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Approaches to Modesty - Part 3

The Particulars of Modesty

When you’re passionate about modesty, as I am, this is a hard thing to stomach, but this is how it is: the Church has no particulars on what is modest and what is not. The Catechism has this to say:

2524 The forms taken by modesty vary from one culture to another. Everywhere, however, modesty exists as an intuition of the spiritual dignity proper to man. It is born with the awakening consciousness of being a subject. Teaching modesty to children and adolescents means awakening in them respect for the human person.

This adds some difficulty to approaching the subject of modesty. “What’s okay and what isn’t?” is a question often asked, and the fact of the matter is that there are no hard and fast rules. There just aren’t.

Because of this we see contrived guidelines popping up. No sleeveless, no trousers, no neckline below here and no skirt above there. Having rules for particular situations is one thing. I, for instance, am going to a college with a dress code which is implemented to foster an atmosphere of thought and respect. That’s well and good.

But, problematically, many people try to impose their own personal standards on the world at large. If a woman feels personally convicted to follow, as an example, the Marylike Standards of Modesty, then she is more than welcome, and hopefully it will aid her in her spiritual progress. When she begins to insist that anything less is immodest, she’s asking more than the Church does, and she frankly doesn’t have the right.

Let me say it again to make it very clear: the Church does not have a dress code. The Church recognises that the varying cultures of the world are vastly different, and thus their approaches to modesty will be different as well. In some cultures feminine trousers are the tradition. In some cultures the women go topless: breasts are considered in the light of their baby-feeding function, not in a sexual way. In some cultures midriff-baring tops have been a long tradition.

I think that many of us at this blog come from the Western tradition, and that influences our perceptions of modesty. It is important to bear in mind, however, that the Church is not a ‘Western thing’ and does not belong to the West. We belong to the Church, and the Church is universal.

If it were desperately important to our salvation that we know the details of dressing modestly, I have no doubt the Church would have enlightened us long before now. Since it remains ambiguous, it is open to healthy debate, but we should hesitate before making blanket statements about what is and is not immodest.

We should show humility and obedience, and defer to the Church’s authority. The Church has not definitely spoken, and it is Her right, not ours. Until she does, we should refrain from imposing our personal standards on the rest of the world.

Enchanting Moons

I just finished reading A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken, and I hope I get around to reviewing it before I leave home. It was a beautiful and heartbreaking story, full of both God's grace and merry literary moments with C.S. Lewis.

But I had in mind one particular passage from the book this morning... Davy had been asked out by an old Air Force friend, who would only be available on the evening she and Vanauken had intended to go to a dance together. Vanauken was all right with going to the dance alone, but after some thought he asks her: will we regret that we didn't go to the dance together? Will we regret that I wasn't able to share that memory with you?

They went to the dance together.

And it rang true for me. I'm past those wildly restless mid-teenage years, and I find that with each passing month I grow more and more content to wait, to be patient, to immerse myself in the present moment. I do still dream of love and marriage, but I'm content for it to be only a hope for the future. I have so much to occupy me now that in many ways I hope romance doesn't come along anytime soon to be one more big thing happening in my life.

But, at the same time, there are some moments of such breathless beauty... you miss him, even if you don't know who he is. You miss him not just because you'd like him there with you in that moment, but also because you regret that in your future you won't have that memory to look back on together. You can't help but feel that when the time comes that you share everything with him, you'll harbour some regrets that that wasn't shared. And as content as you are in the present, you realise that the more time goes by, the less time you'll have together.

It reminds me of something I penned in my journal a few years ago, when I was staying up at the family lake cabin for a few days. It shows my natural inclination for over-the-top romanticism in its uninhibited form (it's a private journal after all), so I rather blush to share it, but it shows that this is something I was feeling back then as well:

Sunday, July 11th, 2006

It was so beautiful this evening. Such gentle hues of purple and red were on the water, which was quite still as the winds died down to the quiet of evening. It was enchanting.

But there’s something truly mystic about now. The full moon is just rising above the trees, and a long silvery line is being cast across the dark waters. It’s bright in the center, but it grows duskier and duskier as it extends outwards until it’s just a soft glow. It’s the type of moonlit night that one reads about and dreams about seeing one day, or rather, one lovely night. The golden haze surrounding everything perfects the scene.

My first thought upon seeing it was to rush in and tell everyone. But I realised that they would spot it, anyway, and I didn’t want to share it with anyone... save one. I wish above all things that he was here. As I sit gazing out on the magical beauty before me, I do so wish he were here. I’ve been perfectly content to wait until God thinks the time is right. I certainly don’t want to suggest that God’s timing is wrong! But this is something I should have liked to share with him... it seems as though it ought to be shared with him, not described to him later. Yet he isn’t here.

But, dearest, know that my heart and prayers are with you tonight. I pray that some day we’ll have hundreds of enchanting moons to share. I pray this night more than any other thus far that God will bless you, and Our Lady protect you.

Approaches to Modesty - Part 2

How the Church Defines Modesty

So far we have a very general discussion of what makes modesty using the standard dictionary definitions. It’s a good place to start; but to really understand modesty in the Christian sense we have to look at what Holy Mother Church says. The following is an excerpt from The Catechism of the Catholic Church:

2522 Modesty protects the mystery of persons and their love. It encourages patience and moderation in loving relationships; it requires that the conditions for the definitive giving and commitment of man and woman to one another be fulfilled. Modesty is decency. It inspires one's choice of clothing. It keeps silence or reserve where there is evident risk of unhealthy curiosity. It is discreet.

Modesty recognises the dignity of the human person and recognises in particular the sacredness of the love between men and women. This should be very relevant to us, living during times where human dignity is ignored and sexual love is perverted. It’s convenient to dismiss the question of how modesty applies to our exterior actions and dress and insist that we’re doing fine if our hearts are in the right place; but personally I think that every little thing that can be done to support human dignity should be done... even if it’s as simple as deciding what we’re going to wear each day.

Paragraph 2521 of the Catechism says:

[Modesty] means refusing to unveil what should remain hidden. It is ordered to chastity to whose sensitivity it bears witness. It guides how one looks at others and behaves toward them in conformity with the dignity of persons and their solidarity.

In dressing modestly we are first forced to examine our own motivations. Do I dress this way out of respect for my dignity as a woman? For the sake of charity? It brings a heightened consciousness of the issue, and makes it easier for us to look at others with the same respect we demand be shown to ourselves through our dress and actions.

We ‘bear witness’ to the dignity of humanity through our dress. Additionally, we give a much-needed support of love as it should be: instead of flaunting our sexuality to the world, we recognise that this particular love belongs in the context of marriage, and we refuse to ‘unveil what should remain hidden’ for the sake of our future spouses, preserving ourselves for their eyes only, and for the sake of those who would also like to preserve their eyes for their spouses only.

Respect for human dignity and properly ordered sexuality are very much under attack today. Modest dressing is a witness to the beauty and necessity of both those things, in a quiet everyday way that we can all accomplish.

Shabby Apple Discount

Shabby Apple, a business which promotes both modesty and style in dress, has just released a new preteen line. We're working out the logistics for a review right now, but in the meantime they've been good enough to offer a discount for the readers of The Catholic Young Woman.

The coupon is for 10% off any Shabby Apple purchase, and expires on August 15th. Enter the following in the "coupon" box during checkout:

catholicyoungwoman10off

From the Old Chest

If you had stopped by my place this morning you would have found me curled up on the sofa, bundled in blankets and what sweaters I hadn't packed, with a plate of oatmeal bread at my side, and a mug of tea in one hand and an old letter in the other. While I was packing my bags the other day I happened to open my 'hope chest,' which is actually more of a collection of the past than savings for the future, and I saw the bundles of letters that I've received over the years.

It was cold, cold, cold this morning, cold enough to be early November rather than early August, and I decided that it was the perfect day to stay in bed reading those old letters and taking a trip down that famous old Memory Lane.

It was indeed a trip, and stirred up both happy and rather bittersweet memories. There were the letters Anne and I wrote to each other in those days that seem like ages ago, when I was ten and she was eleven. We met a year later and became closer friends than ever, and continued to write whenever we had a spare moment.

There were letters from my two close local friends. We didn't write quite as often, because we saw each other often after Mass, and we would go out riding together once a week or so. We wrote a lot about our horses, about the wicked roosters that plagued us, about singing, and about Lord of the Rings.

There were letters from girls I never met in person... we were just penpals. Some of them naturally faded away, because we didn't have much in common. Some I wish I could get in contact with again, if I had the foggiest notion how.

There were letters from Tilly, who was good enough to write to the young teenage girl who had so many questions about life and vocation. There was the invitation to her wedding; there was also the program from her wedding and my place card for her reception. I didn't know that I had saved that carefully!! I sat at the Nasturtiam table, apparently. :)

There were letters and birthday cards from my relatives, and from my godparents. There was one particularly heartwrenching birthday card from my grandparents from this past February. They mentioned how much they were looking forward to seeing me in the spring. I still haven't got over the fact that I was only a week away from seeing my grandfather again.

And there were several letters from new but very dear friends, friends I anticipate I'll share many years of letter-writing with, and who are decidedly kindred spirits.

I still have one or two more bundles to read through, and it confirms what I've had in the back of my mind these past few months: letter writing is something I must keep up while I'm in college. Those epistles of days gone by remind me of so many lovely times and wonderful people. Everything about every letter is unique, and represents in so many different ways the interests and character of the person who wrote them. In another ten years I want that collection to have grown larger with more memories and more friends. The responsibility is mine though: if I want to receive letters, I have to write them. Fortunately I have a constant and irresistible urge to write!

Those piles of letters convince me of another thing: there is nothing like family and friends.

What Our Grandmothers Knew

Based on what I’ve seen of her old photographs, my maternal grandmother’s friends were exceptionally blessed in the looks department. Come to think of it, my paternal grandmother’s friends were, as well.

This is always my first impression when I peruse their old photo albums anyway. In reality, though, none of the women memorialized between the pages of these books had Marilyn Monroe’s figure or Audrey Hepburn’s profile. In fact, some of them were homely, some of them were plump, and none of them were flawless.

So why am I repeatedly struck by the beauty of these ordinary women? Were they somehow more attractive than today’s ordinary woman?

By Hallie Lord... read the rest at Faith & Family.