Wolfe adopted the white suit as a trademark in 1962. He bought his first white suit planning to wear it in the summer in the style of Southern gentlemen. The suit he purchased, however, was too heavy in the summer for his tastes and so he wore it in winter instead. He found wearing the suit in the winter created a sensation and adopted it as his trademark.[18] Wolfe has maintained the uniform ever since, sometimes worn with a matching white tie, white homburg hat, and two-tone shoes. Wolfe has said that the outfit disarms the people he observes, making him, in their eyes, “a man from Mars, the man who didn’t know anything and was eager to know.”[19]

via Tom Wolfe – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Wolfe began wearing the white suit in 1962 and continued because it provided a helpful barrier between himself and his subjects. “It made me a man from Mars,” Wolfe says, “the man who didn’t know anything and was eager to know. Incidentally, all during these trips to colleges I didn’t wear the suit. I’d wear navy blazers, white flannels, shoes like this.” Wolfe points at his two-tone shoes as if they magically appeared on his feet. “They had no idea who I was … they’d tend to look at me and think, ‘Well, he’s too old to be Drug Enforcement Administration.’ So they figured I was harmless. People just can’t stay wary so long.”

via In Wolfe’s clothing

I don’t consider Tom Wolfe the expert in Christian ministry, but he did go and hear “confessions” of a sort from young people on college campuses. I have to wonder if this may have some bearing on how pastor’s minister in the world. We are “in the world, not of it,” but the popular consensus today seems to be that pastors need to show how far they are in it in order to gain a hearing. Wolfe might give us reason to question this inference. Perhaps we might be more useful if we didn’t look the same as everyone else.

Just a thought.

For further reading:

• Why does the pastor wear a robe?
• The Clerical Collar

A number of points are of particular note. Leithart successfully takes to task R P C Hanson’s influential interpretation of Athanasius as having a `space suit Christology.’ Hanson’s claim has the function of setting Athanasius’ thought in close continuity to that of his ally, Apollinaris, and thus of raising questions about the connection of Athanasius to the later Christological direction of the church as reflected in late fourth and fifth century discussion. Whilst avoiding anachronism, Leithart demonstrates that Athanasius’ thinking was much richer than that of Apollinaris and that he can lay legitimate claim to standing within the tradition that culminates in Chalcedon.

Leithart also uses Athanasius to demonstrate the inadequacy of modern social Trinitarianism by showing that the eisegesis of modern egalitarianism into Athanasian Trinitarianism is entirely misplaced, fundamentally missing the asymmetry of the intra-Trinitarian relationships. In a similar context, he also takes critics of classical theism to task for dismissing an immutable God as being a static God. The Trinitarian God is, as he points out, `by nature generative, productive, fruitful, and fecund. The Father is eternally Father, having begotten the eternal Son in an eternal begetting.’ (p. 84) If ever there was an argument for the need to understand God as by definition Trinitarian, this is surely it; and in making this point, Leithart reminds the reader of what an amazing theological resource Athanasius remains.

Similarly, Leithart offers a robust defence of divine impassibility. Here, he focuses on the cross, raising the obvious question of whether Athanasius’ account of God is capable of making sense of the cross. Interacting with Hegel, Robert Jenson and Jurgen Moltman, and drawing (as he does throughout the work) on the fine scholarship of the Orthodox theologian, John Behr, Leithart makes a good case for saying that God in Christ takes on suffering for us and that this is real – but it is real in the person, not the divine nature. Reformed Christology thus finds clear precedent in the work of Athanasius and has little to fear from modern, post-Hegelian critique.

On the whole, Leithart avoids those areas which have made him a figure of some controversy in Presbyterian circles, although there is a brief interaction with the work of Michael Horton on nature and grace. To me, this was fascinating but seemed somewhat tangential to the whole.

I had the pleasure last year of hearing Dr Leithart give a paper on Athanasius at a scholarly conference at the University of Aberdeen. This book lives up to the promise of that foretaste. Leithart has here made a fine contribution to the field of Athanasian studies. I intend to list this book in the bibliography of my Ancient Church course at Westminster, for those students who want to press deeper into the issues of patristic theology and the importance of Trinitarianism. He has certainly set the bar high for subsequent volumes in this series.

Read the rest: Peter Leithart on Athanasius: A Book Review – Reformation21 Blog.