The Veil is My Crown of Thorns
/EMILY LOGIN
My wedding veil was a crown of thorns.
Bruised, bloody, exhausted, stretched to beyond the point of human capacity, Jesus is beaten and forced to carry His own execution device.
Jesus came to earth to establish His Church and save His people, allowing us to join in His Kingdom for eternity. This idea of Jesus as our king and savior was the very idea that the soldiers used to make fun of Him when they fashioned him a terrible crown.
They took His mission, His livelihood and distorted it beyond recognition so that what remained was the image of a lunatic.
As married women, we often find our own mission, like our Lord’s, mocked.
Consider this: after gathering a crowd, the soldiers stripped Jesus naked, exposing Him, making Him vulnerable for all to see. Then they put their own military cloak on Him, symbolizing cruel oppression characteristic of the Roman empire at the time and standing in stark contrast to the mercy and justice that characterizes Jesus’ eternal reign.
Similarly, our culture sells sex, stripping the dignity of the feminine form and reducing it to an object; a lie that stands in contrast to the truth for which our bodies were made.
The idea of offering our bodies out of love, to grow and nourish new life becomes a source of disgrace; pregnancy and breastfeeding a source of shame.
Monogamy and motherhood become problems to be solved. Marriage is maligned and stripped of its beauty.
Consider, too, the soldiers’ continued assault on Jesus’ dignity. They give Him symbols, mere mockeries, of His kingly duty, further diminishing His mission. Similarly, society often dismisses the divinely written tenants of our womanhood, motherhood, and vocation. Another reduction, another diminishment.
Those called to live out the vocation of marriage may feel hopeless, alone, and uncertain in the face of this battle. But the Crucifixion contains hope, especially for us.
Christ took on our human struggles, proving we do not have a God stuck up in the clouds too important for our daily life. Rather, we have a God who bore the guilt, the pain, and the shame we ourselves feel.
He knew His crown of thorns was so much more than a couple of sharp branches. It symbolized all those whose livelihoods are mocked, whose vocations are ridiculed, and whose missions are distorted.
The crown of thorns did not change Jesus’ true kingly identity. Through living out His mission, He traded the false crown for a true one.
The veil is my crown of thorns, and it is yours too. And like His, Jesus will redeem it.
About the Author: Emily Login is a wife and mother of one living in Maryland. She is a special education teacher at a Catholic school and runs a small online used bookstore called Lazarus Catholic Books.