ROBED

I'm not one to wave a wish-list at Christmastime, but when my daughter-in-law asked what I might like, I thought of my, uh, very pilled, tired plush bathrobe. About thirty years ago, it was a soft and quite cozy. But now it was, well, ratty instead of royal, the “plush” spiked and thin.

I'm not fussy about robes; probably that old one came form a clearance rack. But its “aging” condition got me thinking about the history of robes and their spiritual connections. In reading the book of Isaiah, I always pause at the beginning of chapter 6. The prophet Isaiah wrote: “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple” (Isaiah 6:1). Isaiah goes on to describe heavenly beings (seraphs with six wings) whose praise of God was so great that the temple's doorposts and thresholds shook, and the temple was filled with smoke.

Shaken greatly by this vision, Isaiah exclaimed, “Woe is me!” Then God commissioned him to prophesy to his wayward nation. That included advising King Uzziah, who would die of leprosy as a divine punishment for burning incense in the temple—a rite strictly belonging to the priests. So yes, pride led to the king's fall.

That whole thing of “pride” figures in other parts of robe history. Think of the Genesis account of teenage Joseph strutting about in his daddy's gift of a richly ornamented robe, to the disgust of his older half-brothers. That story didn't end happily for many years.

As history continued, the length and “drag” of a robe came to represent wealth and status. Robes of expensive material with lots of “drag” denoted that the wearer was either wealthy, distinguished in some way, or royalty. When King Charles was crowned last year, he entered Westminster Abby wearing the historic 14-foot-long “Coronation” robe which his mother had worn in 1953. He exited wearing the 21-foot “Imperial State Robe,” fifteen pounds dragging from his shoulders.

Not something you'd wear to wash the dishes or change the oil in the car....

Back to Isaiah's vision of Heaven and the enormous train from the throne of God. Remember, it was a vision, a way that God communicated concepts too great and wonderful for our human language. That's also true of how the apostle John, in an incredible vision he had of heaven (now our Biblical book of “Revelation”), described celestial garments of martyrs. They were white, “washed...in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev. 7:14).

I can't wrap my mind around that. But I gladly wrap my (new) robe around me these cold nights. At times I still pull on my late husband's old robe, generous and warm. It's all that's left of his once-full closet, the rest of his clothes now given to people in need. I miss his hugs, but the robe reminds me that now I am wrapped in “the hug of God.” And knowing that brings great comfort.