There are uniforms to identify all kinds of people in our society. I feel comforted when I see, for example, a nurse all dressed in white, nice and crisp, like they know they make a difference in people's lives. When someone fixes my car and he actually is well groomed, has on a uniform with his name on it, I think to myself, "this guy knows what he's doing; my car is going to be fixed in fine order." I feel reassured. Many people share this kind of perception of those in uniform, especially, if it is accompanied by good grooming and a "spiffy" attitude. We all like to look good and we like those around us to look good, too. We love to see young people in uniform. As a young woman, I enjoyed (putting it mildly!) seeing a young and handsome military man in uniform. When I first met my husband I invited him to an evening event at which I instructed him to "spiff up" just so I could see if he knew how to dress up! (When I met him he had on jeans and a sweatshirt, attractive in another way...)
Different religions have different identifying attire and headdresses. The Muslims have their robes and veils. The Seiks have their turbans. The Jews have their yamulkes. When I was young I always thought it was cool that Catholics wore the lacy doilies on top of their heads when they went to church. In New York City they would receive their ashes at a noontime service on Ash Wednesday and walk around all day "branded" by the awareness of their humanity and mortality. I've thought about wearing a clerical collar from time to time, but I love secular clothing too much!
Our Christian faith, however, has no specific emblem, headdress, identifying garb or mark. It's sort of the bad news and the good news together. It all boils down to the commandment that he gave us: love one another. "Love one another as I have loved you." Yikes. That's a big one. It's quite a challenge, to put it mildly. Because it's easy to be known by a uniform. It's very common indeed to identify a nurse (although it has become harder) or a doctor or a military person or even a "waste management" person, by the kind of uniform that they wear. We are perhaps comforted by the look of that person but how many of you have been comforted only to be very uncomfortably jolted out of that sense of comfort by the way you were treated or the kind of service that you received? Conversely, anyone ever been surprised by the kind of service you received or the inner beauty of a person who was not necessarily the best dressed or impressively "uniformed" individual that you interacted with? Exactly my point.
Our man Jesus saw through artifice. He came, as we all know, not to condemn (make bad, wipe out, extinguish) the law, but to fulfill it. To go beyond it. To transcend it. He didn't come to say, "Be different. Don't follow the rules. Don't dress and behave like others." No. We are not to try to be like everyone else, nor are we to resist our commonality. The world is not to dictate who we are and the way we dress and behave. We, as Christ followers, are to be in this world, but not of it. And so we have our mandate. Our "mandatum," which is Latin for mandate, or commandment. His last wishes for his disciples to love one another were for those gathered round him on that bittersweet Passover dusk, but also for every generation thereafter: You shall be known by your love for one another. You shall be distinguished, literally, by the willingness to not be distinguished, in any kind of official or physically observable way. It's a paradox. People shall know us by our stepping back, not having to have our way, by not having to be known at all. The poem "Love Dogs" by the Sufi poet Rumi says it poignantly: "There are love dogs no one knows the name of; give your life to be one of them."
When law enforcement is look for a criminal "at large" they will put out an "APB" (All Points Bulletin). In these APB's they will include any distinguishing marks, such as scars, moles, tattoos or unusual things that might identify them, such as a limp or a harelip. If someone sees someone else that has this kind of mark, that person is busted. I've heard the question posed, "If they were still persecuting Christians (which they are in some places), would there be enough evidence to convict you?" Would you have the invisible tattoo that anyone could see, if they spent any time with you at all? Would they know you by your love? Would you be able to put aside any other agenda such as pride, money, resentment, jealousy, superiority/inferiority in order to fulfill our mandatum? What might you have to give up? For love cannot be truly faked, and we cannot extend it ourselves. Not real love, true love, the love of God. We (you and I) give up what stands in the way and what is left is love. We don't need to wear any uniform or any headdress or any collar or any kind of identifying thing at all. We will be known by those in our families, in our communities and by those who don't know us at all. We will be known by our readiness to forgive and our acts of loving kindness for no reason at all. That's the kind of notoriety we seek. It's upside down, from the kind of notoriety the world seeks. But that's our man Jesus. He turned it all upside down. The truth is like that. It often turns the world upside down. Like dying in order to live. Like disappearing in order to shine. Like giving in order to receive. Jesus embodied all of those things. This is why we follow. This is why we gather. This is our faith, our collective invisible tattoo, the only kind worth getting.
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