Doctor Judson on Dress

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Aug 11, 1909

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 36, No. 31.

Doctor Judson on Dress

[We present the following letter to Christian sisters in America from the great missionary, Dr. Adoniram Judson. Its appeal is equally as appropriate now as when written.]

To the Female Members of the Christian Churches in United States of America.

DEAR SISTERS IN CHRIST:

Excuse my publicly addressing you. The necessity of the case is my only apology. Whether you will consider it a sufficient apology for the sentiments of this letter, unfashionable, I confess, and perhaps unpalatable, I know not. We are sometimes obliged to encounter the hazard of offending those whom, of all others, we desire to please. Let me throw myself at once on your mercy, dear sisters, allied by national consanguinity, professors of the same holy religion, fellow pilgrims to the same happy world. Pleading these endearing ties, let me beg you to regard me as a brother, and to listen with candor and forbearance to my honest tale.

In raising up a church of Christ in this heathen land, and in laboring to elevate the mind of the heathen converts to the standard of the Gospel, we have always found one chief obstacle in that principle of vanity, that love of dress and display (I beg you will bear with me) which has in every age and in all countries been a ruling passion of the fair sex, as the love of riches, power, and fame has characterized the other. That obstacle lately became more formidable, through the admission of two or three fashionable females into the church; and the arrival of several missionary sisters, dressed and adorned in that manner which is too prevalent in our beloved native land. On my meeting the church after a year's absence, I beheld an appalling profusion of ornaments, and saw that the demon of vanity was laying waste the female department. At that time I had not maturely considered the subject, and did not feel sure what ground I ought to take. I apprehended also, that I should be unsupported and perhaps opposed by some of my coadjutors. I confined my efforts therefore to private exhortation, and with but little effect. Some of the ladies, out of regard to their pastor's feelings, took off their necklaces and ear ornaments, before they entered the chapel, and tied them up in a corner of their handkerchiefs, and on returning, as soon as they were out of the mission house, stopped in the middle of the street to array themselves anew.

In the meantime, I was called to visit the Karens, a wild people, several days' journey to the north of Maulmein. Little did I expect there to encounter the same enemy, in those “wilds, horrid and dark with o'er-shadowing trees.” But I found that he had been there before me, and reigned with a peculiar sway, from time immemorial. On one Karen woman I counted between twelve and fifteen necklaces, of all colors, sizes, and materials. Three was the average. Brass belts above the ankles, neat braids of black hair tied below the knees, rings of all sorts on the fingers, bracelets on the wrists and arms, long instruments of some metal perforating the lower part of the ear by an immense aperture, and reaching nearly to the shoulders, fancifully constructed bags, enclosing the hair, and suspended from the back part of the head, not to speak of the ornamental parts of their clothing, consisting of the fashion and the ton of the fair Karenesses. The dress of the female converts was not essentially different from that of their countrywomen. I saw that I was brought into a situation that precluded all retreat—that I must fight or die.

For a few nights I spent some sleepless hours, distressed by this and other subjects, which will always press upon the heart of a missionary in a new place. I considered the spirit of the religion of Jesus Christ. I opened to 1 Tim. 2:9, and read these words of the inspired apostle: “I will . . . also that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array.” I asked myself, Can I baptize a Karen woman in her present attire?—No. Can I administer the Lord's Supper to one of the baptized in that attire?—No. Can I refrain from enforcing the prohibition of the apostle?—Not without betraying the trust I have received from him. Again I considered that the question concerned not the Karens only, but the whole Christian world; that its decision would involve a train of unknown consequences; that a single step would lead me into a long and perilous way.

I considered Maulmein and the other stations; I considered the state of the public at home. But, “What is that to thee? follow thou Me,” was the continual response, and weighed more than all. I renewedly offered myself to Christ, and prayed for strength to go forward in the path of duty, supported or deserted, successful or defeated, in the ultimate issue.

Soon after coming to this conclusion, a Karen woman offered herself for baptism. After the usual examination, I inquired whether she could give up her ornaments for Christ. It was an unexpected blow! I explained the spirit of the Gospel. I appealed to her own consciousness of vanity. I read the apostle's prohibition. She looked again and again at her handsome necklace (she wore but one), and then with an air of modest decision that would adorn beyond all outward ornaments any of my sisters whom I have the honor of addressing, she took it off, saying, I love Christ more than this. The news began to spread. The Christian women made but little hesitation. A few others opposed, but the work went on.

(To be continued.)