I know, I know. I've heard some say it's old fashioned. I know that there are some priests who don't do it, but I still do.
I wear the collar ... and I wear a lot of black. I could order some of those "designer" clergy stripes that fit more snugly and are colored with pin strips or eye-catching fabric textures. But, I don't. I have, in the past, sometimes been more modern and worn blue, grey,or even white -- I'm told those make me more "Father Approachable". But I don't wear them often enough to make them regular fare. (In fact, I don't currently own any other colors besides black.)
I still wear the traditional black shirt and collar. I don't, however, wear a sportscoat or suit very often, not unless it's Christmas or Easter or the I'm preaching without other vestments. It's not unheard of that I'd wear a sweater over the shirt in cold weather.
Still if I'm on the job, you'll likely see me in a black shirt and white collar. That's important for me -- as I've written before -- because it makes me recognizable as a priest. People, even nonreligious people, know what a person with black shirt with a tab collar is.
Sometimes when I wear a collar and I happen to swing by a store or restaurant in the course of the day, I'll notice a few raised eyebrows. Most times few people seem not even to bother noticing me, but occasionally -- only occasionally -- someone comes up to talk to me.
They are usually not Episcopalians. They may not be church-goers at all, but they're always happy to have a priest nearby. Perhaps their routines or their schedules wouldn't bring them into contact with a clergy person otherwise, but running across me on the sidewalk or while crossing the lobby presents the opportunity for spiritual counsel.
Just one story to illustrate. I had just made a pastoral call at the hospital, which was fairly uneventful. Then on my way back to my car, I passed an elderly gentleman who was walking into the hospital.
"Father! Father!"
"Yes."
"You're a priest, right?"
"Yep. An Episcopal priest."
"Can you pray for my wife? She's not doing well. I know I've made a lot of mistakes in life, but please pray for her."
"I'd be happy to. Would you like to pray for her right now?"
And I began to pray with the man about his wife's situation. I don't know what his life story was or what mistakes he was referring to. Perhaps he felt like he was beyond God's love, perhaps that's why he didn't have a pastor of his own coming that day to see his wife.
But, I hope that by being present in a collar, by being willing to take a few moments to pray with him, that he was reassured that God still loves him, that the Church cares for him, and that there is still hope in the midst of a broken world.
I don't know what happened to that man. I had plenty to do that day. I could have saved time and passed unnoticed if I'd popped out my collar after leaving the patient's room, but I'm glad I didn't because my prayer with the man left me unchanged too.
That man could have been Jesus for all I know. Certainly Jesus had an affinity for those in need: The unassuming, the humble, the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. I'm not sure if that little prayer with that man made much of a different to him or his wife, but I know it lifted my spirit into the very presence of God.
Like I said, these sort of moments don't happen often ... but when they do, I'm always left transformed.
I wear the collar ... and I wear a lot of black. I could order some of those "designer" clergy stripes that fit more snugly and are colored with pin strips or eye-catching fabric textures. But, I don't. I have, in the past, sometimes been more modern and worn blue, grey,or even white -- I'm told those make me more "Father Approachable". But I don't wear them often enough to make them regular fare. (In fact, I don't currently own any other colors besides black.)
I still wear the traditional black shirt and collar. I don't, however, wear a sportscoat or suit very often, not unless it's Christmas or Easter or the I'm preaching without other vestments. It's not unheard of that I'd wear a sweater over the shirt in cold weather.
Still if I'm on the job, you'll likely see me in a black shirt and white collar. That's important for me -- as I've written before -- because it makes me recognizable as a priest. People, even nonreligious people, know what a person with black shirt with a tab collar is.
Sometimes when I wear a collar and I happen to swing by a store or restaurant in the course of the day, I'll notice a few raised eyebrows. Most times few people seem not even to bother noticing me, but occasionally -- only occasionally -- someone comes up to talk to me.
They are usually not Episcopalians. They may not be church-goers at all, but they're always happy to have a priest nearby. Perhaps their routines or their schedules wouldn't bring them into contact with a clergy person otherwise, but running across me on the sidewalk or while crossing the lobby presents the opportunity for spiritual counsel.
Just one story to illustrate. I had just made a pastoral call at the hospital, which was fairly uneventful. Then on my way back to my car, I passed an elderly gentleman who was walking into the hospital.
"Father! Father!"
"Yes."
"You're a priest, right?"
"Yep. An Episcopal priest."
"Can you pray for my wife? She's not doing well. I know I've made a lot of mistakes in life, but please pray for her."
"I'd be happy to. Would you like to pray for her right now?"
And I began to pray with the man about his wife's situation. I don't know what his life story was or what mistakes he was referring to. Perhaps he felt like he was beyond God's love, perhaps that's why he didn't have a pastor of his own coming that day to see his wife.
But, I hope that by being present in a collar, by being willing to take a few moments to pray with him, that he was reassured that God still loves him, that the Church cares for him, and that there is still hope in the midst of a broken world.
I don't know what happened to that man. I had plenty to do that day. I could have saved time and passed unnoticed if I'd popped out my collar after leaving the patient's room, but I'm glad I didn't because my prayer with the man left me unchanged too.
That man could have been Jesus for all I know. Certainly Jesus had an affinity for those in need: The unassuming, the humble, the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. I'm not sure if that little prayer with that man made much of a different to him or his wife, but I know it lifted my spirit into the very presence of God.
Like I said, these sort of moments don't happen often ... but when they do, I'm always left transformed.