Everyone is a Veronica

We don’t know how she got there, what she did before or after. And we don’t know her name, any more than we know Saint Adactus’ name. Veronica means “True icon.” It’s actually her veil that is called a “veronica,” a true icon; Veronica became her name according to tradition somewhere along the line.

Some legends associate Veronica with the unnamed woman Jesus healed of hemorrhages, when she touched the tassel of his cloak. This would certainly be fitting. Her unclean issue of blood disappears, after touching Jesus’s clothing; Jesus then writes the first icon in His own blood, by touching her clothing. It could be. Some say the woman we call Veronica took her veil to heal the emperor Tiberius later, but of course we can’t verify that. All we know is that there was someone who touched a veil to the face of Christ, and on that veil Christ imprinted His image. The veil with the image is in the Vatican. Plenty of people say it isn’t real, but I believe it’s real. I believe it’s real because it sounds so much like something Christ would do.

The one who gives a cup of cold water to a prophet, receives a prophet’s reward. The one who performs as small act of compassion for a Holy One receives a Holy One’s reward. And this is a mercy, because the only acts we can ever perform are small, and the only people we ever meet are Holy Ones. Our choice from moment to moment is between small kindness and small cruelty, by comission or omission; we never do great things, just a multitude of small things poorly carried out. And the only person we ever really meet is Christ. The human person is the flesh of Christ, present to us here on the Via Dolorosa.

No one can stop Christ from dying. Death is given from the beginning; everyone dies. No one can stop Christ from suffering; everyone suffers. No one can stop Christ from being mocked. We’re all mocked, some more than others. No one can stop Him from looking ugly. Every one of us is ugly at one point or another. But we can do a little act of kindness here and there, every day, to make it more bearable for Him. We can wipe the blood out of His eyes. It seems pointless– He’ll only keep bleeding, and the blood will blind Him again in a moment. But for a moment, His eyes will be clear. He can gaze at us, and we can gaze at Him. For a moment, Christ will be comforted. For a moment, we will see His face clearly. Then we will go back to gazing at the Veronica, the true icon, the image printed in dirt and blood, until we see Christ again.

We are, all of us, obscure names that will someday be forgotten in this world. We are, all of us, called to become saints. We are all true icons. All of us have the option to cleanse the blood away and gaze on the face of Christ for a moment, if we dare to do small things poorly for the love of Him.

Everyone is a Veronica.

(Image via Wikimedia Commons)