Station 6: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus
Vera Eikon. True image. Veronica.
This station is one of the first to get cut when it comes to scripture based stations. Veronica is not a name we hear in the canonical scriptures. There is no verse even that mentions a woman running to Jesus’ side to wipe away his tears, blood and spit. Veronica, like many of the saints, is as much tradition as she is scripture or history.
According to tradition, it is Veronica that touches Jesus’ garment to be healed in that familiar verse where Jesus feels power flow out of him by the faith of a woman. It is also, according to tradition, Veronica that receives the only true likeness of Jesus, imprinted on the cloth with which she wipes his face.
As I consider this station, I wonder “Why are we so obsessed with images, likenesses?” It’s a question I often ask myself as a maker of images. How do we explain the power of the visual representation?
Looking at the last two centuries we witness how powerfully the creation and mass production of images has affected our ability to relate to one another, how much smaller and more comprehensible it has made our world. We know through seeing. And we desire, crave an image of the one we choose to follow, that we might know him as well.
As a young person, having grown up inundated by strong visuals (in advertising, television, movies and the internet), and more specifically, strong visuals which may or may not correspond to reality, I have a distrust of the honesty or comprehensiveness of any single image. I know that between me and any image there exist half a dozen filters, computer programs, machines and other pairs of eyes. An image, even a photograph, is not a window, but a portrait.
And yet, we, as followers of Christ, followers of Jesus want a “True Image” to follow, to know. We want to know exactly who Jesus was, what he said, what he did, how he understood himself. Really. We want to know.
But despite all our historical studies, despite the best efforts of archeologists, theologians and historians we have only portraits, representations. There are no windows in time. There is no way, to actually “know” the historical Jesus. Our faith tells us that this is not the point though. It is not Jesus we seek, but the Christ, and we know in faith that the image of Christ, does exist, and it exists in the blood, the tears, the mud and spit which we map out on a fabled piece of cloth, in the hand of a woman who is herself the True Image, Veronica, the Vera Eikon.
Veronica, stitched over centuries from scripture, from experience, from tradition. Veronica, the church, the only true image of Christ we have. Filtered through centuries of Christians before us, woven from stories told and retold, altered and adapted. The Vera Eikon, a portrait, each stroke a member, a follower, a believer, an act of faith, hope and love. Each stroke telling us something of the Christ.
As we gaze on Veronica, on the image of Christ, we gaze back upon ourselves and confront ourselves with our faith, our only means of seeing. Veronica, wiping away the blood and tears she herself inflicted, the mud made from her own spit. Veronica with a cloth woven from her own hair, bathing these worthy feet in precious oils.
As I consider this station, Veronica comes to me as a woman, staring simply into a reflective surface, with that mix of fear, pain and liberation that comes with looking honestly at oneself. She holds in her hand a cloth, filthy, the grime from it staining her hand. Can there be the same kindness in her eyes for herself as there was for the one lost? Is there any meaning in his sacrifice if there cannot be?
This station is one of the first to get cut when it comes to scripture based stations. Veronica is not a name we hear in the canonical scriptures. There is no verse even that mentions a woman running to Jesus’ side to wipe away his tears, blood and spit. Veronica, like many of the saints, is as much tradition as she is scripture or history.
According to tradition, it is Veronica that touches Jesus’ garment to be healed in that familiar verse where Jesus feels power flow out of him by the faith of a woman. It is also, according to tradition, Veronica that receives the only true likeness of Jesus, imprinted on the cloth with which she wipes his face.
As I consider this station, I wonder “Why are we so obsessed with images, likenesses?” It’s a question I often ask myself as a maker of images. How do we explain the power of the visual representation?
Looking at the last two centuries we witness how powerfully the creation and mass production of images has affected our ability to relate to one another, how much smaller and more comprehensible it has made our world. We know through seeing. And we desire, crave an image of the one we choose to follow, that we might know him as well.
As a young person, having grown up inundated by strong visuals (in advertising, television, movies and the internet), and more specifically, strong visuals which may or may not correspond to reality, I have a distrust of the honesty or comprehensiveness of any single image. I know that between me and any image there exist half a dozen filters, computer programs, machines and other pairs of eyes. An image, even a photograph, is not a window, but a portrait.
And yet, we, as followers of Christ, followers of Jesus want a “True Image” to follow, to know. We want to know exactly who Jesus was, what he said, what he did, how he understood himself. Really. We want to know.
But despite all our historical studies, despite the best efforts of archeologists, theologians and historians we have only portraits, representations. There are no windows in time. There is no way, to actually “know” the historical Jesus. Our faith tells us that this is not the point though. It is not Jesus we seek, but the Christ, and we know in faith that the image of Christ, does exist, and it exists in the blood, the tears, the mud and spit which we map out on a fabled piece of cloth, in the hand of a woman who is herself the True Image, Veronica, the Vera Eikon.
Veronica, stitched over centuries from scripture, from experience, from tradition. Veronica, the church, the only true image of Christ we have. Filtered through centuries of Christians before us, woven from stories told and retold, altered and adapted. The Vera Eikon, a portrait, each stroke a member, a follower, a believer, an act of faith, hope and love. Each stroke telling us something of the Christ.
As we gaze on Veronica, on the image of Christ, we gaze back upon ourselves and confront ourselves with our faith, our only means of seeing. Veronica, wiping away the blood and tears she herself inflicted, the mud made from her own spit. Veronica with a cloth woven from her own hair, bathing these worthy feet in precious oils.
As I consider this station, Veronica comes to me as a woman, staring simply into a reflective surface, with that mix of fear, pain and liberation that comes with looking honestly at oneself. She holds in her hand a cloth, filthy, the grime from it staining her hand. Can there be the same kindness in her eyes for herself as there was for the one lost? Is there any meaning in his sacrifice if there cannot be?
posted by Jason Sierra at 2:19 PM
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