The celebration of the Virgen of Guadalupe, the mother of Jesus, is December 12th. For my faith, race, and culture, it is more than a date on the liturgical calendar; she represents life and hope. She appeared to a poor and indigenous Juan Diego who held no status or position. She appeared as a dark-skinned woman dressed in Mesoamerican clothes and spoke Nahuatl, Juan Diego's mother tongue. In the indigenous tradition, the sash on her dress indicates she is with child. She appeared to those the world rejects. It is the Good News of Jesus Christ.
She provides the hope of Jesus for those society relegates to the margins, all those who are different. That may be why we hold her close to our hearts. She profoundly affects everyone she encounters. Rich and poor, young and old, healthy and sick, comfortable and troubled, saint and sinner. My grandmother used to say that if people denigrate or knock you down, La Virgen gives you the strength to get up with the pride of who you are and keep moving forward.
The Fiestas de la Virgen was the year's most important celebration for my grandmother and our family. Decorating an altar with roses, singing songs, food (a communal feast where you would move from home to home in the neighborhood), praying, lighting candles, and the procession following a sung Mariachi Mass.
Every year, I walked in the procession dressed as Juan Diego. I wear the Medal of La Virgen given to me by Suzanne and Jude on my first Father’s Day. This mural is painted on the portal of our house in Albuquerque; she is always near and watching over my family. Yes, that is me when I was about 8 or 9, ready to walk in the procession. Don’t you love that early 70’s haircut?
She is more than a symbol or identity of faith or culture; she is part of who I am.