Many of us wear uniforms. Sometimes it’s a matter of tradition, like the nurse’s white cap or the doctor’s beret and gown that are now only worn for graduation ceremonies and pictures. Sometimes it’s a matter of practicality, like a police officer who needs to be quickly identified at a restricted scene. As often as not, practicality and tradition merge together, like the distinctive hat of the fireman, which protects the head from falling debris while deflecting water away from the face, a component of the uniform which is also prominent at solemn ceremonies, such as fire service funerals.

Uniforms can indeed become a symbol of pride and arrogance, and we are rightfully warned not to allow such an attitude to replace the mindset of service and love for the neighbor whom the uniformed person serves. Our Lord teaches about this in the context of titles, like “Father” and “Professor” and “Doctor” (Matt 23:9-10). Of course, Jesus isn’t simply giving us a new law, rather He is teaching us by warning us to be humble as we serve as fathers and instructors (see the next two verses as our Lord delivers the payload). Indeed, it’s always a good idea to actually read the Bible, especially in context, rather than simply trying to identify where Jesus adds to the Ten Commandments. This tendency to turn Jesus into a new Lawgiver is especially ironic given the context of Matthew 23, to whom Jesus is referring.

As an aside, the definitive post on this topic was written a decade ago right here at Gottesblog.

The idea of uniforms is cut from a similar cloth.

In my various personal callings, I can think of four categories uniforms that I wear, namely,

• clerical garb as a uniform of my office as a called and ordained servant of the Word

• uniforms of the fire service, both formal and practical

• uniforms of the Civil Air Patrol, likewise running the gamut from dressy to operational

• the leather vest of the biker (I belong to two motorcycle clubs).

The fire uniform has practical considerations, as it grants me access behind police tape and gets me into areas where the public is excluded for the sake of safety (I serve as a fire chaplain). The incident commanders and the police on the scene can quickly identify me as someone who should be there. I have the same protective gear issued to me in case I need to be inside a building that has been compromised by fire and water. I have tee shirts with the large letters that say “FIRE” on the back that likewise identify me as part of the fire service. I also have a formal uniform that I wear for various ceremonies which provides a sense of esprit de corps and belonging, both for me and for the men I serve, the company with which I serve. The uniform does not in and of itself grant the goodwill of the firemen, as that comes only with years of service and earning their trust and respect. But it would be a different story if the men only saw me dressed in civilian attire. The uniform is an important tool in the toolkit of my chaplaincy ministry.

Interestingly, I have yet to hear anybody say that the fire uniform is Pharisaical. To the contrary, people appreciate the work of the fire service when they see the uniform. Instead of scolding, there is respect and affection.

Likewise, I serve as a volunteer airman in the Civil Air Patrol (the US Air Force Auxiliary), also in the chaplaincy. Although we are civilians, we hold grade and we wear aviator uniforms similar to those of the Air Force. In certain circumstances, CAP chaplains can serve as Air Force chaplains, and our uniforms likewise provide a sense of belonging - both in the practical matter of security and in the culture of the military as someone whom the airmen can trust - especially when we are on military bases and other installations. And again, our uniforms range from casual (polos and slacks), to practical (utility uniforms with lots of pockets and identifying insignia) to more formal (aviator or Air Force style dress uniforms with ribbons and rank insignia).

When I’m in uniform, nobody scolds me as a Pharisee. To the contrary, people are quick to thank me for my service.

Being a motorcycle rider, wearing a uniform of a black leather vest covered with patches is a different kind of uniform. It is not a matter of life and death. It is just good old fashioned fun and belonging to a group. The Red Knights is a service organization of men and women who serve in the fire service who also enjoy riding. We raise money for firefighters who die in the line of duty. We attend funerals and give honor to our brethren in the service. I also belong to another club of men and women who all happen to be Lutherans and who get together because we share our joy in being redeemed by Christ and we also enjoy the gift of the open road and the roar of the machine. The leather regalia has the practical application of safety and also the expression of being part of “biker culture.”

And contrary to the hackneyed meme that shows a biker being shunned in church, we are always welcome when we roll up to a congregation and attend Divine Service in our vests and boots and riding regalia.

When in the biker uniform, nobody “likens it to the actions of the Pharisees.”

This only seems to be the case of the clerical uniform.

So what’s the point of the black shirt and the white collar? Is it to inculcate a sense of pride, that we are better than the layman? While this is indeed a danger for those of any uniformed office or vocation, such as a fireman, airman, or biker, not to mention other vocations like doctor, surgeon general, judge, school crossing guard, flight attendant, member of the Special Forces, police officer, member of a heritage organization, person bearing a medal of knighthood, or a uniformed athlete.

The fact of the matter is that nobody ever shouts from the stadium bleachers that the football players are “Pharisees” because they wear team uniforms.

I believe that there is not a little bit of resentful anticlericalism at work here, perhaps motivated by envy - along the lines of what C.S. Lewis wrote about such egalitarianism in The Screwtape Letters.

The reality is that the clerical black shirt and collar (or the cassock) has practical value for the pastor in carrying out his office. After Hurricane Katrina, several area pastors were able to have access to places that were under martial law. We were shuttling people to their homes by boat and by ATV, and the National Guard waved us on because of our uniforms. This enabled us to serve people in both their physical and spiritual time of need.

The clerical uniform grants us quick access in the hospital. On one occasion, a parishioner’s relative was dying in ICU. I ran through the open door and made it in time to minister to her on her deathbed and to her family members because I was immediately recognized by hospital staff as someone who needed to be there.

The uniform has provided me countless times to share the Good News, to pray for and with people in my community and on the highways, usually complete strangers, because they know that the “dress blacks” identify me as one in the office of service to King and kingdom. Sometimes the uniform attracts people who hate the Christian faith, and that’s okay too. It is a reminder even to the demons that Jesus has defeated them.

And in spite of the fact that the clerical uniform is the only one - at least in my experience - that brings with it the occasional charge of “Pharisaism” - and even from some Lutherans! - it is still important that we not only be recognized as holders of the office in times of duress and in times of normalcy, it is important for the pastor, the fireman, the airman, the biker, the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker to be comfortable in his own skin, knowing that he is called to serve in that vocation, not for “shameful gain” and not “to be seen by men,” not to enjoy a “place of honor,” not to revel in titles, but to serve.

The uniform is also a reminder to those who are being served that they too are called to humility and not to fall into the trap of another kind of Pharisaism.