Lent, for Christians, is the season of fasting and penance – of reminding ourselves to focus on what really matters, and for centering ourselves on Christ and the price He paid for us. It is a time of seriousness and solemnity, of commemorating the most important actions in history and reality with definitive times for coming together, for being alone before God, and for reminding ourselves and others of the cost of our salvation and the glory to come.
With Lent being so almost annoying late this year, I have had more time than usual to reflect upon it. Of course, I have my private resolutions and our family ones. I am actually looking forward to some restraint and lack of indulgence – it’s a time to shore up those neglected New Year resolutions and to get in shape for the spring.
How can this be reflected in our address? Well, first of all, our Lord does tell us how we should dress when fasting.
From the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 6, 16-18:
“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, Who is unseen; and your Father, Who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”
So clearly, fashion centered on sackcloth with the sprinkling of ashes (outside of Ash Wednesday) is not what we’re talking about here
The reason I even speak about fashion is an attempt to bring some incarnationalism into our dress. As I’ve said before, the beautiful, powerful, life-changing ideas of the gospel should not remain merely ideas but should become incarnated in our actions and, yes, in our appearance. This is why I wear a crucifix or a scapular, why I strive to dress modestly and with restraint, according to the needs of my vocation and our culture, and why I strive to make my dress a gift to others.
So it makes sense to dress for Lent. When I first married, I made the ambitious goal of dressing liturgically—I see I was a bit of a pioneer here. I actually designed and sewed purple dresses and shirts for myself and my flock of small children and wore them. But as my zeal cooled and my flock increased, I had to let this goal go. I needed something simpler.
However, I couldn’t let go of the goal of doing something different with my dress during Lent. Other women in my life felt the same impulse. One year, my sister, who loves her jeans, challenged herself to wear skirts and dresses every day during Lent. One of my daughters took up the challenge of paying a little bit more attention to her appearance: dressing up a bit more on a daily basis, wearing makeup and jewelry. She tells me that she enjoyed it so much that in a following year, she actually challenged herself to give up wearing makeup. :D Another daughter decided to dress “old fashioned” for her home clothes instead of slipping into sweats and tees. Another girl I know challenged herself to veil during Mass. All of these women found it helped them to grow in discipline and detachment from their dress overall, as well as to give up something they enjoyed to tell Christ they love Him more.
Regardless of the sacrifice, I really like the idea of incorporating a penance into your dress for Lent. It’s a conscious decision and it reminds you every time you glance in the mirror that there’s something different about this season. As one priest pointed out, one reason why Lent is so counter-cultural is that the rest of the world—as well as the entire natural world—is getting brighter, sunnier, and relaxing while the Church calls us to set all this aside and gradually intensify our focus on Christ alone, our eyes fixed on the crucifix, not the flowers and sunshine and the budding grass. It’s precisely this difficulty that can make Lent and the Triduum so much more real.
When it comes to dress, I have settled on something simple for Lent, so simple that I do it every year: I continue wearing my winter wardrobe until Easter comes. This means that yes, I’m still wearing black sweaters, dark slacks, and black shoes when everyone else has broken out the florals and the pastels. But it’s penitential for me (I love fashion) and so it reminds me to be detached. And I admit I do enjoy wearing purples. I’ve encouraged my children to do the same thing, and some of them now do it automatically (like the daughters I polled for the paragraphs above). It’s also a little easier for me as a mom to put off doing the great seasonal change-over of clothing until Easter break.
One reason why I do this, in addition to the simplicity of the practice, is that it truly recovers the symbolism of Easter clothing. When the chambray and the petit prints in yellows and whites and pinks come out, along with the faded denim and the airy blouses and lacy t-shirts, it truly is a time for rejoicing. As one wise saint observed, the best penances intensify the celebrations afterwards, and I’ve found this to be true when I bring the Lenten season into our family’s wardrobe.
I’ve left the comments section open on this post so you can share your thoughts and best practices for Lenten dressing! Blessings on you and your family this holy season!
We started a nursing home Christmas performance program for the twelve days *after* Christmas because so many groups were doing their Christmas celebrations before Christmas, in Advent. By the time Christmas rolled around, decorations were down the day after.
A similar approach could apply to really doing up Easter for the forty days, rather than just day of.
I am with you on waiting until Easter for the colorful colors.