Today we are sharing a Lenten message from our own Jane McClure.  Enjoy Jane’s words on Lent! You can download a PDF here.

A Lenten Reflection

By Jane McClure

The “stay-at-home” order has me doing just that, sorting boxes of things. We will have one huge vintage linens sale when Hamline Church

Jane as a child

Women/United Methodist Women’s markets resume.

One box contained a pair of small white gloves, my last bit of childhood Easter finery.

There are five McClure Girls, four of us born within a five-year span. That was a lot of little faces to wash and hair to braid. If younger people wonder why older church women can expertly tie apron bows behinds our backs, we had considerable practice with little puffy-sleeved, sashed dresses.

The gloves may have been from a grandmother. We were much more farm girls than little ladies, despite her best efforts.

Childhood was a time of dressing up for church, especially for Easter. We complained about shoes that pinched and not getting dirty.

But go back several generations and most of our ancestors didn’t dress up at all. Most people had one set of work clothes for work and one set of church or go-to-town clothes. Only the wealthy could don beautiful, handmade garb.

The Industrial Revolution and mass-produced clothing changed social status and what we wore. But some faiths resisted the chance to dress up, including Methodists.

Our founder John Wesley spoke against “adornment” and finery. One of his memorable statements is, “Let your dress be cheap as well as plain.”

Wesley wrote detailed guidelines telling Methodists what to wear, in terms of colors, fabrics and even shapes and sizes of sleeves, coats and hats. He gave advice on hairstyles. He would have looked askance at Easter parades.

While we can joke about Wesley missing out on the era of makeovers and What Not to Wear, we remember that Methodists and other grassroots faiths used condemnation of finery as social protest. Our ancestors wanted a more egalitarian society. Some renounced sin by discarding fine clothes and jewelry.

I grew up with older adults who observed Wesley’s message. Ladies old enough to be my great-grandmother wore plain dresses, with a colorful costume jewelry pin on Sunday. Men, including my farmer father, had one good suit.

We Klemme UMC Sunday School children learned that Jesus wore simple clothes. One Lenten lesson was about how after Jesus was crucified; his clothing was divided. Lots were cast to see who got his tunic. Miss Leona Lau, our long-suffering Sunday School teacher, explained that casting lots was gambling. (Another sin!)

At Hamline Methodist, we come to church as we are. As our church is in the forefront for gender and acceptance, we make statements with buttons and T-shirts expressing our beliefs. What we wear still expresses egalitarianism.

I’ll miss Palm Sunday and Easter services, seeing excited children in their best garb. But I’ll remember Samuel 16:7, and the message that God doesn’t judge our material or physical appearance. God looks upon the heart, and as we heed the Lenten call to reflect on our inner reality and spirituality, we are humbled.

And I don’t even need to wear white gloves…

Thanks again for being here with us for our daily dose of hope and encouragement to our community and beyond as a reminder of God’s love and grace at work in the world.

Today we share an essay from the Rev. Sally Howell Johnson titled “Temper Tantrum”.

TEMPER TANTRUM 
 Sally Howell Johnson

I have not written in these pages for some time. There are many reasons for this on which I may elaborate at some time in the future. But over the last few days I have been drawn back to this place I named “Pause” over a decade ago. It seems these days we are living are bringing their own pause, a stopping point none of us anticipated or planned to take. A pause that is filled with a tapestry of emotion and much anxiety. A pause that has many in a heightened state of fear and feelings so raw that sometimes we hardly know what to do with ourselves. Listening to the news and the rapid fire changing landscape that swirls around us provides what we feel is the information that we need. At the same time, taking all this in can have us walking in circles trying to figure out what we should do next, worrying for our future health or that of those we love or have never met, watching well laid financial plans roller coaster up and down. It is unnerving and perplexing to feel so out of control. It is as if the very air around us is pulsing with an uncontrollable energy…an energy that threatens to overwhelm us.

During all this, for some reason, I have kept thinking of the times when our sons would be in a state of frustration or anger that led to what might be called a temper tantrum. I can honestly say this did not happen very often but when it did I always felt as if I wanted to do something…anything…that would make them stop. Their tears, their hurt, their behavior was so painful to watch. The first time it happened I remember allowing my own frustration to rise with theirs as I tried everything I could think of to stop their crying or halt their tiny fists from pounding. I learned quickly that my entering into their frustration and anger only seemed to escalate what was happening. Over time I realized that the best way to help them and to keep my own heart from breaking as I watched them work out whatever it was they needed to do was to simply sit quietly and hold space for them, making sure they were safe and knew they were loved, allowing them to take control of their own emotions, their own frustrations and come to their own peace.

These memories have brought me a certain calm over the last days. I have asked myself what good it will do if I enter into the anxiety of the moment, whipping myself into a frenzy. There are so many elements of this global crisis and I have no control over any of them. What I do have control over is my own emotion, my own reactions, and the energy I put into the world. What I can do is hold the space. I can breathe deeply and send that breath into the world. What I can do is call people and offer kindness. I can walk outside and notice the change of seasons that is arriving without knowledge of the whirlwind we are experiencing. I can listen for the geese making their homing call as they return and watch for the early push of green from the earth. I can smell the earth returning to itself.

During these times which we continue to call unprecedented,  we each will find our role to play. Many people are working countless hours to mend what has been broken, to heal what needs to be healed, to right the ship of our world. For this I am thankful beyond words. Some have chosen the role of hand wringing and hoarding. Perhaps it will always be so. Others are using their gifts for caring and compassion, for offering what they can to be of help. The truth of it is that we are all in this together and at times our role may be to simply hold the space, quietly, deeply, bringing calm as best we can.

The poet Pablo Neruda says this:

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much…

…Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Download a PDF of this essay