modestY blazeS

 One of the details that I noticed in the elaborate ceiling of St. James this morning was the word MODESTY, which was depicted on a scroll hovering above the head of an angel.  It was one of these (just inside the blue circle)

but I don't know which one since the resolution on the picture isn't good enough to go in close.  There were lots of other good-Christian-values-type words, but MODESTY stood out to me because of the lack of it I was seeing on display as the worshippers walked up to take communion.  

Now, don't get me wrong.  I love the display of long legs and fulsome cleavage as much as or more than any other guy.  And I did indeed enjoy the parade of legs and breasts that passed before my eyes as the bread and wine were handed round. It makes me happy to look at immodest, beautiful young women.  Even so, I had to wonder: (1) do these women actually consider their garb to be appropriate for this context? and (2) why doesn't anyone address this lack of dress? 

And it's not because I'm a good Christian--or even a Christian, for that matter.  I'm in church one Sunday a month because Jacqueline & Joe like to go to church, and they're with me one Sunday morning per month.  It has to do with propriety . . . and hypocrisy.  That angel and the scroll, you know?  Why can't people at least try to be what they proclaim themselves to be?  Is hypocrisy so deeply ingrained into our 21st century being that it now passes completely unnoticed?  

I imagined myself as the officiating priest and what I would have to say to the women . . . and it wasn't just the young ones, unfortunately . . . who were contextually inappropriate in their fashion choices.  

(Which immediately made me remember ex-wife number one describing me as "like an Old Testament prophet."  (I don't think it was meant as a compliment, but I took it as such and it still makes me happy to think on this thought.))  Of course I would have made reference to the Whore of Babylon.  Maybe a few Old Testament-y whores as well.

But that's just me, I guess.  And the cognitive dissonance generated in my skull is not going to interfere one whit with my appreciation of the exposed or highlighted tits, legs, or assesnext time I'm in church.  It just makes me wonder about the world.  (Not in a good way.)