Priests Dressing Like Laymen

The priests of our diocese are on retreat this week, and they were told that “clerical attire is optional”. The vicar general told them so. A vicar general is supposed to know Canon Law…Canon 284, anyone? But then, who cares about Canon Law?

Priests dressing like laymen… Why would they want to do that?

Once upon a time, when I was the parish secretary at the Cathedral, a man in a brightly-colored short-sleeved shirt, khaki-colored hiking shorts, and sandals, came breezing into the office. He said he was going to bury the cremains of a family member, and he wanted me to get the funeral rite book and make a copy of the rite for him. He was quite imperialistic about it, as if I were his servant. He described vaguely where the cremains were going to be…placed…I don’t remember whether he said “scattered” or “buried”…

Can you imagine that I was a little skeptical? And uncertain as to what to do? At that time I had not been Catholic for very long, and I wasn’t sure exactly what was allowed and what was not. A strange man asking for a copy of the funeral rite…hmmm…I’d better ask Father, I thought.

Yeah, you can TELL he's a priest...

I told the man quite honestly that I didn’t know whether I could give him the rite, and that I needed to ask my pastor. He was a little indignant; he said he was just asking for a copy, how hard was that? Well…he sure wasn’t paying my salary, and of course I would have to find the book and do the copying for him…

We went back and forth for a bit; seems he was in a big hurry, and I wasn’t cooperating with his schedule. I bristled and dug in my heels. I just didn’t know if Joe Blow Off The Street should have the rite, and I didn’t want to do something wrong. And the more he pushed, the more it seemed wrong.

Finally, he said, “I’m a priest, for heaven’s sake!” as if I should have known that all along.

Then I was mad. I said, “Now how was I supposed to know that? You’re not dressed like a priest! It’s not stamped on your forehead! Where’s your collar?!”

He became even more indignant, told me to “forget it”, and said that this was certainly not a “welcoming” parish. And he departed in a huff, never to return. Grrrr.

I would pay good money to see a
group of priests from our diocese
dressed like this.

I think it was that same summer that three priests came to visit. They were good friends of the pastor, and when he saw their car pull up outside, he excitedly encouraged me to come outside and meet them.

Not a single one was dressed in clerical attire. Surprised, I blurted out something about that fact. (If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you have probably noted that tact is not my strong suit).

They just laughed and said, “We’re on vacation.”

Not able to let that slide, I protested, “You’re priests. It’s who you are, even when you are on vacation.”

The awkward pause in the conversation was ended by Father whisking his friends off to the rectory.

And then there was that first summer when Bishop Vasa invited some religious sisters from another state (I don’t recall where, exactly) to participate in the diocesan youth retreats. For some reason, he was bringing three of them through Baker City, and of course he brought them to the Cathedral.

Now, there is exactly one religious sister in Baker City, but she does not wear a habit. And it happened that she was in the office at the very moment when I could see out the window that Bishop Vasa’s car had just pulled up, and three habited sisters were disembarking.

Father said, “Oh wow, there’s the bishop.”

And I said, “OH WOW – THERE ARE SISTERS IN HABITS!”

Remember what I said about my lack of tact? Well, I just didn’t even think about our local sister at that moment. I just stood there grinning and gushing over the sisters in habits and asking them about their order. I finally noticed that our local unhabited sister looked a little less than comfortable as she explained to the habited ones that she, too, was a religious. Well…too bad.

If only priests would always dress like priests, and religious would always wear habits! What a witness for the lay faithful!  A different manner of dressing says they are special. Sure, there’s a cost to that. The priest might be called to do something…priestly – hear a confession or something.

If only priests and religious knew the effect of their attire on the rest of the world!

In an article in The Remnant (2/28/12) entitled “Please, Sisters, Come Back”, Susan Claire Potts describes her childhood experience of seeing Catholic religious sisters for the first time. She wasn’t Catholic at the time, but she sensed the significance of the habit:

… and then I saw them. I forget how many. Six, maybe eight, walking in twos toward the church, faces down, their hands hidden in their voluminous sleeves. They seemed to glide across the sidewalk. Were their feet even touching the ground?

My sister stared, transfixed, then turned and looked up at me. Her eyes were huge. “Why don’t we have Blue Angels at our church?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Angels. That’s what they looked like. We knew nothing of nuns or priests or religious. We didn’t know the angels were Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, consecrated forever to God. Chosen Brides of Christ. Ignorant of that amazing, beautiful reality, we only knew there was something singular about them, something touching the supernatural. We could feel it.

Two little girls sensed the forgotten truth: Nuns are women set apart. They live in a state higher than the rest of us. That’s what people don’t want to say—that some things and some people are higher than others. Catholics used to understand that better than anyone, but no more. Their perceptions have been flattened, their discernment dulled by a religious Declaration of Independence. They want to believe that everything is the same; that all men are created equal and stay forever equal. Nothing is better than anything else.

Yes: please, sisters, come back.

And please, priests, wear “clerical attire”. Preferably a cassock. ;-)