Suits v. Shorts and the Casual Crucifixion of Catholic Worship

A debate arose at one of our recent meetings as it related to how Parishioners choose to present themselves before the Creator of the Universe and it got me thinking. Accordingly, the Filii Dei Department of Opinion, Satire and Sarcasm has now evaluated the matter and, what follows, is the assessment and opinion. While certainly not an ex cathedra statement, this worthless magisterium of at least one sarcastic Catholic suggests:

It’s Sunday morning. The bells ring. The sanctuary is dimly lit. The candles flicker. Heaven is about to touch Earth. And then—like a herd of tourists fresh from three days at Disney World—they shuffle in.

Cargo shorts. Tank tops. Hawaiian shirts. Foam visors. Sunglasses on the back of the head. And, finally, flip-flops flapping like dying fish on a pier.

And there they are—the American Glory and Praise Felt Banner Fueled Catholic Laity™. Dressed not for the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, but for a barbecue where someone might get baptized in the pool in between servings of hot dogs.

Now, cue up the standard defense from these defenders of spiritual sloth:

“But God doesn’t care what I wear—He just wants me there!”

Wrong.

God doesn’t care what you wear? Tell that to Aaron the High Priest, who had to wear specially crafted vestments with golden bells, linen tunics, and a breastplate bearing twelve precious stones just to walk into the Holy of Holies without dying (Exodus 28). Or, try showing up to the King’s wedding banquet in the wrong garment and see how that goes—oh wait, Christ literally told that parable (Matthew 22:11–13), and spoiler alert: the slob was thrown out into the outer darkness where there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement for “come as you are.”

Here’s the truth: God takes us as we are—He just doesn’t want us to stay that way. That oft-repeated slogan is consolation for the broken, not a dress code for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

The same people repeating that slogan would never show up to a job interview in board shorts and a SpongeBob t-shirt, but defend presenting oneself to the King of Kings looking like they just wandered out of a Bass Pro Shop. After all, nothing says “I believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist” like a tank top and a pair of Crocs with Jibbitz charms.

Let’s be honest: this isn't about poverty or humility. It's about prideful casualness. If all you own is one ragged t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and you walk miles to Mass out of your love for Christ, ok, you are a saint. But if you’ve got a closet full of slacks, polos, and dress shoes, and you decide to show up to Mass looking like a college freshman at a dorm cookout? You are not conveying humility—you’re conveying disrespect. Alternatively, don’t think you should be sporting Armani suits either to demonstrate that last Quarter was particularly good at your business. Respect.

You say “God doesn’t judge appearances,” but Scripture says “Worship the Lord in holy attire” (Psalm 96:9). The Catechism isn’t vague about this either. It states the liturgy is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed” (CCC 1110), not the back patio of your uncle’s lake house. It goes on:

“Bodily demeanor (gestures, clothing) ought to convey the respect, solemnity, and joy of this moment when Christ becomes our guest.” (CCC 1387)

What happened to dignity? What happened to awe? We’ve gone from sackcloth and ashes to slogan tees and flip-flops with bottle openers in the soles.

This isn’t just an issue of fashion—it’s formation. Every casual hoodie, every exposed hairy leg in the pew, is a small catechesis of irreverence. It tells the next generation: “This isn’t special. This isn’t sacred. This is just something we do before brunch at Cracker Barrel.”

Here’s a radical thought: If Jesus Christ—God Incarnate—died for us, maybe we can wear closed-toed shoes for Him.

I’m not suggesting tuxedos and tiaras. I’m simply suggesting decorum. The Catholic maxim Acta Non Verba—"Deeds, not words"—compels us to express our love for God not merely through pious sentiments, but through concrete actions that reflect reverence and devotion. Nowhere is this more visible than in how we present ourselves at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. As noted, dressing with dignity is not about vanity or fashion—it is a visible act that declares: This is important. If we believe the Eucharist is truly the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, then our clothing should proclaim it louder than any words. I’m suggesting the same level of respect you’d give a judge, a bride, or even the manager interviewing you at Olive Garden. Our actions should match the sacredness of our beliefs. Acta non verba—show, don’t just say, that Christ is King If Mass is where we meet God, maybe we should try dressing like we actually believe it.

Remember, the Mass isn’t beach day.

It’s Calvary.

So, we should act—and dress—accordingly.