Clothes Make the God

What is it with gods and clothes? Today’s news announces that Rob Halford, the Metal God, vocalist of Judas Priest, has just revealed his own Metal God Apparel line. Now, I try to be equitable, but isn’t metal all about sticking it to the establishment? Isn’t designing your own line of clothing the most establishment-worthy enterprise ever? Where have the rebels gone?

Whip not included

Whip not included

No sooner are people getting the hang of things in Eden than God marks designer clothes first on their list of accessories. Gods seem to be impressed with dressing the part. The Bible details what priests, and especially the high priest, will wear in the temple/tabernacle. Such location-specific wear indicates a very deep awareness of sacred space that pervades most religions. More than that, however, the clothes themselves are highly symbolic. Although modern readers may not be able to come to any consensus on the “symbology” (oh that word!) of each and every ephod and tinkling bell, we can be assured that nothing about the priestly garb was accidental. Indeed, Exodus informs us that God selected the fabrics himself.

Judas Priest, meet High Priest

Judas Priest, meet High Priest

So I’m not so shocked that the Metal God has made his preference known in the line of apparel appropriate to wear to the worship of this particular deity. As I watched a motorcycle club in their well-worn leather roar past me in my timid mini-van this weekend, I was reminded of the power of clothes. We may not be born with the body we want, but if we dress it up right, others might be made to believe that we’re gods too.

One thought on “Clothes Make the God

  1. I think Rob Halford has stuck it to the anti-establishment for a long time. First, this guy rides a Harley onstage and whips his motorcycle. That got the hormone-enraged rockers and biker dudes all charged up and cheering for more.

    Then he comes out of the closet and tells them all he’s gay. It’s enough to make confused metalheads wailing back to their mamas’ apron strings.

    And now he declares himself a fashion mogul? Who does he think he is? Alan King?

    I’ve never been fooled by the motorcycle club. The way they eagerly scan caged drivers at red lights for glances of jealousy and admiration always broadcast they are the biggest attention queens ever.


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