Guadalupe Novena
Fr. Anthony Brankin
In the first couple of meditations, we talked about history. And we mentioned that history is not about the great armies and great politics. It is—really—the story of persons most of whom are small and humble. Sometimes, the most humble of persons make the most history. Of course I am talking about Juan Diego. He was just a poor farmer who scratched the earth to make it yield—begrudgingly—a few ears of corn each year. He didn’t have much at all. Yes, he had a wife—and some children. He took care of them and his sick uncle. But that was his whole life. And then one day he started going to the Spanish missionaries. He began to listen to the priests that had come from across the ocean. He began to love this God, this Jesus, this Mary, about whom the priests were teaching. And one day he asked the missionaries to baptize him and let him take the name “Juan Diego.”
That probably astounded members of his family and they may have asked him, “Why did you let these Catholics baptize you? But they should have assumed that when someone as good as Juan Diego would learn of this good God, he would be drawn to Him as if he were a piece of iron being drawn to a magnet. This was not a god of blood or a god of skulls—who demanded so much of the people. This was not a god of tears and hurts. He remembered how he used to pray desperately to the old gods, “please, gods, do not hurt me or my family. Please, gods, leave me alone. Please, gods, stay away from and let us live. Do not kill us.” How different was this Jesus—who did not ask people to die for him—but loved them so much that He would die for them. And this new God did not ask for much—only that we be good to one another.
A New God, the True God
Juan Diego realized that as water and sun were necessary for his corn to live—he knew that this God was necessary for him and his family to live! And so Juan Diego had no problem in abandoning the old mean ugly gods—the one with the twisted faces and grinning skulls and holding weapons in their hands with rivers of blood at their feet. His break with the demons was complete. He would not allow them into his life or his home any more. They were done with—as far as he was concerned. They were the enemies of the true God and therefore his enemies. And from now on he would be known as Cuatlatoatzin—Juan Diego.
It was not too long after this that God favored him with an appearance of God’s Virgin daughter, Maria. Of course, Our Lady would become his special friend—and by means of this friendship, God would first bring all the Mexican people and many others to Him, and this was accomplished by means of love and loveliness, goodness and beauty. Look at the serenity in that face—the tranquility—the peace—the deep interior joy—the fulfillment of all human desire to be one with God. It is all there—in her eyes—in her mouth—in the tilt of her head—in the gentle bend of her shoulders.
A Picture of Mary
And this friendship with Juan Diego and the Mexican people was sealed by the gift of the portrait. Mary—the mother of God—the mother of Jesus—the spouse of the Holy Spirit—the Virgin daughter of the Father—in all her unspeakable beauty. No other nations had the mother of God as their Apostle. I am not jealous—I am not bothered by that fact. I am only happy. This honor which came to the Mexican people is an incomparable privilege. But it carries with it an incredible responsibility before God and before all the other nations. And that responsibility is serious. It means that the nation to whom God has given so much must respond in equal measure. It means practicing the faith in every way—and every day. It means marriage and Mass—prayers and devotions—communion and confession. It means living soberly and dressing modestly. It means being an example to the world—to the city—to the neighbors—to the other families—to our own family—of the beauty of God as it is lived in the virtuousness of our lives. It means not losing traditions of the faith or of the family—even music and food traditions as they are related to the faith.
I believe that if we lose our traditions we will eventually lose our faith and then our families and then our souls. Don’t let the demons come back and show us the skulls again. Every skull is the demon wanting to come back. Every skull is the demon whispering “Remember me? Remember me?” You know that Tlacallel, the evil High Priest of Huichpochtli, is trying to scratch his way back into our brains and bring back the death and the blood and the skulls. Don’t let him do that.
Keep that image of Mary—the reflection of the True God—before your eyes. Yes, that picture is of Mary. Of course, she is not God—but that is what God looks like—that is how beautiful the good God is.
That is how beautiful He wants us to be.