The veiling is a tradition that does
not seem to have anything to do with the Gospel. In fact, it is a liturgical
action which predates the current choice of the Gospel for this Sunday. The shrouding
is symbolic of Jesus hiding Himself[1] whereas the Gospel is of
the raising of Lazarus.
Perhaps these two are not mutually
exclusive, that is, veiling and death are both linked to the process of
preparation. The raising of Lazarus is like a foretaste of or a preparation for
the victory of Christ’s Resurrection. In thinking of the glory of the Resurrection,
we can sometimes forget that it is also an invitation to think about dying and
death.
That the miracle is stupendous or breath-taking
is without a doubt. Lazarus is brought back to life. The enormity of this miracle
is amplified by a view that some Jews held of death. According to this notion, at
the time of death, the soul even though it has left the body, lingers nearby
for about 3 days hoping to be reunited. That Christ tarried for 2 days after
receiving the news of Lazarus’ serious illness/demise meant that His arrival at
Bethany would have breached the 3-day “statute of limitation” for the soul to
reunite with the body. Hence, we hear the protest when Jesus told them to roll
the stone away: “Lord it will stink”.
Corruption had set in and this miracle
truly proved that He is the Lord of life. And yet, the raising of Lazarus, stunning
though it may be, it is not the centrepiece of the 7th and final sign of John’s
Gospel. It is the conversation between Jesus and Martha.
“Your brother will rise again”.
Martha said, “I know he will rise
again at the Resurrection on the last day”.
Jesus said, “I am the
Resurrection and the life. If anyone believes in me, even though he dies he
will live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe
this?”.
“Yes, Lord,” she said, “I
believe you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this
world”.
She believed in the Resurrection on the
last day and Christ confirmed her faith, even before the arrival of the last
day, by raising her brother. Now, here is the crucial point. Even though
Lazarus was brought back to life, he was not brought back to
a life forever. Here we find an encouragement to think about
dying and death. However, in our normal day-to-day living, we are accustomed to
assigning causes to death. This or that person died of this or that cause. The
truth is with or without causes, people will die. We all die.
Death is our doorway to the
Resurrection. Lazarus would die again, even though scripture does not record
it. Dying is our preparation and for that we are truly a people of the
Resurrection. Sadly, we are also a people of the instant noodles or coffees. We
want the finality of heaven without the precursor or the preparation. We want the
Resurrection without the Calvary.
The veiling on this Sunday is a herald to
the coming Easter Resurrection. The covering of the statue is symbolic of
Christ’s divinity hidden because His humanity is now on “trial”. He obeys through
His humanity in this slow and painful march to victory; a path that must ascend
the height of Calvary. In other words, there is a dying before Christ grasps
the joys of the Resurrection. Calvary is the preparation that we too must
undergo.
Many are not willing to wait or to
suffer. We are afraid of dying and death, but we all desire the Resurrection.
Social distancing may be an effective solution in the containment of the
contagion but beneath it lurks the fear of death. Sadly, the unquestioned notion
of “not dying” (never mind what the cause of death is) has been mistaken to be
eternity. As proof, we have a hundred and one products designed so that using
them, we can “put off” thinking about death or pretend that we will not die or
that death does not exist. Not dying is not eternity.
We should not be raring to die because
we are not suicidal but neither should we be that afraid of death.
What is really painful for so many is
to live “aimlessly”. Benedict XVI used to
relate the story of the 49 Christians of Abitene who in AD304 suffered
martyrdom because they had defied Emperor Diocletian’s decree not to celebrate
Mass on Sunday. When asked, on pain of death, why they had disobeyed the
Emperor, one of them said, “Sine Dominico non possumus”. “Without
Sunday we cannot live” in other words, “We
cannot live without joining together on Sunday to celebrate the Eucharist. We
would lack the strength to face our daily problems and not to succumb”.
Without the Eucharist, we are not. This is our desert.
For the laity, it is the absence of Mass. For me, it is Mass without a congregation.
Our “Easter” will seem joyless. Christ has indeed veiled Himself from us and our
Calvary has been extended beyond Easter. Acknowledging the fact that
physically we all have to die one day, the lack of Mass is also a spiritual
dying which we are called to. May this absence deepen our hunger for the
Eucharist, the food for the Resurrection. More than faith in our self-machination[2] or our prowess, perhaps,
we should also turn earnestly to our Lord who has chosen to veil Himself from
us. He alone is the Lord of life and death—not science, not even social
distancing. He is the Lord of the Resurrection and the Life. The Resurrection
belongs to eternity and eternity cannot be contained in this temporal realm. Let
us turn to the Lord of eternity for help in our sickly world, to give us back
our Masses—the viaticum needed for our Calvary and our Resurrection.
[1]
The 5th Sunday of Lent coincides with the 1st
Sunday of the ancient season of Passion-tide. Before 1962, the present 5th
Sunday was called Passion Sunday (the week that followed was called Passion
Week) and the subsequent Sunday was called Palm Sunday (which flowed into Holy
Week). With the revised calendar, both Passion and Palm Sundays coalesced to
become The Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord. However, what has remained
of the ancient season of Passion-tide is an option to mark the change of pace
that began with the 5th Sunday. At the end of the Gospel of Passion Sunday
(that is, following the old liturgy), the line goes like this: Jesus hid
Himself and left the temple (John 8:59, also cf Jn 12:36b). Hence, the
tradition is to veil our statues inside and outside the Church. This veiling is
to remind us of the Redeemer’s humiliation so as to imprint the image of the
crucified Christ more deeply on our hearts. It is also a form of fasting of the
eyes. As Jesus hid His divinity to undergo the Passion, we deprive ourselves of
His glory until we experience it at the Resurrection of Easter Vigil.
[2]
Many hold this belief that the
solutions to myriad problems of the world are to be found in technology,
economics and material progress. Thus, the supreme good is “well-being” in
order to enjoy life. Suffering is to be avoided. Even God must also fit into
the philosophy of “well-being”. At present, science has become our “god” because
only science can deliver the cure for the virus. God, if He even existed, is
only for those who are weak (and opium-starved). Thus, if dependence on God gives
psychological comfort, so be it. Otherwise, God should be kept out of the
search for whatever solutions to the problems that ail man. There is no
indication that many of man’s material problems have spiritual roots. In
interpreting Canon Law, the principle is Salus
animarum lex suprema,
the salvation of souls is the highest law. The question to ask in this
“protection” against the contagion is to what purpose are human lives saved, if
the souls are eternally lost? The fight against coronavirus is helped by
faith in God and not by its destruction. The Church should be at the forefront
of this fight. At present, even though we cannot gather, the Church should
spear-head the fight through our prayers. Praying in virtual gathering is OK
but praying in close physical contact is anathema considering that the reigning
“god” is science. Not that we abandon precaution but scientific “precaution”
has a tendency to be tyrannical since it commands our total obeisance whilst
instilling fear and because it cannot brook the God that is its author.
