Why the Veil?

Since talking about my veil in my last post, some have asked why the Church required a head covering and why it doesn’t now.  The short answer would probably include an exhortation of obedience to sacred scripture and the tradition of the time.  The wearing of a head covering, however, is a discipline; it isn’t and never was a matter of doctrine.  Traditions change and the importance of an action can be lost and can become just habit.  The Code of Cannon Law 1983 ended the obligation of the discipline.

With the obligation lifted and with the changes wrought by the implementations of Vatican II, a more modern way of thinking crept into the choice of wearing or not wearing the veil.  By the time I returned to the Church, the wearing of veils was entirely gone.

From the reading I’ve been doing on the subject and from the few women I’ve talked to on the choice, I’ve learned that the wearing of the veil is very much the answer to a call from the Holy Spirit.  In my case, I was hearing whispers of the possibility long before I actually took the veil back.  When I did, it had absolutely nothing to do with submissiveness to men.  It was about humility before God and my obedience to Him.  The veil covers my head but not my face.  At Mass, I am surrounded by a lightness that allows me to focus entirely on Him while not cutting me off from the community within the church.

I also feel a close attachment to Mary, His Blessed Mother.  She was always veiled and like her, I understand that the veil is a symbol of the different roles of men and women.  I like this distinction.  I like the veil as an outward sign of my special calling, as a woman, to serve Him as He asks me to serve.

I also honor St. Veronica who, when Christ carried His cross, recognized His real presence and gave Him her veil to wipe his face.  He gave her the blessing of His image in return for this act of kindness.

Many people regard scriptural references to women and submission as a negative but these references do not mean that women are less.  Men and women are equal in dignity and value before the Lord.  In a marriage governed by the principle of submission, both husband and wife are called to submission; she to her husband and he to Christ.  Just as Christ loves his Church and would not harm it, so a husband loves his wife and would do nothing to harm or diminish her. 

I’ve had to battle through my feelings of discomfort and self-consciousness as I’m often the only veiled woman in a church everywhere I go.  But six months of veiling has brought me to an understanding of why I have answered this calling.  I love the Lord and I choose to honor Him with this symbol of my submission to Him, my humility before Him, and as a sign of my special place as a woman in His plan for us.  I also love Mary, His mother and our mother.  She is my model of womanhood and whether a woman works, chooses a career, has a family, and often, in our society, is trying to do both, she is the exemplar of strength that has something for all women, no matter how they lives their lives.

I would encourage women of any age to try the veil again but with thought and discernment.  It is a calling and isn’t necessarily something that all women should even try to do.  But, if you are attracted to the possibility, it would not hurt to try it.  I started in the winter when it was cold and in church, I simply did not lower my scarf.  It was a start.  Each of us can find our own unique way if the call is answered with a “yes”.  It’s just a matter of listening, discerning, and then, deciding.

Mornings with Mary - Wearing a Veil

I was eight years old when I received this statue of Mary from my father.  I don't remember the occasion; perhaps we were moving yet again.  Or, perhaps he was going on deployment or returning from one.  Whatever the occasion, I treasure her.

I started wearing the veil in Mass again this passed January.  I had been reading about the movement toward returning to the veil, especially by young Catholic women.  I was attracted to the idea; I never really understood why it became optional and then just utterly disappeared.

I started wearing the veil again quite by accident.  It started during mission in Missouri and it was so cold in January.  I arrived at Mass in gloves, coat, and at least two scarves, one of which was draped around my head. I left it up that first day and it occurred to me that I liked it.  I felt feminine before the Lord, I felt a connection to his Mother.  I felt a connection, as well, to St. Veronica who, on that terrible last day, as Christ carried His cross to His death, recognized His real presence and gently wiped his face with her scarf.

I also felt a whole lot out of place, like I was shining a light in my direction saying, "Hey, look at me".  Part of me felt like I was a real distraction but part of me very much wanted that veil back, so, I took it.  Since then, I've seen a few other women wearing veils, one most memorably at the Basilica of the International Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C.  I notice a very tall and elegant black woman off to my right wearing a beautiful suit and her head wreathed in a lovely veil.  

As it happened, I had occasion to actually say hello to her as we were both near the same side altar after Mass.  We both agreed that the loss of the veil was something to regret.  There is nothing imposing or oppressive about wearing a veil.  Just as a man takes his hat off inside a church/building, a woman may keep hers on.  It was part of what set us apart from each other and yet made us one and complete.

So now, six month on, I'm still wearing my veil and looking for a couple more. I might even make one.  Now, that would be something.

Answering God's Call

Answering God’s call is something we are called to from our birth.  From the earliest age, when our parents answer for us with the Sacrament of Baptism to our own growth in awareness of the presence of God and listening for his voice, we are called to hear Him and allow Him to share intimately in our lives.

My journey away from Him happened quietly enough.  The silent and lonely drama of a failed marriage was enough to leave me believing there was nowhere for me in my church.  I was now a divorced woman and I didn’t know that there was still a home with its door wide open to me.  Reflecting on that long ago time now, I realize that had I been more fully informed of the teachings of my faith, I might have saved myself a lot of heartache and loneliness.

I was just Catholic enough that no Protestant church would work for me.  Eastern religions weren’t my thing and New Age was meaningless and newly appearing . . . so . . . it was just me and God; just the two of us.  Well, that didn’t work either.  It’s hard keeping the voice of God alive and audible when there is so much noise in your life.  Work, marriage, family, going to school, and child-rearing all clashed together to effectively silence His whispers that sought my attention.

But, there were the random moments when I heard Him.  One such time was in an old cemetery in Missouri.  Our son was nine months old and suddenly and acutely I felt the fact that he was not baptized.  The cemetery was on the grounds of an old Catholic Church that still served the community in the rural mountain area it resided in.  I wondered aloud to my husband if the priest would baptize him if we asked.  He did not enthusiastically support the idea and the moment slipped away from me, the voice muted once again.  But I never forgot the moment.

Fast forward six years and another child, now around eight months old.  The whisper was finding me again but this time it arrived in a shout of unmistakable address.  At this time, a series of billboards was moving around the South Bay area between San Jose and San Francisco.  An artist had painted an image of Christ with outstretched hand.  She had the image placed on four billboards with the words “I’m speaking to you”.  Every three months, the billboards’ locations would change.  On this particular day, as I drove home from running errands, I came across one of these billboards and I nearly drove off the road.

I quickly readjusted, went around the corner to home, parked, and ran upstairs to our apartment.  I remember flinging the door open and telling my husband what had happened and that I was going to call the office at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and find out how I could get back the Church.  The message had been received, crystal clear, and I wasn’t just musing aloud this time. Whatever reservation he might have had, I was moving forward.  This was a message to me and I was not going to ignore it again.

Life moved on.  My desire to return to the Faith was achieved and Don made the journey with me.  But, I still had a long way to go and I have my son to thank for getting me on the road to really learning about my faith and educating myself on the teachings and its history.  His road became my road.  

Suffering Humanity
by
Uriel Starbuck  of St. Louis, MO

In the course of moving to this next step, God got my attention again.  I needed to forgive someone.  In an instant of recognition, I asked the Sisters of the Cross, a cloistered order in Modesto, CA, to pray for the man who was the instrument of the destruction of my marriage.  I was still fill with fear and anxiety about him, even twelve years after the fact.  

Forgiveness is an extraordinary gift.  You think you are giving the gift to someone and in reality, the gift is to you.  I remember going back to the hall where I was attending the dedication of the sisters' convent and I could feel all the hurt and fear and pain drain from my body out through my hands and my feet.  It was a physical sensation that I still remember over 20 years later.  I had heard God's voice again.  He was saying "Enough already.  Let it go.  Give it to me".  And I did.  It was just that simple.

There is no question in my mind or heart that we eventually always hear God's voice, but, we only hear when we are ready to listen.  Somewhere along the line, I started asking for a purpose, a task, something I could do as service in His name.  It felt like it was taking forever for Him to answer me.  Yes, His problem, not mine.  My hearing was fine.  Not.  

I imagine there were more than a few missed opportunities over the years but finally, one day, that crystal clear address got through to me.  Husband was stressed and unhappy.  As a consequence, I was stressed and unhappy.  So, I sat him down and told him I thought we needed to make a big change in our lives.  Certain activities needed to be eliminated and we needed to make a plan to go on a domestic mission.  With that encounter, everything changed.

Looking back on it now, I have to ask what I might have done differently so that the desert of voicelessness would not have been so long between each oasis of encounter.  Who did I have as an active Christian friend; did I read the Bible and understand it's message; did I pray regularly; did I share my beliefs and what I was learning in my own private growth?  The short answer is "sort of."  If my own living of what I knew to be true was just lukewarm, then the volume on my hearing was probably set too low as well. 

Holy Agony Chapel
at Mother Seton's Shrine in Emmitsburg, MD

We are back from mission now and have been living with the changes wrought by the experience for three months.  There is much that has been assimilated and integrated into our lives and much more still to be understood.  The experience of mission does not end when the mission time ends.  The take-a-ways are not all immediately obvious but only slowly surface through time.  

I am so grateful for this time we had.  It was enriching on not only an individual personal level but also enriching on us as a couple.  We pray together.  We talk more. Harmony has been uncovered and rediscovered.  And we are both listening God.  Our hearts are wide open.  Help us continue to see through your eyes and hear with your heart.

Haiku My Heart

Small flood plain creeps near

Clouds, aloft, threaten and scold

Green is my valley

for more Haiku My Heart, please click here

The Afterwards

It is the end of May and we are home from our long journey.  Starting out, it was a journey to Missouri and mission.  By the end, we had each, individually discovered that the journey wasn't so much to a physical place as to a spiritual place; to a place within our selves.

While we touched and were touched by many people in our mission experience, it was what we took away from the experience that was most valuable to us; it was with us for the rest of our travels and remains with us here, at home.

I feel a sense of openness, of patience, of calm awareness that is deeply expanded from what I felt prior to mission.  Mission improved these positives in my life.  Because of the deepened awareness, I also was forced to look at the things that I feared and was reluctant to get too close to.  There was a strong sense of shame attached to this feeling.  I was surprised at my reactions to poverty and not wanting, after all, to become intimately acquainted with it.  It shamed me.

I was also forced to face a particular fear/loathing that I've come to discover, is my primary battleground for battering down the barrier to God's command for us to give unconditional love and to expect and trust the good that is in all people.

Interior landscapes are as seasonal and changing as the world around us.  Sometimes, our seasons don't show us a great range of change but when one goes out of their comfort zone, oh how the landscape can change and become challenging, very, very challenging.

I live in a shifting interior landscape now and my winter is moving into a very hot summer.  It is here, in a time of reflection, examination, and most of all, prayer, that I can become clearer on the things I can change and accept that the good within me, has become, in all humility, better.  And the bad in me?  Expose it to the healing light and burn it away.

Haiku My Heart - National Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows

Two  weeks ago, Don told me he had a surprise waiting for me in St. Louis.  It was to be my Mother's Day gift from him.  After we left Kawanee, IL this morning, we drove in the direction of St. Louis.  The plan was (and still is) to meet up with an old school friend of Don's one evening and to explore some of the Catholic Shrines and old Catholic Churches that abound in the St. Louis area.

I diligently entered the address for the Best Western Hotel we were to stay at for the weekend and we were on our way.  As we arrived at the turn off to the hotel, we were greeted with the welcome sign to the National Shrine of our Lady of the Snows.    

I remember saying something like, "Oh, look.  One of the shrines we plan to visit is right here.  How cool is that?"  I was also eyeing the road before us somewhat suspiciously.  It wasn't an ordinary paved road.  Naturally, I was paying attention to the GPS so I'm trying to send Don the GPS way and he's stopping, reading signage, going off in other directions and I'm becoming baffled and saying so.  We won't talk about the tired man's reaction to my attempts to navigate him back on course.  

I have to admit, I was a little slow on the uptake but I finally figured it out.  THIS was my surprise.  There WAS no Best Western at the end of the road.  We had arrived at our destination.  Don had gifted me with a weekend at the Shrine hotel which was part of the gorgeous grounds we had driven through.

I was so excited, so thrilled, so overwhelmed, that I had to share the moment here right away.  The pictures below are NOT mine.  I found them on the shrine site.  A haiku erupted from me and landed here at the knee of the wonderful Rebecca Brooks.    There will be another post filled with my pictures of the experience here.  In the meantime . . .

. . . I love you Don.  You never disappoint.

  

Offertory rose

Resplendent golden shelter

Leaf song, water's bell

Morning with Mary

One of the joys of traveling, for us, is visiting catholic shrines.  And this especially means seeing stained glass such as the one to the right.

This one was found at Christchurch Cathedral (Episcopal) in downtown Indianapolis. I especially like the glowing lamp that rises over her head and the clear background that throws her forward front and center calling attention to to the central image.S
Yesterday Iwas at the Basilica of the National shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Oh, do I have more beauty to share with you.