Masks by Rev. Rachel Marvin-Borger
Superheroes wear masks. It's almost universal in the stories that we tell about people with special powers who devote themselves to protecting the public, fighting crime, thwarting evil plots and villainous people. The superhero must take pains to obscure their identity. Wearing a mask (or similar disguise) enables the hero to separate their dangerous and high-stakes activities and connections from their regular humdrum life. This means that their nemeses, enemies, and people generally disapproving of the hero are not able to attack them or influence them through their “real” selves. One of the most beneficial results that this cleaving affords is the protection for the hero’s loved ones. If the villain does not know the hero's identity, the villain cannot leverage threats of harm to them.
Obscuring one’s identity therefore protects superheroes from harm. They are not known, and because they are not known, they are impervious to the cunning and machinations of those who would seek to harm them. A mask here functions as a shield.
This shield comes with a price though. There is a barrier to relationship for the hero in the mask. They are not able to be seen, to be recognized by their loved ones for all that they are. And unable to be seen means unable to see accepted, unable to be embraced. To be a superhero with a mask is to be a lonely, isolated individual.
There must be something alluring and appealing about the promises that a mask holds, because we see literal and figurative masks in our media, in our stories all the time. There are the physical masks worn by Spiderman, Daredevil, Batman. There are the alternate identities of Hannah Montana and Diana Prince. There are the secret, shameful, not-socially-sanctioned double lives of Dexter Morgan and Walter White.
We love to tell these stories about people going unrecognized, and therefore maintaining their freedom, independence, safety. We tend to root for protagonists in their separation. We applaud their secrecy, hope that they will not be caught or found out, and cheer when they escape detection. If the villain is able to unmask the hero, it feels like disaster-- a weighty, irredeemable failure. And so we idolize the mask.
We wear our own masks. For various reasons, we slip into alternate identities. We obscure ourselves. We distort ourselves. We guard and protect and hopefully preserve ourselves. If we are unknown, then so are our weaknesses, our areas for exploitation. If we are unknown then we impervious to attacks against our mask, our facade. Our masks protect us from vulnerability and intimacy-- relationships where we can be hurt.
Our masks protect us. But the loss is great. Just as there is a felt need to protect ourselves, there is a deep human need to be known. If we are able to remove our masks, then we will be able to be seen as we truly are-- able to be accepted, able to be intimate.
Scripture indicates that we are recognized by God as we are. “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.” (Psalm 139:1) And Hagar said, “You are the God who sees me.” (Genesis 16:13)
Aware of all our faults and failures, God would embrace each one of us and call us to be part of God's family. We don't need to shelter behind false identities and projections, or pretend to be different from what we are, or obscure our truest selves.
We don't have to protect ourselves from God’s knowing us-- knowing our true identity. The real us. The entirety of ourselves. There is no risk that we could repel or repulse God and God's love for us. We can show our bare faces. No masks.
