“Losing Our Masks, Finding Our True Selves”
Mark 8:31-37
an excerpt from Barbara Brown Taylor’s An Altar in the World
It occurred to me last week, as I was reflecting on this business of losing our masks, finding our true selves, and learning to live an undivided life, that these might seem like so-called “First World problems.”
As in, while hundreds of millions of our neighbors are living with the all-too-real floods, tornadoes, droughts, coastal erosion, famines, and extinctions of the climate crisis; while more than 10 million people in Israel and Palestine, some 40 million in Ukraine, and millions more in Africa live in states of fear, violence, and oppression; while racism, Christian nationalism, economic inequality, hatred, division, and disinformation continue to threaten our democracy and life itself, . . .
. . . We’re going to talk about dying to our false selves and losing our masks?!? We’re going to consider spiritual practices that might support us on the journey to healing and wholeness and union with God? We’re going to focus on spiritual things?
Well, yes, actually.
Yes, we are.
Not because we don’t care about all the pain, brokenness, and suffering in the world, but precisely because we do. Not because our hearts don’t break over any number of global catastrophes and personal problems, but because they do.
And because, whatever our personal beliefs, we are trying to follow the loving, self-giving, nonviolent ways of Jesus.
And because, among other things: Policies are made by real people who are acting, like all of us at times, out of their own interests, understandings, and mixed (at best) motives.
And because wars are waged by people like us: living out of their fears, wounds, misunderstandings, greed, and lust for power and control.
Because elections are decided and futures are shaped by people like us: people who’ve forgotten, or have never known, that they are beloved children of God and that they share this identity with every other person on the planet.
Because, even well-intentioned people—people like us—get confused and think the way to do good is by having power, and then they dedicate themselves and their lives to getting and maintaining power and influence.
Because we all lose our way at times, and if we don’t have some spiritual practices and a community that loves and supports us, we might stay lost and disconnected.
Beloveds, even with all that is going on in the world—especially with all the horrible things happening in the world—we are focusing on spiritual things because if we aren’t well-connected to the Source of Love, we will have a hard time working with God to love and heal the world.
We are focusing on spiritual practices because if we are not well-grounded in God’s goodness and truth, we might burn out and give up and, in the words of Mary Oliver, end up “breathing just a little, and calling it a life.”
We are focusing on how Jesus calls us to live because even the best of us are a mix of strength and weakness, selfishness and generosity, wants and wounds, instinct and intention, history and hope, human and divine.
Even Jesus.
Consider for a moment the gospel story we heard last week: how during his 40 days in the wilderness Jesus was tempted to take the road most traveled—the path of plenty, privilege, and power—on the way to realm of God.
While Jesus was alone in the wilderness, drawing from the strength of his groundedness in Spirit, he was able to resist those temptations. But then he went out into the world, and began calling his disciples and building a movement of community, empowerment, healing, and lifting up the lowly and the left out. He got busy, and things started to get complicated and, while he was attracting lots of followers from the edges of society, he was also drawing intense scrutiny and criticism from the religious powers and the would-be revolutionaries.
And so Jesus began encountering people who had their own ideas about how God works—through exclusion and enforcement, according to them—and other people who had their own goals,namely to restore Israel to some measure of independence and greatness, and their ownideasabout how to get there.
Which is to say: The temptations of Jesus didn’t end in the wilderness.
Which is to say: How could Jesus not have been tempted, at least occasionally, to take the nearest exit off the road less traveled and get on a different, wider, easier road? And how can we?
Jesus knew full well that the way he was going would lead to his suffering and death.
Which might be why Jesus reacted so strongly to Peter’s denial of the difficulty and death to come. Jesus knew his own weakness—his time in the wilderness had left him well-acquainted with it, and he never pretended to be other than he was. Jesus, too, wished there were a different, easier way.
And so Peter’s rebuke hit Jesus a little too close to home and elicited what looks like an over-reaction by Jesus.
I can imagine his voice trembling with both anger and fear as he called the entire crowd to join his disciples in hearing a most important truth:
Listen up, folks. Following me on the journey to wholeness and healing, solidarity and community, justice and peace is going to cost you something. You already know the pain of injustice and oppression, enmity and separation. I can’t fix those things. But you won’t find healing or peace by running away from your pain, and you won’t overcome those things by inflicting them upon others. Even if you do manage to gain some power, if you don’t deal with what’s real, you will have sold out and lost your soul.
Instead, acknowledge your own weakness and pain and, in so doing, see the pain and suffering of your neighbor. Drop your striving for image, success, and security and, instead, turn toward your neighbor and follow me on the journey of love. Whatever you lose along the way will pale in comparison to the value of nurturing your soul and finding the life that truly is life.
Who’s with me?
I can imagine some people in the crowd doing their best to avoid eye contact with him. I can imagine them looking down at the ground, kicking the dust, and giving one another the side-eye, as if to say, “Is this guy for real?”
I can imagine people shaking their heads and walking away, thinking, “Well, he’s certainly not the one!”
And so it is with us. Maybe we’re not so sure about Jesus. Maybe we’re not so sure about church or the spiritual life. And yet there’s something that keeps drawing us back, something that keeps our heart open, some deep longing that still wonders if there’s something more or different than how things have been.
Some of us want nothing more than to dip a toe in the spiritual waters every now and then. And that’s fine—if all we want is a little taste of love, hope, healing, and the power of community. And most of us walk through our lives wearing a mask that tells ourselves and everyone else that everything is fine. That we’re just fine, thank you. Nothing to see here.
But if we want the life that truly is life, if we’re looking for the kind of personal healing and spiritual transformation that will ground us, carry us through life’s toughest moments, and give us the spiritual strength and stamina to love and heal a broken world, . . .
Well, then, we’re going to have to take that mask off. We’re going to have to be real—with God, ourselves, and the people in our lives.
Well, then, we’re going to have to dive into the deep end and stick around for a while. We’re going to need to practice living as if it’s about much more than hard work, shiny things, and making our own way. And for that we’re going to need the power of the Spirit and the love and support of companions on the journey.
We begin to shed our personas and find real life when we acknowledge our common humanity and needs. We begin to lose our masks and save our lives when we become as willing to let others help us as we are to help them. We begin to lose our false, fear-driven selves when we nourish our true, love-driven selves, the ones made in the image of the God who is love. We save our lives when, like Jesus, we dedicate ourselves to serving others, even when that means suffering with them.
Following Jesus on the path to wholeness and real, authentic, abundant life can be hard and sometimes scary. It requires vulnerability, commitment, and compassion.
But we are not on the path alone. In deep, honest, life-giving relationship and community we find security, support, and the joy of being known, accepted, affirmed, and celebrated for who we really are. And it is in staying in community and practicing staying in God and letting God’s love and power continue to transform us, that we will find the life that truly is life—not only for ourselves, but for all people and all creation.
