On
July 31, 2002 the Holy Father canonized Juan Diego, a humble Indian to
whom the Mother of God appeared in Mexico in 1531 and on whose cloak she
left her image as Our Lady of Guadalupe. With this canonization, the
Church has placed one more seal on the authenticity of the apparitions
that changed the course of the history of Mexico and gave all the
Americas a great patroness. Alongside our invoking the intercession of
the Virgin of Guadalupe, we may now also say, “Saint Juan Diego, pray for us.” We dedicate the following article to him.
"Eagle that speaks"In the year 1474, a boy was born in Aztec Mexico in the village of Cuautitlan, about seven miles from the capital of the Empire, then known as Tenochtitlan, today Mexico City.
He was named, Quauhtlatoatzin, or “Eagle that speaks.” His origin was humble and poor, yet this boy had been chosen by God to convey one of the greatest messages ever delivered to any nation.
Despite having reached the first degree of civilization with its cities and writing system, Mexico’s religion was satanically barbarous. In the words of one historian: “Nowhere else in human history has Satan so formalized and institutionalized his worship with so many of his own actual titles and symbols.” This was the old Empire of Mexico worshiping the “Lord of the Dark” and the “Stone Serpent,” requiring a quota of, at least, 50,000 human sacrifices each year.
When “Eagle that speaks” was thirteen years old, a sacrifice of no less than 80,000 victims was offered to inaugurate the greatest of all pyramids. As he witnessed these horrors, maybe the young boy sent up a prayer for the accomplishment of an old Mexican prophecy that, one day, a God who hated human sacrifice would reach Mexico. Oddly enough, this prophecy even specified the year and the date on which this God would arrive.
Sails on the horizon
The year by the Christian calendar was 1519; the day was a Good Friday. Montezuma II, then Emperor, a superstitious man, was on high alert because that was also the date in the Mexican prophecy.
If any Aztecs scanned the horizons of Mexico on that Good Friday morning, they saw eleven ships bearing great white sails marked by a black cross heading for their shore.
Commanded by the thirty-three-year-old Spaniard Hernan Cortes, the fleet anchored. Soon, at the captain’s orders, a cross was planted in the sand.
Hernan Cortes and his six hundred warriors were descendants of men who had battled Muslims for eight hundred years to free their beloved Spain from the dominion of Islam. It took all that bravery seething in their veins to tackle the monumental task that lay ahead of them: namely, to snatch fifteen million people from the darkness and oppression of a satanic regime and introduce them to the sweet yoke of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Sinking his ships in a gesture of unparalleled bravery so as to spare his men the temptation to flee, Cortes set his face and his small army to conquer Mexico for the Faith. The next year saw a series of battles of biblical proportions, terrible defeats, renewed attacks, great feats of diplomacy resulting in solid alliances with certain native tribes, and daring coups. The odds were those of one against ten thousand but, like Emperor Constantine of old, Cortes launched his mission under the banner of the cross, telling his men: “Brothers and companions, let us follow the sign of the Cross with true faith and in it we shall conquer.”
At the end, Montezuma was dead, Mexico City had been conquered, a new government was established and churches began to rise in place of the old pagan temples.
Twelve Apostles
By this time, “Eagle that speaks” was a man entering middle age. He was married to a good woman and worked at farming, weaving mats, making furniture and anything else that would support them. He had an innate sweetness and compliant nature and a very humble disposition coupled with a quiet dignity.
One day, a few barefooted men in brown habits entered his village. They were Franciscans, a few from a group of twelve sent by Emperor Charles V of Spain for the evangelization of Mexico. These brave and zealous men had arrived in 1521, only two years after Cortes.
“Eagle that speaks” attentively listened to all they had to say and was soon bowing his head before one of them to receive the redeeming waters of Baptism. He was Christened Juan Diego. Baptized alongside him were his wife and uncle, who received the Christian names of Maria Lucia and Juan Bernardino. Juan Diego and his family were among the first natives to accept the Catholic Faith in Mexico. It was the year 1525.
After baptism, Juan Diego and Maria Lucia often continued to walk to Mass and instructions to the new church in Tlatelolco near Mexico City, about fifteen miles from their village.
Tepeyac Hill
On December 9, 1531, which was then the feast of the Immaculate Conception, Juan Diego again made his way among cactus plants and mesquite bushes to the Church at Tlatelolco near Mexico City as was his custom. He now covered the distance alone since his good wife had died two years before. He must have missed her sorely for he had moved to Tepotzotlan to be with his uncle.
Nearing Mexico City, Juan Diego always passed a hill called Tepeyac. Its summit had been the site of a former temple to the pagan “Mother God.”
This morning as he neared Tepeyac, he suddenly stopped, hearing ineffable music that seemed to come from the top of the hill. Juan strained his bewildered eyes as he looked upward in hopes of discovering the source of so delightful a melody. It was then that he saw a dazzling cloud, emblazoned by a brilliant rainbow. Suddenly the melody ceased altogether and he heard the sweetest of all feminine voices calling his name in his native Nahuatl: “Juantzin…”
The voice used the diminutive of his name and it is impossible to convey what that meant as far as affectionate expression. Maybe, in our English it would be something like: “My dear little John.”
Without fear, Juan Diego clambered up the 130-foot-high summit and found himself facing a lady of dazzling beauty. Her garments shone like the sun and the light streaming from her person transformed all nature around her into a play of color as if seen through a stained glass window. Even the smallest leaves looked like sparkling emeralds and turquoises and the tiniest branches as if dipped in gold.
The lady motioned for Juan Diego to approach and as he did so, she spoke:
“Listen, my dearest little son, Juan, where are you going?”
“My lady, my queen, my little girl,” answered the happy Indian, “I am going to your little house in Mexico-Tlatelolco, to follow the things of God that are taught to us by those who are the images of Our Lord, our priests.”
“Know for certain, my little son,” said the lady, “that I am the perfect ever-virgin Holy Mary, Mother of the one true God…. I am your merciful mother, yours and of all the people who live united in this land, and of all mankind, of all those who love me, of those who cry to me, of those who seek me and of those who trust in me. Here I will hear their weeping, their sorrow and will remedy and nurse all their troubles, their miseries, their suffering.”
Then she went on to ask Juan Diego to go to the Bishop of Mexico, Don Juan de Zumarraga, to ask him to build her a house on the hill. She finished by thanking him for his trouble and promising to reward him abundantly.
After some difficulty, Juan Diego saw Bishop Zumarraga who listened to him attentively but did not take him very seriously. The bishop dismissed him kindly, promising to think about all he had said and to see him again.
Knowing he had not convinced the prelate, Juan Diego returned to Tepeyac Hill and found the Mother of God waiting for him. At her feet, he told her all about the interview and begged her to send someone of more renown, of a higher station in life, one who would be more readily believed.
Our Lady replied affectionately: “Listen, my little son, I have many servants, many messengers… but it is most necessary that you go personally to plead, and that, through you, my will be realized… So, go and tell him once more, that it is I, the ever-virgin Holy Mary, I who am the Mother of God, who sends you.”
On the next day, a Sunday, Juan Diego returned to the bishop’s house. After much difficulty with the servants, he was received. Juan Diego again delivered his message. Bishop Zumarraga questioned him closely and finished by asking for a sign.
“Señor Governador,” answered Juan Diego, “think about what the sign you ask for will be, because then I will go to ask for it of the Queen of Heaven who sent me.”
Once Juan Diego left, Bishop Zumarraga had him followed. But near Tepeyac, his followers lost sight of him. Quite upset, they returned to the Bishop convinced that the Indian was only making up stories. So it was decided that when he returned he would be punished.
Meanwhile Juan Diego was with the Virgin explaining to her the bishop’s request for a sign.
“That’s fine, my little son, return here tomorrow so you may take to the bishop the sign which he asks. With this he will believe you and no longer doubt this and no longer suspect you. And know well, my little son, that I will reward you all the trouble and fatigue that you have undertaken for me. Go now. I will be waiting for you tomorrow.”
Juan evades the Virgin
But the next day, Juan Diego did not return. His uncle had sickened and was dying, so Juan spent all of Monday with him. On Tuesday, before dawn, the good Indian made his way to Mexico City to call a priest to give his uncle the last rites. Passing Tepeyac hill, he thought of skirting it so the Lady would not see him and stop him.
As he did so, however, he saw her coming down the hill to meet him.
“What’s wrong, my little son? Where are you going?”
Bending low, Juan Diego greeted her and wished her a good morning as he explained his uncle’s predicament.
“Listen, and place it deeply in your heart, my littlest son,” spoke the Queen of Heaven. “What frightens and worries you is nothing. Do not let it disturb you. Do not fear this sickness, or any other sickness, or any sharp and hurtful thing. Am I not here, your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and my protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need something more? Let nothing else worry you or disturb you; do not let your uncle’s illness upset you, because he will not die of it now. You may be certain that he is already well.”
Juan Diego, greatly comforted at these words, begged her, instead, to send him to the bishop with her sign. Then the Blessed Virgin told him to go to the top of the hill and gather the flowers he would find there.
Astonished at the beauty of the blooms miraculously growing in that spot, he gathered them all and returned to where the Lady awaited him. With feminine touch, she arranged them with her own hands inside his tilma, a cloak he wore to shield him from the cold, and bade him go to the bishop again.
The miracle
The servants at the gates of the bishop’s residence would not listen to the poor Indian’s entreaties to see Don Zumarraga. Juan Diego, having no other recourse, waited patiently for a long time. Seeing him standing there holding something in his tilma, the doorkeeper and servants became curious and began to harass him so that he let them have a peek.
Great was their amazement at the sight of the exquisite flowers, their perfume, and the fact that this was not at all the season for these blooms. Three times they tried to grab a few out of Juan Diego’s tilma but, as they attempted to do so, the flowers became as if painted on the cloth, thus evading their grasp.
The servants then ran to tell the bishop what they had seen. Hearing this, Don Zumarraga realized that here was the sign he had requested and had Juan Diego brought in immediately.
As soon as he entered the bishop’s chamber, Juan Diego prostrated himself in his presence and related to him all that had happened and how he had found these beautiful flowers blooming out of season on top of the hill at the Lady’s command.
The humble Indian then held out his tilma and just as the flowers cascaded to the floor, before all present, O marvel, there appeared on the cloth an image of the Blessed Virgin Mary just as Juan Diego had seen her.
Weeping and falling to his knees, Don Zumarraga, asked the Mother of God’s forgiveness for not having immediately carried out her will.
Then, untying the tilma from around Juan Diego’s neck, Bishop Zumarraga had the miraculous icon placed in his private chapel.
Guadalupenos
As Juan Diego returned home, he found his uncle cured and ecstatic with joy because the Lady of Tepeyac had also appeared to him. On delivering him of his illness, she had also revealed her name: “Coatlaxopeuh,” or “she who crushes the serpent.” It soon was to be understood as Guadalupe.
Meanwhile, as Bishop Zumarraga prayed fervently before the miraculous image of the resplendent Virgin of Guadalupe, his heart overflowed with gratitude as he remembered a prayer of some time before.
Two of the first Spanish governors appointed to Mexico were cruel to the Indians. Other Spaniards in authority also had more heart for gold than the welfare of the natives. He, Zumarraga, eventually had these men ousted but, meanwhile, the Indians threatened to revolt. The Indians also felt that they had lost their identity on accepting the religion of the Spaniards. Before, despite the horrors of paganism, they were Aztecs. But now, what were they?
In his affliction, Bishop Zumarraga had asked for a sign of the Mother of God that she would protect the new colony. He had asked for Castillian roses not native to Mexico. And Castillian roses were the very flowers that had cascaded onto the floor as Juan Diego opened his tilma! And then the Mystical Rose herself had left her wondrous portrait.
Our Lady, by appearing to an Indian in the turquoise robes of Aztec royalty with their own brown features, had sent the whole of Mexico the message: “I am your Queen, your Mother and you are my very own.” The natives now had a place and a name: the place was the very heart of God’s own Mother and the name, Guadalupenos.
A chapel was soon built on Tepeyac Hill, to be followed by a great basilica. Former Aztec Indians began to flock there by the thousands with the result that in seventeen years the number of baptisms had catapulted from two hundred thousand to nine million.
Juan Diego spent the rest of his life by his beloved Virgin. He died in 1548 venerated by his people for his untiring service and solid virtue. To this day the greatest blessing of Mexican parents on their children is: “May God make you like Juan Diego.”
By A. F. Phillips
Damasus
is said to have been of Spanish origins, though he was born in Rome.
Never married, he was a deacon until the death of Pope Liberius in 366
when his name was put forth for bishop of Rome.
The
title "Our Lady of Loreto" is associated with the Holy House of Loreto
in Italy, the house of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,
miraculously transported by the angels from Palestine to Europe.
Juan
Diego was born in Cuautlitlán – today part of Mexico City – in the year
1474 and given the name "Cuauhtlatoatzin" or "Eagle that speaks". He
was a gifted member of the Chichimeca people, one of the more culturally
advanced indigenous groups living in the Anáhuac Valley.
Not
wanting to meet the beautiful Lady, who would surely want to send him
to the bishop with the “proof” he had requested, he hurried along, set
on his task. But the Queen of Heaven came down to meet him and gently
chiding him she asked, “What is happening, youngest and dearest of all
my sons? Where are you going, where are you headed?” Humbling himself
before her, he told her of his uncle’s grave illness and his need for a
priest to assist him. She assured him that the illness was not grave and
that he had nothing to fear on that account. Her solicitude filled him
with joy and consolation: “Am I not here, I, who am your mother? Are you
not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy?
Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do
you need something more? Let nothing else worry you, disturb you; do not
let your uncle’s illness pressure you with grief, because he will not
die of it now. You may be certain that he is already well…” And, as they
later found out, his uncle became well at that very moment.
The
Catholic Church teaches that the Blessed Virgin Mary was immaculately
conceived, that is, from the time of her conception in her mother’s
womb, she was free from the stain of the original sin of our first
parents, Adam and Eve. This is a singular privilege of Mary Most Holy,
applicable to no other human being.
Ambrose
was born into a Christian family. His father was a Prefect of Gaul and
his mother a pious lady. Both his brother, Satyrus, and his sister,
Marcellina, are canonized saints.
Nicholas
is thought to have been born in Patara, Lycia, a province of Asia
Minor. Myra was the capital, close to the ocean, and an episcopal see.
When the see became vacant, Nicholas was chosen bishop and became famous
and beloved for his extraordinary piety, zeal and many astonishing
miracles.
If
these Muslim slaves had any reason for complaint, it was the gentle
persistence with which their master and his wife exhorted them to give
up their false religion and become Catholics. Don Octavius even went so
far as to invite the slaves to join his family in the chapel to worship
the one true God with them!
John
succeeded his father in his office at the court and worked there, free
to practice his Faith, and respected for his virtues. After some years,
he resigned his post, and, with his brother Cosmas, joined the monastery
of St. Sabas.
Francis
Xavier was born in the Castle of Xavier, in Navarre, Spain. The
youngest of a large noble family linked to Spanish royalty, he had
ambitious dreams, and at eighteen set out to study law at the University
of Paris. Good-looking, intelligent, charming and high born, young
Xavier had the world at his feet.
In
1553 Xavier fulfilled another great dream, that of reaching China.
Prevented by a fever from reaching the mainland itself, he died within
sight of it, on the island of Sancian. He was only forth-six years old.
His body, found incorrupt despite having been laid in lime, was brought
back to Malacca where it was received with great honors. Later
translated to Goa, it is incorrupt to this day.
Chromatius
was brought up in the city of Aquileia, at the head of the Adriatic
Sea. In all likelihood, he was probably born here as well. His father
died when he was young, and he lived with his widowed mother, older
brother and unmarried sisters. His mother had the good opinion of St.
Jerome, which the saint expressed in a letter to her in 374. His brother
also became a bishop.
Edmund
Campion’s father was a bookseller in London. The future martyr was born
around 1540, and at the age of fifteen was given a scholarship to St.
John’s College, Oxford, where he was known for his intelligence and his
sweet, yet fiery, disposition. Gifted with oratory, he was chosen to
lead a public debate before Queen Elizabeth, and readily won her
goodwill and patronage as well as that of the powerful William Cecil and
the Earl of Leicester.
Campion
was betrayed while saying Mass at a house in Norfolk and was captured
with two other priests in a hideout above the gateway. During his
imprisonment in the Tower of London, Edmund was labeled, “Campion, the
seditious Jesuit,” a title which did not deter the Queen herself from
attempting to dissuade him from his convictions.
“O
most beautiful Cross that was glorified by carrying the Body of Christ!
Glorious Cross, sweetly desired, ardently loved, always sought, and
finally prepared for my heart that has so long awaited you. Take me, O
Cross! Embrace me. Release me from my life among men. Bring me quickly
and diligently to the Master. Through you He will receive me, He, Who
through you has saved me.”
The
Apostle continued by saying that he had “ardently awaited” the cross.
Today men flee far from any kind of suffering, any kind of fight against
their own passions, any kind of renunciation. For them to live is to
enjoy a good life. Andrew, however, ardently awaited his own cross
because he understood that what counts in life is not the pleasure he
has, but the sacrifice he makes. This is what gives meaning to life.
Therefore, the truly supernatural man is a friend of the cross, as St.
Louis Marie de Montfort said so well.
The
last pagan king of the Frisians was noted for saying that he preferred
to be in Hell with his ancestors than in Heaven without them. However,
his great-grandson and namesake became a saint.
Catherine
was born Zoé Labouré on May 2, 1806, the ninth of eleven children born
to a farm family in Fain-les-Moutiers, France. When only eight years
old, her mother died and Catherine was made responsible for the running
the house and helping her father. Although she would remain illiterate
her whole life, she was allowed to enter the convent of the Sisters of
Charity of St. Vincent de Paul on the Rue du Bac in the French capital
when she was twenty-two and took the name Catherine upon her profession.
This son of the soil became one of the most illustrious preachers in the history of the Franciscan Order.
Widely
regarded in his own lifetime as a second St. Francis of Assisi, he died
in 1742 just as he was beginning the solemn novena for the feast of the
Immaculate Conception. Upon hearing of his death, the poor children of
Lucera ran through the streets, crying "The saint is dead! The saint is
dead!" In this humble Franciscan they had lost a true father and
protector.
Sylvester
was born in 1177 to a noble and prestigious Italian family. When he was
of age, he was sent to Bologna and then Padua to study law, but feeling
within himself a call to the ecclesiastical state, he left off the
study of jurisprudence to pursue that of theology and the Sacred
Scriptures. This course of action so angered his father upon Sylvester’s
return to his native city of Osimo, that it is said his father refused
to speak to him for ten years on that account.
The
Emperor Maximinus, who was violently persecuting the Christians at the
time, was astounded when the young maiden presented herself to him and
boldly admonished him for his cruelty and persecution, and endeavored to
prove to him by the strength and logic of her arguments how iniquitous
was the worship of false gods. Completely taken aback by Catherine’s
audacity but unable to counteract any of her arguments himself, the
Emperor summoned numerous scholars to the imperial palace to compel the
young girl, by sophistic counter arguments and devious subterfuges, to
apostatize against the Faith. However, not only did Catherine emerge
from the contest victorious, but she conquered several of her
adversaries by the eloquence and resounding veracity of her words.
Declaring themselves won over to the Christian Faith, these new
adherents were immediately put to death by the enraged Emperor and
Catherine was most brutally scourged and imprisoned.
In
the US, Thanksgiving dates back to the first colonists in Plymouth,
M.A. in 1621, who organized a feast in thanks for a good harvest.
Born
in 1795 in the Tonkinese town of Bac-Nihh in North Vietnam, Tran An
Dung was the son of pagan parents. In search of work for themselves in
1807, his parents moved to the ancient citadel of Hanoi. Here their
twelve-year-old son was taken care of by a catechist and for three years
was instructed in the Catholic faith. Baptized in Vinh-Tri, he received
the Christian name Andrew (Anrê) in baptism and went on to learn both
Chinese and Latin and himself became a catechist. He was selected for
further studies in theology and was ordained to the priesthood on March
15, 1823.
To
avoid further persecution by the authorities, Andrew Dung changed his
name to Lac and relocated to a different region. While visiting a fellow
priest, in order to confess himself, Dung-Lac was arrested with Father
Peter Thi on November 10, 1839. In exchange for a monetary ransom paid
to their captors, the two priests were liberated, but their freedom was
short-lived. Re-arrested not long afterwards, they were taken to Hanoi
and severely tortured. They were beheaded shortly before Christmas Day
on December 21, 1839.