When we go to Mass we should dress in a respectful,
perhaps even slightly subdued
manner, wearing the best we have for God.
Dress at Mass
By Jonathan S. Toborowsky
A small pamphlet spells out a golf course’s dress code clearly. On the course, “Men must wear shirts with a collar or turtleneck shirts,” “All shirts must be tucked in,” “All hats must be worn peak forward and outdoors only.” In the country club dining room, “Jacket and tie are required for gentlemen aged 17 and over at all times,” “Ladies must wear a dress, skirt, or slacks,” and no matter where you are, “Jeans, denim, and sweat clothes are not tolerated anywhere on the property.” Does this seem harsh? Do we look down on the country club’s rules? Do we worry about the need for the members and their guests to be comfortable whether on the course or sitting at table? Should the club’s owner just be happy that people are coming? Probably not; most likely people appreciate the atmosphere that is created when people are dressed up. They might even look forward to dressing up for dinner at the country club, as a fancy night out.
Can you imagine what would happen if we printed a similar card with guidelines of how to dress for Mass on Sunday? What if ushers enforced this “dress code” as diligently as the country club enforces their rules for dress? What sort of letters would we receive at the parish office? How many telephone calls would the Bishop’s office receive? What happens to our desire to dress up when it comes to Sunday Mass? Why is it that the only times we will dress a little nicer when going to church is for a baptism, a wedding, or a funeral? Sadly, it seems that the reasons people find to dress up on the Lord’s Day have more to do with where we are going
after Mass than our attendance at the Mass itself. Perhaps our understanding of what truly takes place at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass has diminished in past years. So like any good gardener, rather than simply pulling the weed out, let’s attack the root.
So just what happens at Mass? Suppose an alien were to land on the church’s front lawn on a Saturday evening or Sunday morning and wander into the building to look around. In making his report home, he would perhaps think this gathering an opportunity to come together to exchange local gossip, read funny stories, and be entertained for forty-five minutes (less if you arrive late and leave early, but that’s a whole other article). Whole books have been written on the topic of understanding the Mass, so how can we keep it “short and sweet”? The
Catechism of the Catholic Church gives a simple yet profoundly deep description in paragraph 1382:
The Mass is at the same time, and inseparably, the sacrificial memorial in which the sacrifice of the cross is perpetuated
and the sacred banquet of communion with the Lord’s body and blood. But the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is wholly directed toward the intimate union of the faithful with Christ through communion. To receive communion is to receive Christ himself who offered himself for us.
Moreover the Catechism recognizes the need for outward signs of our inward understanding of just what is happening at Mass. “Bodily demeanor (gestures, clothing) ought to convey the respect, solemnity, and joy of this moment when Christ becomes our guest” (CCC #1387). Jesus Christ himself, not a symbol, not a reminder, but the man himself, becomes substantially present in the Eucharistic host. Each time we receive Communion, our hearts should be echoing the words of the Apostle John as he recognized the risen Christ on the seashore: “It is the Lord!” Truly it is the Lord who comes to dwell within us; how can that moment cause anything but an attitude of reverence and awe? A nineteenth-century Anglican clergyman, Gerard Moultrie, once translated a Byzantine liturgical hymn from the 400s which was sung during the Divine Liturgy at the presentation of the gifts. In what could be called a musical/ecumenical move, he combined the words of a Byzantine-rite hymn with the music of a Latin-rite hymn, and we are forever indebted to him for this powerful anthem. Fr. George Rutler, writing in his 1998 work,
Brightest and Best—Stories of Hymns (available from Ignatius Press), calls this hymn “a sublime antidote to the lamentable musical trivia that has so mutilated the psychology of Catholic worship as it is ordinarily encountered.” This truly is the mystery of faith:
please continue reading:
catholic.net/rcc/Periodicals/Homiletic/2000-06/toborowsky.html