Last Sunday I walked into our church to behold 25 veils: our two crucifixes, 18 statues of Our Lady, and the statues of Saints Francis, Patrick, Therese, San Lorenzo Ruiz, and St. Jude all draped in purple cloth. From the fifth Sunday of Lent (known as “Passion Sunday” in the older usage), churches in the United States are permitted to veil all images of Christ and His saints. The last words of the Gospel for that Sunday give the reason, from John 8:59: “they picked up stones to kill Jesus, so he hid himself….” In a splendidly Catholic way, all images of Jesus, and His saints, are veiled until Good Friday and the Easter Vigil to vividly portray what happened 1990 years ago in Jerusalem.
Our redoubtable Thelma has been leading Star of the Sea Altar Guild for many years, providing fresh flowers, linens, and altar hangings every week. She and her little team draped all 25 statues last Saturday night, but she faced a dilemma: many of our new statues include quite fragile appurtenances: delicate crowns, scepters, lilies, etc. To avoid damage, Thelma purchased bolts of rather delicate cloth, which is a bit transparent. So while our images are veiled, one can see somewhat beyond the veil. At first I wondered it this was appropriate, but the people have spoken: “We love the new veils!”
A veil indicates mystery, which reveals and conceals at the same time. Each image of our Lord, Our Lady, and the Saints are mysteries, revealing divine beauty and goodness while concealing the full brilliance of divinity behind the veil of frail human flesh. I think it’s rather wonderful that our veiled saints are slightly visible this year. Both their veils and our flesh point to a deeper mystery, that of God’s presence within us. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.
Our redoubtable Thelma has been leading Star of the Sea Altar Guild for many years, providing fresh flowers, linens, and altar hangings every week. She and her little team draped all 25 statues last Saturday night, but she faced a dilemma: many of our new statues include quite fragile appurtenances: delicate crowns, scepters, lilies, etc. To avoid damage, Thelma purchased bolts of rather delicate cloth, which is a bit transparent. So while our images are veiled, one can see somewhat beyond the veil. At first I wondered it this was appropriate, but the people have spoken: “We love the new veils!”
A veil indicates mystery, which reveals and conceals at the same time. Each image of our Lord, Our Lady, and the Saints are mysteries, revealing divine beauty and goodness while concealing the full brilliance of divinity behind the veil of frail human flesh. I think it’s rather wonderful that our veiled saints are slightly visible this year. Both their veils and our flesh point to a deeper mystery, that of God’s presence within us. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.
Our Lady of La Vang (Vietnam) with Jesus behind her veil
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