Tomorrow, many Christians around the world, but especially in Mexico and in Hispanic communities here in the US, will commemorate the feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, who stands as one of the most important devotional figures in the Catholic world and beyond. The story of the Virgin of Guadalupe is an extraordinary one—in the year 1531, a young Mestizo peasant named Juan Diego saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary at the top of hill while he was traveling to care for a sick relative. The Virgin appeared to him as a Mestizo woman, and told him to go to the bishop and have him build a church in her honor. The bishop was of course quite skeptical so he asked for a sign. Juan went back and the Virgin told him to gather roses that were growing at the top of the hill, which was extraordinary because it was December and they weren’t supposed to be growing then. Juan gathered rosebuds in his cloak, and when he opened it in front of the bishop, the roses fell out revealing an image of the Lady on his cloak. Since that time, millions have made pilgrimage to the basilica in Mexico City built in her honor, and the Virgin has stood as a symbol of hope for the poorest of the poor.
There have been countless miracles attributed to her, like the one that Sara Miles tells about in her book City of God. Her friend Kevin, a fellow resident of the Mission District in San Francisco, had his life transformed when he heard the Virgin of Guadalupe speaking to him audibly in a hospital room in San Diego and telling him to go to Mexico City and visit her. After making the trip, Kevin made peace with himself and his faith as a gay man, and found a renewed relationship with his father. At his father’s funeral, he took the Virgin of Guadalupe medallion that he had bought in Mexico City for his father and switched it with his, so that his father was buried with his and he now wears his father’s to this day.
This is the time of year when miracle stories are featured prominently as we tell the age-old stories of a holy birth and angels and stars shining in the deepest of nights. And it’s the time of year—and for many of us Protestants, the only time of year—when Mary shows up in a prominent role. Miraculous stories like an angel showing up to a young peasant girl and a virginal conception are familiar. But the Virgin showing up and imprinting an image of herself on a cloak, and speaking audibly to a modern guy in a hospital room, is maybe a little more than some of us know what to do with. We don’t spend much time with Mary in our tradition, and miraculous stories of her apparitions can be hard to comprehend sometimes.
But I feel the pull to know more, to go deeper, to experience that sense of wonder and miracle for myself. So a few years ago during Advent I took up a new spiritual practice, one that would likely have raised the eyebrows of my deeply pious but also deeply Protestant ancestors—taking out the lovely olive wood rosary that I was given several years ago, and beginning to pray it. The words of the prayer didn’t initially come naturally to me, but after praying them for a bit, I think maybe I started to grasp the power of this mysterious, poor young woman.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”
The first part of that prayer might sound familiar—they are words from the gospel of Luke that the angel Gabriel spoke: “greetings, favored one (or full of grace), the Lord is with you.” As one of my priest friends remarked, at the same time that people just a few miles away from Nazareth in the Roman town of Sepphoris—and all across the empire—were proclaiming “hail, Caesar,” the messenger of God says “hail, Mary.” As he noted, today, no one says “hail, Caesar.” That’s a miracle the likes of which would have been unimaginable to the people who lived near and knew Mary of Nazareth.
That’s when I realized that maybe I’ve never experienced anything quite like Juan Diego’s miracle because I haven’t been in a position to. Maybe the miraculous and inexplicable can only be seen by the poor, the oppressed, the most marginalized among us, because that’s where God chooses to dwell. Of course it’s there that the amazing and the miraculous will shine through most clearly. That’s where God is. Among women who had known the harshest kinds of oppression, yet who found the courage to sing the praise of God who came to them. And those kinds of miracles are still happening today. So today, I will take up my rosary and pray those ancient words. And perhaps they will help me to see with new eyes the miracles that are all around us. I hope you’ll see them too.
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