The albatross around my neck

The status symbol that shouldn't be

Photo by Ruthson Zimmerman on Unsplash

It was the late summer of 1987.

We didn’t know it at the time, but Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was going through its conventional popular stage long before it became the gotcha prank it is today.

Dirty Dancing and The Princess Bride were popular at the movies, and almost all the girls in my high school were wearing shoulder pads.

The year was also known for its corporate culture. Michael Douglas would star in “Wall Street” later that year, and every man in the corporate world wanted to make a statement with his power tie.

My mom was having a way-too-proud moment. Her only son had been chosen as president of the National Honor Society. I believe the requirements for the society were a 93 grade point average, a recommendation from a teacher, and an essay about character and service.

There was a formal recognition ceremony. My teacher told me to come dressed in khaki pants, a white shirt …

And a tie.

I would have been more at ease if she had asked me to come shackled in authentic medieval stocks and pillory. It’s how I feel now when I wear a tie anyway.

First, I did not own a tie. Ties were for rich people. Second, the thought of wrapping something around my neck, then tightening it, made my breathing shallow.

I found a compromise in the wonderful clip-on. It served me well two more times in high school. Eventually, however, I had to take the plunge when a clip-on would no longer suffice. Ties were mandatory in my first job out of college as a newspaper reporter.

They stunk then, and they stink now.

They were required for the first year and a half before — mercifully — someone realized that making ties mandatory for people who often covered outdoor activities in 98-degree weather wasn’t the most practical thing in the world.

When I came to Dothan, we had one or two brief stints of mandatory tie apparel policy. I have painful memories of covering preseason high school football practices in a tie.

According to history, ties originated with the French. In this “America first” phase we appear to have adopted, we need to send every tie in the United States back to France. Or, maybe we just need to put a 1,000 percent tariff on ties, and we’ll see who really wants to wear them.

The modern necktie can trace its origins back to the 17th century when Croatian mercenaries, hired by the French to help fight the Thirty Years War, wore colorful cloth bands around their necks to signify rank and secure their jackets.

The French adopted the custom, and it soon became a symbol of status in 18th-century Europe. By the time it came to America, ties were patterned with stripes or other symbols to reflect social affiliation.

Ties soon became a social separator as people were divided into the have-knots and the have-nots.

And apparently that evolved into ties becoming part of our “Sunday best” church attire.

By the early 20th century, the tie became a necessity for any formal setting. Ties were associated with professionalism, respectability, and status. As a result, this thought process carried over to the church.

Many people dress up for church. If it’s good enough for the Saturday evening social, then it’s good enough for Sunday morning worship. The conventional wisdom of “giving God your best” became associated with apparel.

And certainly you should give God your best — at all times and in all situations. And those who feel comfortable and at home in a suit and tie should certainly have the freedom to wear a suit and tie to church.

But it’s not for everyone, and I’m glad that we don’t judge one’s proximity to God by the tie or lack thereof as much as we once did.

I’ve worn a tie to church a few times, and I’m always very self-conscious about it. I feel like I’m going to church in a costume.

Simply put, it is not who I am. And church is probably not a great place to try to be someone you’re not.

I find it interesting that we always stress Christians should not conform themselves to the world (Romans 12:2). We can’t be led around by the nose by cultural norms because cultural norms change like the seasons.

But it is the world that categorically defined what it meant to wear a tie. And the church appeared eager to jump on the bandwagon.

This, of course, is not an invitation to wear Crocs and pajamas to church. Maybe, however, you are yourself in jeans, or slacks, or a polo. And that’s fine. Or maybe you are yourself in a suit and tie. And that’s fine too.

When Israel was looking for a king, everyone knew David wasn’t the guy. He simply didn’t look like a king.

But God chose this instance to tell us how He sees us. May we see each other the way God sees us:

“The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7b)