My Christmas started early this year. Over the weekend, I experienced Halloween three days in a row, eating my body weight in candy; my brother sent me my Christmas present early; and, today, I wandered into work and found a box with my name written on it. A colleague of mine is going through their collection of vestments and asked if I wanted any. I said “yes” and this was the initial set to head my way.
I was giddy.
Once O went to bed, I opened up the box and basically played seminarian dress up. While in my Sunday casual-best (colorful socks, skinny jeans, and a Denver Broncos jersey), I slipped these religious garments over my shoulders. I tried on the first piece, a white chasuble. It looked good, a little long, but nothing too wild. I could see myself wearing this. A purple cope (I think) followed. The problem with my religious education is that my ability to name ritual objects is limited. I’ve got cassock, alb, and…that’s about it. When it comes to fancier pieces of liturgical garments, I’m still a young padawan. So, when I pulled out the last two pieces, I was a little taken aback. My colleague mentioned that they were a Coronation Cope and Chasuble. I’m not sure what a Coronation Cope is used for but, wow, did it look fancy. I tried it on and walked around the apartment. I felt big, important, larger than life, and swimming in fabric. While I was whirling around my living room, I heard a knock at the door. My wife and I looked at each other. Do I answer while still in dress up mode? I looked out the peephole and saw a classmate of mine. That made my decision for me. I opened the door in full regalia. My classmate burst out laughing. It was a perfect way to end this day.