“Woe unto you Scribes and Pharisees, for you are like white-washed tombs, appearing beautiful on the outside but filled with dead bones on the inside.” Jesus the Christ according to the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 23

Hypocrite: From the Greek “hypokrites” meaning “actor” or “one who wears a mask”.

My dear mother Jean recounted the story of how my father first started going to church.  She would faithfully take my three older sisters on most Sunday mornings.  My dad was not religious in the least.  But one Sunday he came out of the bedroom dressed in a suit. “What are you doing?” my mom asked him.  “I’m going to church with you, is that OK?”  he replied.  And that was the beginning of a fairly regular family practice of attending church on Sunday morning.

Like so many others “back in the day”, going to church was a time to don one’s “Sunday best”.  The outfits were referred to as the “Sunday go to meeting” clothes.  It was expected that people dress up.  Times have changed.  Not nearly as many people consider going to church a necessity in order to practice one’s faith—myself included.  And for those who do the majority most likely don’t wear suits and female finery.  But many still dress up; That is to say, they wear masks.  They come as actors and actresses.  The sanctuary is their stage.  They pretend to be someone or something they aren’t.  They wrap themselves in the robes of self-righteousness, plastering on the make-up in the hopes of giving the impression that they have “made it” in all matters spiritual, and wearing masks that hide the truth of who they really are during all of those hours and days when no one—except God—can see them.   In the hope of impressing others, if not God, with their silly attempts at appearing sanctified they take their seats in the assembly of the other pretenders.  This includes pastors and priests, by the way.  Truly it is an act worthy of an academy award, as the false self is on full display. Pride hidden under the guise of false humility and holiness.  I know cuz I was part of the troupe.  I played my part as well.

It’s revealing that those in the world recognize this charade, frequently levelling the charge of “hypocrites” at those good Christians who appear to be so “good” one day a week, and so “bad” (I prefer to call it human), the other six.

It is also telling that Jesus withheld his harshest criticism for those who were part of this company.  The 23^rd chapter of Matthew records what are arguably Jesus’ most condemning words to those who considered themselves to be above such criticism.  Spiritual arrogance hidden under the guise of phony holiness is called out by Jesus.  What Jesus, and in fact all the great spiritual teachers call for, is genuine humility.  

Authentic humility does not mean doing one’s good works in a self-deprecating fashion.  It means being genuinely human.  At all times.  In all places.  With all people.  It means removing the mask of the false self so that one can live in the true self.  Unfortunately many, if not most pious pretenders refuse to do that.  The reasons may be as varied as the individuals themselves, but one of the most common is simply that  the Way to humility is not pride which promotes the false self and elevates the ego, but pain which leads a person down, down, all the way down into the depths of despair, into the dark night of the soul, into the loss—dare I say death–of everything that one previously held most dear, including one’s own elevated impression of oneself, and the desperate desire to make others believe you are something or someone other than who you really are.

Thomas Merton describes the process this way:  “This is the root of what the saints called compunction:  the grief, the anguish of being helpless to be anything but what you were meant to be.  Then, in prayer, all sweetness becomes a sickness.  Consolation repels you because the smallest tase of it brings surfeit. All light brings pain to the mind by its insufficiency.  Your il not longer seems able to dare to act.  The slightest movement reminds it of its uselessness, and it dies of shame.  And yet, strangely, it is in this helplessness that we come upon the beginning of joy. We discover that as long as we stay still the pain is not so bad and there is even a certain peace, a certain richness, a certain strength, a certain companionship that makes itself present to us when  we are beaten down and lie flat with our mouths in the dust, hoping for hope.”  Here we find the sweet taste of humility and the consolation of true companionship with Christ.

“I’m going to be myself”.  That’s what my granddaughter said in response to my question “What are you going to be for Halloween?”  A spiritually profound insight out of the mouth of a babe.  She doesn’t need to wear a mask. And neither do we. She is fine being who she is.  And so are we.