Modesty: A Virtue of Many Faces
Written by: James Dacey, Jr. OFS ©2026
There’s
a moment many Catholic men know, even if they don’t say it out loud. You’re at
Mass, trying to keep your eyes and your heart fixed on the Lord, and someone
walks past you dressed in a way that makes that more difficult than it should
be, in the one place on earth where it shouldn’t happen at all.
Let's
focus our energy on how to solve this. It’s about recognizing that being in a holy
place calls for something different than the mall, the gym, or the beach. Back
in 1928, the Vicar of Rome, writing on behalf of Pope Pius XI, gave Catholic
women a simple measure for modest dress: necklines no lower than two fingers
below the hollow of the throat, sleeves to the elbow, hemlines past the knee.
Not because the body is shameful, the Church has never taught that, but because
the body is sacred, and sacred things call for reverence.
The
Catechism says it plainly: modesty “protects the intimate center of the person”
and guides how we look at others and treat them, in keeping with human dignity
(CCC 2521). Walking into church isn’t just walking into a building. It’s
stepping into the presence of the Lord, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity. What
we wear there, and how we carry ourselves. should say so.
A Word From
Fatima
This
isn’t only a modern observation, either. Before St. Jacinta Marto died in 1920,
she shared something Our Lady had told her, a quiet warning that has stayed
with the Church ever since: “Fashions will be introduced that will offend Our
Lord very much.” Over a hundred years later, it’s hard to read those words and
not recognize exactly what she meant.
Modesty of the
Eyes
Modesty
isn’t only something we wear, it’s something we practice with our eyes. Long
before Christ taught that looking with lust is itself a sin (Matthew 5:28), Job
made a vow: “I have made a covenant with my eyes” (Job 31:1), a promise not to
let his gaze linger where it shouldn’t. A glance isn’t a sin. Lingering is a
choice.
For
me, the simplest thing that has ever worked is keeping my eyes and my heart fixed on the Lord and on the journey home to Him. Everything else fades next to
that. I’m happily married, and I never want to do anything, even something
small and hidden, that could damage that relationship. So somewhere along the
way, almost without noticing, I trained myself to catch the warning signs
early. The moment something registers at the edge of my vision that I know
isn’t good for me, I don’t stay to confirm it; I simply turn and walk a
different way. It sounds strange to say out loud, but it’s become automatic.
It’s part of why I love an early-morning Mass and a quiet walk alone: fewer
opportunities mean fewer battles. Keeping the Lord, Our Lady, and the Rosary
on my mind doesn’t leave much room for anything else to take hold.
Modesty of
Speech
For
me, the biggest change since 1983 has been less about what I say and more about
how I respond. I used to react the moment something hit me. Now I try to let it
land first, give it a quick check with the Lord, and only then respond if a
response is even needed at all.
But
there’s one thing I want to be honest about: judgment was never really my
struggle. When I see someone dressed in a way that doesn’t belong in church, I
don’t look down on them; I feel for them. Something is amiss in their life, and
what rises up in me is closer to sorrow than anything else: “Lord, have mercy
on that person.” I don’t go digging for the reason why. I just feel for them,
and I pray.
Modesty of
Behavior
Modesty
of behavior shows up in places people don’t always think about, like behind a
camera. Part of my job at the Shrine is taking pictures for the bulletin and
website, and that comes with a responsibility I try to take seriously, even if
no one would ever notice either way. If someone isn’t dressed appropriately,
that photo just doesn’t get used. Children never get photographed up close; if
they’re in a shot, it’s from far enough away that no one could pick them out of
a crowd. Mostly, I aim for crowds and landscapes rather than individuals, the
dome from a distance, a packed church from behind during Mass, a sea of people
at a rosary procession.
This
isn’t just a Shrine thing, either. It applies to anyone with a phone in their
pocket, which today is pretty much everyone. Whether you’re at Niagara Falls, a
theme park, or just out with the family, chances are that a stranger can end up
in the background of your photos without ever agreeing to it. Before you post
anything, it’s worth a second look. Is anyone in that shot dressed in a way
they wouldn’t want broadcast to the world? Could it embarrass someone, or
worse, if the wrong person noticed? Giving people room in your frame and
pausing before you share, protects strangers the same way it protects the
families and children I photograph at the Shrine. And if someone ends up in the
shot anyway, because there’s no controlling a crowd, that’s exactly what retake
and delete are for. A few extra seconds before you hit “post” is a small price
for somebody else’s dignity.
Modesty of
Thought
For
Modesty of Thought, I don’t have some special technique I reach for in the
moment, and honestly, that’s the point. After 43 years of having Jesus at the
center of my life, the real defense isn’t a quick prayer in a crisis. It’s
leaving no empty space for a wandering thought to fill in the first place. When
I’m driving or walking, I’m usually listening to a teaching of Bishop Barron, Fr.
Larry Richards, something on Our Lady, or the Rosary, so my mind is occupied
with something good before it ever has a chance to drift somewhere else. When
I’m at the computer, I’m buried in writing and ministry work. Stay busy with
the Lord, and you simply won’t have the time, or the empty mental space, for
distractions to move in. On the rare occasion something does slip through, a
simple “Jesus is my Lord” is usually enough for me to get back on track.
The Thread That
Ties It Together
Modesty
was never meant to be one rule about hemlines. It’s a single thread running
through everything, what we wear, where our eyes go, how we speak, how we carry
ourselves, and what we let take root in our minds. Each one protects the same
thing: the dignity God built into every person, and the peace He wants for our
hearts. None of this is about shame or about putting anyone down. It’s about
uplifting one another toward something better, real beauty, real virtue, real
love.
If
any one of these five areas struck a nerve while you were reading, that’s not
an accident. That’s grace, inviting you to start somewhere. And if you’re not
sure where to begin, start with a Rosary. Ask Our Lady to help you see yourself and everyone around you, the way her Son does. She will guide you from there
and lead you straight to Jesus.
Mary, Queen of the Holy Rosary, pray for
us.
