For some time, I have worn a brown scapular. If you don’t know much about this devotional practice, here is a very quick-and-dirty version, greatly lacking in detail: it’s two little pieces of brown cloth, connected by a cord and worn around the neck beneath one’s clothing. One of the cloth pieces depicts Our Lady of Mount Carmel appearing to St. Simon Stock, and the other piece — the one that is sometimes visible at the nape of my neck — depicts Our Lady’s “scapular promise:” Whosoever dies clothed in this Scapular shall not suffer eternal fire.
 
This reflection is not about the brown scapular, but let me just quickly say that, while I believe the scapular promise, I do not view the scapular as a get-out-of-jail-free card, and neither does the Church. I don’t wear it for the purpose of avoiding eternal fire. I wear it as a reminder to myself of my Marian consecration and as an act of humility and prayer.
 
I have sometimes cringed at the thought of how it looks to the person standing behind me in line at the coffee shop, should they happen to glimpse my scapular and read its brazen promise. We don’t go in for talk of hellfire and salvation in polite society these days. I wonder if they think I’m a crazy person. I wonder if I should try to tuck the scapular back down below my collar.
 
Sometimes I do. But more often than not, I take a deep breath and decide that it’s okay for me to feel self-conscious and trust that, if God wants to use this moment for His glory, he will — and if He doesn’t, all I’ve lost is the esteem of others, which isn’t worth that much to begin with.
 
I’ve always heard it said that if you do Christianity right, the rest of the world should think you’re just a little bit weird.
 
“...the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows him.” — John 14:17