The observance of the proprieties of time, place, and occasion are nowhere more urgent than at church. Much of the liberty that is granted on secular occasions is entirely out of place in church.
While quiet greetings may be exchanged at the church door, or in the outer vestibules, before and after service, it is not decorous to chat sociably along the aisles, or hold a gossiping conference in whispers with some one in the neighboring pew. I have in mind one woman, who ought to have known better, whose sibilant utterances—just five pews distant—came to be a regular part of the five minutes' pause immediately before the service began. Her conversation was usually directed to another woman, who, likewise, should have known better than to listen. The silent vault of the church roof echoed to the vigorous whispering up to the instant that the clergyman began, in low monotone, "The Lord is in His holy temple"—a fact which the whisperer had obviously forgotten—"let all the earth keep silence before Him"—an injunction which she never seemed to be able to remember from week to week.
It is one of the worst violations of good form to behave with levity in church. To devout people the church is the place for meditation and prayer, and nothing should be allowed to disturb the restful calm that is sought within its sacred walls. A well-bred agnostic will respect the religious sentiments of other people, whatever his own beliefs or disbeliefs in matters theological. If no higher law is recognized, at least every one will regard the etiquette of the case, which requires that the demeanor of every one within the walls of the church shall be reverent.
It is proper to dress plainly and neatly for church; to enter the portal quietly, to walk up the aisle in a leisurely but direct way, and be seated at once with an air of repose. If cushions or books require rearranging, it should be done with as little effort as possible. Every movement should be quiet, and the rattling of fans and of books in the rack, and "fidgeting" changes of position should be avoided. The movements in rising, sitting, and kneeling should be deliberate enough for grace, and cautious enough to avert accidents, like hitting the pew-railings, knocking down umbrellas, or kicking over footstools. No sounds but the inevitable rustle of garments should attend the changes of posture during the service. Not unfrequently several canes and as many hymn-books clatter to the floor with each rise of the congregation, because of somebody's nervous haste. Children are often responsible for these little accidents, and of course are excusable, but they should be early taught to observe caution in these little matters.
The clergyman should have the undivided attention of his hearers. During the lesson and the sermon, one should watch the face of the reader, or speaker, and give to the minister all the inspiration that an earnest expounder may find in the face of an intelligent listener. It is probably thoughtless, not intentional, disrespect—but still disrespect—for a person to spend "sermon time" studying the stained-glass windows or the symbolical fresco, interesting as these things may be.
The singing of the choir may be good; if so, one should not listen to it with the air of a connoisseur at a grand concert. Or the singing may be very poor; that fact should not be emphasized by the scowling countenance of the critic in the pews. A mind absorbed in true devotion does not measure church singing by secular standards. The spirit may be woefully lacking in the most artistic rendition: it may be vitally present in the most humble song of worship. While we may with righteous indignation condemn the sacrilege of a spiritless or irreverent singing of the sublime service of the church, it is very bad form to sneer at the earnest and sincere work of a choir whose "limitations," in natural gifts or culture, render their work somewhat commonplace. It is good form to respect all that is honest in religion, and to reserve sharp criticism for the shams and hypocrisies that cast discredit on the church.
A regular "pew-owner" in a church should be hospitable to strangers, and cheerfully give them a place in his pew, offering them books and hymnals, and aiding them to follow the service if they seem to be unaccustomed to its forms. At the same time it is only fair to say that this duty becomes a heavy tax on generosity and patience when, as in some very popular churches, a floating crowd of sight-seers each Sunday invade the pews, to the serious discomfort of the regular occupants. People who attend church as strangers should remember that they do so by courtesy of the regular attendants. A broad view of the church opening its doors to all the world is theoretically true, but practically subject to provisos. A church visitor who observes much the same care not to be intrusive which good form would require him to observe if visiting at a private house, will usually be rewarded with a polite welcome.
The stranger attending church should wait at the foot of the aisle until an usher conducts him to a seat, as the usher will know where a stranger can be received with least inconvenience to others in the pew. The stranger should not take possession of family hymn-books, or fans, or select the best hassock, or otherwise appropriate the comforts of the pew, unless invited to do so by the owner, whose guest he is, in a sense. If attentions are not shown him, he must not betray surprise or resentment, nor look around speculatively for the hymn-book that is not forthcoming. If the service is strange to him, he should at least conform to its salient forms, rising with the congregation, and not sitting throughout like a stolid spectator of a scene in which he has no part.
The head should be bowed during the prayers, and the eyes at least cast down, if not closed. To sit and stare at a minister while he is praying is a grotesque rudeness worthy of a heathen barbarian, yet one sometimes committed by the civilized Caucasian. The incident may escape the knowledge of the well-mannered portion of the congregation, who are themselves bowed in reverent attitude; but the roving eye of some infant discovers the fact, and it is at once announced; and worst of all, the child unconsciously gets an influential lesson in misbehavior in church from the "important" man who thus disregards the proprieties.