The Joy of Obedience
Penned by Milyna Adriel on Friday, November 25th, 2022
While counseling a summer camp session this past summer, one of my precious campers suddenly turned to me and said, “Why are you wearing a scarf on your head??”
We had just sat down before the start of Mass for the day. And, as was expected, our campers were squirming, quizzing us on what time lunch was to be had. “The same time as every other day,” counselors would respond with a finger to their lips, motioning for the children to direct their attention to their songbooks.
However, this question regarding my decision to veil in the chapel was an entirely new one (at least for a human of this age group). I’d been asked the same question by well-meaning and curious church family members before — but not by a child. It caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to speak, hesitating for a few seconds before replying.
“Well…” I paused, “this is called veiling. Have you ever seen pictures of women from the Bible days with scarves wrapped around their heads?” The child’s wide-eyed stare gave me no indication of yes, or no, so I continued. “…Or you know how Mary is depicted with a scarf or cloth wrapped around her head in the Nativity scene with baby Jesus?” Ah, that last picture was familiar. They nodded vigorously. “It was a tradition back then for women to veil their heads as a sign of respect or reverence to God, just like how we genuflect or bow in church. It’s not a requirement anymore, but it’s something that I do that helps me focus in church, and helps me feel closer to God and Mary, too…Does that make sense?”
This particular child (in all nine years of their wisdom) tilted their head, saying, “Oh. Yeah. I like that.” Then they fell silent and sat rather still for a while.
A certain level of fear had risen within me when my camper posed this question. I was afraid of rejection, and admittedly, that was a barrier to me practicing veiling a few years ago. Growing up in an Anglican church, I served at the altar weekly in front of the congregation. Then, summer of 2019, while attending St. Michael’s Conference Southwest (a youth retreat), I was kneeling next to a close friend during Mass. She wore a white lace veil, and there in the midst of the Eucharistic prayers, I felt as if I was being drawn towards wearing one myself. I remember asking her about her veil afterward, and with a smile, she simply said, “It helps me stay focused on God.”
I struggled for nearly a year with the call to veil during Mass, in the presence of God. Coming home that summer, I read several articles online about how or why women of all ages chose to veil, sometimes for different seasons of their lives. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and internally I regularly struggled with the decision. Every week when I attended church, I remembered the call. But the fear of “what will everyone think?” crept in. Worried that others would think I was being prideful or that I was trying to draw attention to myself trickled into my consciousness.
…I blinked, still undecided, and the world was suddenly upside down. It was 2020, and churches were closed entirely or live-streaming their services. We began to attend a parish further away from our home, where the parishioners were strongly Anglo-Catholic, and at the turn of the pandemic — physically, few of them were present. Without my altar server duties each week, I freely sat in a pew with the rest of my family. We had been going there for a few weeks when I brought a plain black scarf to Mass with me. (Looking back, I’m not sure what nudged me towards finally trying it out.) Anxiously wrapping it around my head, I inhaled deeply and sat down as quickly as possible. Praying for guidance, I felt my face grow hot and red, wondering if I was making a scene.
To my surprise, I received no odd glances, and to my deep relief, no one said a word about it that day. I went up to receive Holy Communion, feeling a deep sense of peace and assurance — was this…an outpouring of grace? As the resident Bishop of that parish gave me Communion that morning, I felt an inexpressible joy wash over me; the joy of obedience.
The Lord had been calling me to this practice for nearly a year, and I had finally obeyed the desire He had placed upon my heart.
I have veiled ever since.
In veiling, I’ve discovered the practice to be something of my “spiritual blinders,” drawing me away from the world’s chaos and into the beauty of holiness and prayer. There’s a grace that helps me focus and, simultaneously, more fully know and realize my belovedness as my Father’s daughter. Since then, I’ve often thought about how we veil what is sacred and beautiful. At weddings, the bride’s loveliness is veiled in a pure white covering — so why wouldn’t we veil ourselves, being temples of God?
There is something wonderful about it. On those days when I attend Mass outside of my home parish, feeling self-conscious or fearful of the opinions of others; I’m gently reminded that God’s opinion of me is far more valuable. Intertwined with prayer, veiling grants me the grace I need to focus on Him. The knowledge that our Lord’s Mother is often depicted wearing a veil… And that she veiled per the tradition of her culture then — helps me to realize that I’m partaking in an ancient tradition shared by many Biblical, Godly women over the years.
I know that it’s not something that everyone may choose or desire, but for the young girl or woman who does desire to veil or to try veiling… I would simply echo the words of St. Paul, “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 1:3)…may God grant you the courage and grace to follow Him daily.
First published in the March-April 2023 issue of Forward in Christ Magazine.
—Milyna Adriel