Do You Feel Different Yet?

Many of my friends, colleagues, and parishioners have asked if I feel different, now that I am ordained. For the most part, my answer has been something along the lines of, "I'm growing into it," or "I'm beginning to." Of course, I realize that there is an ontological change that takes place at ordination. Our Roman friends call this an "indelible mark on the soul," which sounds really intriguing to me. But for the most part, I don't feel as though I've been "zapped" with new powers... Perhaps that will come in time!

What has changed, however, is my wardrobe. I wear the collar when I am participating in the liturgy, when I'm visiting those in the hospital, and when I'm representing the Church in some official capacity. Wearing the collar is a bizarre thing. It's not terribly uncomfortable for me. Honestly, it feels like a necktie. But I have paid close attention to how others look at me when I'm wearing it. I've noticed everything from revulsion to reverence, and everything in between--literally!

The first time I wore it in public was the day of my ordination. I was ordained on a Sunday evening and my brother and I had gone to church that morning. That afternoon, we went to his dorm room to change and to get ready for the afternoon rehearsal before the evening liturgy. I went in wearing a shirt and tie and came out wearing a black suit and clerical collar. I must mention that he lives on the twenty-first floor of a high-rise dormitory on the campus of the University of Kentucky. After we changed, we called for the elevator and it arrived, filled with students who were chattering about what a crazy night they had the evening before and how much they had drank and who they had woken up with that morning... And then I stepped onto the elevator and all of them looked at me at once, and immediately fell silent and bowed their heads, as if to inspect their shoes for the twenty-floor ride to the lobby.

On the opposite end of the reactionary spectrum, I was visiting a parishioner in the hospital a few weeks ago--wearing the collar, of course--and I stepped onto another elevator. This time, there was only one other person on the elevator and he was standing in the corner with his head bowed. I pressed the button indicating the floor and the doors closed. He looked up at me, examined me for a second, and then asked me to pray with him. We did. It was a holy moment, to say the least. One that I may not have had without the public symbol of the collar.

Although the collar does not possess any power in and of itself, it does allow people to perceive many things about who and what I am. I hope that people perceive my wearing the collar as an outward and visible sign that I am available to anyone for prayer, conversation, or for help--as best I can. But I'm not naive. As a friend reminded me, "Collars are wonderful tools for ministry, but beware! People love to project home movies on them!" In other words, the collar is also laden with individual webs of meaning for different folks. I am conscious of that, I think. And I do feel some of that when I wear it in public, but more often than not, most people don't really seem to care... Which is perfectly fine with me!