A Sermon preached by The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
St. Mary of the Harbor, Provincetown
August 25, 2024
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 16B
Ephesians 6.10-20
You’ve heard it said that “Clothes make the man [or the woman].” It’s a proverb that originates in ancient Rome. In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Polonius, the chief counselor of the king declares: “The apparel oft proclaims the man.” Mark Twain, famous for his white tailored suits, penned: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” The great Coco Chanel said, “Dress shabbily, they remember the dress; dress impeccably, they remember the woman.” Provincetown’s beloved Marilyn Monroe proclaimed, “Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.”
Throughout the ages, clothing has been an important statement about identity: ethnicity, class, gender, profession, and religious affiliation. For instance, think about how Jewish men (and now some women) wear kippahs on their heads; or how wearing the hijab has become an important and sometimes controversial garment for Muslim women around the world. The Amish are easily recognized by their modest and distinctive clothing. Vestments, robes and dog collars identify clergy, monks and nuns. T-shirts, hats and bags signify political affiliations. And here in Provincetown, outfits are a form of communication.
Out of curiosity, I spent a little time this past week reading about how our presidential candidates are dressing. According to the Guardian, Donald Trump wears shoulder pads, wide-legged trousers, and extremely long ties in patriotic colors. Kamala Harris is making her statement with power suits in conservative colors, which according to the New York Times is “a political move of its own.” As most women in leadership know firsthand, dress is something that we have to consider when breaking glass ceilings.
While many (perhaps, most) of us give a good deal of thought to how we dress, particularly for important occasions, how often do we think about God when we’re getting dressed in the morning? Today’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians suggests that we might consider the act of dressing to be a spiritual discipline, another opportunity in daily life to focus on who and how God wants us to show up in the world.
This morning, I’d like to us to consider what Paul once referred to as “clothing ourselves with Christ” (Galatians 3.27) or intentionally wearing the spiritual garments of “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience [and] love” (Colossians 3.12, 14) – the very essence of God in Christ.
Paul’s letters were written to early Christian communities under extreme duress. Since Christianity was not an authorized or legal religion in the Roman Empire, Christians often suffered for their beliefs and their refusal to worship the Emperor and his pagan gods and idols. Recognizing this, Paul used imperial imagery to encourage these early followers of Jesus. In his letter to the Church in Ephesus, the apostle wrote: “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of God’s power,” not that of Rome. “Put on the armor of God,” rather than the military armor of Roman soldiers.
Paul was so serious about this instruction that in this morning’s reading, he elaborates on the wardrobe. Wear a “belt of truth around your waist” instead of one that holds a sword or knife, or in today’s world, a gun. Rather than putting on protective and decorative metal, protect your heart and soul with a breastplate of righteousness – that is, take on and take in God’s own character. Wear footwear that will allow you to walk your talk and proclaim the gospel of peace rather than sporting heavy-soled military sandals that can stomp on the innocent. Carry a “shield of faith” to deflect darts of evil before they strike. Instead of an in-crested imperial headdress, wear a “helmet of salvation.” And finally, rather than spears, daggers, arrows and the infamous gladius or Roman sword, carry the Word of God as your “sword of the Spirit,” the only offensive, sharp and penetrating weapon you will need.
Can you see how Paul’s metaphorical wardrobe mocks Roman power and authority and symbolizes the powerful and authoritative qualities of God? The armor he describes covers and protects the faithful under the shadow of God’s wings. It invokes the imagery of the ancient Jewish prophets and first century apocalyptic writers. It acknowledges the power and principalities of systemic evil and the reality of perilous spiritual conflict. It permits disciples to withstand attacks without humiliation or resorting to violence. And it makes the statement, which here in Provincetown, especially during Carnival Week, is sometimes taken to extremes – you are what you wear.
Unfortunately, like so much of the early Christian writings, the armor of God as illustrated by Paul in his letter to the Ephesians got turned upside down over the centuries. In fact, St. James the Fisherman underwent a tragic transformation in medieval Spain. Santiago Perigrino, St. James the Pilgrim, originally wore a cloak, floppy hat, and shell, and carried a walking stick and gourd. During the 9th century, he became Santiago Matamoros – St. James the Moor Slayer, complete with armor, helmet and sword, riding with white horse and dead Muslims at his feet.
You might think all of this is academic and perhaps interesting, but not very applicable to your daily life. This morning, I want to suggest otherwise. I invite you to consider putting on the armor of God as a real spiritual practice that you can do every day.
We know about the importance of preparation for any challenge. Think about Facebook photos of kids standing by their front doors with new shoes and clothes and that all important new backpack – ready to return to school. What about those of freshman college students unloading the car trunk with all of the stuff needed to equip a new dorm room. Or, think about how much luggage people bring to PTown for a one-week vacation.
I can still remember collecting our gear as we prepared for our pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, weighing every item before carefully putting it in our backpacks and debating which kind of socks would reduce the inevitable blisters. And then, midway through our long walk, we sent ahead to the finish line half of what we had packed so that we could lighten our load.
As we’ve watched the awful war in Gaza and read about the unbelievable migration trek through the Darién Gap jungle, I keep thinking about how much stuff refugees, immigrants and asylum seekers have to carry on their backs, and how much stuff they leave behind, as they make their way to safety and freedom. And I ask you: what would you carry or leave behind if you had to run for your life?
And what about those special necklaces, bandanas and armbands that athletes put on before every game, or the good luck coin, rock or pen that people carry in their pocket or purse. The year after my father died, my mother presented me with his “lucky” leather portfolio that he only carried for very important meetings. What “lucky” suit, dress, tie, earrings or cufflinks do you grab before an important meeting or event?
And what about putting on the armor of God? How does it really work? While serving a church in New Jersey, I had a colleague named Robert Morris. He is a wise spiritual director, and he ran a center of spirituality called Interweave. One day, Bob and I were readying ourselves for what we anticipated to be a difficult meeting with our bishop. When we met in the diocesan parking lot, Bob instructed me to stop and put on the armor of God. I’m sure my face said, “What are you talking about?” Bob looked me straight in the eye and insisted, “Do what I do.” And then he said: “First, let’s imagine ourselves putting on the belt of God’s truth, and he pretended to wrap a belt around his waist. Then he said, “Now, let’s put on the breastplate of righteousness,” and he lifted an invisible shield in front of him. Then he instructed me to put on a helmet as he pretended to place a hat on his head. And it went on and on, until we were fully but invisibly garbed in the armor of God, right there in the diocesan parking lot. Then he said a prayer for God’s guidance and support in this meeting, and off we went. The conversation with the Bishop went remarkably well, so much so that even Bob was surprised. It was as if we won what we had anticipated to be a difficult battle.
I’ve never forgotten that spiritual lesson, and I’ve done it myself before walking into other challenging situations. So, this morning I ask you. How might your life be different if you consciously clothed yourself with the armor of God before every difficult meeting or conversation? What if you prepared in prayer for each and every encounter with the same attention to detail as you dress for that all-important party or date? What might your life be like if you clothed yourself with the armor of God every morning?
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul also reminded those early Christians (and us) to “pray in the Spirit at all times” (Ephesians 6:18). Most of us tend to separate our prayer life from the other parts of our life. Celtic Christianity – a spirituality born in a place where the land, sea and sky meet (much like the Outer Cape) – teaches the opposite. Entwined with daily life, every action of every day becomes the essence of prayer. In praying throughout the day – at our waking and in our sleeping, at work and at play, at home and in the community, in our speaking and in our thinking, even when we’re getting dressed – God becomes a constant companion, guide, advisor and protector.
Today, I invite you to ponder what your clothes say about you, and what kind of preparation you undergo before important events in your life. I also invite you to consider the spiritual practice of saying your prayers as you dress and trying to be intentional about clothing yourself in Christ each morning, literally putting on the armor of God that is compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, forgiveness, and most importantly, love. And then, pay attention to how it changes your daily life. You might be happily surprised.