The Second Silence of Adam: A Father’s Call to Defend Modesty

Modesty is one of the lost virtues of our fallen world. As summer approaches, so begins the real test of the custody of the eyes. But the deeper issue of modesty isn’t primarily about what women wear. It begins and ends with fathers.

After speaking last year in New York City to the Goretti Group (Catholic singles in their 20s and 30s) on “The Virtues Necessary to Finding Your Spouse,” I made my way toward the subway. On the corner stood four girls, maybe 14 or 15, dressed in skirts so short and tight that Julia Roberts’ character in the movie Pretty Woman seemed modest by comparison. My heart sank. These were someone’s daughters.

I wanted to confront them, perhaps shock them into self-awareness, but I knew it wasn’t my place. Instead, I prayed silently: “Dear Lord, help them know their true worth.” As I walked away, I couldn’t help but ask myself: Where were their parents? What father allows his daughter to roam Manhattan at night dressed like that? Watching the Knicks game while his daughter’s dignity and safety are up for grabs?

This is the Second Silence of Adam. The first came in Eden, when Adam failed to protect his bride from the serpent’s seduction. That silence continues today, as fathers abdicate their responsibility to guard the hearts, minds, and bodies of their daughters. And the same goes for their sons. Their sons must learn how to cultivate the virtue of purity. 

Sadly, many Catholic fathers want to be liked by their children and so they remain silent when their daughter wears leggings in public and skimpy skirts at Mass. Or maybe we fathers are too busy with our careers and pursuits that our daughters’ emotional needs are neglected. We as men also need to model modesty in how we dress. I’ll never forget seeing a young priest wear a tight muscle shirt at a church-related event. Clearly, it sent the wrong message. 

In Parents of the Saints, I recount how St. Louis Martin, father of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, set the tone for modesty in his home:

He would never tolerate, either for himself or for anyone in the house, a careless appearance, or any lack of modesty in dress. We should not have dared, in his presence, to have had short-sleeved dresses, only just to the elbow. (p. 131)

Citing St. Ambrose, St. Thomas Aquinas offers some practical feedback on modesty as well, which he believed to be part of the virtue of temperance. 

The body should be bedecked naturally and without affectation, with simplicity, with negligence rather than nicety, not with costly and dazzling apparel, but with ordinary clothes, so that nothing be lacking to honesty and necessity, yet nothing be added to increase its beauty. (Summa Theologiae, II-II, Q. 169, Art. 1)

Today, many men blame women for the temptations they face. But modesty starts not with dress but with fatherhood. A girl who is seen, cherished, and affirmed by her father won’t seek attention through her body. When she captures her father’s gaze, and knows the love of her Heavenly Father, she learns to dress for glory not for gratification. Today, many men blame women for the temptations they face. But modesty starts not with dress but with fatherhood. Tweet This

It’s easier for a father to stay silent. But we will be judged one day not just by our own sins but by what we permitted or ignored, especially in our homes.

When I was discerning marriage, I wasn’t interested in extremes—neither the over-sexualized fashion model nor the frumpy, shapeless stereotype. I wanted a woman of balance, joy, and virtue. I once told a group of high school students: “When my wife wears jeans, I want her more.”

But we both learned. My wife noticed when she wore jeans or tight clothing, she got attention. She no longer dresses that way—not out of guilt or fear but out of conviction. She’s not property. She’s a temple of the Holy Spirit. And so is every woman.

The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass should be the last place someone is confronted with an occasion of sin. As one saint said when confronted with immodesty in church: “Carne del mercado”—flesh for sale. Once, before Mass, my late grandmother told a teenage girl to cover up in a serious tone, which made the young lady cry. Harsh? Maybe. But my grandmother knew the Lord deserved better.

We need signs in our churches (St. Peter’s Basilica has strict dress code guidelines), not scolding but reminders. Modesty isn’t oppression; it’s reverence.

When I was a resident assistant at Franciscan University, I saw firsthand how even faithful Catholic spaces are not immune to immodesty. One day, three young women were sunbathing in bikinis right outside the dorms. I called a female RA to intervene. The sunbathers were furious. Another time, shirtless men played basketball right across from the sisters’ convent. I asked them to cover up. They left angry.

Even at one of the most faithful Catholic universities in America, modesty is fading. How about the rest of our universities?

Modesty begins in the home when fathers speak the truth boldly. Our daughters must know they are treasures not commodities. They can either reveal themselves to the lust of men or reserve their beauty for the gaze of God and a future spouse.

No man wants to lust after another woman, let alone someone else’s daughter. More importantly, she is a daughter of God the Father.

Let us be like Christ—the New Adam—who spoke truth, lived purity, and laid down His life for His Bride. The silence of Adam must end. Our daughters’ souls depend on it—and so does ours.