Why I Sometimes Wear Jeans to Church Even Though It's Weird.
Prudential decisions are just that: prudential.
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Why I Wear Jeans to Church Even Though It’s Weird to Do That Here and People Probably Think I’m Rude
My newest spiritual discipline is wearing jeans to church.
Of course, lots of people, Catholic, Protestant, and otherwise, wear jeans to church, but I bet you’ve never heard it called a spiritual discipline before.
Stay with me here for a moment, and let me explain.
At the church I attend in my little town in the Shenandoah Valley, casual dress is quite uncommon. You’ll find a fair number of folks in jeans at weekday and evening services, but on Sunday morning only a small handful of parishioners wear jeans. Most of us make a point of dressing up at least a little for Sunday Mass: women tend to wear skirts or dresses or nice slacks, and many men wear sportcoats or suits and ties. Sometimes there is even a silk pocket square or two in attendance, tucked artfully into a gentleman’s breast pocket. Even most of the kids are well-dressed.
Our parish puts a laudable emphasis on reverence at church, and reverential dress is a part of this. Dressing carefully and nicely indicates respect for the awe-inspiring miracle that takes place whenever two or three are gathered in Christ’s name. As one of my children’s religious picture books states, “How would you dress if you were going to meet the King?” At our parish, dressing up is the expectation for Sunday liturgies.
In fact, there are not only dress-related mores but also several other practices, traditions, and devotions that have, over time, become imbued with a sense of expectation here in our parish community. As a Catholic parish, we often hear exhortations to pray a nightly family Rosary, for example, or to attend weekly Stations of the Cross during Lent. We’re told of how wonderful it can be to have a large family of children; not just to be “open to life,” but to seek purposefully the gift of many little ones. We are reminded to travel to abortion clinics and pray and to serve at the ecumenical thermal shelter and soup kitchen in town. We are encouraged to follow the traditional Catholic penance of not eating meat on Fridays instead of choosing to make an alternate sacrifice.
And all of these are very, very good things.
But in a tight-knit community ordered towards our communal spiritual good, sometimes we forget that just because something is good does not mean it is required. I am talking here about the need to distinguish between that which is commanded – the deep and everlasting truths of our Christian faith, of the Sacraments, and of long-held Church teaching – and that which is good, but optional. Prudential is perhaps an even better word.
And choosing between goods, obviously, will always require saying “no” to one (or more).
Take the Rosary, for example. How often have I heard from the pulpit or even from other moms at the playground the vital importance of saying the daily Rosary? “With this chain I will bind the Devil,” promised Our Lady. Powerful stuff indeed, and I fully believe it.
At times, I have found saying the Rosary deeply helpful. While I was a student at a secular college in Vermont, I said one every day while perched high up in an ash tree outside my dorm. It was a very Catholic thing to do, a very Vermont thing to do, and a very fruitful spiritual discipline.
But when my husband and I were deciding a few years ago how we wanted to pray as a family in the evenings, we acknowledged that we needed to be careful not to bite off more than we could chew. Formal prayer time with four young kids is no easy business, and we knew from experience how quickly we might quit if we set our sights too high. So we asked ourselves, what is the very most important devotion that we want our children to learn? And we decided that above all, we wanted them to know the Gospels.
And so we don’t say a nightly Rosary. We read the Gospels together instead, say some prayers (including the Hail Mary), sing a hymn, and call it a night.
For us, this is a better choice than saying a nightly family Rosary, although we do sometimes say the Rosary in other contexts, of course.
Another family might discern the opposite. Both are just fine. We are given a large variety of devotions, saints, and other gifts in order to draw each of us closer to God in the way that we most need. We are also empowered to discern what is best for us in terms of dress, spiritual reading, working inside or outside the home, homeschooling our children or using schools, etc. No one is meant to do it all exactly the same way as anyone else.
But I wear jeans to my church all the time, you may say. Everyone does. We’ve already got this all figured out at our church! Our church encourages people to come as they are!
Yes, but have you ever felt pressure to participate in small group (non-Catholic Christians, I’m talking to you!) even if it isn’t working for you or is even making you feel less loved and more anxious? Have you ever felt you need to stand up and give a testimony (LDS?) along certain lines of conviction and convention but you’re not really so sure exactly how you feel that day? Do you struggle with religious or moral scrupulosity?
Right.
So for me, this year, my prudential decision and spiritual discipline – the thing that I personally need to do to grow closer to God – is to sidestep the good tradition of dressing up on Sundays and wear jeans to church instead.
You see, I have always experienced anxiety about clothing. Because I had few female role models when I was growing up, I never fully learned the art of feminine dress, hairdos, make-up, and the rest. I also received messages from some important people in my life that that it was wrong for me to spend money on clothes or personal care or make much of an attempt to look nice.
So I often feel nervous and awkward about my clothes, and when I do try to dress up for church, I usually feel like a failure. And then what do I think about at church? Mostly about how I’m a failure. Not about the love and mercy of God and the joy of belonging to Him. I have little mini panic-attacks instead.
What we need to consider in this situation is that God loves us even when we don’t perform. I need to believe that He wants me to come to Him whether I am wearing jeans or the perfect Sunday church outfit. Others may need to overcome a temptation to slovenliness or may find that dressing up puts them in the right mood to worship God in all His beauty and glory. Fine clothes may help them to feel and understand how special communal worship and Holy Communion truly are. But that is not my need. I need to overcome my fears and my perfectionism. I need to know that God wants nothing and nobody to come between Him and me. Perhaps you need to hear this, too.
We must obey God’s commandments and the dogmas and firmest traditions of our faith. But, at the risk of sounding flippant, I doubt that Jesus cares as much about our dress as He does our hearts. If something optional is an obstacle to coming to Him, it may be wise to set it aside for the moment. For I suspect that the reason He has given us so many beautiful devotions, practices, and prayers is because He wants us to have as many resources as possible as we struggle to open our hearts to Him, not because He expects each of us to somehow actually engage with all of them all of the time. First and foremost, He wants us, like little children, just to come to Him.
Even if that means coming wearing a pair of jeans.
Friends, I hope you enjoyed hearing my thoughts on this matter, and now I would love to hear yours!
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Very warmly yours,
You hit the sternum on this one. I was raised LDS and HATED testimony meetings. You speak of it accurately, the pressure to state publically our faith in God AND THE CHURCH. That's where it really is. Since withdrawing from formal religious groups, my connection with what God is and our relationship has become joyous and unpressured. You're right. Putting aside those things that come between us and God is a worthy exercise in focusing on the essentials. Thank you, Dixie, for this.
I like how you compare it to particular devotions being more fitted to certain people and families. I too have long found it difficult to turn to the Rosary as a devotion, but on the other hand, I have more of an inclination toward Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.
I agree with your criteria in the comments of clean, neat, and modest (in accord with the customs of the area). I too had difficulty dressing femininely growing up, which still affects the way I dress! So jeans and I are old Mass friends :)
It is difficult to "get over" the opinions and judgements of others, especially in this community (believe me, I've had 34 years of experience), but I always remember that everyone has their own wounds and struggles and everyone deserves to be approached with a huge helping of grace. Ourselves included.