Lifting the Veil - The Last Sunday after the Epiphany, Year C

I was touched last week by Kate’s story about the fancy white dress she wore for her first communion. In keeping with the theme of favorite outfits from our childhood, I’ve been thinking about a fancy white dress of my own. When I was four years old, I dressed up as a bride for Halloween. In retrospect, I’m slightly mortified, but I can tell you that the appeal of the costume was not the idea of marriage or a wedding or even the sentiment of romantic love, none of which even entered my four-year-old mind. No, the real attraction of the costume was the veil. No mere princess costume came equipped with such a treasure. I continued to wear that veil around the house for months after Halloween until it finally became too tattered to keep, which left me devastated. 

My feelings about bridal veils have changed over the years. In adolescence, a time when our understanding of the world expands at a rate too quick to truly process, I became indignant about the societal pressure on women to wear such oppressive symbols of female modesty on their wedding day. But then as a young adult, I watched not one but two royal weddings, and watched them with the same awe and admiration I had for my bride costume as a child. It’s safe to say I’ve really come back around on the whole veil issue. 

My experience is certainly not the first time British royalty have had an impact on the culture when it comes to veils. The earliest bridal veils date back to the Greco-Roman era and were used to shroud a bride’s entire body to protect her from evil spirits on the way to her wedding. There was also an ancient suspicion that a marriage would be doomed if the groom saw his bride’s face before the official union, so veils came in handy there too. 

During the Middle Ages, when weddings became religious affairs, veils became a useful tool in upholding the Christian value of modesty in women. By the 18th century, bridal veils had actually gone almost completely out of style in the West. But then, on February 10, 1840, Queen Victoria wore a stunning lace number that she was later buried in, and bridal veils have not gone out out of style since. 

Of course, veils have played important roles in the culture outside of weddings, as well. Throughout history, many women and men have chosen to wear a veil as a symbol of their chastity, modesty, and piety. Veils also symbolize the threshold between this earthly world and whatever comes after it. This is the source of phrases like “beyond the veil,” which perfectly describes the heart-wrenching scene near the end of the fifth Harry Potter book when a beloved character is quite literally lost to the other side of a veil.  Veils are also used frequently in our scriptures, including today’s passage from Exodus, to shroud things and people whose holiness simply cannot be witnessed face to face, most notably God’s own self. 

In each of these cases, and I suspect in many others, a veil is the symbol of separation between what is precious or sacred and what is profane. Whether they keep a demon away from a bride, or keep the unknown afterlife at bay from our familiar and comfortable lives on earth, or keep the full extent of God’s magnificence from completely overtaking average folks like you and me, veils protect us and keep us in our rightful place. 

But the experience on the mountaintop in today’s Gospel is different. Peter and James and John climb up a hill with their Lord and are utterly astounded by what they encounter. They are able to witness the fullness of God’s majesty and it does not overwhelm them. They are not hurt or blinded. In fact, they want to set up camp right then and there and never leave. This is markedly different from the Israelites’ experience with Moses, who had to cover his shining face. It is not the case that God’s glory is less incredible or more palatable to the disciples. It is the case that they are in the presence of Christ, through whom we are capable of coming closer to God’s splendor. As one theologian put it, “Jesus is God’s glory, shielded for our sake.” 

This week was a brutal one for the global community as we watched a world power invade a more vulnerable nation, destroying lives and spreading fear in the process. For many, these events brought back haunting memories of wars past. Others are witnessing an incursion of this magnitude for the first time. These are equally frightening experiences. We’re living through a moment in which we long for the veils that keep us safe from chaos and uncertainty to be pulled tighter. We want to feel shrouded in safety. And on the other hand we yearn for the full presence of God to break into the world all at once and obliterate the forces of violence. 

Thankfully, we are approaching the season of Lent, and our scriptures today are preparing us for what is to come. Lent is a season in which we pull back the veil ever so slightly and draw nearer to God through prayer, repentance, and other spiritual practices. It’s a season in which we walk with intention towards the Cross, the fullest expression of God’s love for us. 

We can expect many things from Lent. We may be overwhelmed with God’s glory in our still silence. We may be intimidated by the greatness of God and the smallness of our own lives in comparison. We might be frightened by the truth of the Cross and what it demands of us. But we can also expect to be totally blown away by the comfort of God’s nearness. We can expect to be inspired by the ways God is at work in world even in the midst of disaster. We can expect to be surprised by the power of our own spiritual practices. 

This year, we need the season of Lent, and the world needs us to journey through it faithfully. The world needs our prayers, our generosity, and our humility. When we can stand openly before God, with a willingness to peer beyond the veil, we will find there strength and love and healing for ourselves and for the world.

Thinking back to my matrimonial Halloween all those years ago, I wonder if even my four-year-old self was comforted by the privacy and mystery of that lacy veil. We all like to feel enveloped and safe. It’s true that peeling back the veil in Lent calls for bravery, determination, and perseverance. Just like all journeys with Christ, walking through Lent means taking risks. But it also means discovering a more intimate relationship with our Creator. We’re all invited in the coming weeks to consider the places in our lives in which the every day mundane is kept veiled from the larger, sacred work God is doing in our lives. Where can we draw back those veils during Lent to let God draw near? Amen.