what we want them to believe we are. All of this differs markedly from the
simplicity that marked the early church. (p. 149)
Perhaps
Paul’s instructions to Timothy in 1 Timothy 2 regarding women’s dress standards
could be applied across the board and be just as important for men: “... to
adorn themselves with proper clothing, modestly and discreetly, not with
braided hair and gold or pearls or costly garments, but rather by means of good
works, as is proper for women making a
claim to godliness.”
Where
did clerical vestments come from?
Most
who study this agree that the wearing of “different” clothing also came about
with all the flux and flurry of the Constantine era. Furthermore, as Viola and Barna point out,
“ecclesiastical vestments” do not derive from the old testament priesthood, “It
rather had its origins in the secular dress of the Greco-Roman world.” (p. 150) And this of course kind of matched the new
church buildings being erected similarly along Greco-Roman lines.
Reportedly,
Clement of Alexandria urged ministers to wear better clothes than those they
were ministering to and they should be white and ‘simple’.
I fully
agree with Viola and Barna in their assessment:
A specially attired clergy is an affront to
the spiritual principles that govern the house of God. It strikes at the heart of the church
(actually ekklesia] by separating
God’s people into two classes: “professional” and “nonprofessional”. (p. 154)
Note to self: Remember, as Paul wisely
noted, “By the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me did not
prove vain” – why would I want to cover that?
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