The Veil That Reveals: Devotion for August 31
In 2018, I had the opportunity to visit Naples, Italy, with my sister. One of the main reasons for our visit was to see a particular work of art—and it did not disappoint. In the Sansevero Chapel is Giuseppe Sanmartino’s Veiled Christ. Pictures cannot do justice to this remarkable sculpture, but I’ve included a few close-ups that hint at its brilliance.
The mastery of the Neapolitan sculptor lies in the way the veil reveals the suffering Jesus endured during the crucifixion. Signs of his pain can be seen on his face and body. At Jesus’s feet, Sanmartino carved the instruments of the passion, including pliers, shackles, and the crown of thorns. Perhaps most astonishing of all, the entire sculpture was carved from a single block of white marble.
The veil looks so soft and lifelike that it seems impossible that it, too, could be made of marble. In fact, for centuries there were stories that its incredible transparency had been achieved by an Italian scientist who placed a real veil over the statue and transformed it into marble through an alchemical process.
Standing before it, I could understand how such stories began. The stone seems almost alive. As I looked at Jesus beneath that delicate veil, it seemed as though the sheet itself might move and, at any moment, Jesus might open his eyes and rise from the marble bed.
Usually, a veil conceals something. This veil does the opposite. It covers Jesus, but somehow it makes us look more closely. Beneath it we see the wounds in his hands and feet, the marks of suffering, and the stillness of death. That creates a wonderful paradox: the veil meant to hide Christ actually reveals him.
Sometimes we expect God to reveal himself through success, strength, certainty, or unmistakable displays of power. We want a God who is unveiled and obvious. We want to be able to see clearly what God is doing and where God is leading.
But the Christian faith gives us something unexpected. God reveals himself most completely in the vulnerability of the wounded Christ. We look at the cross and see weakness; God shows us love. We see suffering; God is at work bringing redemption. We see death; God is already preparing resurrection.
Perhaps that is the final thing the veil reveals. What looks like defeat will become the victory of God. What looks like an ending will become a beginning. The Christ who lies wounded and lifeless beneath the veil will rise. The veil does not hide Christ after all. It invites us to look more closely—and to discover that sometimes God is most fully revealed where we least expect to find him.
Featured art: Veiled Christ, Giuseppe Sanmartino, 1753
