We all figuratively wear masks, at least occasionally, to hide our true identities. Some of us put on a mask at work. Others wear a mask in their communities, or even with their families. We are so scared that people will catch a glimpse of our authentic, vulnerable selves, and then reject us. It seems easier to wear a fake exterior, like armor.
It is a custom to dress up and wear masks during the upcoming holiday, Purim. When you think about it, in our everyday lives wearing a mask and hiding our authentic selves can be harmful. But in some instances, especially concerning happiness, putting on a mask can be helpful. We can call this “the duality of the Purim mask”…
How can wearing a mask ever be good? Isn’t it inauthentic? A passage written by Rabbi Moshe Ben Maimon (Rambam), a preeminent Jewish philosopher and Torah scholar of the Middle Ages, helps explain:
Positive behavior characteristics are not acquired by doing great (positive) acts, but rather through the repetition of many positive acts. For example, giving a thousand gold coins to one charity will not accustom a person to the trait of generosity, whereas giving one gold coin to a thousand different charities will do so. By repeating an act many times, an established behavior or emotional pattern is formed. In contrast, one great act represents an arousal to good, after which that motivation may disappear (commentary on Pirkei Avot, 3:18).
What is the connection to masks?
There are times when our sadness weighs on us. We walk around frowning or scowling, wondering when things will get better. It’s certainly OK to be sad occasionally, but if we aren’t careful, the sadness can spiral downwards into hopelessness and despair.
One way to escape that cycle is to put on the mask of a smiling, happy person. To repeat an important line from the Rambam: “By repeating an act many times, an established behavior or emotional pattern is formed.”
If we keep outwardly smiling and laughing, even when inwardly things aren’t going great, we can use our “happy mask” to genuinely lift our mood. This approach has been proven in modern times by the positive psychology movement. An article in Psychology Today notes that:
Each time you smile you throw a little feel-good party in your brain. The act of smiling activates neural messaging that benefits your health and happiness.
On the other hand, by the end of a long Purim party many of us will be itching to take off our masks. We’ll be hot, perhaps itchy, and eager for people to once again see our true selves. Likewise, in our real lives, it is often best to live with as little artifice as possible and to allow people to see our uniqueness and authenticity.
One of the best parts of a happy marriage, for instance, is seeing your spouse for who he or she really is, after the initial infatuation has faded, and then still loving him or her despite the faults that you perceive. This is real, mature love.
Writing for Aish.com, Rabbi Ari Kahn notes that Purim is ultimately about removing our masks and revealing our essence:
But there is one more custom that is an integral part of the Purim experience: people dress up. Purim is a reminder that we spend so much of our lives dressing up and leading lives that are in dissonance with our souls. We allow our disguises to lull us into a false sense of identity, placing our faith in the masks we wear rather than in the natural beauty of Jewish destiny.
Our goal as Jews is to find our true clothing and our true selves, both as individuals and as a nation.
Sometimes masks can be helpful. When we are feeling sad, putting a smile on our face and acting happy is beneficial. It helps spiritually, psychologically and physiologically. But when it comes down to inter-personal relationships and what we perceive to be faults, usually the best policy is to remove the mask and reveal your true essence.
Sometimes masks make us happy, other times they make us sad. This is the duality of the Purim mask.
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