It’s a common sight in the ordinary form of the Mass: throngs of people (all of them, actually, despite the fact that, statistically, only a small fraction of these people could have gone to Confession within recent memory) shuffle restlessly forward, thrusting their hands out to snatch God on their own terms. Most of them are dressed very casually, showing how little effort they think the Lord deserves on Sunday morning.
Then there is the equally casual one-handed way these communicants pop their Lord and God into their mouths, wiping their palms on their jeans afterward—can these people possibly believe that they are receiving the very body and blood, soul and divinity, of their Savior? Surely not.
The way they stand, so confidently, in front of the Eucharistic minister, reaching their hands out to help themselves at the table of the Lord, displays open arrogance. You can tell they consider themselves on a level with God Himself by the way they barely acknowledge His presence, save, perhaps, for a brief nod of the head, such as one directs toward a vague acquaintance one sees at the grocery store. Overall, the way in which the average communicant receives at a standard Novus Ordo Sunday Mass is far from edifying.
The above is a sort of reductio ad absurdum answer to a recently published article on individuality and piety. I do not actually think about any of these things when I am at Mass. First of all, I have my own concerns of which to be mindful—my own spiritual preparation, scraps of pre-Communion prayers I remember from a distant past when I was able to balance a prayer book instead of multiple children; on a less spiritual level, merely attempting to corral toddlers on the way up to and back from the front of the church is really enough of a challenge to keep anyone adequately focused on their own business.
Secondly, and more significantly, the fact remains that as much as I may struggle with uncharitable thoughts toward others, it is patently obvious that I can’t actually know anything about the interior state of anyone else at Mass. Of course, it’s entirely possible that the man in jeans and a football jersey chose to dress that way because he is more invested in the game he is watching at a friend’s house afterward than he is in worshipping at Mass; but it’s also quite likely that he is simply a fellow who doesn’t think much about clothing and has never been instructed on how to dress for Mass.
The young, fit woman who doesn’t bother to genuflect may not care too much about the Real Presence—or she could have a running injury afflicting her knee, although you can’t see the brace under her skirt. These people are strangers, but they are also members of the Body of Christ, and what we owe them are our prayers and our charity—not a spiritual or psychological analysis.
Anyone who reads the first paragraph of this essay, without recognizing it as parody, would quite rightly be shocked by the idea that a person was entitled to sit in judgment of the Communion queue. While any of us might have occasional thoughts along some of these lines, we can rationally dismiss them, ask God to forgive us and help us grow in love of our neighbor, and strive to assume the best of others, as the virtue of charity demands of us.
We might be shocked, in passing, by a plunging neckline, or someone’s blundering into Mass at the halfway point, but deep down we know that these externals are shaky evidence on which to judge a person’s heart. We know that we cannot judge the soul merely by exterior attributes; we know that it is wrong to make assumptions about a person’s interior disposition or depth of holiness based on casual clothing or external postures at Mass.
We might be shocked, in passing, by a plunging neckline, or someone’s blundering into Mass at the halfway point, but deep down we know that these externals are shaky evidence on which to judge a person’s heart.tures at Mass.Tweet ThisAnd yet, somehow, when the tables are turned, it has become acceptable to point out the interior shortcomings of people who display any kind of outward trappings of piety or devotion. We can assume that women who veil think they are better than women who don’t; that people who kneel and receive Communion on the tongue do so not out of respect for the One whom they receive but, instead, in order to create a scene and call attention to their excessive holiness. People who wear suits and ties or dresses to Mass on Sundays other than Easter are surely just making a statement that they are better than those who attend in shorts. A longer hemline or a higher neckline, a habit of staying after Mass to make one’s thanksgiving, carrying a missal or prayerbook, special care in genuflecting or crossing oneself—the signs of spiritual pride are so subtle and varied!
Is it possible that a person who dresses modestly and reverently for Mass, who kneels and bows and observes the outward forms of piety, might be a whited sepulcher? Assuredly. These outward devotions are certainly not a guarantor of holiness. On the other hand, there is absolutely no reason to interpret these as signs of interior decay. Perhaps this is difficult for people who themselves struggle with feelings of spiritual pride; people who, in acknowledging their own shortcomings in this regard, tend to project them onto others who engage in outwardly observable devotions.
But this struggle to control others in order to calm one’s own anxieties is not a healthy response. We recognize this in other areas of life: an alcoholic does not find healing by micromanaging other people’s consumption of spirits. The answer to obsessive compulsive disorder is not to force others to wash their hands constantly for the comfort of the one suffering. Why do we continue to insist that everyone must conform to exactly the same spiritual practices in order to make others comfortable?
Unity and conformity do make many people more comfortable; and the Church does indeed regulate our comportment at Mass within certain bounds. At the same time, however, souls are individuals, and God’s relationship with each one of us is unique. If that is true, and if the Church, in her wisdom, can tolerate a degree of nonconformity among the laity at Mass, could we, perhaps, as well?
Excellent article. It is kind of funny how many of the liberal novus ordo people (including a good number of older priests nowadays) are often the most conformist and intolerant (and the TLM is much more non-conformist). I also am surprised that America Magazine still has any kind of significant reader base.
The one thing I will say, and I think that at least some of my fellow traditionalists would disagree with me on this, is that I draw a distinction between gestures at mass and dress at mass. They are related, but they have (or should have) different audiences. The gestures should only be directed toward God. If we do them intending to have a positive influence on others there then we are, in fact, putting on a performance. They should be whatever we think we owe God, and are only for God’s benefit.
On the other hand, when it comes to dress, the only target audience here is our fellow mass-goers, and to have a positive/constructive influence on them. The audience is not God. God can literally see the crap sitting in our colon, and every other unpleasantness inside of our bodies, and is unlikely impressed by anything we wear on the outside, especially when dress is ultimately an artifact of our culture and time. If a modern man wearing a suit and tie went back to the Holy Land in 33 AD he would look like an alien from another planet. And to that point, the best-dressed people of Jesus’ day were the Romans, Herodians, and Sadducees, none of whom were His allies (and the latter of whom were the most distant from Jesus, theologically, of any any group of Jews).
But there is an important reason to dress well for mass – not to impress God, but rather to have a positive/constructive influence on the rest of the congregation. It is the only reason. It is the same reason why we should dress well for weddings, funerals, and job interviews. It shows to everyone who sees us that the event is important to us, and we are taking it seriously, and so should they. The mass and the sacraments are the most important thing we engage in each week, and the more we can influence others to recognize this for their sakes too, the better.
Ultimately we can have either a positive/constructive or a negative/destructive influence on others by how we dress at mass. It is almost impossible to be neutral on this matter. And the casualness with dress at many NO parishes is very likely a factor in their declines. It likely affected/affects the attitudes of people there, which, over time, can take on more tangible manifestations of decline. So before we step out of the house to go to mass, we need to ask ourselves whether we will have a positive or negative influence on others at mass by how we are dressed.