That Sunday Best

IT'S BEEN OVER THREE YEARS since I last went to church. After almost my entire 26-year lifetime of having had to be a practicing Catholic at home and in school, it is much to my parents' dismay that I no longer hold the same religiosity they do. Though did I ever?

And as I have grown averse to any discussion about religion, faith or belief, for the simple reason that they always ending up in lengthy, heated arguments, I post not about religion, faith or belief but about the Sunday tradition of decades past. An elegant tradition now long gone, save for our properly-garbed grandmas.

I'm not just pertaining to attire. Nowadays, it appears that the majority of Sunday mass-goers have converted themselves into being genuine slobs, upholding some sort of unmannerly or unsightly Sunday slob culture. Practices include hanging out in front of Zara while the in-mall ceremony happens kilometers away, smoking outside the church building and coming in for communion then back out, sleepy head-bobbing through readings while the young ones run amok, and juvenile BBM-ing while hair-flipping towards the direction of that cute boy on the other side of the aisle. Amongst others.

Is the concept of Sunday best officially dead?

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