In rare occasions, Papa knew how to put me down from my proud pedestal.
Sometime ago, in Nabunturan, Papa coaxed me into dressing up for the New Year's Mass. I had insisted that I can go to church in my slippers and shorts and the Lord won't mind because He's got a sculpture of Himself only draped in a loincloth in front of the entire congregation.
He replied that that's precisely the point why I should dress up for mass. The guy in front is embarrassingly half-naked because He had given away all His clothes to His Church, so people like me could dress up decently to receive Him during the Eucharist. Looking back, Papa's statement was probably "un-theological" but it was true in so many ways.
My attitude then reflects a gradual erosion of our respect and recognition of the Sacred. We are starting to lose sight of what it means to be in the presence of the Holy One.
I now believe that the church is right every time it requests that everyone attend mass dressed in the proper attire. The presumption is that the exterior appearance one chooses to don, as exemplified by one's choice of clothing, is indicative of one's spiritual disposition, one's readiness to encounter the Divine, and, ultimately, one's regard for the One we call Most Holy.
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