Form, Formality, Formlessness, Informality, Conformism
 

There was a time before I became fully aware of things when a gas station attendant wore a uniform, complete with a hat.  Pulling into the station, your car would ride over a rubber tube which would actuate a bell, and out would come the smartly uniformed attendant to pump the gas, check the oil and clean the windshield.  By the time I came to full awareness in the late 1960’s this was all but gone:  It was something represented in gas station advertising but not in reality.
 
Since that time, informality has progressively taken over in our world:  nurses wear “scrubs,” postal workers are barely recognizable, performers no longer bow to a clapping audience, and very few dress up for church on Sunday.
 
I remember the beginning of this switch to informality as a rebellion against stifling conformism.  Individual expression became one of the hallmarks of the liberated person.  And, yet, the more the marketers and advertisers got into the act the more this “individual expression” began to look like just another version of conformism: Everyone was compelled to conform to the informal aesthetic.  When bell-bottom jeans were the thing, everyone wore them.  When corduroy pants where the thing, everyone switched over.  And now that ripped and shredded jeans are the rage, everyone with good money to blow is buying them. 
 
Obviously, the root word for all the words in the title is “form.”  I suppose that the word must be defined in terms of its opposite, “formless.”  Matter without form is just a “blob” or “goop:” There is nothing discernible.  Genesis begins with God beholding a “formless wasteland,” which probably should be understood as “nothingness.”  But, when He says the creative word, matter comes into existence in myriad forms such as light, water, rocks, earth, plants, animals and humans.
 
In this context, one wonders if our cultural rebellion against formality and conformism works against something important in our nature.  For example, it is a bit jolting to see some un-informed person walk into Mass with a large, Dunkin Donuts iced coffee and a newspaper.  Mass is not a free-form worship as in some mega-church: It is called “sacred liturgy,” or “sacred work.”  
 
Similarly, if you have invited me to your wedding, and I were to show up in my sweats from the gym, it would certainly raise an eyebrow.  Do I not appreciate the significance of the moment?  Am I purposely trying to make a personal statement that has nothing to do with the celebration at hand?  What gives, showing up like that?
 
The most important implication of this reflection is upon our prayer and worship.  Informality tends to militate against the sacred liturgy of the Church.  The ritual formality of Mass serves to detach us from the world of the ordinary.  And it is a mode by which we reverence the Creator who imparted form on the “nothingness.”  But, even in ordinary life, formality can impart a sense of seriousness and focus which can lend a sense of confidence and order to the culture.  The uniformed gas station attendant may not do the job any better than the one with no uniform, but he has taken that extra step of preparation  to present himself as serious about his role, (even if it is something required by contract or policy).

The theological dictum often enunciated in this column is “Grace builds on nature.”  Attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas, the actual word is “perfects:” Grace perfects nature.  In context, this suggest that we must recognize our true, embodied nature and live according to what it truly is.  Embracing formality does create a disposition of seriousness and solemnity.  The sacred and the profane do reside side by side in our experiences, but the designations of sacred space and sacred time aren’t mere human conventions.  The God we profess condescends into our world and addresses his people in the formality of the tent, the temple and the tabernacle.  Being embodied beings, we take our cues from what our eyes see.  We know the sacred when we see it.

This is food for thought as we grapple with the tension between our cultural conditioning and our worship lives.