Our Lady of Guadalupe

December 9, 1531, Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to a poor peasant Christian named Juan Diego. Within a short period of time, more than nine million Mexicans – who were Aztecs worshipping three gods to whom they offered human sacrifice – converted to Christianity. The image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, miraculously emblazoned upon Juan Diego’s tilma (cloak), still exists today, even though the very fibers of the cloth it was made of should have turned into dust within a few short years of the event.

Is it true? Did it really happen? I don’t know. Personally, I don’t have a real feel for this Church “approved” miraculous story. All I know is that the Church says it is “worthy of belief” but they don’t “bind” me to it. I know that miracles still happen today – fantastic miracles that defy all sense of reason. So why not the miracle of Our Lady of Guadalupe?

Last year, for the first time in several years, our parish hosted an Our Lady of Guadalupe Feast Day celebration and the entire parish was invited. I envisioned about 100 people there, not knowing anything about our Hispanic Ministry. So off I went, thinking that I needed to be there to support my Mexican brothers and sisters in Christ.

When I got there, I could hardly find a parking place! And the entire Narthex was packed. My girls and I went in to find a place to sit. We hooked up with another family we knew. We were the only people I could see of Anglo-Saxon roots until my Priest's secretary came in.

The only time I've ever seen a Mexican band was in a movie. That night, the men were similarly dressed in traditional black with fancy designs and ties. And they sang something that sounded like it could've come out of a John Wayne movie! There was a drum the size of a Mac Truck tire -- a huge base, I think, and it was LOUD. And there were lines and lines of young women and girls dressed in red and they did a type of Liturgical dance I've never seen--chanting and dancing in a straight-line, then inter-woven dance step, shaking their maracas in one hand and holding a red, white and green wooden bow and arrow in the other.

After a festive procession, the Liturgy of the Word began. I didn't understand a single word! I thought to myself, "now I know how THEY must feel when attending Mass in English.” Father rose and gave his Homily. He was lively, energetic. I could hear "Guadalupe" every once in a while and recognized the Spanish word, "Senior." About the time my eyes started to glaze over, fake smile pasted on my face, I heard "American!" I nudged my oldest daughter and said, "Hey, I understood that!" I heard him say "American" again, two or three more times and then the Priest turned and asked for an altar boy.

There was some commotion on the altar as the boy fiddled around with something (which I learned quickly was the microphone). The Priest started to speak and the boy would hesitatingly translate -- and not very well. I couldn't figure out what he was saying, even in the translation, but I knew that he was trying to communicate with ME.

Part of me was mortified. There had to be 500 people there and I was sitting there with the Priest and all other eyes were on me and I had no clue what they were saying. It even took me another minute of looking at my neighbors to verify that he really was talking to me and suddenly, up runs another man from the back to do a better job of translating.

So this new person translated from the Priest, "We are so glad to be here, to celebrate Our Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and we are so glad you – you American -- are here with us!" The whole time the Priest is humbly nodding and smiling and I'm about to die -- on the one hand, totally humiliated that he had singled me out amid a wealth of total strangers, on the other hand humbled that he would welcome me so graciously and with such gratitude. I just had no ideawhat to say!

He also told me that "Our Lady gave this message to the peasant Juan Diego. A message of hope. But it was not only for the Mexican people. It was for the whole world. And you -- you American -- you must now spread this message to your people!"

Red-faced, hot under my sweater, I nodded and smiled and said "Thank you." I was overwhelmed and tears sprang to my eyes (I had to send one of my girls to the Ladies room to get tissues for me). The Mass continued. I knew more about what was going on because it was the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The responses were at the same places and I was able to participate in my own Southern-ese English.

I received Jesus in the Eucharist in a procession that was filled with Mexican Mamas getting their babies to be blessed. There was only one small paten with the Body of Christ. The overwhelming majority did not receive Holy Communion. I don't know why but I have a feeling it has to do with their great humility.

After Communion and the Mass was almost over, Father called up someone up with announcements. It was the same man who did the good translation earlier. The Priest asked, through the interpreter, for my Pastor to come forward. He did and everybody clapped and he said a few words. The Hispanic Priest started motioning my way and nodding and then suddenly I realized he was motioning at me? What? "Oh my gosh -- he's doing it again! What? What the heck is he saying, what does he want me to do? Oh no! He wants me to...... COME UP THERE?Why? Oh heck " and after that initial terrifying instant of understanding, I got to my feet and maneuvered through the pew and walked up to the ambo in shock, 1000 eyes on me, no clue what I was supposed to do.

So I stood there and the interpreter says, "He wishes you to speak!" I looked at my Priest who nodded and said, "Just say it was great!" Oh thanks. That was helpful. Love you, Father Vic!

So I approached the microphone, shocked out of my mind. "Uhhh.... no habla espanol?!" and I shrugged. The entire place broke into laughter. "Thank you so much for sharing this with us. It was beautiful and we were touched," came out of my mouth. I swear that's what I said! I have... ummmm...about seven English-speaking witnesses! The bilingual speaking man translated and everybody clapped and I thought I would pass out.My Priest whispered "You should never make eye contact!" as I turned away. Somehow I made it back down to my seat, though I don't recall how. My girls were about to bust their seams, they were so proud and excited!

And the Mass was ended, "Let us go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!" I'm sure that's what he said. Truly. Only I couldn't understand a word of it because it was in Spanish!

So here I am, spreading the message of hope from Our Lady of Guadalupe. I need to go read up on it again to remember exactly what that message said. Here's a website in case you do, too: _http://www.sancta.org/_(http://www.sancta.org/). I'm sure her message is about hope -- Father said so.