I’m not what you’d consider “outgoing.” I don’t even like praying out loud, preferring silent prayer by myself. (Please, never ask me to say the holiday dinner blessing.) But for a while, I’ve felt drawn to the tradition of wearing a veil.
The mantilla, or chapel veil, was a requirement of women pre-Vatican II. They’re seldom seen in parishes anymore, to the point I didn’t know for several years that it was something anyone did. But I first noticed it during Adoration—one pious woman, kneeling near the front, bowed in prayer. And it was beautiful. It seemed proper, to be veiled before the blessed sacrament.
But it’s very public. For someone who prefers hiding in a side pew, in a Church filled with jeans and sweatshirts, I considered veiling? I stood out enough wearing a dress on Sunday morning. But I wanted to try anyway.
I wore it to Adoration, which felt less stand-outish than Mass. And it was… calming. Though there were other people in the small chapel, I felt like the only one there. The veil restricted my peripheral vision, so I couldn’t get distracted by them anyway. It forced my gaze forward, toward the purpose for being at Adoration at all.
Then my husband said, “Why don’t you wear it to Mass?”
It’s a strange sensation to enter church with your head covered. There are mixed reactions—most people aren’t paying attention, or at least pretend not to. Others have outwardly stared, elbowing the person beside them. Some have complimented it, mostly on the nice shade of purple. Occasionally, I’ll see someone else take out her veil, too, either having forgotten it or feeling more confident not doing it alone.
(I look very pious, but I’m actually taking a photo of that St. Edith statue.)
Veiling isn’t something you do for yourself. If there’s the temptation of being “holier” than others, it should be avoided. It’s a reverence for God. It’s an understanding that despite our sinfulness, we’re blessed to be able to approach Him anyway. It maintains that humbleness before Him, offering Him the respect that is due. And, dare I say, it helps keep focus during Mass. While it’s not something for yourself, it does help tremendously when the view of other congregants is restricted.
I’m still not completely confident in the practice. I get nervous walking up to church, wondering who’s staring at me. Because they will. But they’re probably already staring because I show up in “Sunday best,” that I bring my own missal. So what’s another thing to help me grow closer to God?
I now own three of them, in various colors. The colors don’t mean much anymore, but I like to stick to tradition. So, no, one of them is not white, because I’m not a young, unmarried girl. But I probably won’t wear black unless it’s a funeral. Some women match their veils to the liturgical calendar, which opens up a whole new realm of possibilities!
