Skip to main content

How to Visit a Church

What to Wear:

The question of apparel is paramount in preparing to visit a church. The cause of this can be traced back to the 1960s... or perhaps the '70s. I'm not entirely sure, because I wasn't around back then. Anyway, at some point in our recent history, it became the 'thing' to go casual. It had something to do with authenticity and being welcoming, I guess. Because Jesus didn't dress up all the time, why should we? Although there's no indication that he didn't groom himself more particularly on Sabbath days, the idea is that he would not have rejected anyone based on their clothing. (Where this notion came from, I also do not know. Especially as there's a specific parable in which a guy is kicked out of the Banquet of the Kingdom of God for not wearing the right outfit. Go figure.)

Not all churches participated in the 'go casual or go home' philosophy, thus creating the dilemma we face today: to dress up or not to dress up. Perhaps the answer is obvious to some of you, at least in theory. But stand in front of your closet on a Sunday morning an hour away from walking through those stranger doors, and you might feel differently.

I'll give some practical advice, assuming you're visiting a church for the first time and have been given no indication of its 'style'. For women: a dress or a skirt, and I don't care if you never wear them otherwise*. It should be a casual dress or skirt, the kind you might wear to work. Follow the seasons on this. If it's Easter Sunday (like today), wear spring colors. (I doubt your first visit will be on Good Friday, but if so, do NOT wear spring colors. This shouldn't take much thought to figure out.) For men: a button-down and slacks. If it's chilly, wear a coat or jacket. If it's not, the shirt and slacks should be fine. You do not need to wear a tie (this rule may be different in other parts of the country).

*Except I just saw my sister and she's wearing the most lovely outfit with pants, so there are exceptions. But you have to be my sister.

Comments

  1. I hate the "choosing the outfit for a first visit" routine in the morning. Stresses me out.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

window in the sub

Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...

At the close of nine years

I'm moving to Texas in less than two months. I've lived in Long Beach now for nine years. Already I have stacks of books covering my dining room table that I'll be reading for my PhD program in the fall. I've quietly begun the tedious work of sorting and cleaning everything in my little apartment. I'm scheduling all of my last days with friends, moving through my calendar in reverse order from when I expect to slip into my car and drive away. This is the longest I've lived in one place, so I've never really experienced a leaving quite like this before. I remember the day I left Wheaton, closing the bedroom door on my best friend, walking down to Chaeli's car so she could drive me to the airport. (The greatest grace of Texas is that she will be there. Some friends we never lose completely.) I remember leaving California for Scotland—walking away from my mother in the Palm Springs airport. We leave people who have changed us, and we leave places that ha...

wanderlust

I am going home tomorrow morning. This is a strange idea. It will be a stranger reality. I am glad to go home, glad to step away from this world for just a moment, to better see it new and fresh but familiar when I return. More than this, I am glad for my sister's wedding. Glad for the vows, the strange appearance of extended family members, the green skirt. Glad for seeing my brother and my mother and everyone. Glad for the twos-on-twos. On the airplane, I will do my best to blitz through Samuel Richardson's Pamela. I will ignore the assigned readings of Foucault's "The Deployment of Sexuality," in part because I couldn't get it at the library and because I don't want to buy it, but most of all because I simply don't want to read it. I will read the essay by Adorno instead, and the chapter of Adorno and Horkheimer that I couldn't finish last night. I will listed to Rob D on my iPod. I will buy an overpriced sandwich in the airport. One of the airp...