Vestments

The recent decision by General Synod to allow clergy not to use vestments is being heralded as a change in the practice of the Church of England. It is certainly a change in the law of the land, but how much change we will see in practice is quite a different matter. There are many Church of England churches around me where it is common to see clergy not wearing robes. The clergy concerned will have sworn an oath to abide by canon law, one of which laws say that clergy should robe (although ‘robing in what?’ has been a question of long-standing debate). Often it is the case that changing practice precedes a change in the rules, so what the Synod has done is to change the law to fit in with present practice in many churches. Even in churches like mine, which will go on using robes, there are occasions when, on pastoral or missional grounds, it is inappropriate to robe. The canons have been changed to recognise that. It must be healthy to bring the law back into what is now common practice.

When I was a student we welcomed the arrival of a new liturgy lecturer, who was from the Uniting Church of Australia. This new church was formed by the joining up of a number of different denominations. They called themselves ‘uniting’ (rather than united) because the process of Christians coming together in unity was work in hand. They found themselves having to agree on what rules and regulations would govern their church. Would their clergy robe? They thought not, but then the discussion moved on to what was appropriate dress for their ministers. Perhaps ordinary clothes would be appropriate – tee shirt and jeans? They thought not. Perhaps a smart suit? But then it was pointed out that suits (in their culture) were the preserve of the rich and powerful (this was the 1970s!). In the end they opted for a simple cassock-alb and stole. It marked out the person exercising the ministry of president and was a mode of dress which spoke neither of class nor wealth, but simply of the ministerial role being exercised by this person at this particular time.

I remember going to evensong at Westminster Abbey to hear Colin Winter preach. Colin was the exiled Anglican bishop of Namibia, who lived in London and had been exiled because of his opposition to apartheid and to the South African regime that controlled Namibia. There was something incredibly powerful about the sight of this man processing in the grand entry procession at the start of the service. The Dean and canons were resplendent in gorgeous copes, each of which certainly was worth thousands of pound. Colin wore a simple cassock-alb and stole. It was a simplicity that spoke volumes about a servant ministry that was to speak in a context of worldly power. Somehow, in that context, his robes were themselves a message about a gospel that should be speaking truth to power.

I have a certain admiration for some of my Roman Catholic colleagues, who might seldom be seen in any form or clerical dress, but who will put on robes to preside at the Mass. Those of us, who are ordained, do not cease to be part of the people of God and more important than our ordination is the fact that we have been baptized. I prefer to be called ‘Nigel’, rather than ‘Vicar’, as that is my Christian name and I am among a company of people who together share the vocation to be the Body of Christ, broken for the healing of a wounded world. Yet I will continue to put on my cassock-alb and stole when I exercise a priestly and liturgical. It marks me out as exercising a particular ministry of service and the empowerment of others. It must not remove me from the company of the baptized within whom the Spirit dwells.