1 Sam 16:17: “But the LORD said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his (her) appearance or on the height of his (her) stature, because I have rejected him (her). For the LORD sees not as man (woman) sees: man (woman) looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.”That Bible maxim was not the theme of last Sunday’s Mass, but it could well have been. And by the time I exited the holy edifice 90 minutes after I had entered, I was tormented with the fear that in today’s secular perspective many Christians, young and old, had lost their sense of church etiquette.
In our materialistic world the church is perhaps one of the last social institutions where protocol, respect and reverence are supposed to be maintained. But sadly, times have changed rapidly and chunk by chunk the high esteem we held for that body throughout our lives is steadfastly being demolished.
In our day (a long time ago) it was your grandmother who was in charge of church-going activities. Sunday school – that educational institution within the church catering to children and other young people – was a must.
Dress was institutional. Neatly-pressed long-sleeved white shirts and black (or blue) short pants; colorful knee-high socks and shiny patent leather shoes. For the girls, it was a simple hat, over-the-knee dress and ankle-covered socks. Vaseline, universally loved by granny, was the staple jelly for your hair and also all over your body, even your face. Whether it worked or not it was used to heal dry skin, help protect minor cuts, scrapes and burns.

Silence in church was paramount:
Silence prior to the service in meditation.
Silence after the service in reflection.
Genuflection : the lowering of one’s body briefly by bending one knee to the ground as a sign of respect. It was old school. But those shows of deference had solemn meaning.

However, one of my politically astute friends recently pointed out that in our today’s egalitarian society kneeling takes on a rather invidious and servile meaning. I’ve taken note.
The homily (a commentary that follows a reading of scripture) was about to be read when an apparition came striding down the centre aisle. It was a dazzling picture of iridescence which immediately brought on a harsh onslaught on the retina. One needed a pair of sun glasses to be able to look in his direction.
As if by design, a diminutive man followed, dressed in a billowing multi-coloured short-sleeved shirt, many sizes too large and three-quarter pants with countless pockets. The clip-clop of his footwear seemed to reverberate for ever as he journeyed to complete his ablutions and returned, seemingly unaware or uncaring about disapproving glances. For him he had understood what the Bible meant when it said: “Rent your heart and not your garments.”
Some churches frown on female members wearing slacks, make-up or jewelry. That’s their modesty policy. Some follow 1 Timothy 2:9. –“ I also want women to dress modestly with decency and propriety not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes.”

The United Pentecostal Church has serious guidelines:
• No slacks because they immodestly reveal the feminine contours of upper leg, thigh and hip.
• No make-up.
• No jewelry except wedding ring and wrist watch.
• No low necklines.
• No sleeveless dresses and shirts.
• No very tight or very thin clothes.
• No dress hemlines at or above the knees.
• No sleeves above the elbow.

FOR MEN:
• No uncut hair
• No hair covering the top of a man’s ears.
• No hair touching a man’s collar.
For many men going to church is unmanly…definitely not in conformity with stereotypical masculine traits. Being with the boys, drinking bottle after bottle of beer, pushing aside domestic responsibilities, etc. The list is long, but the “lady has to understand.”
Last week I ran afoul of one sponger. I had finished my GT beer and I said aloud, “See you guys, I have to go to church tomorrow.”
The silence was deafening. Then the parasite burst into raucous laughter, alerting everyone around of my perceived indiscretion of going to church. Whether it was derision or opprobrium, this Catholic does not want to know.
Suffice it to say that I attended Mass the next day and gratefully accepted the wafer from Monsignor Terrence Montrose. As I walked back to my seat I saw the empty pews and wondered if and when they would be filled again. Perhaps the little boy and his sister, sitting next to me would herald a re-birth.