An Incarnation of the Blessed Mother

For a time in the 1990s I was pastor of Incarnation of the Lord Parish, on the North Side of Pittsburgh.  It was a new (read, merged) parish, formed out of the re-joining of Annunciation and Nativity of Our Lord Parishes.  I thought the new parish's name, given by then-Bishop Donald Wuerl, was inspired.  However some parishioners grumbled about the merger, sarcastically calling it "Inquisition Parish"or "Incarceration Parish" or even "Reincarnation Parish."  (Maybe their compaints had something to do with the pastor!)

Since then I have had a deep appreciation for the theological word "incarnate."  It comes from the Latin, "in the flesh."  A secular dictionary definition is close to the Latin, "embodied in flesh" or "given a bodily, especially a human, form."  Jesus, the Son of God and Word of God, is enfleshed as the son of Mary.  The Second Person of the Trinity became human.  Jesus in the flesh felt and experienced everything human we do, as a person (except sin).  This is Whose birthday we celebrate on December 25.  Our church is vibrantly, richly incarnational.  Our spirituality is nourished by eating the Bread of Life and drinking the Blood of Christ.  Our faith must bear fruit in good works on this earth.  We worship not just with silent prayers, but with beautiful music, artwork, architecture, and poetic words.  Following Christ is done side-by-side with our sisters and brothers who have been baptized, never alone or without company.

For me, a significant expression of this incarnational theology is in the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe to Juan Diego in 1531 outside of Mexico City.  The Catholic Church celebrates the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe on December 12, and of St. Juan Diego on December 9.  Mary has appeared to many persons down through the Christian centuries, but never as she did on Tepeyac hill.

Many reading this are familiar with the story.  In her first meeting with Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin, the young Lady, who identified herself as the Mother of God, asked that he speak with the local bishop and convey her desire to build a church on that site.  As the story goes, the bishop made this poor peasant widower cool his heels outside his office for a whole day before receiving him.  Then the skeptical bishop said, ask the lady for a sign.  Juan Diego missed his appointment with the mysterious young Lady, because he was worried about the grave illness of his Uncle Juan Bernadino.  So the Lady appeared to him again, and assured him that his uncle would survive and be healed.

The Lady told Juan to take roses (growing in the dead of winter?) which were blooming nearby to the bishop, as a sign.  Juan gathered these beautiful flowers in his rough tilma, or cloak, and did as requested.  He presented them to the bishop, opening his cloak.  Then the bishop saw not only the roses, but the Virgin herself, in an image miraculously imprinted on the inside of Juan's tilma.  That tilma still hangs in the Basilica in Mexico City, visible to all 438 years later.  This "incarnation" of the Blessed Mother leads believers to her son, the Savior of all peoples.  It is said that within ten years of the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe, over 10,000,000 natives throughout the Americas come to faith and to be baptized.  No wonder Pope John Paul II proclaimed her Patroness of the Americas.  And her cult has grow from Mexico, to throughout the Americas, to the whole world.

I am proud to say that I have seen the tilma of Juan Diego with my own eyes, having made a pilgrimage to Mexico City several years ago.  And that image (with its rich Catholic and native symbolism, too detailed to go into in this short column) continues to draw people to deeper faith in Christ, the Incarnate Word.  As the church celebrates these two feasts, pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe this week, and ask her to guide you to a more enfleshed and down-to-earth experience of discipleship in Jesus and the love of God.