Clothing counts, and the tendency
to judge the human book by its sartorial cover runs deep.
Alexander
Solzhenitsyn records in his book The
Gulag Archipelago that even amidst the wretchedness of Stalin’s
concentration camps some prisoners sought to signal their superior status by
distinctive wardrobe. “But here,” Solzhenitsyn chuckles, “the possibilities
were not great.” If the camp issued black uniforms, these men angled for blue
ones. They took their peg-legged uniform britches to the tailor’s shop and
ordered wedge inserts to create a sort of ghetto bellbottom.
James
knows he’s bucking DNA when he orders the church to ignore exterior upholstery.
Rabbinic law dictated that if a wealthy citizen went to court with a poor one,
the rich guy had to dress down to the level of his opponent, or upgrade the
other man’s wardrobe to match his own. James goes even farther: He dares to
envision the Sunday service as a place where clothing does not count at all and
costume has no impact on community.
In
the church of my childhood neglect of a necktie ran the risk of rejection. In
today’s ruthlessly casual congregations a trendy T-shirt and a tattoo might
earn a favorable entre. James argues not so much for a specific uniform as for a
people so formed as to remain uninformed about the form that drapes the person
beneath.
We
can’t walk around naked; for most of us the aesthetic objections would be
sufficient if there were no moral ones. The trick is to wear our clothes but
never let them wear us. Legend holds that the dapper Fred Astair used to bring
his suits home fresh from the tailor and throw them up against the wall to show
them who was boss. That might not be a bad daily discipline for the Christian
getting dressed.
In
the end, it is either the clothes that make the man, or the man who transforms
the clothes. On the day of his conversion Francis of Assisi shed the splendid
draperies of a rich merchant’s son and changed togs with a passing peasant. G.
K. Chesterton writes,
In place of the girdle which he had flung off. . .he picked up a rope
more or less at random, because it was lying near, and tied it around his
waist. He undoubtedly meant is as a shabby expedient; rather as the very
destitute tramp will sometimes tie his clothes together with a piece of string.
He meant to strike the note of collecting his clothes anyway, like rags from a
succession of dust bins. Ten years later that make-shift costume was the
uniform of five thousand men; and a hundred years later, in that, for a
pontifical panoply, they laid great Dante in the grave.
The goal of the gathered church is not
change the habits of beggars so that they can afford to dress like rich men.
The Spirit of God aims to transform the souls of beggars so that their very
clothing becomes the rich revelation of the indwelling Christ.
Suit Up!
Doug
No comments:
Post a Comment