By Blane Schriock
Diocesan Seminarian

My St. Paul Seminary classmates and I embarked on a pilgrimage and mission trip January 3-14, to Mexico that deeply touched my heart. Over the course of 12 days, we were immersed in the beauty of the Catholic faith alive in another culture. Through moments of prayer and service we grew closer to Christ, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the poorest of the poor in soup kitchens, garbage dumps, orphanages, and the streets of Mexico City.

One of the highlights for me was visiting the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, home to the miraculous tilma (or poncho) of St. Juan Diego. In 1531, the Virgin Mary appeared to this humble indigenous man at Tepeyac Hill and entrusted to him a special mission. She asked for a church to be built there in her honor, and when the skeptical bishop requested a sign, she provided one. Mary instructed Juan Diego to gather Castilian roses — miraculously blooming in winter and not native to Mexico — and carry them in his tilma to the local bishop. When Juan Diego presented the roses, they fell to the ground, revealing an image of Our Lady miraculously imprinted on the tilma.

The tilma still continues to miraculously defy scientific explanation almost 500 years later. Its vibrant colors (made from a scientifically unknown source) and other mysterious details include over a dozen symbols uniting Aztec and European imagery. This image of the Virgin Mary sparked the conversion of nine million indigenous peoples, ending the poverty of human sacrifice in Mexico and bringing the joyful light of Christ to a people deeply wounded by darkness. Praying with this miraculous image hanging behind the altar in the basilica, I felt her motherly gaze inviting me to surrender the false sacrifices and sins of my heart and so offer my life anew to Christ by her gentle help.

This same light of Christ shone in our encounters with the poorest of the poor. At a garbage dump where countless families live in unimaginable conditions, we met people who radiated the deep wellsprings of Christ’s own joy despite their poverty. Their faith and love revealed a richness that goes beyond earthly possessions. Similarly, at soup kitchens, orphanages, and on the streets, we witnessed how Christ’s presence transforms even the direst of circumstances into the most fruitful of encounters.

All of these experiences reminded me that just as Mary brought Christ’s joy to the Aztecs in their spiritual and cultural poverty 500 years ago, she offers the same to us in the areas of our own poverty today — whether material, physical, emotional, or spiritual. Her maternal care and intercession bring Christ’s light into our own darkness, inviting us to embrace the joy and hope that only he can provide. This pilgrimage revealed for me a particular beauty of our faith: that Christ meets us in our needs, and through Mary, he brings the light of his love to transform our lives.