Yesterday I offered the Mass of the Immaculate Conception but forgot to mention the saint who is usually celebrated on December 9: Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin. This vastly humble Mexica was running to Mass on that day in 1531 when he heard rare and exquisite birdsong. He saw gemlike hues lighting up the cactus and mesquite along his rocky path, and he met a lady clothed with the sky. She smiled at him: “Juanito, Juan Diegito, el mas pequeno de mis hijos…” He had found her, and she had found him. It was a dark time for the Mexica lake people of what was then known as Tenochtitlán (now “Mexico City”). The Spaniards had destroyed their gods, and now the Mexica people had no father in heaven or mother in the sky to comfort them. Everyone calls for their mother in times of darkness. On that dark day in December 1531, a woman clothed with the sun and the stars heard the calls of both her Mexica and Spanish children. She came running to them on that day.
Yesterday, on St. Juan Diego’s Day, I found my credit card after 7 days of searching. I looked in every pocket, every drawer, and every vehicle (car, scooter, bike) for that little piece of plastic. I tried not to obsess over the loss, but I spent hours and hours searching and thinking where it might be. How much of life is spent searching for what we've lost! On St. Juan Diego’s Day, after the Mass of the Immaculate Conception, I found that naughty little card hiding in the inside pocket of a little-used fleece. I had shoved it there in a hurry after filling my scooter with gas last week. How was an old man to remember where he had put that little card on a cold morning at the gas pump?
Someday I hope I will not need credit cards any longer, and I don’t mean through Google Pay. I hope someday that the cold necessities of this world will no longer coerce my energies. Someday I hope to find my way home, or be found on my dark path by the Mother of God. I hope someday she will bring me to the Father’s House, where I will finally be home.
Today is the feast, not of Juan Diego, but of Loretto. A mile and a half from the Adriatic, in the Italian Marches, there lie the ruins of a poor house, three simple stone walls not more than a few feet high. This “house” was said to have been brought from Nazareth to Loretto by angels, or at least by a Greek merchant named “Angelos,” 800 years ago. This simple stone dwelling is said to have been the home of Mary when the Angel Gabriel came to her. In this house she conceived a son by the power of God. Here God lived with men, and with a woman, who was to be His mother. Here God visited His people, inviting us to come to His Home beyond the skies. It is not for nothing that we long for Home most of all, and that longing will not be disappointed.
Yesterday, on St. Juan Diego’s Day, I found my credit card after 7 days of searching. I looked in every pocket, every drawer, and every vehicle (car, scooter, bike) for that little piece of plastic. I tried not to obsess over the loss, but I spent hours and hours searching and thinking where it might be. How much of life is spent searching for what we've lost! On St. Juan Diego’s Day, after the Mass of the Immaculate Conception, I found that naughty little card hiding in the inside pocket of a little-used fleece. I had shoved it there in a hurry after filling my scooter with gas last week. How was an old man to remember where he had put that little card on a cold morning at the gas pump?
Someday I hope I will not need credit cards any longer, and I don’t mean through Google Pay. I hope someday that the cold necessities of this world will no longer coerce my energies. Someday I hope to find my way home, or be found on my dark path by the Mother of God. I hope someday she will bring me to the Father’s House, where I will finally be home.
Today is the feast, not of Juan Diego, but of Loretto. A mile and a half from the Adriatic, in the Italian Marches, there lie the ruins of a poor house, three simple stone walls not more than a few feet high. This “house” was said to have been brought from Nazareth to Loretto by angels, or at least by a Greek merchant named “Angelos,” 800 years ago. This simple stone dwelling is said to have been the home of Mary when the Angel Gabriel came to her. In this house she conceived a son by the power of God. Here God lived with men, and with a woman, who was to be His mother. Here God visited His people, inviting us to come to His Home beyond the skies. It is not for nothing that we long for Home most of all, and that longing will not be disappointed.
RSS Feed