It was early morning, Saturday, December 9, 1531. An old Indian was picking his way along a rocky path through the hills that led to Mexico City. He was one of the many converted by the zealous missionaries of the time. He was on his way to Mass and instruction. His name was Juan Diego.
Suddenly he heard sweet music, so sweet that it seemed of another world. As he looked and listened he beheld a beautiful woman. In the center of a dazzling light in the nearby rocks stood the Blessed Virgin. She smiled sweetly and kindly upon him as the Indian stood there speechless.
"Juan, my son," she directed, "go to Bishop Zumarraga, a Franciscan. Tell him that the Virgin Mary desires a church erected on this spot. Hasten now."
The vision vanished as quickly as it had come. Juan stumbled on his way still stunned by the sight of the beauteou~ Lady. A few hours later he related his story to Bishop Zumarraga, the first bishop of Mexico City, a spiritual leader who loved his people. Patiently the prelate heard the story. But his mind was doubtful, and when Diego had finished his tale, the bishop placed a kindly hand on his shoulder and said:
"Yes, yes, Juan. It is interesting, this story of yours. We shall think it over."
But the next day, Sunday, the bishop again found Juan waiting to tell him of a second appearance. The bishop asked him many questions, trying to find mistakes in his story. He sat back and told Diego:
"Juan, I would like to believe you, but I do not know. I must have some sign, some token from the Blessed Virgin that you are telling the truth."
Juan promised to ask the Blessed Mother for some sign. On his way home Mary appeared again and assured him of a sign. However, Juan stopped to visit a seriously sick uncle, for whom he went to seek a priest.
As he came to the hill where Mary had appeared to him he remembered that he was supposed to come back on Monday. Since he was afraid of her reproaches, he took a different route. But our Blessed Mother appeared to him nevertheless with the question:
"What road is this thou hast taken, my son?"
"My child," Juan answered using this endearing name, "a servant of yours, my uncle, is dangerously sick of a grave and mortal malady."
He then told her that he was on his way to get a priest, that he would come tomorrow without fail. Mary assured him that his uncle's illness hod passed and that he would not die of it. Then Mary told him to go over to the spot on the mountain where she had first appeared to him and gathor some roses. It was not the time for flowers of any kind. It was winter, Besides, roses never grew in that region. Nevertheless Juan obeyed and he did find beautiful roses. He gathered them ino his cloak and hurried to the bishop who was waiting with a group of officials of church and government.
As Juan came into the room the bishop greeted him with these fatherly words:
"Well, my son, what news have you?"
"My father, I have the sign you asked," answered Juan.
"A sign," repeated the bishop, leaning forward, "where is it?"
"Here in my cloak," said Juan and then he told how Mary had directed him to gather roses. He faltered and went on:
"With her own hands Our Lady arranged the flowers; then she told me to cover them with my cloak and bring them to you untouched and unseen. Here, my father, is the sign you asked - the roses of Guadalupe."
Juan opened his cloak. The glorious, fragrant roses fell at the feet of the bishop. No sooner did the prelate and the people with him notice the roses than they noticed something else on the Indian's cloak. There on the coarse cloth was painted a picture, a life-size picture of the Blessed Virgin just as Juan had seen her and described her. That was sign sufficient for the bishop.
A small chapel was built on the spot where Mary had appeared to this poor, simple Indian, a chapel that was repeatedly replaced with a larger and larger building until finally today there is a huge basilica, the center, the heart of a devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe that has not only swept Mexico but has influenced the entire world.
The picture was closely guarded, but immediately pilgrimages, processions and groups from all over the countryside began to make their way to this shrine. Countless miracles were obtained. Countless conversions were effected.
Pope Benedict XIV decreed that Our Lady of Guadalupe should be Mexico's national patron, and today she is recognized as the Queen of the America's. Pope Pius XII, as Cardinal Pacelli in 1933 crowned the picture painted by Cabrera which had been given to Pope Benedict XIV.
We Americans who have this shrine of Our Mother in our midst, as it were, here upon the American continent, might well repeat the prayer of the Most Rev. John J. Cantwell composed for the coronation of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Los Angeles:
"Immaculate Virgin of Guadalupe, heavenly missionary of the New World, thy sweet charm holds the hearts of thy people. Blessed Mother of God, from thy sanctuary of Tepeyac, monument of the love of all America for you, that hast been for centuries the mother and teacher of our people; be also our refuge, our defense, and unto us a pillar of strength. O Most Immaculate Mary, protect and save our republic, our superiors and rulers and all the people of our continent."Many Americans, non-Catholic as well as Catholic, have visited her shrine. The Mexicans in the United States have brought with them from Old Mexico this flaming love for Our Lady of Guadalupe. But she belongs to all of us, especially to all Americans. On her feast tell Mary that you want to belong to her. Amen.
__________________
Adapted from Feasts of Our Lady
by Msgr. Arthur Tonne
No comments:
Post a Comment