Why would Protestants Wear Flamboyant and Extravagant Vestments?

A friend recently posed this thoughtful question on a photo of myself on Facebook: “Why such flamboyant and extravagant garments for a Protestant?”

It’s a fair inquiry, especially considering the common perception of Protestantism as austere, simple, and wary of extravagance. I’d like to offer some context and reflection that might clarify this misunderstanding.

On Palm Sunday, I was vested in a purple cope for the traditional blessing and procession of palms. My cope is made from purple damask fabric, bordered with golden decorative bands called orphreys, and features an embroidered hood. The cope itself is open at the front and secured at the chest by a metal clasp known as a morse. This particular garment was produced in India and cost about one hundred dollars when I ordered it five years ago. Given that it is only worn a few times annually, its condition remains nearly new, and it will likely outlast my own ministry.

I include these details partly to respond to a common objection—one echoing Judas’s famous protest—that such vestments could have been sold and the money given to the poor. In reality, this cope is neither expensive nor extravagant; rather, it often offends Protestant sensibilities, primarily due to an ingrained suspicion of anything perceived as too overtly “Catholic.”

So here’s my simple answer to a friend’s question:

Relative Simplicity and Historical Context

First, it’s important to recognize that terms like “flamboyant” and “extravagant” are always relative to cultural standards. What appears elaborate today may have been considered quite modest in another era. For instance, the vestments typically worn in my tradition are actually inexpensive, humble, and quite restrained when compared to the grand cathedral or coronation vestments historically used in larger, more ceremonial settings.

Most liturgical garments originated from everyday civilian attire or had practical, non-religious roots. Over time, these garments became standardized within the church liturgy, transitioning from their original secular contexts—military uniforms, judicial robes, or even common Roman dress. For readers interested in a deeper dive into their fascinating origins, I recommend the Khouria Krista West’s excellent resource, Garments of Salvation published by St. Vladimir’s Press.

Symbolism and the Nature of Art in the Church

One might similarly ask: Why do Protestant churches have steeples, stained glass windows, or religious art?

These items serve as symbolic vessels, pointing the worshiper beyond immediate experience toward divine and eternal realities. Vestments function similarly—embodying historical continuity, reverence, and theological significance.

Indeed, Protestantism itself—especially in its Reformed traditions—has inherited certain symbolic forms that we now instinctively associate with “simplicity,” such as the familiar black Geneva gowns worn by reformers like Calvin. Yet, even these gowns trace their lineage back to the academic habits worn by medieval monks. Ironically, our modern assumptions about “Protestant vestments” and their simplicity are thus shaped by medieval clerical culture—the very culture that the Reformers often sought to critique. In adopting the reformers’ black robes, many of us unconsciously conflate this misguided version of “simplicity” with a faithfulness to Scripture.

Jesus and his Apostles did not look like your “Old Time Religion” — they wore robes. Christian women wore veils. Their garments (tunics, mantles, cloaks) reflected the cultural meaning of their stations and standards—social status, occupation, ethnicity, gender roles, religious beliefs, and authority can all be read from how the ancient person dressed. This is similar around the ancient world where Roman togas and Greek tunics carried specific ideas in what was worn and how it was worn. Clothing was often practical, but never was it neutral.

Authority, Justice, and the Apostolic Heritage

Historically, some vestments like the stole were not clothing items at all. Rather, they were emblems symbolizing authority and responsibility. In ancient Roman culture, civil magistrates simultaneously fulfilled both religious and judicial roles. When Constantine Christianized the Roman Empire, he removed pagan priests from public office, effectively vacating the entire civil judiciary. Consequently, the imperial insignia and ceremonial attire worn by these ancient magistrates were transferred to Christian bishops.

I was first introduced to the idea of Christian Vestments through Dr. RJ Rushdoony:

“Rome persecuted the church, but finally found that the church was its best government, because the church had courts to settle troubles, it provided for the needy in its own circle and those outside… it took care of the homeless elderly, and the homeless children, it took care of the sick, it rescued and ransomed captives. Wherever there was a need, they governed by the ministry of service. … Rome found that its best government was the church, and so Constantine summoned the Bishops, and he told them: ‘From now on when you go out in public you are to wear the garb of a Roman magistrate, so that the people of Rome will know where they can get justice.’ To this day, a Bishop’s garb, although scarcely a bishop in the world knows it, is that of a Roman magistrate.” (R.J. Rushdoony, “The Ecclesia.” Lecture)

Thus, Christian clergy were imperial servants of the Byzantine state and vestments also reflected his authority and social status as they presided over the Church and State in concert with the Emperor. By the end of the 4th century the dress of clergy was formally standardized by law.

Thus, today’s liturgical garments echo ancient Roman symbols of ethical and judicial authority—comparable to modern ceremonial courtroom attire, such as powdered wigs, black judicial robes, or other professional uniforms.

Reflections of Heavenly Worship

There’s an even deeper theological symbolism connecting these vestments to scriptural worship traditions. The biblical descriptions of the Temple, the Tabernacle, and heavenly worship all include carefully described, ornate, symbolic garments. Early Christians consciously emulated these biblical models, understanding liturgical vestments as earthly reflections of heavenly worship.

A notable historical illustration of is the famous 4th to 5th-century mosaic in Milan depicting the Church Father St. Ambrose. Scholars date this as approximately AD 450–525. The mosaic portrays Ambrose in elaborate vestments—vestments that were part of ordinary worship long before the medieval abuses that later sparked Reformation critiques.

St. Ambrose’s Vestments

Tunic:
Ambrose is wearing a long, white tunic characterized by wide sleeves and vertical decorative stripes. This was originally a common Roman garment, later becoming liturgical attire associated particularly with Christian clergy. Similar to Greek Chiton.

Chasuble or Paenula:
Over the tunic, Ambrose is wearing a cloak-like vestment, likely a paenula (precursor to the modern chasuble). It is brownish-gold, indicating both his ecclesiastical dignity and the solemnity of liturgical functions. This garment evolved into the chasuble, commonly worn by priests and bishops during Eucharistic celebrations.

Stole or Omophorion
Around his shoulders appears a decorative band of fabric called the stole (or omophorion in the East). This garment symbolizes once symbolized Roman juridical authority and then the episcopal authority and pastoral responsibility.

Conclusion: Beyond Contemporary Tastes

In short, Protestant vestments—seemingly flamboyant or extravagant—serve to transcend contemporary tastes and preferences. They remind us of our historical roots, symbolize the gravity of ecclesiastical authority and justice, and embody a visual continuity with the heavenly liturgy described in Scripture.