Why don’t we have a history of masks?
This face in front of me has an impish grin, but he can’t tell me why. The hollow eyes, capturing the varying light behind them, are different shades. It’s one of many masks on display in the Museum of Anthropology in Vancouver, creative products of cultures across the globe.
There’s a delightful variety. The Japanese masks are the most realistic. The Korean the most cartoonish. New Guinea’s are abstract. The masks of the First Nations have their distinctive designs of sweeping shapes and lines.
With all these examples, it makes me think that masks are a near universal artistic expression of human societies.
I wonder why there isn’t a Christian tradition of masks. I think of the Biblical stories that would have been powerfully portrayed in such an art form: Noah, Jonah, David and Goliath. As I snap photos of these creative faces, I ponder why Christian history lacks them.
I’m a little saddened by this. But some reasons quickly gel in my mind.
There is no “Christian” culture. God’s truth is not linked to one society and its expressions. Even if there had been a desire for making masks, who would have decided on the art form? One style fits only one culture. The gospel, in contrast, can take root in all.
But what about the ancient Israelite culture? Why aren’t masks found there?
Recently, I came across this fascinating quote concerning the issue of art and the early people of God:
In Israel the ban on idols placed restrictions on the decorative visual arts. The prohibition of ritualized myths was another part of the campaign against paganism and prevented the development of drama in Israel. As a result, the prime media for artistic expression were music, with song and dance, and the spoken word. In all these Israel excelled. Nothing was esteemed more highly than a word fitly spoken (Pro. 25:11). Francis I. Andersen
Many of these masks on display here were used to enhance the oral traditions of the past. Some of them were meant to give a face to supernatural beings. God commanded his people to steer clear of such representations.
For he had a far greater rendering of his character to give us than anything we could have imagined. Or carved. Or molded.
In a far corner of the museum, I find a little ceramic Jesus. It reminds me of what John teaches us of the Word, God’s definitive expression of who he is:
The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14
Masks are static. Their visages never change. They are limited, lacking nuance. Caricatures of good and evil.
But in giving us Jesus, God gave us a living representation, a human embodiment of the glory that filled the tabernacle, expressed through undeserved kindness and complete consistency and reliability. God, veiled in flesh, but not masked by it.
I will still admit that I’d love to see stories of the faith told with some expressive facades. But to get a true picture of heavenly realities?
I’ll take Jesus. Every day.
Father, thank you for giving us such a perfect view of your glory in your Son. Help us to be true embodiments of the same grace and truth.
Reader: What Biblical story would you love to see portrayed with masked actors?
Feel free to email me at: bvanpatter@ailbe.org. I always appreciate hearing from you!
