September 11, 2024 // Perspective

Better than a Thousand Words

Ken Hallenius

My parish is getting ready to publish an updated photo directory, and my wife and I recently got dolled up to have our portrait taken for the book.

We’re no strangers to being the subjects of pictures. I think the camera roll on my phone is 75 percent selfies, sometimes with a notable landmark or famous person in the distant background, but usually featuring a particularly delicious meal or a gathering with friends. Most of these snapshots will never see the light of day, aside from a “this day in your memories” post on social media or as part of a slideshow on our smart TV.

It is an altogether different experience to sit for a formal portrait, with a professional instructing you to strike various poses and tilt your head in certain directions. The process makes one self-conscious, even if it is fundamentally the same thing as posing for a selfie. In the five minutes we were with the directory photographer, she took 50 or more photos; in the end, there were only two or three where both of us had our eyes open and we had nice smiles on our faces. At least we were shooting on digital and not wasting physical film.

The last time our parish printed a directory was eight years ago, and with the constant turnover in our university town, many families and individuals have come and gone in the intervening years. We have a new pastor and associate priests, and even a new permanent deacon, so it was high time to issue a fresh directory. For those of us who are visual learners, having a photo with the printed name attached is the best way to fix the two together in our memories. I can’t wait to finally discover the name of the family that always sits in the third pew on the right side at the 10 a.m. Mass.

My wife is the parish secretary, and so was present to greet most of the people who came to the office to sit for their portraits. She had a piece of advice that she shared with many of the older members of the parish: “This is the photo we’re going to use on your funeral card, so make sure you look nice!” Of course some folks might find that to be a morbid thought, but a lot of them laughed and appreciated the reminder.

Funeral cards are an important memento for those who mourn. I always make sure to take a card with me after a funeral, which I usually leave in my suit coat pocket and rediscover the next time I put it on. When I pull the little collection of cards out of my pocket, I am reminded to pray for each person in their eternal rest and for the family and friends who continue to miss their loved ones.

The old adage tells us that “a picture is worth a thousand words.” But as Catholic Christians, we believe that God spoke and continues to speak in an even more eloquent way than any picture can inspire in the person of Jesus Christ.

St. Paul tells us that Jesus is “the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation” (Col 1:15). After centuries of sending prophets to call His Chosen People back to faithfulness to the covenant, God chose to speak to humankind not through an intermediary but in person. And in so doing, He extended His salvation to all who come to believe in Christ Jesus, to the ends of the earth.

The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus is not a man “who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15). Jesus was both fully divine and fully human. And as a human like us in all things, He also grew in wisdom and age. As a baby, He was carried around in swaddling clothes. He learned to read, and as a good Jewish boy, He made His bar mitzvah. He learned a trade in the workshop of His father, Joseph. He had close friends. He attended dinner parties. He paid taxes. He wept over the death of His dear friend, Lazarus. We can imagine that He laughed as well.

In the Stations of the Cross, we recall at the sixth station an incident not recorded in the Gospels but handed down to us through tradition: Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. Tradition says that a woman stepped forth from the jeering crowd along the Via Dolorosa to perform an act of love and mercy for the suffering Jesus by wiping the sweat and blood from His face. The legend says that in the moment, an image of Jesus’ face was imprinted on her cloth, and that this image remains to this day among the sacred relics that are displayed at the Vatican on Good Friday.

The name “Veronica” means “true image” in Latin, giving us the name of this woman who provided succor to Jesus in the midst of His passion. And, like a modern-day funeral card, it is a great gift that Jesus, the very image of the invisible God, left us a true image of Himself as He made His way to Calvary to bring salvation to the world.

But even more eloquent than the image on Veronica’s cloth is the True Presence of Jesus: body, blood, soul, and divinity, made sacramentally present in our midst at the celebration of the Eucharist. May we always treasure this gift, and through our worthy reception of the Blessed Sacrament be ourselves transformed by grace into the image of Christ, the Son of God.

Ken Hallenius is a syndicated radio host and podcaster living in South Bend.