Acabo de coser una pancarta de la Virgencita.I just finished sewing a banner of the Virgencita.
Amazing what one can do with a printed tea towel, dupioni silk, butter yellow satin lining and a couple other fancy bits.
On December 8, a Marian feast in itself, I will be leading an Advent quiet day. We will be honoring Our Lady of Guadalupe, whose feast is 12 December.
For years I have wanted to initiate public processions in the Episcopal Church. I admit it, this is one case where I have Rome envy. My personal piety has increasingly moved toward what might be deemed "folk piety." I wear the label proudly. It is satisfying, expressive, personal, and intimate. Next month, God willing, Mary interceding, and the Rio Grande don't rise, I get to see an procession on a day other than Palm Sunday.
It will be a special day for another reason. Seventeen years ago December 8 also fell on a Saturday and I was ordained a priest by Bishop Swing in Grace Cathedral, San Francisco. A good day to be thankful. (It was a long journey getting there but I won't burden this blog with that story.)
I already had one small banner of Guadalupe with a print of the tilma of Juan Diego. It is very tasteful. Now I am working on two more: larger, more colorful, one with yellows and one with reds. One down, one to go. I also need to assemble the materials I have gathered to make a small palanquin on which we can carry a bulto of Guadalupe.
Twice I have had the privilege of ascending the hill of Tepeyac to visit the Basilica of Guadalupe. On the first trip I was struck by the beautiful words over the doors, words once spoken in Nahuatl to Juantzin.
¿No estoy aquí quien soy tu madre?
Am I not here who am your mother?
Am I not here who am your mother?
I have always felt Mary's presence since that moment.
Señor, Dios nuestro, que has concedido
a tu pueblo la protección maternal
de la siempre Vírgen María, Madre de tu Hijo,
concédenos, por su intercesión,
permanecer siempre firmes en la fe
y servir con sincero amor a nuestros hermanos.
Por nuestro Señor Jesucristo, tu Hijo.
Amén.
--the BB (one of Mary's wayward brats)
6 comments:
That's a magnificent banner! Your artistic hands produce many wonders, we see. To the glory of God (and, yes, for all of us, too!).
You are very kind. All I did was add fabric around a print. God has blessed me with a love of color and texture, combined with joy in juxtaposing them. The workmanship is quite amateur but if God and the saints are honored and people given delight then my joy is complete.
Paul, the banner is beautiful.
I visited the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe many years ago. It was quite a moving experience, especially seeing the devotion of those who ascended the rough steps on their knees - which I didn't do.
The miracle of Guadalupe is one that I'm inclined to believe. It's a lovely story, anyway.
I believe that Jesus wishes us to honor his mother. I carried my devotion to the Virgin with me, when I came to the Episcopal Church. I'm a wayward Mary brat, too.
I'm reminded of this scene from Brideshead Revisited:
“Oh dear, it’s very difficult being a Catholic!”
“Does it make much difference to you?”
“Of course. All the time.”
“Well, I can’t say I’ve noticed it. Are you struggling against temptation? You don’t seem much more virtuous than me.”
“I’m very, very much wickeder,” said Sebastian indignantly.
“… I suppose they try to make you believe an awful lot of nonsense?”
“Is it nonsense? I wish it were. It sometimes sounds terribly sensible to me.”
“But my dear Sebastian, you can’t seriously believe it all.”
“Can’t I?”
“I mean about Christmas and the star and the three kings and the ox and the ass.”
“Oh yes. I believe that. It’s a lovely idea.”
“But you can’t believe things because they’re a lovely idea.”
“But I do. That’s how I believe.”
Paul, that's often how I believe, too.
Yes, the miracle of Guadalupe is one I am also inclined to believe. The greatest miracle is that she allowed the Spaniards and the indigenous to come together and dignified the indigenous by appearing as one of them. When I hear people fret about folks approaching la Morenita on their sometimes bloody knees, my response is "I suppose you would prefer hearts ripped out and bodies tossed off the pyramid?" I am horrified at what the Europeans did to the peoples of Turtle Island in the name of God but I see Guadalupe helping us all to heal and move forward.
My two visits to the basilica were both very moving.
Anent your tale from Brideshead:
My seminary classmate Bob Pankratz and I attended a performance of the Bach B-minor Mass at my undergrad alma mater. After the Icarnatus passage he turned and whispered to me, "Now how can you listen to that and not believe in the Virgin Birth?" {I did not deny it, I was merely agnostic about it, and he was challenging my agnosticism.]
We do often believe because things satisfy our hearts. Many will want rational explanation and proof but you and I are part of what I suspect to be the majority of humanity.
I still want sound reasoning and good theology. But what satisfies me like a meal of comfort food is lighting a candle before the Virgin, kissing an icon, watching the sun rise or a flower unfold, and asking God's mercy on us all.
As I was taking my walk last night, I remembered the words of the "Hail Mary" in Spanish. We'd say it every day at the opening of Spanish class in my RC school. This is from memory, and I won't vouch for it's accuracy.
Salve, María, plena de gracia, el Señor is contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto del tu vientre, Jesús. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen
How did I do?
You did very well, with very minor intrusions of Latin and English. Cheating with Google (because I don't trust my own memory) I get:
Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo.
Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.
Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros, pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.
Amen
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