March 3 Sermon

Exodus 34:29-35; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36 03/03/19

Here’s a short story I may have mentioned once before. But even if I have, it’s worth retelling. On our wedding day, Deborah and I did not see each other until the beginning of the service. So I didn’t know she would be wearing a bridal veil that covered not only her hair, but also her face. At the end of the service, I lifted that part of the veil to kiss her, but immediately afterwards put it back down again. Everyone there—except for the two of us—got a big kick out of it! I blame my mistake on my ignorance, but even more so on my anxiety.

In the Christian tradition, the bridal veil has symbolized the virtues of “modesty before God, obedience, and when the veil is white, chastity.” In modern times, it serves more “as a fashion accessory, [a] part of the bridal attire…”

 In history, other reasons for wearing veils—broadly defined as coverings for the face, head, or both—have been among these:

• As a sign of wealth and status, indicating that a woman did not have to work outside the home—and maybe not inside, either—but could rely solely on the income of her husband.

• By the same token, head scarves have for centuries been worn in rural communities, when women are working out in the fields.

• How about during times of mourning—not only on the day of the funeral, but, in the case of a husband’s death, for several months afterwards? Doing so represents the virtues of “sincerity and piety.”

• In Muslim societies, a hijab—covering the hair and neck, but usually not the face—and often the freely fitting burqa that covers the rest of the body. The purpose? As instructed in some religious writings, for the sake of modesty—also for privacy and protection, discouraging unknown males from approaching them in public. On the other hand, some Muslim women believe wearing such clothing is a means men use to control and subjugate them.

• One other reason for using a veil—again, in the broad sense of that term—is very practical, namely, for protection from the sun, wind, and dust. Known as a litham—and made out of heavy cloth—it’s been a longtime tradition for men in parts of North Africa.

It also serves as a symbol of manhood.

We usually don’t associate men with the wearing of veils, do we? And yet, that’s exactly what we read about in today’s lesson in Exodus. Moses, the great Lawgiver and Prophet, wears a veil when speaking to the people—maybe something like a mask or a hood. On the other hand, while talking with God in the tent of meeting—where the tabernacle is kept—his face begins shining in the presence of divine glory.

Now the countenance of his face frightens the people—and for good reason. When he had ascended Mt. Sinai to be given Ten Commandments—and was gone such a long time—they in their anxiety demand that his brother Aaron fashion for them a golden calf. They want the reassurance they believed would come from such an image. After descending the mountain and seeing it, Moses throws down the stone tablets, breaking them into a thousand pieces. He also “burn[s the calf] with fire, gr[inds] it to powder, scatter[s] it on the water, and ma[kes] the Israelites drink it.” 

They fear much more what God might do to them. But Moses says that in spite of what they’ve done, God still loves them and will make sure Moses leads them to the Promised Land. Still, to calm their fears, whenever among them after speaking with God, he wears the veil.

When we get to the 2^nd lesson—the passage in 2^nd Corinthians—the veil takes on a completely different meaning. Paul is having a hard time with some fellow Christians—Jewish Christians—who are interfering in his work in Corinth.

So he takes up the image of the veil in a negative way. Instead of protecting people from the magnificence of God’s glory—which also could consume them were they to fully see it—Paul understands it more like a blindfold. He’s upset with those who believe that in order to become a faithful follower of Jesus, one must first become a follower of the law, that is, practice rules such as circumcision, eating only some foods but not others, and breaking bread at tables only with those who do the same.

Paul is telling the Corinthians to take off the blindfolds, to let the light of the good news shine directly into their faces and into their hearts—not to be weighed down by rules that are no longer necessary. Instead, he promises that with “unveiled faces, [they will see] the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, and be transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another…”

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Let’s ask ourselves: “Which spiritual blindfolds, which spiritual veils, might we be wearing? That’s preventing, that’s holding us back from experiencing God in some more direct way?”

Could it be some kind of fear? Probably not nearly as intense as that of the Israelites, but something nevertheless very real? That’s keeping me from seeing, from experiencing God more clearly? With more confidence?

Or could the source of such blindfolds come from certain preoccupations in our lives? Perhaps some of them things that don’t matter as much as we might think they do?

If it’s any consolation, the disciples certainly wear blindfolds of their own. In spite of Jesus beginning to tell them that his transfiguration on the mountain has something to do with his own exodus from his earthly life, they still can’t see it—at least not clearly. Peter, James, and John want to remain on the mountaintop—to build those three dwellings or booths. Later, James and John still don’t get it, asking Jesus to sit at his right- and left hand in all his glory. And all of them want him to be crowned a worldly messiah as well as one who rules beyond this 

world. And so it goes.

But finally God unties the thick, tight knots of the blindfolds from around their heads. No more does any kind of veil separate them from Jesus. Most importantly, not even the veil of death.

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As we now leave the Season of Epiphany, of Revelation—and step into the shadows of the Season of Lent, may the abiding light of Christ continue to brighten our path. For his face shining before us is not a thing to be frightened of, to turn away from, but rather a sign of love and glory and mercy that continues to help lead us through times of darkness.