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The distinctive garb of priests and religious Habits and Roman collars
n It happened in February, 1986. At that time, I was a student at Drexel University in Philadelphia. One day, I was sitting at a fast-food restaurant, eating my lunch. But my thoughts were miles away. I had been thinking about entering the seminary, but I wasn’t sure what I should do. Now, all kinds of discouraging thoughts were going through my mind; I kept trying to dismiss the idea of becoming a priest. Suddenly, a priest entered the restaurant. He was in his black clerical garb. I had never seen this priest before—and I would have never expected to see a priest coming to that place for lunch. Yet that’s exactly what happened—at a moment when I was trying to dismiss any thoughts about the priesthood. When I was a college student, I experienced many similar incidents: at train stations, bus stations, libraries, museums, on the street—wherever I was, the mere sight of a priest or religious in a distinctive garb was one of the things which caused me to keep thinking about my vocation. But at that time, there was something which kept bothering me. It concerned some of those priests or religious whom I already knew. Many times I would see them dressed as laymen, and not in their clerical or religious garb. And this was something which I could not figure out. Today, I am a priest—and I still cannot figure it out. After all, the distinctive garb of priests and religious gives witness to the total entrustment of their life to the Lord. Their garb is a unique sign for everyone that they are different. And because they are different, set apart for the service of the Lord, one can trust them, confide in them—as in nobody else. Priests and religious witness to the realm of faith. They must be so convinced about their faith, that they should want everyone to know about this conviction—always and everywhere. Their clerical or religious garb helps “advertise” this conviction. Priests and religious who appear dressed as laymen give the impression that they are “craving” for some other vocation. This impression has a disastrous effect on the much-needed Catholic climate in the Church and in society. Priests and religious should use every opportunity to emphasize that they always feel happy, free and comfortable in their vocation. And especially for a priest, it is important to emphasize visibly that he is always among men, at their service. In 1996, when I was on vacation in France, I was visiting the cathedral of Tours one day. Inside the cathedral, an elderly man approached me. He told me that he had been trying to find a priest for Confession, but he did not know how to identify a priest. He explained that priests in France are usually dressed as laymen. He then thanked me for wearing my clerical garb and allowing myself to be recognized as a priest. Needless to say, that’s also how he was finally able to make his Confession. Last year, I was on vacation in Spain with my brother, who is a layman. One morning, as I was coming out of the main post-office in Salamanca, my brother told me that an accident had just taken place on the street. We walked quickly to the place of the accident. An injured motorcyclist was lying in the middle of the street, not far from his damaged motorcycle. But it was impossible to reach the man, because he had already been surrounded by policemen. Nevertheless, I started walking towards him, and the policemen, seeing a priest coming, immediately stepped aside. And since I always carry the Oil of the Sick with me, I was able to help the injured man. But if I had not worn my clerical garb, then no policeman would have let an unknown gentleman like me (Mr. Priest?) approach an injured man lying on the ground, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. A priest or religious who appears in public in his clerical or religious garb gives out a signal that he is always ready to serve the spiritual needs of others. It is therefore ludicrous and beside the point to say that the uniform does not make a man who he is. The fact is, that the uniform is needed, since, as long as man is on earth, he is not a mere spirit. He needs signs and symbols. That’s also why soldiers, policemen, nurses and doctors can be recognized as such by the way they dress. Their identifying garb is the sign which creates an atmosphere of security and hope. Someone may argue, though, that even the soldier, the policeman, the doctor, etc. does not always wear his professional uniform, since he has the right to have some private time for himself. But as an argument against wearing the clerical or religious garb all the time, this statement is irrelevant. The position of a doctor, a policeman, a soldier, etc. constitutes a secular profession (although, in a certain sense, it is also a vocation). But the priesthood or the religious life is not a profession. It is essentially a vocation inseparably-bound with a vowed self-offering of one’s entire life to the Lord. Certainly, the priest or religious does deserve to have his own free time. And during his free time, a priest who may be doing certain types of sports need not necessarily wear his clerical garb. This is a matter of common sense. But since common sense has become quite a subjective guide nowadays, it is important to be aware of an important point: the free time of the priest or religious cannot be “free” in the same sense as the free time of the layman. The “freedom” of the priest or religious is conditioned by a previous choice to offer his life to the Lord—in service to God’s people. And the supernatural motivation for this service should be made visible—by a distinctive garb. Furthermore, there could be rare occasions when the religious or clerical garb may place the life of the priest or religious in danger. Blessed Miguel Pro, for instance, by appearing in various lay-outfits was able to escape the Mexican authorities who persecuted him. For a priest in Mexico in those days, the mere exercise of priestly duties meant instant trial and possible execution. So Father Miguel Pro had to live as an underground priest while performing his priestly work in secret, dressed as a layman. All over the world, there are countries where clerical or religious dress in public is forbidden by law. But even in those places, the regulations against clerical or religious garb are in place because those who persecute the Church know the enormous power of the religious or clerical garb. And if the enemies of the Church understand the powerful impression of a priest or religious who wears his identifying garment in public—why can’t priests and religious understand this? In August 1941, St. Edith Stein arrived in Auschwitz-Birkenau and immediately started attending to the needs of her fellow-prisoners. But she did not remove her habit. And this was clearly noticed by the other prisoners. They saw a nun taking care of other unfortunate human beings—as an “angel.” She did it in a place where the mere sight of such an “angel” brought hope. She was helping other prisoners not only as a good Christian who was performing an act of charity, but as a consecrated woman-religious whose vocation was to serve others in Christ. She made it clear that in a place of death and hatred, the Holy Church of God was present in the person of a holy nun, consecrated to Christ her Bridegroom, and wearing a habit as a sign of this consecration. Where physical persecution of Christians is a probable threat—especially in countries where Christians constitute a minority—prudence could require that the priest or religious may avoid appearing in his identifying garb in public. But this cannot be compared to a situation where clerical or religious dress may create personal inconveniences. The possibility of being approached by someone inquisitive or someone who holds a grudge against the Church cannot be an excuse to run away from the call to give witness. The priestly or religious vocation is never a vocation to personal convenience or public approval. It is a vocation bound with our Lord’s search for those who have strayed. It is a vocation which may lead to some unpleasant conflicts—but the man of God does not run away from conflicts. He ought not be dressed up as Mr. Incognito, because of his “I-don’t-want-to-be-bothered” attitude. This only creates the impression that a vocation to the priesthood or the religious life brings more trouble than joy. Even in marriage, it is a common practice that each spouse always wears a wedding ring. This is both an act of witness and also a quiet reminder about the obligations of marriage. It is also a visible, clear sign to others that the one who wears the ring is married. If a married person said that his wedding ring embarrasses him, because it limits his freedom and maneuverability (especially when away from his spouse and the family home)—what kind of an impression would this make? It would indicate either a total misunderstanding of the marriage vocation or a case of lunacy. The same conclusion could be reached about the priest or religious who is dressed as a layman in public. Either he is out of his mind, or something terrible might have happened to his vocation: he no longer wants to be “bothered” and hear people calling him, “Father,” “Brother,” or, in the case of the woman-religious, “Sister.” This is truly a sign of spiritual decadence—an identity crisis. If more priests dressed in their clerical garb all the time; if more nuns wore their habits all the time—it is probable that priests and religious would suffer less from identity crisis, and society would absorb more of the supernatural Catholic element which it lacks. Furthermore, when more priests and religious begin to wear their identifying garb all the time, perhaps more of them will realize how the religious and priestly garb can be a great means of protection from temptations. After all, everyone has the responsibility to protect himself against sin. And the clerical and religious garb not only gives witness, but also protects the one who wears it from misconceived assumptions made by those who see him. Just as the married person who wears a wedding ring makes it known that he already “belongs” to someone, so does the priest or religious who wears his identifying garb makes it known in a nonambiguous way that he already belongs to Someone. He is bound by a sacred promise or vow of celibacy. This way, before anything else might happen, the priest or religious can reduce—or even prevent—a great number of temptations and possible scandals. Too little is being said about how priests and religious have contributed to secularization in the Church and in society. Poverty, as a Christian virtue, has not been given sufficient attention. But the religious or clerical garb can help correct this, too. The priest or religious who always appears in the same garment which identifies his state makes it known that he could not care less about fashionable clothing. The priest or religious has no interest in fashion, because his concern is the salvation of souls. He wears the same clerical garb or religious habit everyday, because he is not of this world. I will never forget the priest who walked into the fast-food restaurant where I was sitting—at a moment when I was trying to dismiss the thought of entering the seminary. This priest did not realize that his appearance as a priest was for a certain young man a most needed encouragement. The Lord was acting here in silence. But this, after all, is one of the purposes of the clerical or religious garb: to set a climate, even before anything is said or done. That’s why, when I was a layman and I would see a priest or religious dressed as a layman, I used to say in my mind, “Father, where is your Roman collar? Sister, where is your habit?” Today, when I see a priest or religious dressed as a layman in public, the same question crosses my mind. But rather than keep asking this question in my mind all the time, I think I am going to start asking it aloud. Yes, come to think of it, maybe we should all start asking this question aloud. And the louder, the better. Reverend Jacek Stefanski studied at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary in Philadelphia and was ordained in 1994. He is an associate pastor at St. Joseph’s Church in Camden, N.J., and a hospital chaplain at West Jersey Hospital in Camden. This is his first article in HPR. Back to Homiletic & Pastoral Review Table of Contents July 2000 |
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