No Masks

In the America of the 1950’s, at least in my corner of the States, every kid dressed up at the end of this month, pretending to be something else. Not everything was scary. When I was 3 I was Little Bo Peep, but the pull-along lamb I had could no longer bleat as I had fed her far too much paper…

One year my costume included a rubber mask. I still remember the clammy heat beneath that awful mask, which clung to my face like a jellyfish, making me sweat and desperate to get it off.

Not sure if that’s the reason, but I just do not like masks. Menacing or not, they disguise the truth of who someone is.

It’s hard to go through life without a mask of some kind, though. Feelings of inadequacy, of guilt or shame all contribute to the gradual construction of a caricature of our faces and personalities which disguises and distorts the person we really are. Once the mask is on, it undermines our true potential and may prevent us from flowering into the beautiful creations God has made and loves.

That is why I am so proud of my dear daughter Mhairi. She has torn off the mask and can now blossom. Jesus came so that we would have life, life in all its fullness. He is the truth, and he is the light, and he calls us to live in the truth and the light. No masks. He loves us for who we are. And it turns out, so do other people.