(1474–1548)
December 9
Icy wind swept down Tepeyac Hill in what is now Mexico, howling like distant voices through the bleak winter landscape. Here the Aztec Indians had once offered human sacrifices to their mother goddess. Then, in 1519, the Spanish conquistador Hernando Cortes had arrived.
Angered by the practice of human sacrifice and greedy for the Aztecs’ gold, Cortes and his men destroyed Tenochtitlan, the great Aztec city. They killed many of the native people and captured the rest, placing them under the care of Bishop Zumarraga and the other Franciscan friars who had come from Spain.
“As brokenhearted as we are over what has taken place,” Bishop Zumarraga told his missionaries, “we must act with generous love to all. This way we may change the hearts of our Spanish soldiers and help to heal the poor Aztecs, who have lost everything.”
Bishop Zumarraga and the friars prayed fervently to the Blessed Virgin Mary for help. Mary, give me a sign that you are with us, the bishop silently pleaded. The native people are resisting our teaching. And who can blame them, after everything that has happened? Lord, have mercy on your Aztec children!
Bishop Zumarraga could not have known that his prayer would one day be answered with a great miracle.
It was Saturday, December 9, 1531. As the sun was beginning to rise, a short, middle-aged Indian walked briskly down the road toward Mexico City, nine miles away. Juan Diego was on his way to morning Mass and a catechism lesson that would follow.
Juan was fifty-seven, but a life of hard work had given his skin a weathered look, making him appear older. His wife had died two years earlier. Juan now lived with his uncle, Juan Bernardino, who had raised him. Juan didn’t mind the long walk. He loved attending religion lessons.
It was cold, and Juan pulled his tilma tightly around him. The tilma was a kind of cloak, often made from the fibers of a cactus plant. It did very little to keep out the winter chill. But it was all the protection that Juan Diego had.
As Juan Diego rounded Tepeyac Hill, he suddenly heard music. But it was no ordinary music. It was as if every bird in the world had joined in one harmonious song. Juan spun around in confusion. What are birds doing out in December? What is happening?
As suddenly as the music had begun, it abruptly stopped. Then Juan heard a young girl’s voice calling his name in his Nahuatl (NAH-wat) language, “Juantzin! Juantzin!” “Little Juan! Little Juan!” In Juan’s native tongue, the addition of tzin to a person’s name was a sign of love and respect reserved only for family members and close friends.
Juan raced up the hill in the direction of the young girl’s voice. He suddenly found himself before the most beautiful Aztec maiden he had ever seen! She was about fourteen years old, but she possessed the great dignity of an emperor’s daughter. The light that radiated from her fantastically colored the rocks and bushes on the bare hill. Juan spontaneously fell to his knees.
“Juantzin, my little son, where are you going?” the Lady asked.
“My Holy One, my Little Lady, I am on my way to Tlatelolco!” Juan Diego answered. “I am going to my religion lesson.”
The Lady smiled, and Juan’s heart felt as if it would burst with joy.
“You must know, and be certain, littlest of my sons,” she said, “that I am truly the ever-Virgin Mary, holy Mother of the true God.”
Can this really be happening? Juan wondered. Can the Mother of God be visiting a poor Indian?
The young Lady continued, “I wish very much to have my church built on this hill. Here I will show everyone my love, my help, and my protection. I am truly your merciful Mother. I am a Mother to you and to all the people dear to me—to those who call upon me, and to those who look for me and trust in me.
“I am the Mother of all who live in this land, and of all people. I am the Mother of all who are devoted to me and of those who come to me for help. Here I will listen to their weeping and their sorrows. I will cure them and make things better for them.
“Go to the bishop of Mexico City and tell him that I sent you and that I wish to have a church built here on Tepeyac Hill. Tell him everything that you have seen and heard.”
“My holy Lady,” Juan answered reverently, “I am your servant. I will go and do as you have said. Wait a while for me. I will return to you.”
With Mary’s words in mind, Juan hurried to Mexico City. He found Bishop Zumarraga’s house and knocked on the door, but the servants wouldn’t let him in. Although they kept him waiting outside for a long time, Juan wouldn’t leave. He had promised the Blessed Virgin that he would bring her message to the bishop, and he was going to keep his word! Finally, Juan was admitted into the bishop’s presence. He told the bishop everything.
Bishop Zumarraga asked many questions. Juan Diego certainly sounded sincere, but the bishop needed more proof. “Thank you for bringing me the message, Juan,” he said kindly. “You may go now. We will speak about these things again another time.”
Juan hurried back to Tepeyac Hill. The young Aztec maiden was still there, waiting for him! Juan knelt down. He had failed in his mission for the Lady.
“My very dear Daughter! My Queen, my Lady,” Juan stammered, “I did what you asked. I gave His Excellency your message, but I don’t think he believed me. Please, my Lady, send some important person with your message. Then the bishop will know it’s true. I am only a poor villager.”
“My well-beloved son,” Mary gently replied, “I have many others whom I could send if I wished, but I want to send you. I want you to go back to the bishop tomorrow, and tell him to build the church that I ask for. Tell him that the one who sends you is the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God.”
Juan Diego looked up at Mary’s radiant smile. “I will do everything you ask,” he replied.
The next morning, after Mass, Juan returned to the bishop’s house. After another long wait he was allowed inside. He faithfully reported everything that the Blessed Mother had told him. The bishop asked more questions. “Go back and ask the Lady for a sign,” he finally said.
Juan left the bishop’s residence feeling like a failure once more. What he didn’t realize was that two of the bishop’s servants were following him. Once he reached Tepeyac Hill, Juan suddenly disappeared! The confused servants had to return to the bishop and report that they had lost him.
Mary was waiting for Juan on the hill. He quickly told her all about his second meeting with Bishop Zumarraga.
“So be it, my little son,” she answered. “Come here tomorrow and I will give you a sign. Once you show it to the bishop, he will believe you.”
That same night, Juan Diego’s uncle came down with a terrible fever. In the morning, Juan realized that his uncle was dying. “Please…call…a priest…Juan,” the older man choked. “I want…to receive…the sacraments.”
Juan raced out of the house. He didn’t want to miss his meeting with the Lady, but he had to bring back a priest for his uncle. I must avoid seeing her, Juan thought anxiously. I must go around Tepeyac Hill.
A gentle voice broke the silence. “Juantzin! Juantzin!” The Blessed Virgin, whom he had been trying to avoid, was coming toward him! Juan froze in embarrassment.
“Where are you going, my little son?” Mary asked.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” he said. “My uncle is dying. I’m hurrying to call a priest for him. As soon as I’ve done this, I will come back to see you, my Little Lady.”
Mary listened with great kindness. “Listen, my son,” she replied. “Don’t be troubled or disturbed. Don’t you know that I will protect you? Don’t you remember that I am your Mother? Do you need anything else? Don’t worry. Your uncle is already cured.”
Juan smiled in relief. He was sure that the heavenly Lady only told the truth. “Then I will carry out your errand right away, my Lady,” he responded.
“Go to the top of the hill where you first saw me, my son,” the Blessed Virgin directed. “There you will find many flowers. Collect them and bring them to me.”
Juan obediently scrambled up the hillside. What he discovered at the summit astounded him. There, blooming in the cracked soil, were the loveliest roses he had ever seen!
Quickly, he took up the front corners of his tilma and began filling the cloak with the fragrant flowers. He eagerly carried them back to Mary. She rearranged them, explaining as she worked, “My little son, these roses are the sign that you are to take to the bishop. Tell him you have come in my name and that he must do what I ask.”
With that, Juan hurried off once more to Bishop Zumarraga’s residence. The servants were irritated. “When will this Indian stop bothering His Excellency?” one muttered. “And what’s that he’s carrying?” the other asked. When Juan showed them a few of the roses, they grasped at them but were unable to touch them. Nervous and confused, they quickly ushered Juan into the house.
“I have the Lady’s sign!” Juan exclaimed to the surprised bishop. Lowering the corners of his tilma, Juan let the roses spill onto the floor. Bishop Zumarraga stared in disbelief. Castilian roses don’t grow here! Suddenly the bishop sank to his knees. He was no longer looking at the scattered roses. His gaze was fixed on Juan Diego’s tilma.
Perhaps my tilma is not good enough for the Lady’s flowers! Juan thought for a moment. Then he looked down and gasped in amazement. There, on his tilma, was a beautiful picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary—exactly as she had appeared on Tepeyac Hill!
“Juan,” the bishop whispered with emotion, “may I keep your tilma in my chapel until a church is built for the Blessed Virgin Mary?”
“Of course, Your Excellency!” Juan happily answered.
Juan spent that night at the bishop’s residence. The next day he led Bishop Zumarraga to Tepeyac Hill and showed him just where Mary had appeared. A crowd of people went along with them. To everyone’s surprise, the hilltop was brown and bare. No sign of the roses remained. Juan then returned to his home. He found his uncle in good health. “After you left to call a priest, the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to me,” Juan’s uncle explained. “She cured me right away! She wants a church built on the hill where you saw her. The Virgin said that the bishop would call her by the name ‘Ever-Virgin Holy Mary of Guadalupe.’”
News of Mary’s visits to Juan Diego spread quickly. Men and women from all over Mexico worked enthusiastically to build the church that the Virgin Mary had requested.
On December 26, Juan Diego’s tilma was carried in solemn procession from the bishop’s chapel to the new adobe church on Tepeyac Hill.
“Will you serve as guardian of the Virgin’s shrine, Juan?” Bishop Zumarraga asked. “You will have to tell the story of the Blessed Mother’s apparitions to everyone who comes to visit and pray here.”
“I will repeat it gladly as long as I live!” Juan exclaimed.
Juan Diego lived in a small house by the shrine for about seventeen years. He told the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe and of her apparitions to everyone who visited. Juan always considered himself Mary’s humble servant. He never took any credit for the part he had played in bringing Mary’s message to the bishop. Juan Diego died in 1548 at the age of seventy-four. He was declared a saint by Pope John Paul II in Mexico on July 31, 2002.
We celebrate the memorial of St. Juan Diego each year on December 9. On December 12, three days later, we celebrate the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
St. Juan Diego, who was not born into a Christian family, but was baptized as an adult, never took his Catholic faith for granted. It became a very real and important part of his everyday life. Juan was always eager to learn more about God and the Blessed Mother. He was just as eager to do whatever they asked of him—like trying to convince the bishop that Mary had appeared to him and wanted a church built on Tepeyac Hill—even when it wasn’t easy. Let’s ask St. Juan to help us to be strong in our faith and open to God’s will in our lives.