Gerald

The first conversation of 2010 didn't happen until a couple of days into the new year. I'm behind already. I actually figure it takes longer to write up a conversation on the blog than actually have one. Perhaps I should cut down on length by enforcing a mandatory word limit?

The department store 'husband seat' has something of an iconic status. You will see them in most shopping malls and retail centres. It can be a plastic four-legged chair, a comfy leather lounge, or a backless ottoman stool - none of this matters. It all comes down to location. The 'husband seat' must be conveniently placed. Common examples include outside the shop just beyond the cashier, or adjacent to the store dressing rooms. Its purpose is to serve as a resting place for the loyal husband as he waits for the wife to finish shopping. In this way it has a very significant role. This one object says so many things about the very nature of human relationships.

I first learnt about 'husband seats' from my grandfather, everytime my grandmother decided he needed a new shirt. He told me that the best 'husband seats' are the ones close to the electronics section of the store. Close enough so that you could see the televisions, but not close enough to be caught watching one. My favourite spot used to be near the book section. This is how I read half of the Deltora Quest series as a child.

The 'husband seat' is where I encountered Gerald, who was an elderly man. He sat on the bench, watching his wife buy orthopedic shoes in a specialist pharmacy. I happened at the time to be wearing a pair of HomyPeds, so I said very casually, "Those shoes are very comfortable. I'm wearing some now." We started talking about past injuries we had with our feet. I told him I had fractured my right ankle. He said he had done his leg playing rugby when he was my age. I said I did my ACL twice over playing basketball. He said he did his arm falling down a flight of stairs. So we exchanged body injuries in a "I Say You Say' back and forth. He eventually prevailed as I had never had hip replacement.

Eventually I asked him if he lived in the area. It is a common set-up question I use. The answer will be yes or no, often followed by the person asking me the same question. To which I reply, "Yes, I live in the area, near the church on XYZ Street. Do you know the one?" It provides a convenient segueway into talking about the church. However, in this instance the set-up did not go so well. The conversation somewhat stalled momentarily, until Gerald broke the silence with an awkward question. He asked me why Christians always wear black.

What a strange question, I thought. Christians don't always wear black. I certainly don't always wear black going to church. But I had misunderstood, he was actually asking why Christian clergy always wear black shirts with clerical collars. I had never been asked this question, and I had never asked the question either. So I told Gerald I did not know the answer. My gut feeling was that the clerical collar was worn merely to denote that someone was a member of the clergy. The black shirt colour perhaps is a tradition, though I did not think that clergy were restricted to wearing black. (If you know more about this issue, feel free to comment.)

I asked Gerald whether clothing would have an impact on his opinion of Christians and whether it would discourage him from going to a church. He said he didn't go to church, so clothing or no clothing, it wouldn't make a difference. Hypothetically, he said he'd probably prefer pastors/clergy to dress more formally. He said, "When you go to church it's going to church, you gotta take it seriously."

I commented that I went to a contemporary evening church service where the pastor did not wear formal clothes, and the congregation mostly dressed casually. Shorts and flip-flop shoes were acceptable. I suggested in this way, perhaps the younger congregation would feel more at ease. Perhaps the pastor would seem more approachable.

Gerald laughed off the suggestion. Shaking his head, he joked that clergy members were trying to pass themselves off as "regulars" to unsuspecting congregation members in order to gain their confidence. It brought a smile to my face, as I quietly thought of clergy in contravention of s52 of the Trade Practices Act (misleading and deceptive conduct)?

I played the devil's advocate for a while, saying that there are even schools of thought that would argue for abandoning formal dress. They claim the formal clerical dress draws a distinct line between church clergy/leaders and lay members, and in this way creates a hierarchical power structure, another barrier for the congregation. Clergy who don the formal dress can even be accused of self-aggrandisement.

To this Gerald said, "Christians make too much hoo-ha about nothing." With this I agreed in part. He said, he didn't have a real objection to what people wear. His personal preference was formal, though he admitted it was probably because if he ever decided to go to church, he'd want to see that other people at least made an effort to dress properly (again another joke). Who ever said old people don't have a sense of humour.

Then Gerald said something profound. He said, "In all honesty, I don't think people who go to church make such a fuss about clothing. I mean, this Jesus probably doesn't care what you're wearing. It's the attitude with which you come to church - the motives of your heart."