The Hats I Wear (And Why I Take Them Off)

 

I woke up the other morning with one very specific thought: My head is freezing.

I’ve realized that as I get older (and balder), I lose a lot of heat right off the top. So, I started doing something I used to think looked ridiculous—I started sleeping in a stocking cap. It sounds funny, but lying there, I remembered hearing stories about the "old days" before central heat, when everyone wore nightcaps to bed. It’s actually where the design for the Santa hat comes from—it wasn't a fashion statement; it was a survival tool. I tried it, and the physiology works. I slept better.

But because my brain rarely stays on one track, that got me thinking about hats in general.

I don’t really consider myself a "hat guy." I don’t own a single baseball cap. But if you looked in my closet, you’d see I actually have quite a few. I have wide-brimmed hats for the sun and beanies for the cold. For me, a hat has always been a tool—something I use to protect myself from the elements.

Most of my hats, though, are a specific style—the flat cap (or ivy cap). I’ve worn them since I was a teenager. I realized recently that I don’t just wear them for style; I wear them because they were the "uniform" of the men who made me who I am.

I remember a trip I took years ago across Kansas with my dad and my grandpa. We were doing family history research, driving long hours and stopping in small towns. We walked into a diner for lunch, all three of us wearing our flat caps. The waitress looked up, did a double-take, and then a triple-take. She told us it looked like she was seeing the same person at three different stages of life.

That moment stuck with me. In that diner, the hat was more than a piece of wool; it was a connection. It was a uniform that said, “I belong to these men.”

That idea of the hat as a "uniform" sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole regarding the military. I had a rudimentary understanding of it, but I did some research to really understand the philosophy. In the military, a hat is almost never just a hat; it is a "cover." The language matters.

The general rule is simple: if you are outdoors, you are covered. If you are indoors, you uncover. But the reason is about readiness. A soldier generally only salutes when wearing a cover. The hat is what authorizes the gesture of respect.

There is one major exception that fascinated me: "Under Arms." If a soldier is indoors but wearing a duty belt or carrying a rifle, the cover stays on. Why? Because the hat signals that the soldier is in a state of readiness. To take it off would be to symbolically "relax" their guard. If you are armed, you are on duty; if you are on duty, you remain covered.

That concept of "covering" naturally led me to the Jewish tradition. I found that the Kippah (or yarmulke) isn't actually a commandment in the Torah, but a custom that became law over thousands of years. The Talmud speaks of men refusing to walk even four cubits (about 6 feet) with an uncovered head.

The theology behind it is beautiful. It is called Yirei Shamayim—the "Fear of Heaven." The skullcap acts as a physical barrier, a constant tactile reminder that there is a divide between man and God. It tells the wearer: "You are not the highest authority. There is always something above you." It is a permanent posture of humility and submission.

So, we have the military cover (signaling readiness and duty) and the Jewish covering (signaling reverence and the boundary between earth and heaven).

But then there is the Apostle Paul.

In 1 Corinthians, Paul throws a curveball. He instructs Christian men to uncover their heads when they pray or prophesy. It took me a little while to understand why he would say that. If covering your head is a sign of respect in so many cultures, why would Paul say to take it off?

I think the answer lies in the difference between a Soldier and a Son.

A soldier keeps his cover on to show he serves the King. He is an agent of the state, always ready, always under protocol. But a son? A son takes his hat off in his Father's house.

Paul was teaching us that because of Jesus, the boundary—that "ceiling" the Kippah represents—is gone. We don't need a "cover" to approach God anymore. We don't need to hide our glory or signal our submission through a piece of fabric. We have the status of sons. We have direct access.

We all wear a lot of "hats" in life. I wear the "Dad" hat, the "Woodworker" hat, the "Geographer" hat. Those are good hats. They represent my responsibilities and the work I do to serve my family and my community.

But I’m learning that "Child of God" isn't a hat I put on. It’s who I am when the hat comes off. It’s who I am when I’m vulnerable, uncovered, and open before the Lord.

So, I’ll keep wearing my flat cap to honor my dad, and I’ll definitely keep wearing my stocking cap to stay warm at night. But when I bow my head to pray, the hat comes off. Not because of a rule, but because I’m home.