Our Lady of Guadalupe

"Listen and let it penetrate your heart . . . do not be troubled or weighed down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the folds of my mantle? In the crossing of my arms? Is there anything else you need?" -- Our Lady's words to her servant Juan Diego

"Oye y ten entendido hijo mío el mas pequeño, que es nada lo que te asusta y aflije; no se turbe tu corazón; no temas esa enfermedad, ni otra alguna enfermedad y angustia. No estoy yo aquí? No soy tu Madre? No estás bajo mi sombra? No soy yo tu salud? No estás por ventura en mi regazo? Qué mas has menester? No te apene ni te inquiete otra cosa; no te aflija la enfermedad de tu tío, que no morirá ahora de ella; está seguro de que sanó." -- Palabras de Nuestra Señora a Juan Diego

The Apparitions and Messages

Our Lady of Guadalupe - Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe

Juan Diego awoke before sunrise. It was Saturday, Our Lady's day, the ninth of December, the first day in the Octave of the Immaculate Conception, 1531, and quite cold in the mountains of Mexico at that time of year. Wrapping his cloak or tilma about him Juan set out alone from his new home in Tolpetlac to the neighboring village of Tlatelolco, a suburb of Tenochtitlan, six miles south. He was on his way to Mass, which he had faithfully attended every Saturday and Sunday since his conversion six years before. It was a long journey for anyone to make two days in a row; that's twenty-four miles of walking, and his aging limbs were beginning to feel the toll. The trip seemed so much longer since his wife and traveling companion, Maria Lucia, had died two years ago. Now he walked the road alone. But being alone had its advantages; it gave him time to think about and talk to God.

It was still dusky, not too far from dawn, as he approached Tepeyac hill.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by music, very wonderful music, descending from atop the slope of the hill. It sounded to him like a mellifluous chirping of sweetly singing birds. It was a melody such as he had never heard. The tones began to grow more enchanting, filling the air around him and so enrapturing his soul that he began to doubt whether it was possible for a man to relish such exquisite harmony while he was alive.  Juan squinted his eyes to scan the hilltop, when to his utter astonishment, a cloud glowing with dazzling whiteness appeared just above the crest, while a magnificent rainbow formed by its resplendent rays emblazoned everything around it. Then, abruptly, the celestial singing ceased. A voice was heard from within the cloud. It was the voice of a young woman, a tender voice, calling his name most affectionately, "Juanito, Juan Dieguito."

Our Lady spoke to her humble protégé in his own Nahuatl tongue. In that language the form of address used by the woman had a significance more singularly intimate than any expression English or Spanish could convey. The exact sound that met the Indian's ears was "Juantzin, Juan Diegotzin.'' It was an endearing expression, reverently diminutive, that a fond mother would use for her child. English would render it: "Dear little Juan."

Totally perplexed, the fifty seven year old Juanito clambered up the rocky incline to see who it was who so sweetly addressed him. Juan had no fear; he was confident, and intoxicated with exuberance.

As he reached the summit, the voice gently asked him draw near. Doing so, he found himself face to face with a woman of incomparable loveliness, whom he described simply as "a most beautiful lady." Her garments shone so brilliantly that the entire mountain was transformed by the reflection of her glory. The rocks became as precious gold; the earth sparkled like emeralds and multi-colored jewels; even the shrubs and prickly pears were splattered with a sheet of color, as if their thorns had been changed into stained glass.

She was young, perhaps fourteen, her expression most affable and encouraging. She motioned Juan to come closer. Advancing a step or two he sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the loveliness of the vision.

The Lady spoke, " My son, Juan Diego, whom I tenderly love as a little one and weak, where are you going?"

And he replied, "My holy one, my Lady, my Mistress, I am on my way to your house at Tlatelolco; I go in pursuit of the holy things which our priests teach us." His holy one, the noble Lady, then revealed her will saying:

"Know my son, my much beloved, that I am the ever Virgin Mary, Mother of the True God who is the Author of life, the Creator of all things, the Lord of heaven and earth, present everywhere. And it is my wish that here, there be raised to me a temple in which, as a loving mother to thee and those like thee, I shall show my tender clemency and the compassion I feel for the natives and for those who love and seek me, for all who implore my protection, who call on me in their labors and afflictions: and in which I shall hear their weeping and their supplications that I may give them consolation and relief. That my will may have its effect, thou must go to the city of Mexico and to the palace of the bishop who resides there, to tell him that I have sent thee and that I wish a temple to be raised to me in this place. Thou shalt report what thou hast seen and heard, and be assured that I will repay what thou dost for me in the charge I give thee: for I will make thee great and renowned. Now thou hast heard, son, my wish. Go in peace. . . employ all of the strength thou art able."

Juan bowed low in humility and said, "I go, I go, my most noble Lady and Mistress, to do as a humble servant what you have ordered. Farewell."

After Juan had spoken to Our Lady, he straight-away set out on his mission and took the road leading directly to Mexico City.

Juan arrived atthe Bishop's residence and knelt down as a sign of reverence before Juan Zumarraga the Bishop. After Zumarraga greeted him, Juan related all the wonderful things that had happened, repeating the message of the Lady exactly as he remembered it. To all this the prudent shepherd listened most kindly without giving any signs of credence. Then the Bishop asked Juan various questions, all of which he answered perfectly. Surely the Indian had his wits about him; there wasn't anything odd or singular in his behavior, nor was there any contradiction in his answers. Zumarraga was not the type of man to dismiss such matters lightly. He would need more time to check out the Indian's character.

Deeply saddened by the obvious skepticism of the bishop, Juan rose to his feet, bowed, and took his leave.

When he returned to Tepeyac he found the beautiful Lady just as glorious as before, waiting for him at the summit. Kneeling before her he painfully acknowledged his failure:

"O little one, most dear, my Queen and most high Lady, I did what you told me. Though for a long time I was not let in to the Bishop, I finally saw him and gave him your message just as you ordered me. He listened to me with kindness and attention, but from what I noticed in him and from his questions. I gathered that he did not believe me, for he told me to come again that he might at leisure inquire into my affair and examine it more closely. He supposed that the temple you demanded was an imagination or whim of mine and not your will. I therefore beg of you to send some noble and influential person, someone worthy of respect, to whom credit ought to be given; for you see, O my Sovereign, that I am a poor serf, a mere lowly peasant, and that I am not fit for this embassy of yours. Pardon, O Queen, my boldness, if I have at all failed in the respect due to your greatness. Far be it from me to incur your indignation, or to displease you by my reply."

Looking upon him with the greatest affection, the noble Lady smiled tenderly and said:

"Hear, much loved son, and understand that I am not without clients and servants to send, for I have many that I might employ if I wished, many that would do whatever they were ordered; but it much befits that thou undertake this affair and conduct it. My wish and desire has to be accomplished by thy means. So I ask thee, my son, and I order thee to go back in the morning, and see and speak to the Bishop. Tell him to erect for me the temple I demand, and say that she who sent thee is the Virgin Mary, Mother of the True God."

At these words renewed vigor and confidence poured into Juan's heart. He answered:

"My Lady and my Child, I will not cause you affliction. I will gladly go to accomplish your will. I will not cease from striving ... So, tomorrow afternoon, when the sun is setting, I will come to give you a report concerning the reception of your message ... With this assurance let me take leave of you, my little Daughter, my Child, and my Lady. Rest quietly in the meanwhile until I come again."

Juan went home, cooked his supper, and apparently without mentioning to his uncle, with whom he was now living, anything of what had transpired, he went to bed. The next day, Sunday, Juan went to Mass and religious instruction, and afterwards set out down the road for his second encounter with the Bishop. As he walked along, thoughts rolled in and out of his mind as to what he could say to convince the doubting ecclesiastic; that is, if he even got in to see him. He soon found himself standing again in front of the Episcopal palace and knocking at the gate. Though his worst fears did not materialize, still he was treated much more harshly than the day before; but with his persistent pleading, he wore down their resistance and was again allowed into the courtyard. Once inside, he was told to sit down and wait. He waited ... and waited ... drawing his tilma tightly about him, for it was very cold; one, two, three hours elapsed, and finally the majordomo called out his name; the Bishop would see him.

The bishop was quite surprised to see the Indian back so soon and received him with habitual courtesy. Instantly, Juan dropped to his knees and told the curious prelate that he had again seen and spoken to the Mother of God, and that she had demanded that the Bishop build her the desired church. Then, overcome by his own nervous intensity, the tears started down his cheeks, as he implored his Lordship to heed the noble Lady's request.

Zumarraga was embarrassed at Juan's passionate display and urged him to gain composure and answer his questions. What did the Lady look like? Who did she say she was? Where did she appear? On and on the Bishop went, till he was convinced that the man before him was neither dreaming nor hallucinating; he had seen a lady, but exactly who that lady was he couldn't be sure; he needed proof that she was indeed who she said she was and not some illusion of the devil. They must have a sign, he told Juan; such an expensive and laborious undertaking as the construction of a church requires much more evidence that it is truly the Mother of God who asks for it.

"What kind of a sign?" Juan asked, totally unruffled by the request, "Name any sign at all and I will ask it of the Lady."

The Bishop paused for a moment and said, "Let the Lady herself decide it."

Juan was then dismissed. Secretly Zumarraga had instructed two of his attendants to follow the Indian wherever he went, but from a safe and unobservable distance, so that they might see who it was with whom he was conversing.

Losing no time, Juan Diego hurried straight for Tepeyac Hill to inform his Mistress of the outcome of his second meeting. Not far behind him were the two spies. Yet when he came to the base of the hill, having there crossed over a certain stream, he instantly vanished from their sight. He was there one second, gone the next, and his pursuers were utterly befuddled as they vainly searched for him high and low. Giving up, they returned in great anger to the Bishop, accusing the Indian of some sort of wizardry, and suggested that if the deceiver should dare show his face again, he should be flogged.

Meanwhile Juan was rapt in ecstasy before the radiant beauty of God's Mother. As Moses of old was taken up into the holy mountain, called alone by God to commune with Him " face to face" beyond the view of other men, so too Juan Dieguito was taken up alone into the holy hill of Tepeyac to commune face to face with the Holy Mother of God away from the sight of men.

Prostrating himself before his heavenly Queen, with great anguish he poured out his heart. No one had believed him, though he had tried his utmost to convince them. Only a sign would move the Bishop to act upon the Lady's request. So, as a last gesture to please his Queen, he asked her if she would not give him some sign. Then he would surely succeed in fulfilling her desire. The beautiful Lady, in tones of deepest appreciation and gentleness, thanked her emissary for his efforts. She then promised to give him the necessary sign saying:

"So be it, my son. Return here tomorrow in order that thou mayest secure for the Bishop the sign for which he has asked. When this is in thy possession, he will believe thee. He will no longer doubt thy word and suspect thy good faith. Be assured that I shall reward thee for all thou hast undergone. Go now, tomorrow I shall await thee here again." And Our Lady sweetly added, "Do not forget me."

Juan Diego's uncle, Juan Bernardino, was a very sick man, lying in his bed in a fit of fever, for he had contracted that mortal disease the Indians called cocolixtle, which had claimed many thousands of lives that year. So Juan Bernardino, who was in good health when his nephew last saw him, was now at death's door. Seeing his dear uncle in this terrible condition, Juan was beside himself with grief, for he was the only consolation Juan had on this earth after his wife's death. Quickly he called in the native doctors to see if they could break the fever, but it was of no avail; in fact, they were only making him worse. All that night and all the next day, he sat compassionately by his uncle's bedside, offering him whatever alleviation he could. Surely, Juan thought, the Holy Virgin would understand why he was unable to keep his appointment that afternoon as he had promised.

Soon the sick man became aware that he was not going to recover and, informing his nephew that his time to quit this world was fast approaching, he asked him to leave in the morning for Tlatelolco and bring back a priest "with the healing hands" that he might confess and be anointed.

Very early, before sunrise, Juan Diego hustled off on his way to find a priest. It was now Tuesday, the twelfth of December. As he drew near the hill where he had spoken to Our Lady, he was faced with a dilemma; surely he would find her waiting for him if he took the usual path, and he could not afford to be detained at this time. He had not a moment to lose, or his uncle might die without a priest. So he decided to skirt the hill on its opposite side, a much rougher course, in his hopes of avoiding a confrontation. As he passed by the prominence, he could scarcely believe what his eyes beheld; for up ahead of him he saw the Holy Virgin in a blaze of light, gliding effortlessly down the slope on an angle so as to intercept him.

"My dear little one," she called to him, "where are you going? What road is this you are taking?"

Juan was overcome with shame. As one commentator noted, "He had failed her; she had not failed him. Since he had not sought her on the heights, she sought him in the depths."

Utterly confused, and at a loss for an explanation, he spontaneously resorted to pleasantries, "My daughter, my dear little one; God keep you, Lady! Did you sleep well? And how is your health?"

Nothing so beautifully brings out the simplicity of Juan Diego as this amusing parlance. He talked to Mary as he would have to his own daughter, and most assuredly it wrung from her childlike heart a humoring smile. Then, quickly regaining his presence of mind, Juan spoke more soberly about his uncle's sickness and his intention of going to get a priest.

When he finished speaking there was a pause. He looked up to see the lovely Woman smiling most affectionately upon him. With supreme gentleness and compassion she replied-and these words should reverberate from the walls of every church, home, and school in Christendom:

"Listen, and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little son; do not be troubled or weighted down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the folds of my mantle? In the crossing of my arms? Is there anything else you need?"

She again paused, gazed sympathetically upon him, and continued. "Do not let this illness of your uncle worry you, because he is not going to die of his sickness. At this very moment he is cured." Never before had Our Lady so openly revealed the tenderness of her Immaculate Heart.

After these soothing words of encouragement, Our Lady ordered Juan to climb up the hill, and there at the top he would find the sign the Bishop needed. "Go, my son, to the summit of the hill . . . There you will find a large variety of flowers. Gather them carefully and assemble them. Then, bring them here."

Not stopping to ask how this could be-for it was well into winter and all the foliage had died, Juan trusting completely in his Lady's word, hurried up the slope. Over the crest, he saw a brilliantly panoply of the most exquisite flowers, including Castilian roses, blossoming in the frozen soil. Juan was struck with amazement. Now the Bishop would surely believe him! Then, as he had been directed, he carefully gathered as many of them as he could fit into his outstretched tilma and brought them down to show to his Queen. She then took the flowers and with her own hands rearranged them saying as she did so, "My little son, these varied flowers are the sign which you are to take to the Bishop. Tell him in my name that in them he will recognize my will and that he must fulfill it." Hereupon she sent her emissary on his way, but first cautioned him not to allow anyone to see what he carried until he was before the Bishop.

Taking his leave of the glorious Woman, he joyfully trod down the road to the city. As he bounced along with a confident gait he was careful to wrap the ends of his tilma around the flowers, gently pressing them to his chest so that he would not lose a single one.

Arriving at the palace with his precious burden, Juan politely asked once again to see the Bishop. This time the servants angrily rushed out at him, threatening to drive him away, but Juan wouldn't budge. Courageously he stood his ground. They, in turn, heaped all kinds of insults upon him, and passing back through the metal gate they clanged it shut in his face. There was no way, they told him, that he was going to see the Bishop. Juan pleaded that this time the Bishop would have to believe him: They had to let him in. But they laughed him to scorn.

Humiliations were nothing new to Juan Diego; however, like anybody else, he felt them keenly; but he wasn't going to leave until he got an audience and that was final! So, installing himself next to the gate, he purposely began to make himself utterly obnoxious to the porters by continually pleading for admittance.

Finally, one of the court officials noticed that the Indian was concealing something underneath his cloak. He approached and asked what it was. Juan bit his tongue and kept silent. At this the man got very angry, threatening to use force to find out, and Juan, drawing back, was compelled to let some of the attendants get a glimpse of the flowers. They could hardly believe what they saw. One of them tried to snatch one or two, but as he reached for them, the blossoms seemed to melt into the fabric. There was something unusual happening here! Someone rushed to the Bishop's quarters to report the phenomenon. Zumarraga (this was the first time he had been informed of Juan's arrival), hearing about the flowers, wondered exceedingly, and ordered the Indian to be brought in at once. With the prelate, at this time, was the new Governor of Mexico, Bishop Fuenleal. Finding himself standing before the mighty, Juan felt all the more nervous, but assuming a confident bearing that seemed to be a special charisma for this momentous occasion, he bowed reverentially, not kneeling, lest he lose his hold of the tilma. Then he recounted before his amazed listeners the entire story of what had transpired at Tepeyac: how the Lady had promised a sign; how she directed him to climb the hill, where he would find "many flowers growing"; how he had gathered them in his tilma; and how she had rearranged them with her own hand, telling him to take them to the Bishop that he might at last believe her message and fulfill her desire. Listening with rapt attention to every word his excited guest had to say, Zumarraga, chin in hand, was the picture of perplexity. Having finished the story, Juan took a deep breath and, reaffirming his grip on the corners of the tilma as he clutched it for the last time to his bosom, his voice rallied, "Your Excellency, here is the sign you asked for." And, opening his hands, the tilma fell, and from it a celestial bouquet of multi-colored blooms, mingled with Castilian roses, cascaded softly to the floor before the startled dignitaries, and perfumed the room with a heavenly aroma.

Zumarraga jumped to his feet and stared at the roses, momentarily speechless; his prayer for peace had been answered! Then, as he lifted his eyes from the prodigy on the floor, there suddenly appeared on the Indian's tilma an image of the Blessed Virgin Mary in resplendent glory. The wooden floor resounded with the thump of bended knees as both dignitaries knelt in adoration, caught in a timeless moment, with wide eyes riveted on the tilma as if contemplating an apparition. Juan felt uneasy as he perceived that their gaze was no longer on the flowers but upon him, and looking down upon his garment he saw the object of their veneration. It was she, the Holy Mother of the True God, just as he had seen her on the hill!

For a long time no words were spoken. The Bishop from his oratory asked for roses from Castile and received the Mystical Rose from Heaven.

After some moments lost in eternity Zumarraga, rising from the floor, embraced Juan Diego and begged his forgiveness for not believing him sooner. Then, reverently untying the precious relic from the bearer's neck, he carried it to his private chapel where he could venerate it alone. Of course, no news travels like religious news, and so it didn't take long before word of the miracle spread throughout the city. Soon crowds of the anxious faithful converged upon the Episcopal residence, piously demanding to see the Image.

All that day and overnight Juan remained at the Bishop's house as his most honored guest; but, when morning came, he was desirous to return to his uncle to assist him in his recovery. Before setting out for his home, he conducted the Bishop to Tepeyac Hill and pointed out the exact spot where the Mother of God wanted her church to be built. Then, accompanied by a host of attendants from the palace and with his own personal guard of honor, he returned to his uncle. Juan would never travel alone again.

After Juan Diego had designated to Bishop Zumarraga the exact spot where the Woman wanted her church built, construction of a temporary edifice got underway immediately. In just two weeks' time a handsome little chapel of no unworthy architecture was completed. On the feast of St. Stephen, the day after Christmas, the sacred Image was carried in triumphal procession from the city to its new home. It was quite a sight. Never had Mexico seen such jubilee. . . . Overnight, mourning had turned into joy. With Juan Diego walking closest to Our Lady, in the place of honor; Juan Bernardino by his side; Bishop Zumarraga right behind; and next to him his good friend the Conqueror himself, the Marquis Hernando Cortez, and the Marquessa his wife; and the whole population following in procession, they arrived at the chapel to enthrone the Image of Guadalupe amidst unprecedented exuberance.

Surely, it must have been quite a sight for the Indians to see Juan Diego, who shortly before was kicked about like an old shoe, now being triumphantly escorted around the countryside like a national hero. Arriving in Tolpetlac, the humble celebrity was overjoyed to see his uncle recuperating on the porch of his cabin taking in the fresh air. And when he asked his nephew the reason for all this retinue, Juan told him the story from the beginning. Different theories are offered to explain why Juan never told his uncle about the first apparition, but the most likely reason is that he did not want to expose himself to ridicule in the eyes of his own people until he could prove the veracity of the vision.

Juan Bernardino nodded as if he already knew what had happened, and patiently suppressed his own sequential epilogue until his nephew told him about the heavenly Woman's pledge of his cure. He then interrupted his nephew to ask the exact time these words were uttered. And to their great joy and astonishment, the uncle related to the assembled visitors that it was at that very hour, when perceiving himself to be at the last extremity of life, that a dazzling light had flooded his quiet chamber, and the same beautiful Lady appeared to him all radiant with that glory his nephew described. Immediately, he felt a profound peace come over his soul, and through his limbs a healing wave seemed to roll, filling him with strength and cooling his burning fever. Aware that he was cured, he climbed out of bed, fell to his knees before the celestial physician, and listened as she sweetly told him what she had done for his nephew. Then she revealed to him the title by which she wished to be known and invoked by the Mexican people: "I am," the Lady solemnly said, "the ever-Virgin, Holy Mary of Guadalupe!"

Nothing has caused more confusion to Guadalupan scholars than the word itself, Guadalupe. Why would Our Lady in visiting the Indians ask them to invoke her by a title that meant something only to Spaniards? Guadalupe was the name of a famous Marian shrine in Estremadura in eastern Spain. One may with every pious intention say, "What difference does it make? Our Lady said it, I believe it, and that's final!" But this is a case where a scholarly examination would enkindle devotion rather than detract from it.

The question arises, and justly so, did Our Lady actually say Guadalupe when she spoke to Juan Bernardino? Or did she say something that sounded like it? It seems that in the Nahuatl or Aztec tongue they had no equivalent sound for the Latin G or D. The interpreter standing by Juan Bernardino's pallet translated the title as he thought Our Lady meant it, namely Guadalupe. But Our Lady couldn't have said exactly that, unless by a special charisma the cured man was enabled to pronounce a G and D. What the Mother of God actually said, and what she wanted to be thought to have said as she looked prophetically into the centuries ahead, are two different things. In the Nahuatl language the expression "she who crushes the serpent" sounds very much like Guadalupe. Rendered phonetically, the Aztec word would be Coatlaxopeuh.

The Aftermath

At the Bishop's request, Juan Diego moved to a little apartment prepared for him adjacent to the chapel. He was to be Our Lady of Guadalupe's honor guard, the custodian of her house, and a sort of tour guide for the barrage of pilgrims that immediately descended upon Tepeyac Hill.

People came from far and wide to see the miraculous Image. Juan Diego became a preacher. He was one of their own, one they could trust, and, with his characteristic intensity, he told his people about the Virgin and about her Son who died for them.

Her message was beautiful and simple. She told him that she wanted a church to be built in her honor on this hill, wherein she would receive and compassionately console all her suffering children. For this purpose she sent Juan Diego to the Bishop of Mexico, the Friar Minor, Don Juan de Zumarraga, to present to him her request. Though he was most faithful in his mission, the lowly messenger was not believed. Finally, Our Lady gave him a sign to take to the Bishop, a bouquet of flowers that she had caused to spring miraculously from the hilltop's frozen winter soil. And, to leave absolutely no doubt that it was indeed she, the Mother of God, who requested this church, she left imprinted on the face of the Indian's cloak, in which as an apron he had carried the miraculous sign into the prelate's presence, a full length color portrait of herself, just as the Juan had seen her. The tilma and its image can be seen to this very day in the cathedral of Mexico City.

The canvas the Queen of Heaven chose for her portrait, the tilma of Juan Diego, a rough burlap-type cloak that the lower-class Indians wore draped over their shoulders, and ankle-length. Having been poor in her mortal life, the Mother of God did not disdain such a canvas, for by it she would confound the laws of science.

Every artist who has examined the tilma has affirmed that there simply is no way short of a miracle for such an exquisite picture to have been painted on such a coarse and porous surface. Furthermore, the tilma itself, made from cactus fibers, should have fallen apart, naturally speaking, twenty or thirty years at most after it was made. Nevertheless, long defying the laws of decomposition, it hangs together to this very day. Needless to say, if the canvas has been miraculously preserved, so has the image. The colors are still as fresh and vivid as when they first appeared, despite the natural corroding effect of black smoke, which for a century arose before it from hundreds of burning vigil lights (it wasn't until 1647 that the precious relic was put under glass), and despite the accidental spilling of a bottle of nitric acid across its surface by a workman in 1791.

Guadalupe is the most frequented Marian shrine in the whole world. Every year up to twenty million pilgrims come to Mexico's capital from all over the world, three times as many as visit Lourdes,  to see and pray to Our Lady before her miraculous picture. Her shrine attracts every type of visitor imaginable. They all come, representing a vast cross-section of humanity, all the time, in a never-ending stream. Some approach for hundreds of yards on their knees with arms outstretched in a posture of penance. Some come in prayer, perhaps reciting the Rosary.  Some approach as tourists. Regardless of the reason for the journey Our Lady has made herself available to all, the just and the unjust, to be loved or just viewed. Is the number of visitors the result of  miracles? Of course there are miracles, but that isn't why so many are drawn here. There's another reason, a more wonderful one, that gives Guadalupe such a compelling magnetism. It is the sense of Our Lady's presence.

There is a very real communication of hearts at Guadalupe. It is the heart of a sinless Mother seeking out the love of her children and offering her maternal protection. She, the Mother of God, wants to be known and loved by men so that she can lead them to her Son. She wants to be known for what she truly is. Now Mary knows her children only too well ... but her children do not and cannot know her well enough, for there is so much to know about her that the pursuit would exhaust a whole lifetime of effort. But we must try. "They that explain me shall have life," the Scriptures say of Mary in the Book of Wisdom. So, in the vehemence of her tender love, those four centuries ago, she left for the world a portrait of herself painted with brushes "not of this earth." In this marvelous picture-it cannot be called a painting, for there were no paints involved-one can see for himself what the most beautiful creature God ever created looks like.

Novena in Honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe/Novena en Honor de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe

Adapted from an article © Brother Michael, M.I.C.M. that originally appeared in "From the Housetops".