Why a veil? Because humility and modesty accentuate beauty

“Their family is pretty hardcore,” he said to me with a little smirk. “His wife even wears a veil to Mass!”

I just smiled back and nodded knowingly. Right, hardcore.

I didn’t mention that I myself have been known to wear a chapel veil. I just decided to take it as a compliment. If there was something to be hardcore about, I suppose the Mass is it.

The only lady I can remember wearing a veil to Mass when I was little seemed like such an oddball, like someone from another planet. But then I also don’t remember seeing a nun in a habit before my teens either – and we were regular Mass goers and I went to a Catholic school. It makes me a little sad to realize that.

Regardless, as the years went by, and I gradually saw a few more women here and there wearing veils, I had to admit that they were beautiful. The women had a certain “set apart”-ness that I think all Catholics are meant to have. When the day came that I first visited a Latin Mass, I was struck by the overall feeling of humility and reverence that a congregation of veiled women and nicely dressed men gave me.

The first time I wore a veil to my regular parish was one of the most self-conscious hours of my life. I felt like the whole world was staring at me. Hardcore. But then I remembered that they were occupied with their own prayers, and not my headwear. It was wrong of me to assume anyone would think anything about it at all. Though I did have a couple of women approach me to tell me that they had always felt an inclination to wear one too. They were afraid, though, of standing out.

I guess the question is, why veil your head at Mass? It’s an interesting question. The first obvious answer is that Catholic women, including the most important Catholic woman, Mary, wore veils for more than 1,000 years of Church history, and only haven’t for about 50. (And in those 50 years we’ve had a lot of questionable developments, soooo ...)

For a thousand years or so before Christianity, Jewish women also wore veils in humility and modesty. They believed that being in the actual presence of God deserved a little head-covering. I have a hard time feeling that our modern sense of piety and worship is deeper than that of the past, so it seemed like something worth considering.

But the deepest spiritual meaning behind wearing a veil (or hat) is simply because it is beautiful. Take a look inside your parish church. What things are veiled? The altar, the tabernacle, and a bride on her wedding day. All things beautiful and life-giving are veiled. It means something, and it certainly is not demeaning!

A woman, in her authentic feminine genius, is always a life-bearer, regardless of how many or how few children she has. She is a sign of the Church as a whole, the bride of Christ, sacred and called to share new life with the world. That is something only a woman can share with God.

All things in the Church that are set apart as holy and sacred are veiled. But how does this holy beauty work and co-operate with humility and modesty? I know I have at times thought of those two virtues as the “ugly” virtues. Do you know what I mean?

Modesty and humility incorrectly brings up images of over-sized jumpers and a lack of mascara. I guess that distortion is a by-product of my 1990s youth. But as my understanding of the virtues continues to grow, I have come to see that humility and modesty are not at odds with sacred and awe-inspiring beauty. Instead, humility and modesty accentuate it.

Beauty is a gift from God, and a sign of God. It is one of the inexplicable things in nature, the thing that serves no utilitarian purpose. The flower that feeds neither man nor bee, the variety of colours on a bird’s wing, or the way incense billows and plumes toward heaven … there is no scientific explanation for these things. Their beauty serves no purpose, except the sacred purpose of drawing our hearts and minds to God, the creator of all things good, true, and beautiful.

I suppose that is why I often veil myself for Mass. Perhaps I need the reminder that I am chosen and set apart as something meant to bring beauty to the world. Perhaps I need to remember that the Mass is not utilitarian or created by a democratic council. It is not meant to give me warm fuzzy feelings, but to lift my heart and my mind to a truth that is so utterly beyond me. But it is only offered to those who are willing to approach the altar of God in modesty and humility.

I would never make this a moral issue. But if you have ever felt a curiosity, like I did, or a desire to do something visible to more sacramentally connect with something invisible, maybe God is wanting to remind you of what you were made for. And I think we can all agree that the world certainly doesn’t need less beauty.