In Jewish weddings, the bride enters veiled. Her beauty is hidden, protected, approached only by him who knows the beauty beneath. The groom hasn’t seen his bride for some time, even up to a week in some traditions, and now she comes veiled. But he is not fooled by that veil. He sees beyond it; beneath is the love of his life. The wedding ceremony progresses: the procession, the bridal chamber, the blessing, and the giving of the ring. It isn’t until the marriage is fully consummated, until they are joined into one flesh, that he removes the veil and beholds not just his bride’s beautiful countenance, but the inner beauty of her loving soul, enhanced by that protecting veil.
We have all experienced it, the awe of the lifted veil. Maybe you were walking down a grungy street in the middle of a noisy, chaotic city and happened upon the unassuming façade of a small church, only to enter and be taken aback by its inner beauty. Maybe it was the precious gift of a loved one concealed in humble wrapping paper. I remember unloading a wagon of hay back on the farm once when I was about ten years old. I climbed onto the top of the fifteen-foot tower of tangled bales and started twisting and turning and wiggling the bales out one by one. Then I lifted one bale, and there at my feet was a litter of newborn kittens. I felt that “wow” effect of uncovering a bit of veiled beauty!
But how often are we taken in by a thin veil that protects the splendor of the greatest beauty on earth, something much greater than churches, presents or cuddly little kittens? “There is something much greater than Jonah here (Lk 11:32)”: the Holy of Holies, the Eucharist!
“Late have I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new! Late have I loved thee! (St Augustine’s Confessions, X, 27)” The apostles lived at Christ’s side for years, but they never really saw past that human veil until Christ himself lifted it in his Transfiguration. We too are so close to him. We have his Body and Blood, his total gift of self. Daily in the Mass the gates between Heaven and earth are opened; the veil is lifted, the beauty revealed. It is the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, Christ’s total self-giving to us. We are totally filled with his goodness, and what? We are too busy to approach him. We are hungry, bored, tired – perhaps lonely. We don’t see past the veil!
“If only you knew the gift of God! (Jn 4:10)”
If only we knew the gift of God, the gift of himself in the Eucharist. If only we could see past this veil of bread to behold a beauty that is too good to be true. “Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! […] Did my heart love til now? Forswear it sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty ‘til this night. (Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 5)” Then we would be moved to tears to see God dwelling with his people, Emmanuel. We wouldn’t be too tired or busy to approach him more. We would bask in that beauty as in the gentle glow of the setting summer’s sun and bring as many as we can to that light! Look past the veil and appreciate this ineffable gift: the gift of the Eucharist!
Si scires donum Dei.
If you buy only knew,
Oh child, this gift of boundless depth,
This gift of God for you.
Domine, non sum dingus.
Unworthy though I be,
Divinity, body, blood and soul
Complete you stay with me.
O res mirabilis!
Truth beyond compare!
Emmanuel does in us dwell,
His union with us share.
Thank you so much for this beautiful reflection, Brother Dain! Wow, you have captured the true essence and meaning of the Eucharist – it really resonated with me. I have passed onto our children, three of whom are in college… something to always be mindful of when away from family and home!
God bless,
Peggy Truss
Jacksonville, Florida
Very beautifully said in a romantic and poetic way. Imagine hearing this in person as a homily:)
Thank you so much.