The Rite (and Wrong) of Ordination
This is the time of year in which we are ordaining men into the Office of the Holy Ministry. And because of this, it is also the time when we call to mind our own ordinations.
The above picture is, for me, an irreplaceable treasure. It was taken on July 18, 2004 by my now-late father-in-law, Martin Fonda, at Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church in Fort Wayne, Indiana - where I served as a field worker. I received permission to be ordained there by the Rev. Fr. Doug Punke, so as to facilitate my family being able to be present. This picture is also a treasure to me as it is the only time when my wife’s Canadian family and my American father were ever together. My now-sainted son was also there, in utero.
Ordinations are a big deal. Like Holy Baptism, it is only done one time in a man’s life. He may be installed many times. He may be later consecrated to an office of authority, such as bishop or president - but his presbyterial ordination happens only one time. And even if he were to be defrocked, retire, or otherwise cease working in the Holy Office, he is never an un-ordained man. Ordination is a historical fact.
And that is why I’m so grateful to my father-in-law for snapping this picture (which at the time, was in defiance of the rules against photography - though he was discreet and did not make use of a flash). This unique, unrepeatable moment in time has been preserved in this beautiful expression of catholic continuity: a passing of the torch through the chain of laying on of hands that spans back through the ages. My ordination was also videoed by a classmate. I posted it to YouTube piecemeal as a playlist due to restrictions that existed at the time. The video records my solemn vows affirming the Holy Scriptures and each one of the Lutheran confessions in the Book of Concord as normative to my ministry - followed by Pastor Punke’s formal and clear declaration that I had been ordained “to the Office of the Holy Ministry of the Word and Sacraments of the one holy catholic and apostolic church” as his hands were laid on my head. The video footage is also a treasure, but the still photograph remains for me the most poignant.
The picture shows various of my beloved professors and other ordained pastors who bore witness, rendered blessings, and gave their public assent to my service to Christ and the church. Their white albs and red stoles testify to the antiquity and continuity, the reverence and the solemnity, and also the sheer joy of the occasion. My dear brother Latif Gaba, also vested in an alb, served as subdeacon, and is also immortalized in the photograph.
Now picture if one of these men - God forbid! - had chosen to wear a Hawaiian shirt, instead of an alb, on this occasion.
Can you imagine what one would think upon seeing it - whether live, or in the photograph? What message would be communicated - about not only the the ordination, but also the ordinand, the minister of ordination, the church in which the rite is being celebrated, and the church body under whose auspices the ordination is being conducted? What would it say about the man himself? What would it confess about how the man sees Christ and His church? What message would this send to those in other church bodies, or those who are considering joining us as Lutheran Christians in the LCMS, or as pastors under her banner?
As crass as the thought is, I’ve recently seen that very tableau. It is at the same time, sad and gross. It makes a mockery of the one being ordained, and indeed, of all of us. For these pictures are not private mementoes hidden away in paper photo albums. They are on the Internet for all to see. They are confessions of how seriously we take our faith and the office in which we serve. They are a testimony to the men whom we have called to minister in our churches, the men in our brotherhood. And I am ashamed and embarrassed.
The Me Generation thought it keen to break with convention, to do edgy and irreverent things, inappropriate to more formal or serious circumstances. A certain demographic cohort led the way in turning everything into a joke. And sadly, the Holy Christian Church also became the butt of their disrespectful humor and curated, deliberate lack of reverence. Their legacy lingers in the form of the degradation and desecration of that which is uplifting and sacred. It is part and parcel of our cultural malaise.
Now don’t get me wrong: I wear Hawaiian shirts. I live in the deep south. I’m also a chaplain. The Hawaiian shirt has had a strong connection to the military since World War II. There are plenty of times and places when it is appropriate. At our annual Ministry to the Armed Forces training for chaplains, the Hawaiian shirt is the unofficial uniform. There are times and places when chaplains and/or pastors gather, and we wear them. But wisdom, prudence, and discernment - expected to come with age - dictate that they are not appropriate in all contexts. No soldier, sailor, airman, marine, guardsman, or guardian would ever even think of showing up in a Hawaiian shirt at a formal ceremony - especially when everyone else is in a dress uniform. This used to be so obvious that nobody would have had to say it.
Apparently, this is no longer the case. And it is a cause for somber reflection, a call to self-awareness, and an opportunity for us, as brother pastors, to recommit ourselves to honoring our brotherhood, our church body, our confession, the church catholic, and our Lord Jesus Christ. Surely, we are capable of showing up at an ordination in an alb and a red stole, without looking like a clown, and calling attention to ourselves.
Can you imagine if this were a military funeral, and a member of the Honor Guard showed up in a Hawaiian shirt? It would not be tolerated. People would be outraged, for it would dishonor our military, the uniform, the deceased, and our country. The one who did such a thing would be told not to participate. He would not be photographed. He may even find himself dishonorably discharged from his service. Can you imagine if a flag were lying on the floor, or if someone cracked a joke as the flag were being presented to the widow? Nobody would just let that stand or see it as whimsical or an acceptable matter of adiaphora. Even in our auxiliary military service, all photographs of those in uniform being posted on the Internet have to be approved. If a service member’s uniform is out of sorts in the most minor way, if one ribbon is out of place, the photograph cannot be used. There are Public Affairs Officers whose job it is to maintain the reverence and the dignity of the uniform and the armed forces. Why do we not hold the Office of the Holy Ministry in similar esteem? Why would we allow this to happen during a Holy Ordination?
Men, please don’t do this. We all get that there are some pastors who do “contemporary worship” and brag about not even owning an alb. Well, good for you. But if you’re going to participate in an ordination, then get one. Don’t wear goofy socks, jeans, or tennis shoes. Don’t call attention to yourself, or ruin the dignity of the occasion in order to make some kind of unmanly, passive-aggressive point. Consider it your cross to bear for a couple of hours for the sake of the honor of your calling and of your brothers - and the fact you will be on permanent display in the photograph. Do you always have to be the center of attention? If you are so puerile and vain that you really must be casually dressed, out of step from everyone else - you can do that in the parish hall after the service. You can do that after the pictures have been taken. And if it is that important that you never be clad or photographed in dressy clothing and formal ecclesiastical vestments - then maybe you should just stay home. Please show some respect.
As the sainted Rev. Dr. Kenneth Korby said, “God ordains men. Be one.”