The Wearing Of The Weird

A few weeks ago, in the ongoing blogversation about the need for more and better Pagan thealogy, someone, and I apologize for not remembering who it was (cougholdtimersdiseasecough), turned me on to Druid Priestess: An Intimate Journey Through the Pagan Year by Emma Restall Orr. I'm really enjoying it so far; Orr not only has substantive things to say, she's a good writer.

Recounting an interview that she did with a local radio station preparing for its annual "Gee there are Pagans" Halloween feature, she touches on a second topic that's been floating around Pagan Blogistan:

"But you don't help yourselves. What about these funny clothes?"

Again I'm laughing. "You mean the long white sheets with pointy hoods?"

"It does give a pretty weird impression, a dozen blokes -- OK, and ladies -- dressed up like the Klu Klux Klan!"

I am used enough to these guys now to know that, despite the rolling tape between us, the questions he is asking will be edited out of the conversation, replaced by anything that will fit more suuccinctly with my answer.

"OK, some do wear robes when attending ceremonies. It's an important tool for shifting into a different frame of mind, reminding us, affirming, that we are doing something special. But it's very seldom nowadays that they are pure white. Most wear natural cloth which is undyed and unbleached. Some wear tabards or overrobes which proclaim the grade or tradition that they are working in. These might be red or green or blue, even black, embroidered or simple. And some robes have hoods -- they're another aid for focusing."

"Like blinkers," he says and I laugh.

"Yes, for a specific occasion and purpose. But most critically," I tese him with my emphasis, "the hood keeps out the wind and rain." He smiles. I add, "It isn't there so that we can cover our faces."

"Yeah, OK," he sighs, resigned.