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I was recently reading a discussion of veiling on the blog Feminine Genius (I’d never read this blog before, but I got into it through a link from Fr. Z, whose comments can be read here) on the subject of women wearing chapel veils. It’s been a long time since we’ve taken up this subject here at the Cornell Society for a Good Time, but it made me remember with fondness a thread from more than two years back. I thought it might be worth updating my position from that thread, and maybe offering a few of my thoughts on Genevieve Kineke’s position.
At the time when we had that discussion, my policy was to wear my chapel veil when I assisted at the Traditional Latin Mass, but not to when I went to the Novus Ordo Mass up the street. As I explain in the comments to that post, wearing it at the Novus was too distracting for me, and I felt that it was a temptation to spiritual pride. When we went to Mass at the FSSP parish (two hours away) veiling was of course quite normal, so there I would do it.
Now, more than two years later, I wear the chapel veil for both forms of the Mass. It’s not a distraction anymore. Like so many things, it faded into the background and ceased to perturb me. It was the same way with my scapular, or my Jerusalem cross (that I’ve been wearing for 8 years now), or with my engagement ring when the Doctor first put it on my finger. All of these things, for the first few weeks, felt like a flashing sign, and I imagined everyone staring at me. Gradually, they just became a normal part of me, and I didn’t worry anymore about what people were thinking. The same was true of the chapel veil. I suppose I do stand out when I wear it at the Novus Ordo (though I rarely assist at the Novus these days) but I don’t really care anymore. Now that I’m comfortable with it, people can think what they want. By the same token, it doesn’t inspire prideful thoughts anymore, because I’m really not thinking about my veil per se when I’m at Mass.
I hear lots of justifications for why women should wear chapel veils. Some contend that canon law requires it… but that, I think, doesn’t really hold up. We can get further into that question if necessary. It does remain true, however, that it is a traditional form of dress for Catholic women, and was for centuries an expression of modesty and a way of showing one’s submission to God. On the subject of modesty, a chapel veil obviously doesn’t cover very much, but it encourages women to think “along the right lines.” Personally, I think they’re quite pretty. But they’re pretty in a wholesome way — it’s hard to imagine anyone trying to look “sexy” in a chapel veil. Wearing them at Mass might set the right tone for a lady’s dress, encouraging women to choose Sunday attire that is attractive in a non-alluring way.
On the subject of humility, I do think the chapel veil is a fitting expression of a humble position towards God. “Hiding” one’s head is a way of making oneself feel smaller, humbler, and more submissive. (Think of nuns, or brides.) Where this is done as a sign of submission to men, it naturally occasions controversy about a woman’s appropriate place within society. But at Mass, it is God to whom we are submitting ourselves, so there’s no need to get our backs up. I find that it really helps me to get into a properly prayerful spirit. It’s odd that a little piece of lace over my hair could have this effect… but then again, maybe not so odd. It’s pretty clear that different sorts of clothing can make us feel differently. I make use of this phenomenon all the time. When I need to project a “bold and fearless” persona, I put on something slick and professional. When I want to feel relaxed and casual in the evening, pajamas are often the ticket. If I’m feeling a little depressed and want to cheer myself up, I’ll wear something bright and cheerful, or perhaps clothes that I associate with particular pleasant memories. And when I want to focus my mind on God at Mass, my chapel veil puts me in the right spirit.
There are lots of deeper explanations for why the veil is so appropriate. Alice von Hildebrand has one; you can find it in the comments of the Feminite Genius post if you like. Another explanation is that its similarity to a bridal veil can remind us how we are part of the Bride of Christ. Personally, I would cite two reasons why the veil has a positive effect on me. The first relates to Our Lord’s declaration that “man looketh on the outward appearance, but God looketh on the heart.” “Hiding myself” with the veil makes me feel less like I’m in man’s presence, and more like I’m in God’s. It’s a little funny, I know, since I’m obviously not very hidden under something that small, but the head is a significant part of our body. Housing as it does our brain, eyes, ears, and mouth, it has a much more powerful effect on our mood and identity than, say, our elbows. When I can feel my veil falling softly around my face, I somehow feel a bit hidden from my fellow parishioners… which simultaneously increases my feeling that God is looking right at me.
But, perhaps a bit paradoxically, the other reason the veil makes me feel humble is precisely because, on a cultural level, veiling is associated with humility and submission. I know plenty of women for whom it would seem a humiliation or even a degradation to wear such a thing. I don’t feel degraded when I wear it, but only because I know that it is perfectly proper for me to be “brought low” before God. It is a pleasure to feel small and simple before God Almighty.
Now, as I’ve already admitted, I had some difficulty with this in the early days. It seemed ostentatious, and perhaps a bit “holier-than-thou.” I was able to get over this feeling at our FSSP parish, where veiling was the usual custom and therefore obviously not holier-than-thou. Once I got used to it, it no longer occurred to me to wonder what others were thinking when I wore my chapel veil in Novus Ordo Masses. A few times I’ve misplaced it and had to go to Mass bareheaded, and this doesn’t shame me, but it gives me an uncomfortable feeling similar to what I have if I accidentally go out without my wedding ring or my scapular, or if I don’t get a chance to brush my teeth in the morning. I just don’t feel quite right without my chapel veil.
Now that you’ve heard my position, I thought I’d say a bit about the arguments of Genevieve Kineke of Feminine Genius.
1) There’s no reason why women should veil and not men.
Well, I guess my main reaction is that I don’t really care what the men are doing — I think veiling is a nice custom for women, and that’s good enough for me. I’m not certain what sort of covering you would want to consider for men… obviously it would be quite ridiculous to ask them to wear lace veils. They could wear hats or some other more masculine gear, I suppose, as men do in some other religions when they worship. I wouldn’t mind if they started doing that, but I’m not in a good position to say what sort of effect that custom would have on their sensibilities. This may be a case where the phenomenology of men and women is rather different. In any case, I understand chapel veils to be primarily a mark of submission to God, not one of submission to men, so I don’t see any reason to worry about gender equality here.
2) There are other more important things to worry about than chapel veils — for example, contraception and divorce.
Certainly I agree that the lack of chapel veils is not the single most important problem among women in the world today. Far from it. I don’t think it would be wise to be too heavy-handed on a matter such as this, and certainly we should avoid anything that would feed contemptuous or self-righteous feelings among traditional Catholic women. If some women don’t feel ready yet to wear chapel veils, then fine. I don’t think Genevieve is a Traditional Catholic, but among those of us who are, it would certainly be terrible to chase anybody away from the Traditional Latin Mass just because she didn’t want to wear a veil.
On the other hand, it’s a mistake to suppose that we need to deal with all problems “in order of importance”, as though promoting chapel veils will somehow increase the divorce rate. As Genevieve should be very much aware, one of the reason we have so many of these other problems is that our sensibilities are in many respects malformed. Persuading women to get over feeling affronted by a traditional symbol of feminine submission to God, might help at least a little bit in the struggle to help them to overcome some of these “more serious” problems.
3) The chapel veil is merely a “cultural artifact” that has no intrinsic significance.
Actually, I don’t know that this is quite true, or at any rate it’s trivially true. The significance of the chapel veil is largely a product of cultural conditioning, of course. But the same could be said of many or most Catholic customs. Practically every clothing-related custom is a product of cultural conditioning. The same could go for lots of celebrations, devotions, and other significant parts of our lives. The chapel veil doesn’t have quite the pedigree of, say, praying the Rosary, but it was worn by many centuries’ worth of Catholic women who apparently thought it suitable Mass attire. “Customs” like this, though shaped by culture, but they are harmonious with human psychology, which is what gives tradition its force in the first place. Most of the time the benefits can only be fully appreciated once the custom is adopted and lived. Such is the case, I think, with chapel veils, and if we’re going to dismiss them as “merely” custom, we’d have to dismiss a lot of other things too.
4) It makes a woman feel isolated and makes her seem “inaccessible” to others.
Genevieve only brings this up in the comments, but I suspect this actually gets to the heart of the matter, at least in her particular case. Here are her comments on this point:
“A circle of my friends has been discussing this for years. There are women who “get it” and women who struggle, worrying that to submit to God will destroy their freedoms, ruin their lives, and make them “old school robots.” The world convinces them of this constantly. We, who have found the love of God and know what it asks of us, know better, but we struggle with how to make ourselves accessible to others — to the women at Sunday Mass, in the carpool line, at the soccer field, etc.
We’ve already marginalised ourselves in various ways: homeschooling, having more kids, staying home, daily Mass, joining Legion of Mary, living a holiness that cannot help but be noticed, although it is not our intent.
I think I said: “What is negotiable?” Clothes, makeup, those sorts of things are. To wear jeans when appropriate, to keep up with reasonable fashions, to take some effort with the [aging] face, to join into harmless fun — these things are negotiable, though they may be distasteful at times. How many saints went to dances and parties against their will, because it was their husband’s wish, or to avoid them would have been rude.
Thus, I’ve concluded that to sit in a pew with a large brood of kids, wearing a skirt to my ankles, a chapel veil and the like (in MY case) would not be apostolic. It would convince everyone that we were unaccessible throwbacks. Even our kids will occasionally grumble that we are a “freak show” as it is.
I give in on what I can give (and believe me, I feel unaccessible already, because women have “radar”). Women have a sense, and perhaps there are ways to meet them half-way on occasions.”
Okay Genevieve. I’d want to make some qualifications to what you wrote here, but at bottom, I get you. You’re tired of feeling freakish and isolated. And it’s absolutely true that embracing the “pious Catholic woman” image too publicly and obviously can be isolating. I’m a little disturbed by the way this comment opens by identifying “submission to God” as the problem. Submitting to God will never destroy our freedoms or our lives. However, I think it’s absolutely right that we should sometimes be prepared to sacrifice certain inessentials in order to avoid turning ourselves into total caricatures in the eyes of most of the other people we know. God would wish for us to do that at times — or so I believe.
Of course we should never compromise in anything we know to be morally required, just for the sake of making people like us. And we shouldn’t be ashamed of the faith. Wearing it too much on our sleeves, however, can carry a real cost, not just by making our lives less pleasant, but also by diminishing our potential to be good soldiers and representatives in the world. If we come across as being too outlandish or distant, we won’t be taken seriously by other people. Our ability to influence others will thereby be seriously limited. And even though they struggle with this problem in their own way, I think men sometimes fail to appreciate the subtle ways in which this plays itself out among groups of women. They are much subtler in their means of including and excluding others, and Genevieve is spot-on when she says that women have a “radar” for little things that other women may do to indicate that they are or are not kindred spirits.
There are lots of areas of behavior in which these questions tend to arise, but standards of dress are always among the most contentious. Clothing has always been one of the primary vehicles by which we communicate to others what kind of person we are. Man looketh on the outward appearance… in large part because, at least on initial acquaintance with another person, that’s all he can see. When it comes to ordinary, everyday attire, I’ve never been much of an advocate of laymen (though actually, the question only ever comes up with respect to women) setting themselves apart with fairly obviously different modes of dress. I’m not denying that it can be effective at sending a certain kind of message, but it’s necessarily a blunt message, and it comes at a pretty heavy cost in the way it diminishes one’s ability to send other sorts of messages, and to interact naturally in various social settings. I hold no grudges against people who want to make such statements, but I personally don’t think it’s worth it. I stand out in plenty of other ways. In inessential things like clothing, I think it’s okay to take note of local custom to a certain degree. (That doesn’t mean that we should wear a string bikini to the local pool just because our neighbors do, but normally there’s a pretty wide range of clothes that are reasonably modest and still “normal.” Places where there isn’t — for example, a nude beach — are generally places where we shouldn’t be anyway.)
If Genevieve Kineke really feels that wearing a chapel veil would effectively distance her from her less-traditional Catholic friends, maybe that’s enough reason not to wear one. My situation is rather different from hers, obviously — I don’t have any kids, and I do work (sort of) so I may appear more “normal” in the first place. And chapel veils aren’t particularly strange in our Latin Mass community in any case. So I don’t want to judge her too harshly, but I do want to note one thing that bothers me about her stance on chapel veils.
Clothing is, as I’ve said, worn mostly for the effect it has on other people. Sometimes we wear things mainly to please ourselves, but normally we choose our attire in keeping with the image we want to project to other people we encounter. Of course we should always be trying to please God, but most of the time I don’t think God really cares that much about our clothes per se; He only cares about how they affect our mental state and our dealings with others. In most of our everyday dealings, we try to please God through our interactions with other people.
There are places, however, where that order is very definitely reversed. Mass is one of those places. We come to Mass for the purpose of worshipping and honoring God; that is our direct intention. When we’re at Mass, we should ideally try to think of ourselves as standing directly in God’s presence. Our fellow parishioners are somewhere in the vicinity too, but their presence is secondary; all of us together should be turning our attention towards God and the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. This is why we of the Cornell Society for a Good Time used to get so upset when the Cornell Chaplaincy used to direct students not to receive the Blessed Sacrament on their knees because it ruined the “community feeling.” That instruction betrays a deep misunderstanding. The Mass should not be first and foremost a “community gathering.” We come to Mass because Jesus is there, and any community spirit that is fostered along the way should be predicated on our mutual desire to worship Him. At Mass, therefore, we should do whatever best disposes us to submit ourselves to God.
This is why I’m inclined to give a pass to the person who tucks his scapular into an unobtrusive place while he’s at work… but to feel some contempt for the one who won’t receive the Blessed Sacrament on his tongue, even though he thinks it more reverent, simply because he doesn’t want others to laugh at him. Chapel veils seem to me a less serious case of the same thing. If the embarrassment of wearing one is so great that you can’t pay attention at Mass, maybe you shouldn’t wear it for now. But that’s a deficiency, and you should try to get over it. It’s appropriate for other people’s needs and opinions to intrude on our daily activities to some degree, and when we’re at work, at school, socializing, or in public places, we need to give some thought to such matters. Mass, on the other hand, is for God. If we can feel isolated from the community while we’re reverencing the Blessed Sacrament, that might not be such a bad thing.
Anyway, I’m not going on a crusade to strong-arm everybody into wearing chapel veils. That would do significantly more harm than good. But I do advise women who aren’t already wearing them to try it! It’s a little strange at first, but once you get over that, it’s a very beneficial custom. Come on in… the water’s warm!
I’m leaving this thread open for now to any and all comments, but I might restrict it later to females only if it looks like the discussion is going in an ugly direction.
(Photo credit to Mike Cerny.)
First, I am very glad that you now wear the veil at the Novus Ordo.
Second, where is the Bible or St. Paul in your analysis? Canon law may not require veils, but the Bible does. I would think that this would be a very important source text, even in the second analysis of the matter.
“On the subject of humility, I do think the chapel veil is a fitting expression of a humble position towards God. “Hiding” one’s head is a way of making oneself feel smaller, humbler, and more submissive. (Think of nuns, or brides.) Where this is done as a sign of submission to men, it naturally occasions controversy about a woman’s appropriate place within society. But at Mass, it is God to whom we are submitting ourselves, so there’s no need to get our backs up. . . . I’m not certain what sort of covering you would want to consider for men… obviously it would be quite ridiculous to ask them to wear lace veils. They could wear hats or some other more masculine gear, I suppose, as men do in some other religions when they worship. I wouldn’t mind if they started doing that, but I’m not in a good position to say what sort of effect that custom would have on their sensibilities. This may be a case where the phenomenology of men and women is rather different.”
St. Paul actually addresses all of this. He explicitly says that *only* women are to cover their heads (it could be a hat, not just a veil — hats are traditional, too) and men are *not* to cover their heads when praying, and this is precisely because of how the sexes relate to one another vis-a-vis God. Women do in fact cover their heads on account of how they relate to men in the hierarchy of things.
I Cor. 11:3-15
“3 But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God. 4 Every man praying or prophesying with his head covered, disgraceth his head. 5 But every woman praying or prophesying with her head not covered, disgraceth her head: for it is all one as if she were shaven. 6 For if a woman be not covered, let her be shorn. But if it be a shame to a woman to be shorn or made bald, let her cover her head. 7 The man indeed ought not to cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of the man. 8 For the man is not of the woman, but the woman of the man. 9 For the man was not created for the woman, but the woman for the man. 10 Therefore ought the woman to have a power over her head, because of the angels. 11 But yet neither is the man without the woman, nor the woman without the man, in the Lord. 12 For as the woman is of the man, so also is the man by the woman: but all things of God. 13 You yourselves judge: doth it become a woman, to pray unto God uncovered? 14 Doth not even nature itself teach you, that a man indeed, if he nourish his hair, it is a shame unto him? 15 But if a woman nourish her hair, it is a glory to her; for her hair is given to her for a covering.”
So any account of covering the female head that would divorce it from the sexual dimorphism St. Paul speaks of is not addressing the core of the matter. The woman is covered for many reasons, but the fact that she is a woman is one of the necessary reasons. None of these reasons apply for men. In fact, St. Paul more or less comes out and says that according to the natural law women should generally grow their hair long and be fussy about it while men should keep their hair short or at least not fuss about it.
What of men wearing some sort of headgear in Church? These are not intended to *cover* the head in the way a woman’s hat or veil is supposed to. The miter and the zuchetto are signs of rank and authority, they are not supposed to hide long, luxuriant locks. The zuchetto originally was meant to warm up the bald, tonsured part of the cleric’s scalp. As for cowls, I don’t know, but monks and friars certainly do not cover their heads for the reasons given by St. Paul in Corinthians. Amongst the Copts, I think that the men generally are permitted to wear some sort of headgear in Church because that’s traditional there, perhaps on the model of the Jewish yarmulke. From St. Paul’s warnings, I rather hope that the rationale is quite different from that for why woman cover their heads; if the reason were the same, then the men would be disgracing themselves.
It is interesting and ironic that most modern nuns actually do follow St. Paul’s injunction. They don’t wear veils, but they also get very unappealing, short, masculine haircuts. I rather think that St. Paul held out that option only as a joke “So you women won’t cover your heads, huh? Then cut your hair off at least!” hoping that no women actually would follow his advice but would actually comply. He does something similar in Galatians when he deals with an abuse specific to men (he sarcastically jokes that those who insist on circumcission for Gentile converts should castrate their subjects while they’re at it).
Heh heh. Yes, Tobia Petre, I am aware of this passage from St. Paul, and I do think it noteworthy at least that he recommends the covering of the head, but I didn’t want to get into it here because I can’t make a lot of sense of it. What in the world does it mean to say that a man’s head should be bare because he is “the image and glory of God?” Why do bare heads glorify God? Saying that women ought to have “power” over their heads “because of the angels” is equally mystifying. I just didn’t want to offer Scripture in my support without a better ability to explain it.
Also, I know that the opponents of chapel veils like to talk about the degree to which St. Paul’s instruction is targeted at a particular group of people, etc etc. I’m not sure what hermeneutic one would use to determine that… even without really understanding him, I get the distinct impression that St. Paul is making a more general, universally applicable point here. But again, not having a worked-out interpretation of the passage ready to hand, I figured I’d run the argument without reference to St. Paul for now. But I won’t discourage others from pressing the point if they feel up to it.
It seems important to me that women wear veils to Mass (or hats, as you say, or scarves if they prefer) in order to show their submission to God, not primarily to men. Quite apart from that hornet’s nest of questions about the degree and way which they should submit to men, expressing social relationships like that isn’t the point of the Mass. I suppose there might be some sense, though, in which the “covering” of women became an expression of humility because of their relationship to men. See Alice von Hildebrand’s analysis on the holiness of women’s bodies as the sort of thing which, much like certain sacred objects, should remain hidden at most times. I won’t get into it… go read her stuff if you’re interested, but anyway, this would mark a difference between men and women that helps to explain why physical modesty in women is more closely related to humility than the same trait in men. And that in turn would constitute the beginnings of an argument for why veiling, a particularly complete form of covering, would serve as an expression of humility and a mark of holiness for women, but not for men, at Mass.
I still don’t really see why it would be shameful for a man to prophesy or pray with his head covered — as you say, there are cowls and such that monks wear — but I can see that it might not have the same effect on a man’s sensibilities as it would on a woman’s.
Note that it’s apparently perfectly fine for women to prophesy, just as long as they’ve got something on their heads while they do it.
All of this is lovely and quite compelling, but I can see I have not made one point very well. You note:
“Okay Genevieve. I’d want to make some qualifications to what you wrote here, but at bottom, I get you. You’re tired of feeling freakish and isolated. And it’s absolutely true that embracing the “pious Catholic woman” image too publicly and obviously can be isolating.”
I am a hermit by nature. When I converted, I knew I’d lose friends and family and there was no doubt about what to do. It’s not that the isolation bothers me, but it is clear to me that I’m not being apostolic. The isolation is not charitable to other women to whom I know firmly that I should be accessible. I live in a neighbourhood, kids go to various schools, there are sports, various community events. To be isolated and to make other women uncomfortable with me for an unnecessary reason would mean that they couldn’t take me seriously on various questions of faith that may come up.
We might be discussing wayward children, family rifts, the hopes of maybe one more child, wifely obedience, the nature of freedom, thoughts on schools — all sorts of marginally unthreatening things, but if I’m not credible, then my thoughts aren’t taken seriously on little things that could bring others closer to the heart of Jesus. This, in my estimation (given the parameters of my life) is not “the hill to die on.”
Of course, if it’s ever mandated, I would cover my head in a heartbeat. Though a scarf (or shawl) is more my style — I’ve never taken to lace…
Oh, sure, I get that point. Isolation is bad, not just for selfish reasons, but for altruistic (or as you put it, “Apostolic”) ones. I thought I made that clear when I said this:
“And we shouldn’t be ashamed of the faith. Wearing it too much on our sleeves, however, can carry a real cost, not just by making our lives less pleasant, but also by diminishing our potential to be good soldiers and representatives in the world. If we come across as being too outlandish or distant, we won’t be taken seriously by other people. Our ability to influence others will thereby be seriously limited.”
I suppose I did imply that you’d want to have friends both for your own pleasure and because of the apostolic opportunities it might open. If that’s wrong, and you don’t care at all about the friendship for your own sake, then I stand corrected, and you can take those sections not to apply to you.
I don’t deny that covering your head in Mass might be a factor in making you less “accessible” (as you put it) to other people, and particularly to other women. (I’m presuming that you assist at the Novus Ordo Mass; one of the many benefits of the Traditional Latin Mass is that covering the head is a common practice there, and in no way conspicuous.) But would it really be a “hill to die on?” I find that a little improbable. It would be an awkward point at the beginning among your parish friends, and then when people saw that you weren’t really acting any differently, they’d basically get over it. It would be important, obviously, that you do it somewhat nonchalantly, and not start giving little pious speeches to everyone who’d listen about holiness and modesty. This is the great thing about reaching the point where wearing the veil is just a “normal custom” for me. On the occasions when people do ask, I can just smile in a “how nice of you to notice” sort of way and give a little explanation of why I like wearing it. I don’t make a big issue of it, and I don’t think any of my non-veiling friends take it as an affront.
Again, I don’t know much about the circumstances of your life, so maybe the impact would be as significant as you suppose. But surely it would at least be limited to those you know through your parish. I don’t know, obviously, what percentage that is, but for most of us at least it’s a minority. I’m a convert too, you know, so I have to sort through all these “ecumenical issues” myself, but wearing the veil isn’t a hard one… non-Catholics generally aren’t too concerned about what I wear to Mass.
Anyway, I think my final point still stands that, while chapel veils aren’t per se a life or death issue, prayer and worship are, and it’s a shame to let our concern about others’ opinions intrude into that element of our lives, which should more than any other be reserved specifically for God. I’m with you on the need to be mindful of such subtleties in most areas of life, and I applaud your desire to help bring your neighbors and friends closer to God, but it would be good as far as possible (and I do realize that it isn’t entirely possible) to push those considerations to the back burner when you’re at Mass.
Tobias P and Clara,
I wrote a post on this some time ago and found John Chrysostom helpful in interpreting the passage from St. Paul. Just so you know, the comments are not really worth reading. It inspired an explosive, but rather silly debate.
Huh. Well, I guess that helps a bit (though I still don’t really see what it means to say that a woman has power over her head because of the angels), but the unfortunate thing about that explanation is that it plays perfectly into Genevieve’s claim that the chapel veil is “culturally conditioned” in a way that’s not relevant to us now. Perhaps in one time appearing bareheaded would have made people think of rulers coming before the emperor with their “symbols of rule” but I don’t think anybody associates bare heads with ruling nowadays. If anything, we associate rule with fancy headgear of some kind.
More seriously, insofar as this is supposed to illuminate our understanding of the relationship between Christ and the Church, it won’t work out too well in our times, since the natural relationship on which the comparison is based is not much understood either. Until people develop a proper understanding of the relationship between husband and wife, the marital relationship isn’t going to help them in understanding Christ and the Church. And the mere symbolism of veiling and not veiling is too blunt an instrument, methinks, to teach them the latter lesson in itself.
Well, anyway, I’ll think about it some more.
I am not sure that Chrysostom meant that bare heads were a typical symbol of authority, but rather that they hold the symbolism in a liturgical context because of St. Paul’s declaration.
Well, sure, as a historical explanation it might be right, and if so that’s interesting to know. I’m just saying that I’m not sure I’d want to highlight that in my argument for chapel veils, if I were trying to convince someone to wear them. Though it’s sometimes true that symbols can be declared more or less by fiat, it’s harder to justify self-consciously holding onto those sorts of symbols. Ideally liturgy should make use of symbols that that also tap into some aspect of human psychology — symbols that are phenomenologically potent, and not merely a product of arbitrary decision or historical accident. When they don’t have this deeper phenomenological tie, the symbol will tend to lose its meaning as the context in which it arose is lost. In this case the context does seem to be lost. So, insofar as Chrysostom’s is the main explanation for veiling, I couldn’t really blame someone for suggesting that the custom held that symbolism in St. Paul’s time, but doesn’t anymore. In which case the custom needn’t be retained.
Since I’m not a man, I can’t definitely speak to this, but it seems odd to me, phenomenologically, that we would want men to be emphasizing their headship (or, in the case of boys or unmarried me, potential headship) while at Mass. Are we saying, in essence, that every man, no matter his station in life, should be thinking of himself in persona Christi while at Mass? That seems a curious point of focus for the layman, who is at the same time assuming his place as a part of the “bride” of Christ from his place in the congregation. Of course the priest has this sort of dual role in the Mass, and to some degree Catholic life is like that, with all of us finding our places as authoritative over some and subject to the authority of others. At the Mass itself, though, I would think that we’d want laymen to be focused more on their place as “subjects” and less on their role as authorities.
Did you know that there are Catholic countries where veils were just not worn, Pre-Vatican II? A dear and pious Hungarian friend of mine, who was wounded in and fled after the Hungarian Revolution in 1956, is mystified by the whole veil debate. “What is this veil issue? In Hungary, we didn’t wear veils. Why are they telling me I have to, to go to Latin Mass?”
And I’m not about to tell her that veils, or long skirts, or long hair, are integral to holy womanhood. She has made it 80 some years, and seems to be doing well spiritually without these worries. I think there are bigger fish to fry in Catholicism right now; let there be variance on this issue, and absolutely none on Church teachings that are attacked every day: Mass attendance, Confession, the Real Presence, the Defense of Life and Family…
Well, Benedicamus, I certainly don’t wish for this to be a source of bitter contention. But surely we needn’t wait until heterodoxy has all been stamped out before recommending to others salutary practices that might help them in their prayer and worship.
I wear a veil when I attend a Traditional Mass. I like this custom very much and would like to do it for NO Masses (which I attend much more often) too. My husband, however, is very uncomfortable with it because he feels it draws attention to me. So I don’t.
There is an irony in this situation, since one of the reasons sometimes given for wearing a head-covering is as a sign of submission to one’s husband. In my case, submission to my husband means being bare-headed. (And I don’t think that it would be honouring God to do something that my husband finds objectionable either.)
On a related topic, recently, I have come to believe that that I should wear dresses more regularly (I still wear pants for doing barn chores ). While I recognize that clothing is of limited importance, I came to realize that wearing dresses reflects or symbolizes some of my beliefs. I believe that men and women are different in significant ways. I believe that feminism has had an overall negative effect on our culture and I reject it. I like having an outward expression for these beliefs through my clothing.
Here is the footnote found in the Haydock Bible on the passage cited by Tobias Petrus. It appears to explain the text quite well. It seems that the glory of man is his God given authority. That authority cannot be hidden or denied. He speaks and prays boldly along with Christ who became Man. The glory of a woman however is her beauty. But this is hierarchically less and should be covered to symbolize this. Notice that Saint Paul is talking about public prayer. Women are not required to wear veils while praying in the home. But the community needs the constant reminder and good example of what the reality is. Woman do not have the authority to speak in public—again according to Saint Paul—yet in the home they have authority of their children to teach and to discipline. Of course today’s society has rebelled against these concepts. While not giving in, perhaps the other words of Saint Paul should be emphasized, “Husbands love your wives as Christ has loved the Church.” So much so, that He laid down His life that She may be fruitful. Christ and His Church are one. Husband and wife are one. (All of the following is the footnote.)
“The head of the woman is the man, etc.” To have the head covered at public meetings, is, according to Saint Paul, a mark of subjection: The mans was created to be head over the woman, who was made subject to the man, being made of him, of his rib, and the woman made for him, not he for the woman.
The man in a special manner, is the image of God, not only by his immortal soul, in which sense also the woman was made to God’s image, and likeness, but inasmuch as God gave him a power over all creatures, and so he is called, the glory of God. For these reasons, as well as from a received custom, Saint Paul tells every woman, that in praying or prophesying in public meetings, she must have her head veiled, and covered in testimony of her subjection to man, her head, otherwise she dishonors herself, and her head. This is what he tells her, (v. 10.) that she ought to have a power over her head, that is, to have a veil or covering, as a mark of man’s power over her: and because of the angels, that is, out of a respect to the angels there present. SOME UNDERSTAND THE PRIESTS AND MINISTERS OF GOD, CALLED ANGELS, PARTICULARLY IN THE APOCALYPSE.
Paul adds, that nature having given to women long hair, designed it to be as a natural veil. In fine, he appeals to them, to be judges, whether it be not unbecoming in women to pray without a veil. But he will have men to be uncovered, and not to bear such a mark of subjection, as a veil is, by which a man would dishonor his head, that is, himself and Christ, who is his head, and who appointed him, when he created him, to be head over the woman. He looks upon it as a dishonor and a disgrace for men to nourish their hair, as women should do. He also calls God the head of Christ, that is, of Christ, as man. Lest he should seem to lessen the condition of women more than necessary, he adds, that the propagation of mankind now depends on the woman, as well as on the man, seeing every man is by the woman.
Hmmm. Well, I can’t say that the footnote seems all that illuminating to me. I’d almost venture to suggest that Fr. Haydock was nearly as puzzled by this murky passage as I am… his commentary seems little more than a bare rephrasing of the passage itself.
The bit about angels, for example, is cleared up hardly at all. Why would angels be the ones to be offended by the women’s dress? That’s really rather bizarre. Even if the term “angels” is interpreted as “priests” (which seems like a stretch, but we’ll go with it), why particularly the priests? If they’re celebrating the Mass ad orientem, they’d be much less inclined to notice how the women are dressed than many other people present.
Fr. Haydock also gives no indication at all for why having unnourished hair should be a mark of authority. That’s certainly a strange thing to say. Or maybe he doesn’t mean that, but he certainly doesn’t give any explanation for why men can’t take care of their hair. I also had to laugh at the bit about nature giving women longer hair… obviously no natural fact dictates that women should have longer hair, though you might make an argument that the natural law dictates this.
It also seems to me that this interpretation is departing from the text somewhat; he claims that (at least in Discipulus’ interpretation) the glory of man is his God-given authority over all creatures. That is not what St. Paul says however — he writes that the woman is the glory of the man. I’m not sure what that means, but these seem like distinctly different claims. In particular, it seems very wrong to make “woman” a stand-in for “the natural world generally” as Fr. Haydock appears to be doing.
And, to turn further to Discipulus’ interpretation of the passage, you claim that veils should be worn at Mass because the truth about men and women should be visible constantly. But that can’t be right. There was never a question of veiling at all times, only at Mass (and while prophesying, though that one doesn’t come up nearly so much.) The real question is: why would Mass in particular be the place for emphasizing the relations between men and women, if that’s really what it does? Christian women have never been urged to veil at home, in the community, or in public places generally. It is only when they bring themselves before God that they are instructed to veil. This is why it seems to me that the veiling must be primarily a means of showing submission to God, and not to man. I’ll allow that the relationship of women to men must somehow relate to this being the most fitting way for women to show their humility before God. But merely reinforcing earthly social relations cannot be the main point; otherwise it wouldn’t make sense at all to instruct women to veil only at these very specific times.
I have to say, I’m not at all keen on bald dichotomies like your, “men are authoritative and women are beautiful.” There’s a grain of truth in it, but it misleads more than instructs. Men are not just in general in authority over women. They are candidates for certain authoritative offices not open to women, but they have no authority at all merely in virtue of being men. When it comes down to it, all of us in Catholic life are subject to certain authorities, and at the same time candidates for other authoritative offices. It would be a shame to try to break this down with clunky oversimplifications about men being the ones with the authority… that surely can’t be what St. Paul meant to do.
Furthermore, in the Mass, laymen really don’t pray “boldly along with Christ.” Just like the women, they are given the role of the “bride” and all their behavior in the Mass reflects this position. If they were supposed to be in persona Christi, why wouldn’t they pray along with the priest, who is obviously taking the role of “Head” in this particular situation? I don’t know how to understand St. Paul’s injunction that men should be bareheaded (except by reference to some sort of cultural custom that doesn’t mean much to us today.) But in other respects, it makes much more sense to me to suggest that the women, by veiling at Mass, are really more of a visual example of what all the congregation should be taking themselves to be — the brides of Christ, the receptive People of God.
Anyway, sorry, I don’t mean to be difficult, but I just don’t think that cleared things up very much.
“I’ll allow that the relationship of women to men must somehow relate to this being the most fitting way for women to show their humility before God. But merely reinforcing earthly social relations cannot be the main point; otherwise it wouldn’t make sense at all to instruct women to veil only at these very specific times.”
They are showing humility to God, who reveals his glory through male headship. The concept of being “head” (as in “head of the household,” “head of the particular or universal Church”) really is related to one’s physiological head. The metaphor is intentional. The sexes represent on a smaller scale the relationship between Christ and the Church. When male saints talk about their souls, the soul is always the bride and God/Christ is always the groom. Women represent the submissive Church in this relationship, men represent the self-sacrificing Christ. So women cover their heads (they do not and cannot exercise headship, a prerogative which only men can exercise within the family or the Church or, properly, the state) and men keep their heads uncovered, since they partake, either really or potentially, in Christ’s headship. Yes, the women are showing their humility *to God*, but it is the humility of people who do not exercise headship. Men show their humility to God by adopting their God-given loving, self-sacrificial role as real or potential heads of families, etc. And St. Paul does say, quite generally, woman is created for the man, not vice versa.
What of the angels? Well, they’re always at Mass. And they all belong to their appropriate choirs and hierarchies. The humans are supposed to unite themselves with the angels (hence the Sanctus and the blessing of the incense, etc.). When the humans get out of line, when *their* choir is not harmonious, I would not be surprised if it riles the angels, who know and care about what we’re about. The laity are supposed to show due deference to the clergy, and the women are supposed to have the authority over their heads. By covering the physical head, women are saying, I am “covered,” i.e. under, the headship of someone else (Eve was created from Adam’s rib, near his heart, *not* from his head as Minerva sprung from Jupiter, and *not* from Adam’s feet, as though she were a slave). I rather think that the angels take note of what we do, for good and bad, and especially at Mass when heaven opens to us.
So it’s not about reinforcing “earthly social relations” at all — reread what St. Paul says. It’s about establishing and maintaining a *religious* hierarchy: God-Christ-man-woman. Each gender is humble and submissive before God: the bareheaded men by acknowledging their role as men, the veiled women by acknowledging their role as women. As Fr. “Adam Rigorous” said, “Women, be women; men, be men.” Part of being girly or womanish is taking care of the hair, part of being boyish or mannish is being unconcerned with such dainty things. St. Paul says so, it’s in the Book.
“I don’t know how to understand St. Paul’s injunction that men should be bareheaded (except by reference to some sort of cultural custom that doesn’t mean much to us today.)”
And yet St. Paul appeals both to *divine hierarchy* and to *nature* (”Does not nature . . .”). He explicitly rules out the interpretation you would employ. Re-set the parameters of your thought. You simply may not understand St. Paul’s writing, but he clearly does not portray any of this as a cultural custom. Be humble, by submitting to what *is* understandable of what he says. Believe in order to understand, which is the order these things go in.
“But in other respects, it makes much more sense to me to suggest that the women, by veiling at Mass, are really more of a visual example of what all the congregation should be taking themselves to be — the brides of Christ, the receptive People of God.”
And yet that is what St. Paul rejects: men simply do not submit to God after the manner of veiling at Mass. So veiling does not represent “what everyone should be doing.” Of course the Church in its capacity to subject itself to Christ is represented as a veiled woman. But there is more to the Church than merely submitting itself to Christ — some actually exercise Christ’s authority and His role *within* the Church. You may not understand everything St. Paul writes, and you’re not asked to. But he clearly says that women veil because of their distinct status and men *do not* because of their distinct status and the two are complementary. Your analysis basically leaves men unaccounted for. If the role of lay men was correctly symbolized by veiling, then the Church would have mandated that all the laity veil, which St. Paul vehemently rejects as shameful for men to do.
Discipulus, to whom I apologize for offending so needlessly and egregiously the other day, has pointed out that women are also supposed to keep quiet in church and if they have a question they are to ask their husbands at home. There simply is a difference between lay men and lay women on this point, and even lay men share in the masculine *religious* teaching role. The veiling question and the silence question naturally go together.
Also, keep in mind that in Greek “man” (aner, vir in Latin) and “woman” (gune) are the same words for husband and wife. So you can go through the passage and substitute “husband” for man and “wife” for woman. That helps get out of Clara’s quandary about women generally not being subject to men generally. Sure, but only men can ever be husbands (and the word for man=the word for husband) and only women can be wives (and the word woman=the word for wife).
“Note that it’s apparently perfectly fine for women to prophesy, just as long as they’ve got something on their heads while they do it.”
Why did you find this in particular worth noting? :) Sister Lucia, St. Bernadette, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, St. Joan of Arc — yes, I can think of plenty of prophetesses. The list goes on and on . . .
Some good counter points made—especially “the woman is the glory of the man.” My mistake. I would not want to go against Saint Paul and will leave it to you on how to interpret this one. –J
“Why would angels be the ones offended by woman’s dress?” From a few passages where Our Lord made mention of angels, it appears that even if no one else knows what’s going on, they at least are witnesses. They are also very concerned about our welfare; whether we sin or repent, they take notice. “See that you despise not one of these little ones: for I say to you, that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.” Matt 18:10 “So I say to you, there shall be joy before the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance.” Luke 15:10. Likewise priests, whether they see or not at Mass, they are concerned. It is their responsibility.
Nevertheless, I don’t think veils are primarily for modesty but more likely a symbol of interior dispositions including modesty, humility, and above all subjection to both God and man. Obviously I am not one qualified to interpret Saint Paul on these mysterious passages, which can have multiple and complex meanings. It is hard to claim that anything is “ex clara scriptura” on this passage and yet from Saint Paul until Vatican II, the Church has interpreted it to mean that women should wear head coverings in Church. If women did not know the full significance of doing so, they at least knew that they were doing it in subjection to the Church. So, should women wear veils in Church? Absolutely. Is it sinful today if they don’t? Not if the Church has dropped the law. I’m pretty sure we agree on this much but just to be sure. Still, Saint Paul seems to teach that it is obviously shameful if they don’t. “You yourselves judge: doth it become a woman, to pray unto God uncovered?” i.e. without a veil.
“And, to turn further to Discipulus’ interpretation of the passage, you claim that veils should be worn at Mass because the truth about men and women should be visible constantly.” I was unclear here in my meaning. I mean that the truth of man’s authority and God’s plan for order needs constant reaffirmation—not everywhere and at all times. Where could this display of hierarchy better take place but at public worship where we are meant to show our conformation to the will of God and subjection to Him and His order for the world. Those dispositions are a sine qua non for true adoration.
It is true that at Mass we are all praying along with the priest. It is our sacrifice and his and yet that does not obliterate all distinctions. (And lest we forget: not all Catholics are Irish.) Men and women still seem to be distinct in some aspects in God’s mind. In the Old Testament, men and women prayed separately at God’s command. And it was not just to avoid distraction. There was a hierarchy: High Priest, priests, men, women. Today in Church, we are left with distinctions: Priest, altar servers—all male, congregation no longer separated by walls but only by veils.
At Mass, all males are not acting in persona Christi, yet their nature is closer to Christ’s in the fact that they are male as Christ is. Christ represents mankind in his intercessory role, yet his is still Vir. A married man at least represents more than just himself when he prays. A woman never represents anyone more than herself. True, “Men are not just in general in authority over women.” But in society, starting with marriage, it is the man who is in authority. In God’s plan for order you do not often find women in authority over man. Generally it is the other way around. I don’t think you can say that men take the role of “bride” at Mass. The soul is considered feminine in that it is passive to the grace of God yet we only say a woman can be the bride of Christ.
If for no other reasons, because of the drive for “unisex” and rampant homosexuality, distinctions between the sexes are most necessary and should be preserved—like at Mass.
Just one more angle. I heard an elderly gentleman once say, “I’m no saint but I stayed out of a lot of trouble because the good nuns instilled in us to treat every woman as if she were the Blessed Virgin Mary herself.” I don’t think anyone here will object to that type of idealism. “As long as you did it to the least of these, you did it to Me.” In a similar way shouldn’t men come closer to the image of Christ if not in reality, at least hypothetically?
Another key point (fourth in a row . . .): as I understand it, those clergymen who are entitled to wear hats (birettas, zuchettoes, miters, tiaras, etc.) during Mass remove them when they confect the Sacrament and/or when they communicate. This shows that at the key moment in the Mass, even they have their heads uncovered like all of the lay men in the congregation.
As for phenomenology (I’ve made my typical mistake of reading the posts piecemeal), as I’ve said men have their heads uncovered because they really or potentially partake in religious headship (via the Sacraments of Matrimony and Orders), women cover their heads because they are subject to the headship of others. As for training boys — first, all that boys are going to notice are that it is girly to wear veils (and have long hair, for that matter), which is a perfectly appropriate lesson for their age. They are being conditioned from the earliest age to see where they are going. They can learn the full theological implications of femininity and masculinity later. So phenomenologically, men and women have different head apparel at Mass because of their distinct relation to headship. That link sounds natural enough to me.
Furthermore, men traditionally *remove* their hats as a sign of respect, don’t they? What about taking off the hat, or tipping it, as a lady goes by? What about removing the hat when you enter a Church, or when the national anthem is sung? In the military, isn’t there some rule about when privates, officers, etc. are permitted to take their hats off? Even today we say, “Hats off to so-and-so” to show our respect. Uncovering the head is the traditional masculine sign of respect, *as well as* a sign of male headship. So it is not as though male bare-headedness lacked some component of humble submission that only female veiling captured.
“(And lest we forget: not all Catholics are Irish.)”
My transgressions are always before me. Discipule, please note apology above. If you’re ever in Ithaca, I’ll buy you some stout and play my Pogues CD for you.
Sorry, Tobia Petre, I did not see that above. There was never a need to apologize; I truly enjoyed the discussion and you took some whacks quite well. And as you say, I made my joke on the wrong side of the neighborhood divide. But if I’m ever in Ithaca, I will be sure to take you up on your offer.
“I’m leaving this thread open for now to any and all comments, but I might restrict it later to females only if it looks like the discussion is going in an ugly direction.”
Know, Clara, that I have re-read this. I am duly chastened to stay within the boundaries.
Well, I don’t think the discussion has gotten ugly so far. It’s always a treat to be addressed by Tobias Petrus in “patient teacher” mode! But truly, you do improve considerably on Fr. Haydock’s commentary. We seem to be getting somewhere now, which is great. (Though the bit about angels still seems pretty wacky to me, but oh well, I’ll let that drop for now.) Let me add a few things, however.
One of the great red herrings of this whole conversation has been the notion that being bareheaded is somehow a symbol of authority. That was very bizarre to me. In the first place, that didn’t match with any symbolism that I knew, nor did it seem phenomenologically sound. But secondly, it didn’t seem fitting to specially mark laymen as authoritative in the Mass, where they’re part of the congregation and thus assigned primarily a receptive, “submissive” role.
However, I do fully concur with the idea that the head has particular significance phenomenologically. I talked about this in my initial post, in fact, when I discussed the way we identify ourselves especially with our heads; it is much more than the sum of its surface area. Covering the head seems like a mark of humility, and by the same token, we often mark people of significance with fancy headgear of some sort.
So perhaps this is the way to see it. The wearing of fancy headgear (one that would call special attention to the head) is a mark of status. Covering the head with some more modest covering (one that hides the head) is a special mark of humility. In terms of religious authority, as you say, there is a hierarchy, with God at the top and women at the bottom. Laymen are in the submissive posture with respect to Christ (and with respect to the priest, who is in persona Christi in the Mass), and so yes, in a certain way they too are “brides” or at any rate part of the Bride of Christ. Nonetheless, they are still the Head with respect to their own wives, so St. Paul doesn’t want them adopting the most submissive posture with their wives present, for fear of confusing the natural order of things. Perhaps when there aren’t any women present, it might be appropriate for men to cover their heads as a token of humility, which would explain cowls etc. — such things are generally worn in monasteries and places were women wouldn’t be allowed. (I realize that St. Paul doesn’t specify that the rule against head coverings for men is waived when women are not present, but this understanding seems to be in keeping with tradition, since there is precedent within the Church for men in all-male settings covering their heads to pray.)
So yes, in a sense laymen do become the “control group” here — their dress expresses neither a specially elevated status, nor a specially humble one. But that’s because they do in fact inhabit an in-between category. In the smaller domestic order, they still have to represent Christ, even though in the larger order they are part of the Body (or Bride.) It would therefore make some sense to say that the veiled women represent most perfectly the state of the Church and of the congregation as a whole. In the Mass the people are like the Church, Christ’s Body, being united to its Head through the Most Holy Sacrifice. Men can’t illustrate this as perfectly because of the presence of their wives, who still require their headship even at times when they all collectively are submitting themselves to God. But the men might perhaps take some inspiration from the sight of the veiled women in the congregation, who visually represent what, in a broader sense, they too are doing (that is, submitting themselves to God) as members of the congregation.
I do want to resist Discipulus’ implication that women, in veiling, are submitting to God by submitting to men — that is, that the submission to man is the most primary, and they submit to God only in virtue of the fact that they’re submitting to men, as He ordained. That might accurately describe certain situations in life, but I don’t think it’s a very accurate description of what’s going on at Mass. Women cover themselves as a sign of humility before God. They’re able to do this unreservedly even in the company of their husbands, since they are lower in rank than their husbands too, and there may be some sense in which their appearing next to their unveiled husbands can serve as a visual reminder of what’s going on between Christ as the Church. But even if there were no men at all present (except the priest, I suppose), it would still be appropriate for women to veil. And actually, St. Paul doesn’t specify that veiling is unnecessary at home — for private prayer as well as public, veiling might be advisable, at least on the basis of what the text says. A gathering of women praying together would do well to veil.
To put the matter in a way that might appeal more to Discipulus: when women veil to pray at Mass, they should be modeling themselves as much as possible on the Blessed Mother who submitted herself to God’s will. But when she gave her, “Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum,” (and I expect she was veiled at that time) she was not submitting to God via submission to St. Joseph, (though doubtless she did submit to St. Joseph in all sorts of other spheres.) Her obedience in temporal things was given to St. Joseph, but her prayer life was offered first and foremost to God. So should we all do.
I want to thank Tobias Petrus for the clearest explanation of the “angel” passage that I have ever encountered. It almost makes sense to me now.
Clara, Yes, that does appeal to me. I might add: she who is crowned with twelve stars wore a humble veil on earth. She is rarely pictured without one. Yes, at the Annunciation, she submitted to God directly. At other times, however she clearly demonstrated her role and that of women in the Church. At Pentecost we see her surrounded by the apostles in the upper room waiting for the descent of the Holy Ghost. She is silent. Peter is the first to speak. At the presentation in the Temple, Simeon prophesies, she is silent. At the circumcision of John, Zachary prophesies, while the Mother of God is silent. Her canticle was said in a private setting. She who is the Seat of Wisdom and the Spouse of the Holy Ghost follows God’s plan and lets the men lead in prayer, teaching, and preaching. At Mass she goes to God by submitting to the prayers and ministry of the men. Her prayer is private prayer, veiled and silent.
God did give her a role of authority though. As Mother of Jesus, she exercised authority over Him, which in God’s plan is the role of any parent, and yet at the Finding in the Temple she calls on the authority of Joseph before hers. “Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing.”
I don’t consider Our Lord teaching the doctors in the temple a “temporal thing.” He referred to it as “My Father’s business.” And yet He considered it more important to submit to Joseph and Mary and being “subject to them” rather than continue to serve His Father directly. In fact He would not begin His public life and commit to His primary mission until he was released from that submission although 30 years of age. “What is this to Me and to Thee? My hour is not yet come.” That is unless you say so. She give her permission and uses her authority for the last time, “Whatever He shall say to you, do.”
“So perhaps this is the way to see it. The wearing of fancy headgear (one that would call special attention to the head) is a mark of status. Covering the head with some more modest covering (one that hides the head) is a special mark of humility.”
This is an important distinction that you have made, Clara. The miter is strictly headgear that calls special attention to the head. It serves no other purpose. It is a sign of authority and jurisdiction. The same is partially true of the biretta (and monastic cowl) which is both a sign of jurisdiction (hence to be worn hearing confessions, at certain blessings, etc.) and a means to keep one’s head warm. The academic baretta fits more into the category of headgear that calls attention to the head, though it does mark the wearer as having achieved competence in a given field. Miters, birettas, zuchetti, can be called hats.
A veil, however, is not a hat. It is the sign of a relationship and is worn by the one who submits. In the western rites men do not wear veils. In the eastern rites monastics do as a sign of their relationship with God to whom they have submitted. I’m not sure about celibate clergy, but married clergy do not war veils.
What’s puzzling about St. Paul is what he says in verse 4: “Every man praying or prophesying with his head covered, disgraceth his head.” It remains the custom of Orthodox Jews to this day to pray with their heads covered in submission to God. So, where was St. Paul coming from when he wrote this? Why does a man praying or prophesying with his head covered disgrace his head? Why would he say this when it was how Jews, how he himself would have prayed? I’ve been looking for an answer and haven’t found one.
“What’s puzzling about St. Paul is what he says in verse 4: “Every man praying or prophesying with his head covered, disgraceth his head.” It remains the custom of Orthodox Jews to this day to pray with their heads covered in submission to God. So, where was St. Paul coming from when he wrote this? Why does a man praying or prophesying with his head covered disgrace his head? Why would he say this when it was how Jews, how he himself would have prayed? I’ve been looking for an answer and haven’t found one.”
Very good question, Fr. Bailey. Of course, St. Paul at the time he wrote the Epistles was not an observant Jew, was he? It could be that St. Paul was specifically condemning the transmission of this Jewish tradition to the Church. In Galatians he refers to the children of the Old Law (unconverted Jews) as the illegitimate children of Hagar, the bondswoman, and to the children of the New Law (Christians) as the legitimate children of Sarah, Abraham’s wife. Israelite men, like unconverted Jews today, prayed with some sign of authority over their heads — they were living under the more burdensome strictures of the Mosaic Law. Under the freedom of the New Law, we are revealed to be the adopted sons of God and adopted brethren of Our Lord. So while veiling remains appropriate for women because of their feminine status within the New Covenant, wearing a yarmulke is no longer appropriate for the free-born Christian man. What was appropriate under the yoke of the Law is now disgraceful. That might be the explanation.
St. Paul, after all, also got rid of circumcision.
The Wikipedia page about “yarmulke” says that the Jews may have made the wearing of hats during men’s prayer mandatory precisely in order to distinguish themselves from Christian men, who invariably were bareheaded while at prayer. The same page says that Jewish prayer hats (which are only for men, btw) represent the glory and presence of God that rests over the men; well, St. Paul makes the symbol of Christ’s glory not a hat covering the male head but rather the male head itself.
Orthodox Jews do their praying in gatherings of men, yes? So that could make the difference.
We don’t know for sure, I guess, but presumably Our Lord prayed with his head covered. At least, he would have been expected to do this.
I enjoyed the thread.
Tobias Petrus, in the military, hats must be worn outside and they must be taken off inside. with a few exceptions. It becomes second nature, so much so that it almost never happens that someone forgets to put on their hat when exiting a building, or vice versa.
Here are a couple of passages of interest from the Commentary on the Epistles by the Rte Rev John MacEvilly, DD, bishop of Galway, published in 1875 with congratulatory remarks of Blessed Pope Pius IX.
On verse 7 (1 Cor. 11) “The man ought not to cover his head, because he is the subject in whom God has cause to glory, as in His most perfect work, and the glory of God is manifested and not concealed.” Previously MacEvilly says this passage is referring to public prayer in the Churches. I think public prayer is a key issue here. The Mass is not just a private devotion where we all melt into one before God. In his treatise on “The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass” Rev. Nicholas Gihr, gives four reasons why man is commanded to honor God by outward acts. One is: “Not the individual man alone, but society also, as a religious body, must render God due homage and submission. A common public service (cultus socialis) requires external acts. Hence visible, outward worship is necessary as a bond of the religious community, the Church.” Our outward profession of Faith and devout worship demonstrated by proper dress and participation at Mass can be a source of edification to all participants. It can reinforce doctrine, morals, and Tradition.
Continuing, “his (a man’s head)is also the image of God, made after God’s likeness; having no superior on earth, he should, as a mark of pre-eminence, keep his head uncovered. But the woman is subject wherein the man has cause of glory; and hence, in token of subjection to him, whose glory she is, and whose control she is to acknowledge, she should be veiled… Is not the woman also the image of God? The image of God is more clearly reflected in the man, his faculties having been more vigorous, and his dominion over creation more universal, than is the case with the woman; for she herself is subject to man’s control. Moreover, he (Saint Paul) refrains from calling the woman, the image of God, because she is immediately the image of man, having been formed from man for an assistance like unto himself. Hence she is the image of God, in the same way as she has Christ for her head, i.e., mediante viro.”
So, the Blessed Mother had Christ as her head only through the mediation of St. Joseph? And was less perfectly in God’s image than the guy next door? That seems not right.
It only makes sense to say such things if we can understand them as highly formalized properties. We don’t talk that much about headship, but I can see how it might be like that. Obviously, no woman’s access to Christ could be contingent on the earthly actions of any particular man, since unmarried women or women with bad husbands are still just as much part of Christ’s Body. It also surely isn’t the case that their relationship to Christ is any less immediate or intimate in virtue of this “mediated” headship (for who knew Him more intimately than the Blessed Mother?) But perhaps McEvilly’s bit about headship is effectively just another way of putting what we said earlier about the ordering of authority, which is obviously quite formalized.
Cross-applying this to being in God’s image is much more difficult, however. The way I normally understand it (and this is something that I get into somewhat in my philosophical explorations), being in God’s image means having a deiform soul, which means above all reflecting the virtues. We were made in God’s image to the extent that we were made rational creatures with the potential for acquiring the virtues, but as the soul moves closer to God and manifests the virtues more fully, it also reflects God’s image that much more brightly. It is thus “more perfectly” in God’s image.
Anyway, if that sort of picture is right, it obviously makes no sense to talk about men as a group being more perfectly in the image of God than women. Presumably the Blessed Mother reflected this image most perfectly of all non-divine human beings who have ever lived.
Maybe McEvilly means something else, but that’s what I hear in the passage.
“So, the Blessed Mother had Christ as her head only through the mediation of St. Joseph? And was less perfectly in God’s image than the guy next door? That seems not right.”
But Clara, the Blessed Mother is an exception by virture of her Immaculate Conception, no? She was chosen by God to be the Mother of His Son, and so was preserved from all stain of sin from the first moment of conception. Thus she was different from the instant of conception. She is the proverbial exception to the rule. She, because she shared in the fullness of redemption from conception, is the most perfect of all creatures. At the same time, as the most perfect of all creatures, she was no less subject to her spouse than any other woman. And she is, like all other women, the image of man and so the image of God.
I don’t think that the Blessed Virgin is the image of man and so the image of God takes away from the fact that she is the most perfect of all creatures in any way. Rather it points to the fact that she is the most perfect of all creatures in that she too is subject to the Divine Economy.
Her relationship to Christ is both personal, in a unique way as His mother, and in a common way as mediated through St. Joseph as her spouse.
Does this make sense?
Wow. Thank you, Father.
Clara, I think MacEvilly is talking in general about the differences in the sexes in their natural state. Once individuals enter the supernatural they can personally become closer to the image of God by their virtue and holiness. But as gender distinctions go, some of the lines are crossed by means of exception, i.e. authority.
Plus, Our Lady is who she is by virtue of being the Mother of God. So she is indeed the spouse of St. Joseph and hence subject to him, and she is also the New Eve to Christ’s New Adam. Her supernatural Head is still the Man, Christ. So she is subject to a Vir, a male, both as the chaste wife of St. Joseph and as the New Eve to her Son, Jesus. Christ, a male, exceeded even the Immaculate Virgin in the graces bestowed upon His finite, human soul.
It’s not a question of whether Our Lady is subject to her husband or Son. Of course she is subject to both. The question is whether she is less perfectly in God’s image than any given man. I don’t think that can be right, because to be less perfectly in God’s image is to be less perfect — at least, that’s certainly my understanding of it, and if it can mean something else then that needs to be explained to me. But if God is the most perfect, then to be more like Him is to be more perfect oneself. MacEvilly seems to take it that being in God’s image means just “having control of things” or something like that. That seems deficient.
Anyway, there’s no reason to hang onto this because St. Paul doesn’t say it. He says that woman is the glory of man, not that she is the image of man.
I’d like to elaborate more on this, but I’ve got somewhere to be right now. Maybe later.
Okay, sorry, I can say a bit more now. As Fr. Bailey says, the Blessed Mother is surely exceptional in many ways, but I don’t think she can be exceptional in any way that’s relevant here. She is, after all, fully a woman, and everything that’s essentially true of feminine nature is true of her.
With regard to headship, it initially sounds somewhat jarring to say that she was subject to the headship of Christ only mediately through St. Joseph. But after all, this would apply only to her relationship to Him qua religious authority; no other aspect of her relationship to her Son would be necessarily mediated. So, in other words, Christ would have authority over her via St. Joseph, but he might love her, or redeem her, etc., as herself without any necessary reference to St. Joseph.
In fact, as the New Eve, maybe even the headship rule doesn’t entirely apply to her. I’ve heard her described as the “neck” of the Body of Christ, through which all graces flow, and that sounds pretty unmediated. Now we’re getting pretty far into the realm of metaphor. But anyway, for other women I think the important point would be that their relationship to Christ would not in every sense be mediated through their husbands (or other men.) Only his authority over them would be so mediated. What that really amounts to is that Christ exercises His authority over us through a network of intermediaries, most especially through the Church. The more authoritative roles within that network are given to men. But of course, the place of Head is only one of His roles with respect to us. Not only the Blessed Mother, but other women too, might have more immediate access to Him in other respects — and indeed, Our Lord did surround Himself with women throughout His earthly life, though none of them were given positions of authority within the Church.
And besides this, it seems perfectly plausible to suppose that Christ exercise His authority over women through men “under normal circumstances” as it were. Presumably He can give one of them a direct order if He wants to, though that isn’t normally the way things seem to be done.
So, okay, that all comes together fine. But moving on, as MacEvilly does, to the “image of God” analogy is decidedly problematic. You can see where he wants to go with it when he initially refers to man as God’s “most perfect” work, and then later says that he more perfectly reflects God’s image than woman. He cites man’s “more vigorous faculties” (hmmm) and his greater religious authority as the reasons for this. But look, you can’t go throwing terms like “image of God” around to mean just anything. There’s a long tradition connected with this term. I’m most familiar with it in the work of St. Bonaventure, for whom the journey back to God might be seen as a process of reflecting God’s image more and more accurately. The deiform soul is the more perfect soul, the morally better soul, and the soul closest to God. Of course the Seraphic Doctor isn’t the only person to talk about this, but I think the weight of Christian tradition is definitely behind me here — to be in God’s image is to manifest the virtues.
As the long Christian tradition shows us, there’s no clear relationship between authority and this kind of Christian perfection. Authority allows some the opportunity to display certain of God’s perfections with particular clarity. Others, however, are more perfectly displayed through the weak and the humble. All of us are called to reflect God’s image, but we get opportunities to do this in different ways. As we know, though, the Blessed Mother did this more perfectly than any non-divine man. In the sense in which “in God’s image” is meant in Genesis, she, the Queen of Heaven, surely was not a dimmer reflection of God’s image than any other creature.
So, if we understand “glory” as being something like “most perfect work of”, then clearly Adam can’t be the glory of God per se — if we were talking about individual creatures the honor would go to the Blessed Mother. What Adam does represent, though, is the first instantiation of a natural kind, which is the greatest of all natural kinds, and the one made in God’s image. Woman, of course, is of that same natural kind, and is also in God’s image (as I would argue, not intrinsically less so than man.) Still, St. Paul uses ‘vir’ here instead of ‘homo’, and to me this suggests that he is calling attention to the fact that the “vir” was “the original” as it were. He isn’t better, but he enjoys the distinction of being first. The woman, for her part, is “the glory of man”, perhaps meaning something like, “the finest thing ever made from (though not by) man.”
I’d suggest an interpretation along something like these lines. The human race enjoys the distinction of being the greatest natural kind, set above all God’s other creatures. In this way it has a kind of freedom, dominion, and independence. That can be signified by the bare head, which is unhindered and free. But at the same time, people are creatures. They are made things. Their nature is fulfilled through serving and through submitting themselves to God. This can be signified by covering, which tokens submission to authority.
All human beings have both parts to their nature. But man, as the original and the one first given charge over the rest of creation, is assigned to particularly represent this element of human nature. Woman, as one made of man’s flesh, is assigned to represent the submissive and creaturely element of human nature in her prayerful attire. And of course, this plays out to some degree in the arrangement of human affairs too, with men being assigned certain authoritative positions not open to women, and women being assigned certain special roles as “receivers” of God’s gifts, most obviously the gift of life. All human beings, to one degree or another, have it in their nature both to submit and to command. But each part is brought to the fore to different degrees in different people, and the symbolism of the veiling reminds us of both.
Bravo, Clara!
I appreciate and admire your logic and writing.
Now if you wore head coverings outside of Church I’d start wondering…
“[T]he Blessed Mother is surely exceptional in many ways, but I don’t think she can be exceptional in any way that’s relevant here. She is, after all, fully a woman, and everything that’s essentially true of feminine nature is true of her.”
Clara, I must disagree. I think the Blessed Virgin is exceptional in a way that is relevant here. While no one denies that she is fully a woman, women, indeed all men, are deficient in that they have inherited original sin and its effects. The Blessed Virgin, because she was conceived immaculate, did not inherit original sin and its effects. She is fully a woman in everything that’s essentially true of feminine nature. All other women are not so completely posessed. Remember, the fullness of the state of man is that which he posessed before the fall. It is this state to which he can return if he becomes fully redeemed or glorified. The Blessed Virgin is exceptional in that she alone was always fully redeemed. This can be said of no other man.
As one always fully redeemed, she is the most perfect reflection of the image of God. None can surpass her for all other men are subject to original sin. As the most perfect reflection of the image of God, she is subject to Christ, the head of the body, in her own right apart from all others. Thus she is subject to no man. It was because of her humility that she subjected herself to St. Joseph, not because of her place in the divine economy. Women are subject to men because of their place in the divine economy as is seen in Genesis. It is in the Blessed Virgin that the fullness of womanhood or feminine nature resides. All other women do not posess this in its fullness. Thus the Blessed Virgin cannot be included in the term “women” or “woman” as used by St. Paul or Bishop MacEvilly.
I think there is need here of a stronger interpretation of Verse 7 “The man ought not to cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God.” Something more in line with MacEvilly who says “But still, the image of God is more clearly reflected in the man,…” else the call for head covering would depend on “manifesting the virtues.” I don’t deny that the holier one becomes by grace and virtue the closer one gets to God’s image, but I think here Saint Paul is referring to the NATURE of man being a better manifestation of the image of God.
First when you think of God you think of Him as Father and Creator, His active love. You think of His strength, fortitude, and His activity. Then we have the manifestation of God in the manhood of Christ. “He who sees Me, sees the Father.” He too, is God. Only men can represent His image as priest, king, and lord. Ladies and Queens represent the Blessed Mother. How after contemplating Christ can anyone have an image of God in his mind as feminine?
The fact that Our Blessed Mother does not “manifest” the image of God, as woman per se, does not take away from the reality that she is closest to Him by divine grace. It’s just not visible. On Mount Tabor, the glory of Christ was manifested. He reflected the image of God more. At other times when it wasn’t manifested, was His actual glory any less or not one with the Father?
Because man is “the image and glory of God,” his head should not be covered with a veil, a mark of subjection. It should be as God gave it and even embellished with a crown, a miter, a biretta—all meant to enhance the image.
Since “woman is the glory of the man”, her beauty should not be manifested unduly but be guarded and kept safe for the man, her husband or the one who will someday be her husband. She is to guard her beauty by modesty a virtue which nature helps in supplying long hair. (“for her hair is given her for a covering.”)To demonstrate that her beuty (glory) is for her man, she is to veil her head at public prayer.
At the end of this passage on head coverings, Saint Paul says in so many words, “If some are still contentious and won’t listen to my reasons and maintain that women should appear unveiled, there is no custom from the Apostles nor in the Church of God.” (verse 16)It is always safest to follow the customs of the Church.
Clara, Have you read the 2004 CDF letter on “The collaboration of men and women in the Chruch and in the World?” The theology in it is relevant to the discussion here (and I think reinforces your points).
http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20040731_collaboration_en.html
Dear Fr. Scott,
Thanks for your explanations.
You wrote, Women are subject to men because of their place in the divine economy as is seen in Genesis.
However, the subjection of women to men only takes place after the Fall. (Unto the woman he said…”Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.” — Gen 3:16.)
In your opinion then, in the Heavenly Kingdom, where we will be fully cleansed of the taint of Original Sin, will women still be subject to men?
I’m assuming, Father, that EM has cited your main reason for saying that the Blessed Mother is “subject to no man”? I can see why you’d want to say that, but actually this passage from St. Paul seems to tell against it — here Paul is offering reasons for male domestic authority that spring from prelapsarian man. In Eve’s case, I think we have to see the “rule over you” as entailing more than just the exercise of authority — in fallen man and woman, the proper exercise of loving authority often gives way to a desire to dominate, leading to a war between woman and man. The Blessed Mother is spared that punishment, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t properly under authority in the original, loving sense. And in fact, St. Joseph does seem from the beginning to be recognized as the head of the household (it is he, not she, who is ordered to take the family to Egypt) and she submits to him. To say that she does this “out of humility” doesn’t seem to fully cover it — to submit to the authority of one who hasn’t been given it by God would show a false humility, or so it seems to me.
In the Catholic understanding of things, there’s nothing “bad” about being subject to authority. It isn’t an indignity and it isn’t a punishment, and there isn’t any rule that the one in authority must be more virtuous or of greater dignity. Our Lord was subject to the authority of His Father. He was also, in his childhood, subject to the authority of His parents, or so St. Luke tells us. It seems strange that He should be subject to St. Joseph while His Mother wasn’t. It would also be odd, since the Holy Family is in some sense a model for all families, that St. Joseph should be the only husband who didn’t have God-given authority over his wife.
Though I obviously agree that Our Lady was special in being freed from Original Sin, I didn’t think that was relevant here for a couple of reasons. In the first place, as I said, whatever St. Paul is saying about the relationship between men and women, it seems to relate to differences in prelapsarian man and woman. Whatever Paul is saying about t