Hair

Besides being the title of a popular hippie musical, hair seems to bear a lot of significance in a variety of settings. While in Mexico, I visited a group home for children. Because of the importance of having luxurious hair in that setting, the naughtiest children were punished with a shaved head. Similarly, as I understand it, military recruits are required to shave their heads when entering basic training. As a sign of humility, seminarians, until the reforms of Vatican II, would have endured tonsure, the removal of a small patch of hair from the back of the head. Samson of Old Testament fame lost his power when his hair was cut. Rapunzel found true love by virtue of the tinsel strength of her hair. So, what is the deal with hair?

I have had my run-ins with it. I cursed hair in my youth because it was constantly in the way, falling into my eyes in the long weeks between visits to the barber. I curse it now because it falls out. I am occasionally cursed at for my failure to cut it with due regularity, and in a moment of profound imprudence, I once joined four other men in inspiring our minor seminary to insert a clause into the seminary handbook forbidding the shaving of one's head for Lent.

Perhaps hair's significance arises from the fact that it is so conspicuous. The impetus for this post was the recent haircut of one of the deacons. Perhaps it is a certain dread of hair; a single follicle can make us gag. Perhaps it is a hearkening to a more animalistic instinct (animals with the best plumage make the best mates). Perhaps it is a profound, unconscious sense that both too much and too little hair are certain proofs of man's fall (as was suggested in my moral theology class).

Whatever the reason, hair is a big deal. And it is getting to be about time to have mine cut again.