Sermon: "Behind the Mask"

The Rev. Maureen R. Frescott

The Congregational Church of Amherst, UCC

November 5, 2017 – Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 23:1-12

“Behind the Mask”

Last Tuesday, we celebrated Halloween, and if you’ve ever been here in the center of Amherst village on Halloween night, you know what a spectacle it can be.

Thousands of Trick-or-Treaters descend upon our town, and parade up and down the streets and the village green.

The residents and businesses in the village gladly accept donations of candy to meet the demand, but the candy is just a bit player in this extravaganza.

The real show – and the real fun – is found in the way people in the village decorate their homes, or their 'Door on the Green,' with themed displays, fog machines, and spooky lights, and everyone – adults included – wears a costume – to generate a laugh, or a scare, or a puzzled look that says, “What are you supposed to be?”

On Halloween night, as several of us gave out candy in front of the church, we saw pint sized and full sized vampires, superheroes, Disney characters, and dinosaurs.

We also saw plenty of astronauts, animals, and professional athletes –

I counted at least 15 Tom Bradys.

People dressed as characters from movies, TV shows, and books.    

Jesus Christ himself even stopped by for a visit.

(He was about 6’5”, so I doubt he was the real thing)

I was dressed as Harry Potter, complete with my magic wand, Gryffindor robe, and not-so-round glasses.

At one point I was approached by two small boys who were dressed as Dementors – the evil minions of the villain in the Harry Potter stories.

The boys wore black robes, black hoods, and black masks over their faces - and they just stood silently in front of me, not moving and not saying a word.

I tried to joke with them, but they remained silent.

If I tried to move, they’d step right in front of me.

They were small, but they were starting to creep me out.

Finally, their mother, who was standing off to the side watching this drama unfold, sighed and said, “You have to cast a spell on them to make them go away.”  
So I raised my wand and said, “Expecto Patronum!” – and off they ran – probably in search of another Harry Potter to torment.

That’s the fun of Halloween.

We have the opportunity to step into a role or a character and pretend – for just a short period of time – that we’re someone other than who we really are. 

We can imagine what it would it be like to have super powers, when we normally feel powerless,

What it’s like to be outgoing and adventurous, when we’re normally shy or cautious.

What it’s like to be a little scary or unpredictable, when we’re normally straight laced and well, predictable.

Putting on a mask can be fun, and eye-opening, and liberating.

Some of you may have seen the short video that was circulating on the internet in the weeks leading up to Halloween.

It shows a father with his son and daughter, who are about 8 and 9 years old, and the children are carving jack-o-lanterns, each with the image of their favorite super hero – Batman and Wonder Woman.

Then we see mom come home with costumes of these same superheroes and the boy and girl excitedly grab the outfits and run to put them on.

The father looks hesitant and we soon understand why. 

As we follow the family on Halloween night, we see the children running from house to house dressed as Batman and Wonder Women with their superhero masks covering their eyes, while the father cautiously waves to his neighbors with the same look of uncertainty on his face.

At the end of the long night of trick treating and candy sorting, we see mom and dad carrying their children to bed.

And then we see the girl is dressed as Batman, with padded muscles and a utility belt, and the boy is dressed as Wonder Woman, with a blue skirt, silver arm bracelets, and a wig of long brown hair.

We don’t know if the father’s earlier look of caution and discomfort was because he disapproved of his children’s choice of costumes, or because he was concerned that his neighbors might not approve, and he didn’t want his children – his son in particular - to be ridiculed or hurt.

But in the end, as dad tucked his son and daughter into bed, with both still wearing their costumes, you could see the recognition flash across his face that on that night his children experienced pure joy.

They had the chance to put on a mask and be someone they longed to be.

Someone they saw as a hero.

Someone they admired.

And for just one day of the year, they had permission to be someone they felt they couldn’t be, or weren’t allowed to be, on the other 364 days.

Jesus had something to say about wearing masks.

Not the costume masks that bring us joy or allow us to be someone we long to be.

But rather the masks we choose to wear – or feel forced to wear – to hide who we really are.

Jesus was concerned with those in his religious community who liked to dress up as pious people of God because of the benefits they imagined came with the role – status, reverence, front row seats to the show.

And he was frustrated because these particular people seemed to miss the point that stepping into the role of a person of God meant just the opposite.

It meant humbling one’s self.

Serving others.

Going to the back of the line -

so that others would be served first.

But what Jesus longed for these religious "hypocrites" to understand,

along with all of us who talk the talk but are reluctant to fully walk the walk, is that taking off this mask – the one we think makes us a righteous person worthy of respect and love – the one that hides who we really are –

the one that makes us a hypocrite – 

taking off this mask and being exposed as our true selves is not meant to be humiliating.  

It’s meant to be liberating.  

Scratch the surface of a hypocrite and you’ll find a vulnerable and frightened person underneath.

We wear masks because of our insatiable human need.

Our need for approval.

Our need for acceptance.

Our need to feel safe and secure.  

Think of all the masks that we wear in our everyday lives.

The mask that we put on to show the world that we’re something that we’re not.

The mask that tells everyone that we’re okay, that we’re happy, that we’ve got this life thing all figured out and we’re just as well adjusted and successful as our neighbor.

We wear these masks of status, happiness, and accomplishment -

to keep people from seeing who we really are or what our life is really like.

So no one will know we’re struggling financially or are in danger of losing our home or our business or our job.

So no one will know we’re a functioning addict who can’t leave the house without a drink, or a cigarette, or the pain pills that were prescribed for an injury that has long since healed.

So no one will know we’re carrying the scars of an abusive relationship or failed marriage – or that we’re living in the midst of one right now.

So no one will know that a child we raised is experiencing any one of these situations or all of the above, and we feel like a failure as a parent because of it.

We put on these masks so no one else can see that we’re broken, or weak, or vulnerable.

We put on these masks because we’re afraid - of being judged or rejected –

of losing face, respect, or status - of being the one at the back of the line waiting to be served, especially if we’re convinced that there’s not enough to go around.

It’s very easy for us to stand in judgment of hypocrites.

To read texts like these from our Gospels, and shake our finger at those who pretend to be something they’re not - 

At Christians who claim to welcome all at their table – and who then rattle off a long list of sinners who are not welcome at all.

At our leaders who claim to act with the best interests of the people at heart when it is their own personal interests that truly guide them.

At people on the OTHER side of the political fence – who claim WE are the ones who are deluded, and ignorant, and easily taken in by fake news – when clearly THEY are the ones who are delusional and uneducated and gullible.

When Jesus says, “Woe to you, Pharisees and scribes, you hypocrites,” perhaps we need to resist the urge to hold up this text as a mirror for those we think are being hypocritical, and instead turn the mirror towards ourselves.

The word gospel means “good news” –

And the Good News that Jesus has for us in this rebuttal of hypocrisy is that taking off the masks we wear to hide our true selves is the most liberating thing we can do. 

Think of all the energy we waste trying to hold up a façade that keeps people from seeing our flaws and our fears and our pain.

What if we didn’t feel the need to do that any more?

What if put our mask down and looked around this sanctuary and saw that we’re in fact NOT in a room full of perfect people who expect us to be perfect in return. Instead we’re in a room full of imperfect people who’ve experienced life just as we have.

We’re in a room full of people who have lived through painful childhoods, bad marriages, abusive relationships, and debilitating addictions.

People who’ve been downsized or fired from jobs, or lost their homes or filed for bankruptcy.

People who are living with cancer, or Alzheimer’s, or watched loved ones die from one or both, and who know as we do, there’s no shame in giving up.

We’re in a room full of people who’ve questioned their faith and lost their faith; who’ve walked away from churches, and felt pushed out of churches, and who are not really sure why they’re here in this church – but know they long to feel connected to something greater than themselves.

The Good News of our gospel text today is that we are all hypocrites.

The Pharisees have not cornered the market on that designation.

But Jesus invites us to put down the mask that hides our true selves –

the one we hold onto out of fear, or desire, or habit, or all of the above.

And instead step into the role that God created us to play.

The one that brings us joy.

The one that allows us to be our authentic selves, as flawed as we may be.

The one that encourages us to look back at our lives and see the highs and the lows as opportunities to connect with others – to say, "I went through that, too, I can help" – or "I’m going through that right now and I need someone to help me."

Humbling ourselves is not about taking a step backward and accepting less, it’s about taking a step forward and accepting more. 

More love, more grace, more compassion, more connection, more of that-which is-greater-than-ourselves - more of God’s presence in our lives.

It shouldn’t be just one day a year, where we feel free enough to be the person we’ve longed to be.

We should feel that way every day.

But even when we don’t.

When we need to slip on that mask to protect our hurting soul.

God is still right there with us.

In our hypocrisy.

In our humility.

In our humanity.

Thanks be to God, and Amen.