How to Wear a Mantilla

Amanda Lawrence details a step-by-step plan for veiling in church, requiring a veil, some humility, and a sense of humor.

Ladies, are you searching for a new sacramental to spice up your Lent life? Try a mantilla! The traditional Spanish shawl, liturgical lace, or silk veil has scriptural roots in Corinthians 11, in which Saint Paul encourages women to cover their heads when they pray.

Nowadays, chapel veils evoke various images, from young ladies receiving their first Holy Communion to brides and the Blessed Mother. However, before the Second Vatican Council in 1962, women were required to veil in church. The practice was associated with modesty and purity; for married women, veils were an external symbol of their unions.

Vatican II removed the obligation to modernize facets of the Catholic Church. Soon after, women left their veils behind, allowing the practice to die out. The 1983 Code of Canon Law, currently in effect, doesn’t require women to cover their heads in church.

That doesn’t mean the mantilla isn’t a worthy sacramental!

We’re not mandated to pray the Rosary, yet many Catholics do.

Both devotions are pleasing to God when done out of love for Him.

The mantilla is another external sign of humility before God, a reminder of Christ’s relationship with the Church, an homage to Our Blessed Mother, and another garment of spiritual warfare. My conviction toward veiling comes at a critical time in Church history, heightened by a daily existence in a society adamantly attacking traditional gender norms. For me, the sacramental reinforces distinct ideologies slandered by secular culture.

Some people think there are only a few steps to wearing a mantilla—those folks have been misled. Because of its history, when a Catholic woman considers veiling, she begins a lengthy and challenging process of discernment, worry, visualization, second-guessing, and eventually deciding.

This can take weeks, even months! And if you’re like me, years.

Veiling is more complicated than The Canterbury Tales, but don’t fret! In anticipation of a resurgence of this tradition, I’ve simplified the complex process into 45 easy steps to help others ease back into the pre-Vatican II custom.

Hang on to your mantilla, ladies, because veiling at Mass is no walk in the park!

Think about veiling—a lot.
Notice how nobody around you does it. Haven’t they read 1 Corinthians 11:2-10?
Research veiling and realize it’s a controversial topic.
Agonize over both sides of the issue.
Pray about veiling because you can’t stop thinking about it.
Start window shopping for your own mantilla on Esty.
Fall in love with the Infinity Veil style and commit to owning one.
Second-guess yourself: should I really spend money on that?
Mull it over.
Accept that your desire to veil isn’t going anywhere.
Re-visit Esty and consider whether to buy Spanish lace or French silk.
Select a veil color: black, gold, dusty rose, white, green, ivory, fluorescent yellow, chartreuse, burnt sienna, or purple polka dots.
Add one to your cart, chicken out, and let it sit there for three to five days.
Order it!
Instantly regret this decision, smack your forehead, and lament—you’re the biggest idiot since Edmund traded everything for Turkish Delight!
Sigh dramatically to yourself.
Wait for your veil to arrive.
See the package on your doorstep.
Squeal with delight!
Try on your new veil in the mirror and squeal some more!
Eagerly await next Sunday.
Realize you can’t wait and take your veil to Adoration instead.
Scold yourself for using Adoration as an excuse to wear your veil.
Remember that Jesus was delighted to see you, regardless.
Painstakingly put on your veil, clip it in place, and wear it to Mass on Sunday.
Adjust your veil nervously.
Feel extremely self-conscious walking to your pew.
Genuflect, kneel, and pray.
Adjust your veil again and wonder if it looks right.
Surreptitiously glance around to see who’s noticing you.
Get a little offended that nobody’s paying attention. You’re the only one veiling! Come on, congregation, shouldn’t that deserve some recognition?
Redirect your focus to Our Lord on the Crucifix.
Smile and remember that He’s why you’re doing this.
Be grateful the Spirit drew you to reverence for Jesus’ sake.
Readjust your veil again and detach from the world.
Receive a few compliments and feel good about yourself and your choices!
Buy another veil! It’s an investment in faith.
Keep veiling until you’ve reached your six-week streak.
Look around and realize you’re still the only one veiling at your church.
Fret about it.
Stop veiling for two weeks.
Spend the whole time worrying you’ve let the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—your only affiliates—down.
Agonize over your vanity and inclinations toward conformity, then accept your mental battle is as productive as Don Quixote tilting at windmills.
Feel embarrassed by your actions and vow to veil again next Sunday.
Do it—because of the angels!