December 12th is a hard day for me. In 2007 I had my back surgery, placing in 6 feet of titanium rods with 26 screws drilled into my vertebrae. It is also the day we lost one of our children to a miscarriage. + Another time we had an accident with one of our cars, and several other events that I won’t mention because they are just too personal, too raw. I have physical and emotional scars, just like everyone else. Even now, 12 years after my surgery I still find myself sour and taciturn on that day.
In order to combat that my wife and I joined together with a group from our Parish and we decided to consecrate ourselves to Our Lady. December 12th is the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, we thought it appropriate to give these hurts to our Blessed Mother. So last night we attended the beautiful Mass at our Parish and listened as our community joined together singing in Spanish and English to honor Mary. Why do we do that? Many of our Protestant brothers and sisters have a problem with it. Not because of what we do, but because of what they think we do.
There was an interesting word in the singing last night, at one point they called Mary the “Orgullo de Nuestra Raza.” That means the highest honor of our race. Orgullo is kind of like pride, esteemed, respected! That means that not only do we hold her up in esteem, but that we believe her someone to be respected, honored! Why? Some would argue that she’s just a human and guess what she is. Being human doesn’t mean others can’t honor you or respect you. We do it all the time with our relatives, elders, politicians, teachers, and celebrities. Now in a perfect world, we’d respect people just because they are made in the image of God. American culture tends to say “you have to earn respect.”
With that in mind, let’s talk about what Mary did. Mary said yes, first and foremost. To a plan that she might not have understood at the time, but that she committed to wholeheartedly. She pondered on the things being said to her, and even listened as it was prophesied that a “sword would pierce her heart.” No matter what was happening, even as her son was hanging on the cross, she was there as the first of all disciples, still giving her yes to God’s plan. As the sword of anguish split her heart asunder at the foot of the cross, how easy would it have been to turn away and reject God? To say no, stop this now! That’s my son! She didn’t. This is why we honor her. We don’t worship her, we don’t put her above God, but we honor her for her role and her yes. We do as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55), and we call her blessed. We respect her.
As Catholics we also believed she has appeared to many people over the years, hence the Feast for Today. At roughly the same time as the Protestant reformation began to cause Catholicism to dwindle in the anglo world of Europe, Mary appeared to a young man named Juan Diego, culminating with the miracle of the image on his Tilma and roses that convinced the Bishop of the authenticity of that apparition. December 12th, 1531. Within 9 years almost 9 million native Mexican Indians converted from their child sacrificing religions to Catholicism, giving their lives to Christ. These are just some of the reasons we honor her, why we believe her to be the Orgullo, the highest honor, the pride of the human race.
Today, as I was driving, a song came on the radio.
So I’m thankful for the scars
‘Cause without them I wouldn’t know Your heart
And I know they’ll always tell of who You are
So forever I am thankful for the scars
It helped me once again to reflect on why I had consecrated myself to Mary, and why I continue to do so. It’s because I truly am thankful. There is a lot of pain and sorrow associated with many of those events on that same day, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be pain-free. What I do know is this, I am thankful for it. If not for my back surgery there are many events that might not have happened. I wouldn’t have been there with our daughter as she took her first steps, or said her first words. I might not have been able to go to adoration that week for my friend Father Tim, the very event that cemented my conversion to the Catholic Church. Would I have been home for so many memories that now hold a place so dear I’d never give them up? Would I have served funerals for friends and loved ones? Or could I have had the time or spiritual wherewithal to discern and proceed with the study required for the Diaconate?
Looking back, I wouldn’t trade any of it. A friend of mine stopped me the other day when I said I hadn’t done anything this week but lay in bed because of the traveling we’ve done. When we got back from Virginia (22 hours of driving), I was so sore and emotionally exhausted I didn’t have the energy or ability to go anywhere or do anything. He said to me: “You sacrificed your health and your energy to go see your family, you gave up comfort to visit them. If your suffering means nothing, then Jesus’ suffering means nothing.” I don’t know if he realizes how hard that hit right where I needed to be hit. I can say honestly I am thankful for the scars, without them, I wouldn’t know who You are, Jesus. What about you? Are you thankful for the scars?
A reflection on the readings for December 12th, 2019: The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe