Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

The festivities were well underway by the time we arrived.

Sequined dresses and glittered faces greeted us at the door. The normally more staid atmosphere of a diocesan convention was replaced with the upbeat celebration of Mardi Gras, complete with jambalaya, colored beads and auctions to benefit Haiti as well as local ministries.

I was instantly envious of the masks. Ladies in full regalia walked around with intricate masks – peacock feathers, beads and sparkles. What more could a girl want?

Despite my nudging, my husband passed the booth without stopping. But, God bless her, the only other woman in our delegation purchased two and presented me with the masked gift.

It was great fun during the night to don the mask (though I was careful not to wave it too high, lest someone mistake the gesture for a bid on one of the magnificent – but out-of-my-price-range – auction items).

Tonight, too, at our church’s pancake supper, I’ll wear the mask and embrace the frivolity and joy of Mardi Gras before laying it aside on Ash Wednesday.

I couldn’t find a clear reason for the wearing of masks of Mardi Gras – even Wikipedia seemed somewhat stumped. But the metaphor makes sense to me as a Christian. For so much of our lives, we wear masks, either to hide our own identities and fears or to create barriers between us and others.

On Ash Wednesday and throughout the penitential season of Lent, God asks that we commit to taking off those masks, to bearing our souls to contemplation and critique.

What will I give up so that I might experience, even the smallest bit, the ultimate sacrifice by Christ? How will I change my behavior so that I might be more open to the spirit and less comfortable in my own routines and behind my carefully crafted facades?

What mask will I slough off so that I might see with new eyes?

What will you?