Tag Archives: simplicity

Designing modesty

“A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”

– Antoine de Saint-Exupry

Recently, there’s been a lot of hullaballoo surrounding an article in the June issue of the Friend magazine. I’m not going to discuss the virtues of whether or not you should allow four year old girls to wear sleeveless sundresses — that has been discussed in the Bloggernacle ad nauseum. My main concern about the modesty issue (concerning the Church) is how convoluted our stance on modesty has become (especially for girls). Here are some rules (though they are not limited to this list), as codified into our culture by the For the Strength of  Youth pamphlet and the hallowed Honor Code of BYU*:

– No sleeveless anything, whether it be tank top, spaghetti strap, or otherwise. Halter tops are right out.

– All shorts must cover the knee

– No more than one pair of earrings for girls, no more than zero pair of earrings for boys

– Do not wear tight-fitting clothes

– Always cover your stomach

– Avoid extreme styles and colors (I’ve always wondered what they did in the 1980s with this rule, what, with the preponderance of lime green and hot pink)

– Guys should have well-trimmed, non-shaggy haircuts, no facial hair, and, if mission standards are to be followed, a part in the hair as well

– No tattoos, even if it’s like, a totally radical tattoo of a Chinese character

– Clothes should not be low cut in the front or back

– One piece swimsuits for the ladies

– And now, apparently, no sleeveless for little girls either

I’m a big believer in simplicity. Though I fail at it many times, I try to live as simple and as modest a life as possible. I believe that ultimately, a well-lived, modest life will have trimmed away the gluttony and excess and spend its time doing that which has the greatest and most value. I believe this concept applies in many situations, including my spiritual and religious life.

The modesty rules we have currently today are anything but minimalist. In fact, most of the rules we have concerning modesty are reactions against cultural trends of which we disapprove. Few, outside of the more vague ones, such as “avoid extreme styles or colors” or “no tight-fitting clothes”, contain any kind of gospel principle (and even then we’re stretching it); rather, they sound similar to the edicts of Cosmo’s fashion section, a list of do’s and don’ts to stay “in fashion” with the latest LDS style.

I like to think that Jesus is the prime example of a minimalist. When asked which of the 613 mitzvot (commandments) were the greatest, Jesus boiled them all down (all 613 of them!) into two great commandments:

Jesus said unto him, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Matthew 22:37-40

The minimalism behind this is breathtakingly beautiful. Yes, commandments and standards are important, but instead of creating a “modesty checklist” (which the Friend also did), couldn’t we instead emphasize that our bodies are gifts from God? If we love God, we will respect and cherish that gift. Empowered by the love of God and a perspective of our place in the universe, we would refuse to abuse and exploit that gift when propositioned to do so by others. Such thinking would allow the flexibility and breathing room for cultural fluctuation but still provide concrete understandings of what is right and wrong. Rather than measuring ourselves against a list of rules, we measure ourselves against our worth prescribed to us by God. We use personal revelation to guide our way. Modesty, like all other commandments and standards, hang from those two great edicts.

Rules are more comfortable precisely because they are so specific and inflexible. We can hide our ignorance of the gospel, our insecurity in our faith, and our anxiety before God’s presence behind the wall of man-made law. We can be mean-spirited, bitter, judgmental, rude, spiteful, proud, back-biting, or all of the above, but as long as we pay our tithing, attend Church services, and do our home/visiting teaching, we’re still “righteous,” even if the love of God is not within us. It is easier to teach and instill skirt length, sleeve length, midriff coverage, one-piece swimsuit expounding, and one-pair-of-earrings exposition in 30 minute bite-size increments in Sunday School than either the love of God, or the love of others. Yet it is exactly the latter that saves and has eternal worth.

So what would Jesus say? Suppose a faithful disciple approached him and asked, “Master, which of these modesty rules are the most important? No bare-midriff? No knee-cap flashing?” The great thing is that deeply embedded in the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, we already have such a minimalist statement that Jesus could possibly make:

Ask yourself, “Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord’s presence?”

I propose that we eliminate all else in the “Dress and Appearance” section of the For the Strength of  Youth pamphlet and teach our youth this one basic principle above all else when teaching modesty. All in favor, please manifest in the comments. Any opposed do so by the same sign.


* I’m not sure if including the BYU Honor Code in our list of unofficial official cultural standards for modesty will garner controversy or not, but BYU is possibly the single greatest exporter of Church culture, and so I have included it as most Mormons would probably agree to the standards espoused in the Honor Code anyway concerning modesty.



Filed under education, parenting, religion

Urban Life

Our balcony feels a little crowded right now, but we like it that way. We have flanked on each side a row of potted bean plants. Atop our discarded, poorly designed half of a bookshelf from Walmart sits our box of squash plants (which have begun to flower nicely). Basil grows tall and proud in our little containers. Two strings of twine cut our balcony into neat rows, our towels and pants hanging to dry. Two bags of potting soil sit in one corner while our mini-barbecue sits in the other.

Our humble patio.

Our humble patio.

As we sat at the dining room table right outside our balcony, my wife comments on how “urban” we’ve become. She can’t put her finger on it – she’s not sure why she feels so “urban” right now. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been thinning our material possessions out of necessity, or maybe it’s the fact that we’ve begun to maximize space (again out of necessity). Maybe it’s the balcony with clothes hanging out to dry and plants in pots – a very common urban sight. Or the fact that everything we like is pretty much a walk away. Or that the closest restaurants are not fast food chains, but mom-and-pop, we’ll-greet-you-at-the-door-by-name restaurants. Or it could be the fact that every two days or so, she walks out onto the balcony, picks a sprig of basil for the homemade pizza we’re making tonight, as well as a handful of green beans which she munches on without washing them because we don’t use pesticides and apparently she doesn’t care if a bug pooped on it. Either way, she likes it. We’re happy with where we’re at, which is good, since 90% of satisfaction in life is enjoying life in the present, rather than pining for the past or constantly projecting into the future.

We recently sold some books to Half-Price Books (we made, like, no money. Maybe a .1% return to what we originally paid for them). Despite our poor return on investment, this has whetted our appetite for culling our library even further. Video games we no longer play are sitting in a pile, waiting to be sold. Several movies and television shows also await their fate. And I’ve begun to re-examine how books play a role in my life; I admit I’ve become less of a book reader since most of my reading shifted over to the internet. I’m not entirely convinced that this is a Bad Thing like some people have told me. For some reason, that initial step freed us from the grip that even our most loved possessions can exercise over us. Some books we’ll keep forever, like the Lord of the Rings we purchased on our honeymoon (yes, we’re that nerdy) or my RLDS Book of Mormon from the 1950s, but do we really need five yoga books? Do I absolutely need to keep that book about mall culture or that giant literature textbook I got for free at a seminar over eight years ago? My friend uses Gamestop’s trade-in function to help buy new games. He buys it, devours it, then trades it in for the next best thing. Maybe we can start doing that with books. Or better yet, walk down to the Redmond City library (three blocks away) and check one out.

Either way, there’s something about this recession that makes simplicity and anti-consumerism trendy and chic. That’s not to say we’re completely satisfied – I’m borrowing a mike right now to record podcasts, but I’d really like my own. And we could always use a better computer (though our laptop is performing at its best since we’ve gotten it, so we’re happy). But for now, we’re pretty content. While we don’t want to romanticize true, debilitating poverty, at the same time, there’s something really quaint, even hipster about our refusal to buy smart phones, or an iPad, or even an iPod. There’s something to be said about staying inside on a weekend to listen to reruns of Radio Lab or Wiretap podcasts on the computer instead of paying money to go to the movies.

I don’t know if it’s “urban” life, but it’s something. And we like it.



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Filed under life stories