Sept. 25, 2022
Copyright 2022, K. Langer
As many of you may know, I am a seminary student which, as you might imagine, involves doing quite a few things. One requirement is something called Clinical Pastoral Education or CPE which involves doing chaplaincy work in a clinical setting like a hospital. I was assigned to an elder care facility and became the only chaplain they ever had in the past three years. The residents of the facility saw only doctors and nurses all day long sprinkled in with the occasional visit from a friend or family member. I decided I would wear a collar while I volunteered there so that people could quickly recognize that I was there to be a chaplain–not just to the residents but to the staff as well.
Last summer I was fortunate enough to be hired as the summer minister at the Concord church. I decided once again to wear my collar but this time it was for different reasons. While I was there I would often take a lunch break and walk into town toward the local coffee shop to get a sandwich. I did this just about every weekday for almost three months and during that time I got a lot of interesting looks. Some sneered at me as if I represented all the painful memories of their childhood church experience while others smiled at me warmly as if I was a secret friend. A lot of feelings and memories got projected onto me but no one ever actually said anything to me.
In all that time only two people ever asked me about my collar. The first comment was from a young boy, about eight years old. I was walking past the cheese shop–one of my favorite places–when I noticed a mother who was about to enter with a stroller. I held the door open for them and the boy looked at me and said “I like your rainbow.” I said, “Thank you. Do you know what it stands for?” He said, “no” and I continued with “it means that everyone is sacred and that includes you.” His mother gave an approving nod and then corralled her kids into the shop.
The second and only other person to ask me about my collar was the church administrator. On the very last day of my ministry there and when I was on my way out the door she gingerly stopped me and said she wanted to ask me a question. She looked like she was about to ask me if I was an international spy or undercover government agent because she kept stalling but finally she let it out and asked me why I wore my collar every day. The answer I gave her became the basis for this sermon. But before I give my reasons I want to talk about how the clerical collar came to be.
The clerical collar as we now know it actually began as a sign of protest. Before the Reformation, Catholic priests wore cassocks which were long straight robes modeled after the ancient Roman robes. After the Reformation, Protestant ministers did not want to look like Catholic priests so, at first, they refused to wear any kind of special clothing and wore regular street clothes instead. They soon discovered that being identifiable as a member of the clergy was an important part of their work with the community. To set themselves apart, some Protestants started wearing a white scarf, called a cravat, around their necks. Some added a pair of white ribbons to the scarf which became known as “preaching bands.” You can see some of these outfits in pictures of early Unitarian and Universalist ministers. Eventually, the collar of their shirts was flipped over the cravat until only the front section was left exposed, roughly giving us the present design.
By the mid-twentieth century most Protestant ministers went back to wearing street clothes except during services while the “high church” ministers such as the Catholics, Anglicans, and Episcopalians adopted the modern clerical collar. Most Unitarians and Universalists ministers returned to wearing street clothes as well. A notable exception to this was a small group of ministers who studied at the Tufts University School of Theology. They became influenced by the “high church” style of worship. They called themselves “The Humiliati” which means “the humble ones.” These young ministers in 1945 felt that Universalism as a religious tradition was declining in significance. One reason they gave for this downturn was that worship had become too intellectual. It was all head and no heart. Interestingly enough, that debate still goes on today and I believe what they were saying then may still have some relevance today.
The Humiliati believed in the importance of ritual as a way of connecting to the divine in all aspects through the mind, the body, the heart, and the spirit. They believed symbols were important and powerful ways to understand and relate to the sacred and they saw clerical clothing and vestments as symbols of their spiritual goals. They were the first ones to use the stole over their robes as a symbol of their calling in the same way that the earlier Protestant ministers wore their preaching bands. Many UU ministers today still wear stoles during worship.
Not all Universalist or Unitarian ministers had the same view about wearing vestments, however, and the Humiliati were often scorned and ridiculed for wearing a collar in public. The small band of spiritual brothers would eventually influence the way that Universalists–and later Unitarian Universalists–would lead worship. Their symbol, the offset cross in a circle, was adopted by many UU churches and would eventually develop into the flaming chalice symbol we know but the development of a practice of wearing clerical collars never really took hold after the Humiliati disbanded in 1954.
So why risk wearing a collar and getting funny looks from both people on the street and even fellow colleagues? I have three reasons: as a reminder to myself, as recognition a a service professional, and as an alternative to fundamentalist principles.
When I was a college professor I wore a tie every day to class. It was a way of reminding myself that I had a responsibility to my students for their education and for their future and I wanted my students to know that I took those responsibilities seriously. As an almost minister I wear the collar to remind myself that I am not here to serve my own needs but that my responsibility is to others, to the ideals of our liberal religious tradition, and now to this congregation. Wearing a clerical collar is how Ihave chosen to let my light shine.
Secondly, I want people to know that I am here to listen and help people reflect on their spiritual lives. Service professionals like police officers, emergency rescuers, fire workers, doctors, and nurses, for example, wear uniforms that identify who they are and that they are there to help. Most of those professionals help people who may suffer bodily or even mental harm. Clergy are also service professionals but we focus more on the emotional and spiritual aspects of healing. Though others may deal with the mind and the body, we are meant to deal with the heart and the soul and by soul I do not mean some magical ethereal mysterious entity. To me, the soul is the means by which we connect to that which is greater than ourselves. The soul is the connection to the divine–however you may define it.
But perhaps the most heartfelt reason I wear a collar is because I want people to know that there is an alternative to the ultra-conservative theology that is wreaking so much havoc around this country and around the world. You may notice that the actual collar around my neck is not the traditional white band which I never wear. In its place I have placed a rainbow collar which, by the way, I had to make myself because no one else that I know of makes them. Like I said to the young boy last summer. I want it to represent that all people, all beings, and all of the natural world is sacred.
I want people to know that not all clergy believe in the idea of an angry male god who sits in the clouds in judgment and helps people win football games. I want people to know that there are those of us who ask how any god could possibly say I love these people but I don’t love these other people. I want people to know there are those of us who say fervently that you were NOT born a sinful child but that you–no matter who you are, no matter where you came from, or no matter how you may come to identify yourself–are just as worthy of love and respect as any other being on this planet. I want people to know that we are all responsible for our actions to each other and to the living planet upon which we depend on for our existence. And finally, I want people to know that ALL religions possess some elements of truth, wisdom, and hope and deserve equal respect and honor from all of us.
There are no chosen people, there is no sacred nation, there is no eternal punishment or reward for your actions, and there is no source of evil to blame your hurtful actions upon. Yet, there is still meaning and purpose to our lives and there is joy and wonder to be embraced while we are here together. Religion has relevance and can bring meaning and purpose to our lives. That is the message I want to bring out through my ministry. I believe it may be one way to save this world.
I want people to know who we are, that we offer a compassionate alternative to conservative theology, that religion can be a force for good and that it can add value to our lives. Here in the birthplace of our religious tradition, few people even know what Unitarian Universalism is. And though I am working to become recognized as a minister the truth is that anytime you help others you are doing the same work. We are all ministers of our faith and I urge you to let people know who you are. I invite you to share this message of hope and compassion with others wherever you go.
There are many ways to let people know who you are and why you are–to let the light of truth and hope shine on in this world. I invite you to find your own way to let your light shine.