I went through my first year of ordained ministry wearing my
collar every day. I did so intentionally on the advice of a couple mentors who recommend wearing it daily for the first year so I would then better understand when to wear it and when to go without. At the beginning of the experiment I “knew” I didn’t want to be a daily collar wearer. Nope, I just “knew” I would be a priest who only collared up when
I was serving in a liturgical or sacramental capacity. Sure, there would be
those gray areas of pastoral interactions or evangelistic opportunities – but all
in all, I’d “made up my mind.”
(Isn’t it cute how we know
so much when we’re fresh out of seminary?)
And then I was ordained and launched into this grand
adventure. There were arduous days of paperwork and emails when I pulled at my
stiff, plastic collar thinking, “this is so unnecessary.” There were days when
I walked downtown forgetting it was there only to be met with stares and
sideways glances. There were days that it felt like it was God’s hand on the
back of my neck reminding me I wasn’t alone. Then there were days when I would
be reminded of who I am by virtue of my office and it would help me to alter my
behavior or language because of that physical reminder.
Somewhere in the course of that year I discovered that I am
actually an *almost daily collar
wearing priest. The funny thing is, while the black shirt and white collar
immediately identify me as a clergywoman to the outside world, I rarely wear it
for them. I wear it for me. I wear it on days that I need to remember my role
as priest. I wear it not because it makes me better than anyone else, but
because it reminds me to be my best self – to be the woman God is calling me to
be.
There are still days
when I wonder if I should put on a collar. Painting with the Thursday afternoon
formation class? Leave the collar home. Spending the day updating calendars and
emailing with parents. Wear the collar. Meeting a parishioner for dinner?
Depends on the context of the situation. Going to the state house to lobby for
equal wages for youth workers? Wear the collar. I have begun to recognize the
signs – both inside and out for when I need to bust out that lovely piece of
plastic.
But then there are situations like today...
I am writing this from the jury assembly room at the
Middlesex Superior Court. Hooray for civic duty! I’ve been anticipating this
day for weeks and have debated back and forth whether or not this should be a
collar day. I know the collar is polarizing in some cases – so wearing the
collar could bias folks in one way or another based on their context and
history. I’m not sure which way it would bias them and so part of me feared
being immediately excluded for wearing it while the other part of me
contemplated if I would be chosen over others by virtue of my calling.
Those who know me
know I am terrible at making decisions – especially minor, seemingly trivial
decisions. Every decision is earth shattering to this ISFJ. The pros and cons
list ends up being tremendously long and usually quite even. This was no
different. I can think of 100 reasons why I should or should not wear the
collar to jury duty. But I cannot escape the fear I will be seen as “using”
that symbol for something other than it was intended. My friend Scott voiced
that concern perfectly on the facebook status I posted to solicit feedback to
aid in the decision-making process: “Whatever you do, don’t compromise your
office to exert privilege from a symbol of the church.” I do not want to be
seen as trying to use my priesthood as leverage – ever.
My calling as a
priest is to a unique, sacramental ministry. My calling means that I often wear
a visible symbol of the church I represent. My calling took years to accept and
will take a lifetime to live into. My calling puts me in a position of
authority, which is a humbling and awesome responsibility.
I wear my collar
most days; often to remind myself who I am and what has been entrusted to me. I
wear my collar most days, but not today. There are days when I should wear my
collar in the world to serve as a reminder to others that the church is active
and relevant – even today. But wearing my collar today, in this room, would not
be seen as such. Wearing my collar today would be wearing a neon sign that says "I'M A PRIEST!!!" It would be screaming for attention in a room where my job is to blend in as a randomly selected peer. There are doctors, lawyers, students, teachers, parents, cashiers, Muslims, Jews, Atheists, Universalists, etc... sitting here and none of them are wearing neon signs. I couldn't categorize these people even if I tried and that is the point. I was worried that leaving the collar home would be a denial of what I am - but a piece of plastic doesn't dictate my identity. I know who I am and so does God. If justice is blind than she couldn't see my collar anyway. She
can see what is in my heart and that is the place where my priesthood is
seeded.


so were you selected?
ReplyDeleteWe were released after the defendant pled guilty.
DeleteI have similar thoughts about wearing a cross. My mother, a Presbyterian, had not approved of "advertising your religion." One of the main reasons I do it, is to keep myself on good behavior, especially since I work in customer service.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely! I had a friend ask me about wearing one of those new, sideways style crosses. She likes wearing the reminder but asked if it was too trendy to be Christian. We must consider how the symbol appears to the outside world just as we need to think about what will help us live into our Baptismal covenant.
DeleteBy the way, I always wondered what the collars were made of. And what did they do in the olden days? :-)
ReplyDeleteThey can be linen also - I'm just not that fancy. :)
DeleteAs I understand it, "ministers of religion" are specifically excluded from serving on juries in most Commonwealth countries.
ReplyDeleteWe learned in jury orientation that was the case in Massachusetts until 1984 when we moved to the 1 day or 1 trial rule - all exclusions were removed in coordination with that new law.
Delete