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The Wardrobe of A Church -- Chapter Two


Tiffany Alfonso

Chapter Two

After a rough Sunday in Montclair, I traveled southeast to Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church in Bloomfield. Like Immaculate Conception, it's denomination was identical, but its architectural features add a more stately appearance to the historic site of worship, so I walked inside to gaze breathtakingly at its interior, a symbol of great comeliness.

Unlike the other church northwest of Bloomfield, there are more nicely clothed people, but I on the other hand, was doleful at the sight of the faction of all worshippers who wore garments with graphics especially ruthless to Our Creator. Not paying close attention to the bawdy T-shirts until the conclusion of Mass, I listened bravely to the sermon without further hesitation, until one of the clergy (which I believe it's a bishop) escorted me out of the pew for a discussion in the columned side aisle of the church.

"Madame," he murmured, "I saw a few people breaking some advantageous points of the diocese's dress code. Would you want to speak to them after Mass?"

"Yes, bishop," I responded, sounding a bit stark, "I would want to explain the importance of modesty to the attendees. There's something unique about it, and it's not only that a majority of churches have their own dress code, but I also couldn't condone the graphics on their shirts. I also understood that the code applies to a high percentage of churches in the Western Hemisphere, not just the domestic United States.

Later, I stepped up on the pulpit in the altar as the organ boomed the last few strains of "Now Thank Ye All Our God." Then, In an eloquent, yet forceful voice, I convinced the badly dressed worshippers to remain seated, and all eyes and ears turned to me at the pulpit.

"Don't you know what are you doing? You are wearing something from a prime-time television show that was not suitable for children. Also, I'm concerned about the camisole shirts, tank tops, and short shorts. I couldn't condone this madness! Next time, enter church for Mass in your modest attire: not too flouncy, not too elegant, but pleasing and adequate to..."

The same thing happened to me, but this time with loud, insufficient language and extreme rioting. I ran to the nearest exit, adverting the mockery of the crowd. I drove out of Sacred Heart, bound to St. Columba's in Newark, not being wistful for a return trip.

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