Clothes Maketh the Man : Do Vestments Maketh the Priest?

I've been involved in a number of discussions in Social Media recently (some of them, it must be said, quite heated) regarding clerical vesture and liturgical practice. Readers won't be at-all surprised to hear that the various forums for these discussions were all of an 'Anglo-Catholic' hue.  

In the course of one particular exchange, I was informed that I am (I quote) "A typical 'Boomer'". Well I've been called much worse than that in my time. 'Boomer' I must accept in terms of my vintage, although I have to say 'typical' stings a bit! 

I guess, however, that we are all products of our time - and this is as true of clergy and our approach to liturgy as it is of anyone else. 

It was in my late teens that I discovered Anglo-Catholicism. At that time in my local parish church, Mass was celebrated 'ad orientem' (eastward facing) at a high altar which stood proudly at the top of several steps in a distant chancel. I loved the sense of mystery and the emphasis on the numinous that this engendered. But this was the late 1970s and a time of transition, so it was only a few months later that the altar was moved forward, perching now somewhat precariously on the top step, and Mass was celebrated 'versus populum' (westward facing). 

I disliked this change intensely. I instinctively felt that something had been lost, but I later came to realise than there was something slightly absurd about the new arrangement in this particular context. Whilst both Vatican II and the 'Parish and People' movement sought to emphasise that priest and people were gathering together around the altar, and whilst both sought to encourage a greater sense of engagement in what was happening at the altar, the long distance remaining between altar and people effectively thwarted both of these objectives, making the shifting of the altar by two feet totally pointless.  

Later, when I attended Theological College and started experiencing a wider range of churches, I realised that the concept of a 'nave altar', genuinely sited in the midst of the people, often made rather more sense, and this arrangement was, of course, de rigueur in the 1980s as were Cassock-Albs and Polyester Chasubles. (Quick - some readers may at this point be in need of the smelling salts.) Now the emphasis was much more upon the imminence of God rather than God's transcendence. Some churches, of course, managed to balance the two, with the sense of the numinous now being rather more dependent upon the dignity and devotion with which the liturgy was actually celebrated rather than on the mechanics of the 'choreography'.  

This was the style of worship with which this particular 'boomer' was formed as a priest, and to which I've been accustomed over thirty-seven years of priesthood, so it is I guess inevitable that when confronted with what some call 'the reform of the reform' I baulk more than slightly at what seems to be a bizarre and pointless turning back of the clock. 

This isn't to say that I am averse to all traditional worship. Far from it. There are times when I can thoroughly enjoy an old-fashioned High Mass provided it is done well (and preferably without the air of boredom and detachment which some clergy seem to imagine is appropriate). But I would struggle to cope with it every week.  My attitude now is much more one of 'horses for courses', and I believe that liturgy should be executed in the way that a particular building demands. Celebrating an ad orientem High Mass in my present 1960s hexagonal brutalist Church would be as absurd as celebrating a modern concelebrated Mass at a nave altar at All Saints Margaret Street. Building and liturgy must be allowed to resonate with, and complement, each other. 

So what of vestments?

Well, I'd be the first to admit that there are some ghastly products of the 1970s and 1980s still in circulation - and some still being produced! Not all churches can afford the finest brocade, but vestments should ideally be both colourful and dignified and have the capacity to enrich worship. There seems to be a modern trend amongst younger clergy to wear highly individualised stoles and even chasubles that 'tell their story'.  This runs completely counter to the whole purpose of vestments - which is to obscure the individual and emphasise instead the liturgical role, not least of the Celebrant who acts in persona Christi. 

That said, even the most traditional of vestments can be - and sometimes are - worn to make a political statement. In the eyes of some, to be a 'proper Catholic' one must wear only a Latin chasuble, never a Gothic one. Just how shallow can you get?

There are fads and fashions in liturgical dress just as there are in everyday dress, and given the state of the world and the challenges facing the Christian church, they are actually pretty irrelevant to the building of the kingdom. Perhaps we boomers did go a bit too far - and maybe it's good that the pendulum is now swinging at least a little bit the other way - but for some to excitedly see this 'reform of the reform' as ushering in a great era of  renewal, is, I suspect, rather delusional. 

Does a priest dripping lace from head to foot and wearing a biretta somehow command more respect and speak with more authority and conviction than one more simply clad? Of course not. In fact let's face it, some clergy who go wild with the dressing-up box can and do often look pretty ridiculous. 

Does the return of that major health-and-safety risk the maniple (a strip of material dangling from the left arm of the celebrant at Mass, thus making the knocking-over of a chalice much more likely) signal the start of a major Anglo-Catholic revival? Somehow I suspect not.

I also suspect that some of those who argue that the future lies in turning back the clock actually know that that's not really the case. Interestingly, the Anglican Shine of Our Lady of Walsingham is one of the places that is definitely going 'retro' in much of its worship, and yet when I look at photographs of their recent Youth Pilgrimage, I see very little lace, no birettas, and Mass celebrated versus populum. If the old ways are best and are indeed what lies ahead, why not at this event of all places? 

The quote "Clothes maketh the man" is actually a misquote of the character Polonius in Shakespeare's 'Hamlet'. The true quote is "Apparel oft proclaims the man". For those of us who are Catholics, whether we are modernists or traditionalists, we must ensure that our apparel proclaims Christ.