Messenger Mailbag: What to Wear on Sunday?

An anonymous reader writes in, asking, “How should I decide what to wear to church on Sunday?”

First, let me state the obvious: you identify as a man. Women already know how to dress for church. They have full mastery of:

Society rules, such as “If you are a Winter according to the book
Color Me Beautiful, you must never wear pastels in public, not even to take out the trash.”

United Methodist Book of Discipline rules, such as “A bare midriff is forbidden during Lent.”

SUM-specific rules, such as “If you’re going to address the congregation, wear flats. Otherwise, that tricky half-step near the lectern could turn you into a Prayer of the People.”

Advice for Men

Meanwhile, men struggle to achieve even basic competency when it comes to simple tasks. Consider the evidence: dirty socks, empty beer bottles, upright toilet seats, water glasses not on a coaster, forgotten anniversaries, forgotten children’s names.

So, dear reader, it would be pointless to give you a bunch of men’s rules to abide by when getting dressed. Like, don’t wear white after Labor Day, or during spaghetti dinners (which happen after Labor Day, so that part should be unnecessary, but we’re dealing with men here, folks.) Or, keep a red windbreaker in your trunk because once a year – surprise! – you’re supposed to wear something red. Or remember that the bare midriff rule applies year-round for men.

Instead, it’s best to focus on damage control once you get to church. Be prepared!

Let’s say you show up smelling of gasoline, and somebody near you winces. Point at your chest with your right thumb and say. “93 octane at Costco.” They will think, “This guy must have a high-performance car AND he’s a smart shopper!”

Or, you show up covered in grass clippings. Respond to somebody’s wince with, “Yeah, I mowed the orphanage on my way to church.” If they say the orphanage is pretty far away, say, “I know, that’s why I pull the trailer with my high-performance car on 93 octane.”

Or, you show up and the wincing person says, “You do know your pants and shirt are mismatched plaids, right?” Respond with, “I like to show equal respect to both of my ancestral clans.”

For any other embarrassing encounters, go with, “You people sure like to wince a lot. You know, your face could freeze like that.” Then laugh and slap them on the back, hard enough to dislodge their glasses.

Now, if you are going to remember one thing about getting dressed at home, make it this: choose your pockets wisely. You want a pocket large enough to easily retrieve your phone to check English Premier League soccer scores during the service. Otherwise, you might have to lean way over to one side to dredge out the phone, triggering a domino effect across everyone else in your pew.

Speaking of everyone else in your pew, you need to effectively manage your cold-weather coat. You want to remove your coat before sitting down, then ball it up and place it on the pew next to you. This will blockade half of your potential wincing neighbors. Waiting until you sit down can lead to asking a neighbor on each side to pull on a sleeve, to no avail, like some sight gag from a 1937 Our Gang film.

More importantly

Some people will tell you that we put way too much emphasis on our appearance when attending church. [Having just written 586 words on the topic, I wish these people would just mind their own business.] They say we should instead focus on: 

         participating in a meaningful worship experience, 

         living our lives in a more Christian manner, 

         enjoying time with our friends, 

         welcoming strangers, and 

         supporting those going through a difficult time.

I suppose they have a point. But, men, I would just add: you can’t go wrong wearing L.L.Bean.

Bruce Hale