The High Priest’s garments, a robe of purest blue,Golden bells along the hem, Graven lapis with the symbols of the tribes, How pure the priest How fine.

A fringed tunic of purest linen, The finest yarns of many colors, Twisted gold chains, A frontlet to say “Holy the LORD” How righteous the priest How good.

But cannot a garment hide the truth? Cannot a fine covering hide a rotten core? Are there not masks that people wear that conceal what is real? Is this not the preparation for hypocrisy?

This cannot be the lesson we are to learn, To look good To look splendid To appear righteous and magnificent Merely as a seeming, An image An idol of an unattainable ideal, Or worse, A mask to hide behind while one fulfills whatever one’s desire may be.

No. Rather say that the garments of the High priest are a sign. A sign to the High Priest of who and what he is. At each step, the bells ring. He feels the weight of his heavy robes His headdress And feels The heavy weight of his responsibility His charge. He will strive to live up to his appearance. He will seek to be truly Holy to the LORD He will struggle to be what he looks to be.

And so let it be with me. Let me wear my costume, Fix on me my mask. Drape me in the cloth of kindness Place a robe of righteousness over my shoulders Let jewels of charity hang around my neck and dangle from my ears. Oh! May I dazzle the world with the brightness of my charade of goodness! But only if the seeming becomes reality. Only if the part I play is played even when I leave the stage.

Creator of Light, Help me perfect my act of goodness, Make my mask of kindness seamless So that, In the end, That is all there is.

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