I commend you. That’s an improvement. It’s more imaginative than the question you asked me when you were much younger … “Why do you need to put on a Jesus suit just to take a service?” I think it was your impudent father who put you up to that one too.
But yes, I can appreciate that through the eyes of normal, secular-minded young adults in the third decade of the 21st century, the sight of a priest clad in full vestments must seem rather mystifying and archaic. It must be especially so if the priest in question happens to be your very own kindly, long suffering old grandfather. But really, though ‘sacred’ garments are not as familiar to your generation as they are to mine, there is really nothing all that mysterious about them.
At their most ordinary level, they are just clothes that are appropriate for the type of work a priest does, no different from the academic gowns and hoods professors wear, or the white caps and dresses nurses wear … Oh! Right! Those folks don’t dress like that anymore, do they? Well then, like the apron the developer in a photo lab wears. Oh! Yes, of course! We’re in the digital age now, aren’t we? I knew that! But I really want to take you to a deeper level of understanding than those initial failedd leads would have accomplished anyway. So, instead, let me answer your question with another question that relates to something you understand very well.
What do a Priest and a computer icon have in common?
The answer is that both are pictographs that help us navigate to a reality greater than themselves. One ‘click’ on a computer icon opens a file, a program or an application. And in the Sunday celebration of the Holy Eucharist, a mental ‘click’ on the priest at the altar opens our awareness of the presence of the risen Lord, the host of our sacred banquet. Simply stated, a priest IS an icon.
To be an icon of Christ is really the defining role of a priest. You see, the Sacrament of Holy Communion was inaugurated by Jesus at his ‘Last Supper’ with the disciples. He himself was the host at that farewell meal, and he used the occasion to give them a means whereby they could ‘recall’ his living presence among them thereafter. During their shared meal, he declared the substances of Bread and Wine to be his Body and Blood, tangible embodiments that enable the Church to ‘real-ize’ his unfailing presence. His words were simply, “Do this in remembrance of me”. (Please note that the word ‘remembrance’ has a deeper connotation here than it does in everyday speech, but that need not detain us now).
So, following Jesus’ command, the Eucharist is what the Church does. We gather as the community of faith, we share the bread and wine in accordance with his command, and in doing so we apprehend the truth of his promise, “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28: 20). Specifically, we perceive him still as our gracious host, the only difference being that our circumstances and moment in time require a person, preordained to do so, to preside in his stead.
And here is where the concept of the icon takes effect. The role of the priest/icon at the Mass is to be ‘clicked on’ so the vista of the spiritual reality will open before our minds.
It is characteristic of computer icons that they are mere indicators of the reality they can open. In themselves they are just little stylized pictures, symbols, or letters. But however sketchy, however inadequate, however miniscule they may be, we recognise them for what they are, and we use them for what they can do. The same applies to oh-so-human, oh-so-imperfect priests. We scarcely even begin to measure up to our Lord’s worthiness, and we know it. Yet we lend ourselves to be ‘seen through’, and to that end we dress accordingly. The garments we wear are deeply symbolic, and worshipers recognise them for what they are, and benefit from them.
Ah, but perhaps you would understand better why those amusing skirt-like garments are worn if you knew what they really are. For the priest, wearing them is not a matter of dressing up like Jesus (because this is not how Jesus dressed!). Rather, this is a way of clothing one’s very self in him.
The first thing a priest does when robing for a service is to withdraw from the spotlight, from the center of attention, to ‘disappear’ (at least insofar as that is possible) so as not to be the star of the show. The impressive Italian sports jacket one wears so proudly on the street and to the great envy of one’s colleagues is relegated to the Sacristy closet, and is replaced by the alb. It is a long garment that envelopes the whole person from shoulders to shoes, leaving nothing but the essential head and hands showing. As its name implies, the alb is pure white (Latin ‘alba’ as in albino or albatross) and we associate it with the purity of Christ. Thus, in a sense, the priest is ‘clothed in’ Christ’s purity.
The second item is the cincture or rope belt around the waist. It is a functional item, but traditionally accepted as representing the ropes with which Jesus was bound and dragged to his crucifixion.
The third garment is the stole. Like a scarf, it is worn over the shoulders with the ends hanging down in front. It is a simple garment, but there is a weight of meaning associated with it. Like an ox yoke, and in response to Jesus’ invitation, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me” (Matthew 11: 29) it binds the priest in ‘Holy Orders’. It was laid upon the shoulders in the ordination liturgies for both deacons and priests as a constant reminder that we are, essentially, servants.
The fourth garment is the chasuble, the largest poncho-like robe that constitutes the outer garment. Its origins are uncertain, but it has been a distinctly priestly vestment for approximately 1500 years. Most people see it as representing the seamless robe that was Jesus’ only worldly possession, the one the soldiers gambled away at the foot of his cross.
Finally, some personal observations.
Sacred vestments really do have a subtle effect upon us. Experience has taught that it is difficult (not impossible, but difficult) to behave as one’s usual grumpy, obnoxious self while wearing them.
Their purpose is to facilitate an authentic spiritual experience, NOT to fabricate a ‘virtual’ one.
The Church’s normal garb, NOT meant to be personalised and worn as a clerical fashion statement.
As for them being archaic, in fact they are as contemporary as they are historic … well, not unlike the uniforms police or armed forces personnel wear. They are in daily, common usage in Anglican, Roman and Orthodox churches worldwide, and that shows no sign of changing anytime soon.
So that’s why people like me dress the way we do.
But as for why you call other people like me ‘Father’, I really cannot say. I have never known you to call even me anything but ‘Grandpa’.
Dale