Akathist to Our Lady of Guadalupe

Juan Diego’s tilma
bearing the image of the Lady of Guadalupe

Akathist to Our Lady of Guadalupe

by

Fr. Stephen P. Morris

An introduction before we pray

How this Akathist was composed

What follows here is an Akathist of my own composition to the Virgin Mary ~ Our
Lady of Guadalupe. We know that an Akathist is the prayer-gift of the Eastern
Christian Church. Akathist means standing prayer. There are dozens of Akathists
— the most well known is the 7th century Akathist to the Theotokos. But there are
many more composed to honor saints or icons bearing titles of the Mother of God

I attempted twice without success to make contact with a man who is said to be
familiar with the “ins and outs' ' of Akathist composition. In time I took his silence
as a sign that I could learn the essentials independently and set out in composing a
hymn-prayer in Honor of the Guadalupe Mother of God. I have visited Mary’s
shrine at Guadalupe twice — in gratitude I feel I owe her this.

I’ve followed the simplest Akatist format: thirteen sections, each introduced with
paired parts called Kontakion and Ikos. The couplets are then followed by 13 lines
each beginning with the word Rejoice. The Kontakion and Ikos serve as brief
sermon-like bursts that tell a story. The rejoice lines seem to serve as overflow
responses to that story.

Akathist appear to have long introductory prayers. I’ve not followed that practice
as the piling up of prayers doesn't seem helpful to me. The thirteenth section of an
Akathist is a repeat of the first. I’ve ended the prayer with the twelfth for the sake
of simplicity. That seems apt as the product of four and three is twelve. Four is the
number of things human and three the number of things divine. In number
symbology then, twelve is a coming together of things humans and divine. That’s
what prayer is, yes?

In our contentious world I might imagine some people lining up to criticize the
work, that it’s all wrong and doesn't fit the bill. I’m not concerned about any of

that. A 71 year old priest should care only about giving God the Glory, honor to the
Mother of God and that people be helped to pray. Formats are not of divine origin.

The Akathist here is arranged handily in book form. The pages are advanced with a
simple screen touch.

Some historical context for the Guadalupe account.

The first European to visit Mexico was Francisco Hernández de Córdoba, arriving
in Cuba 1517 with three ships and one hundred men. Soon after this discovery the
Spanish governor, Diego Velasquez, sent a larger force from Spain back to Mexico
led by Hernán Cortés.

In March of 1519 Cortes landed at Tabasco where he discovered the Aztec nation
then ruled by Montezuma and their practice of human sacrifice. Cortes founded
Vera Cruz on the south eastern Mexican coast where he trained a fighting army. He
then led 400 men into Mexico making expedient alliances with natives who were
already at war with Montezuma.

In November 1519 Cortes and his men were welcomed by Montezuma as honored
guests according to Aztec custom. Cortes’ light skin resembled that of an Aztec
god whose return had been prophesied.

The Aztecs had more soldiers but the Spanish had superior weapons. They
immediately took Montezuma and his entourage hostage and gained control of
Tenochtitlan. In the “Night of Sorrows” thousands of Aztec nobles were murdered.
Mntezuma died under uncertain circumstances while in custody.

European diseases spread rapidly. Smallpox, mumps and measles took many lives
as the Aztecs lacked immunity. By 1520 the population had been reduced by 40%.
A Franciscan priest spoke of the bodies being heaped up so high the only way to
bury them was to tear down the homes on top of them.

Montezuma’s nephew mounted a failed resistance to the Spanish conquest. 240,000
died during the ninety-three days of battle. The city’s conquest ended the Aztec

empire by August of 1521. Cortes destroyed Tenochtitlan and built Mexico City on
the ruins. Mexico City became the premier European center of the New World.

In 1524 Franciscan Missionaries arrived to convert the remaining natives to
Christianity. Violence followed the forced conversions and the destruction of the
Aztec religion.

In 1531 The Virgin Mary appeared to Juan Diego who was a Christian convert. A
member of a defeated/conquered people, he was on his way to Saturday morning
Mass when the first of four apparitions occurred. But as the story unfolds he also
will serve as a link between the two worlds — Euro-Christianity and Aztec
indigenous people.

The Lady who appears to Juan Diego is a blend of European and Aztec
characteristics. She uses the Aztec name for God. Tepeyac mountain has Aztec
significance. The flowers on her dress, the stars on her mantle, all have Aztec
symbolic meaning. The Spanish bishop, Juan de Zumárraga, is not the recipient of
the Marian appearance but has to be convinced and brought into the mystery
revealed to Juan Diego. The Lady restores the defeated man’s dignity,
commissioning him as her emissary to the bishop who represents the religion of the
conquerors.

Did the Aztecs deserve to have their empire and culture destroyed because they
practiced human sacrifice? No, they needed to be awakened to their ignorance.
But every people in every time and place needs to be lifted out of ignorance. That’s
what conversion is. We need to be converted from the idea that abortion is the great
problem solver. Gun idolaters need conversion.. An economy that leaves so many
people behind needs conversion. A prison system that punishes but does not
rehabilitate needs conversion. Sex-enslavers need conversion. Boy and girl sex
abusers and those who cover for them need conversion. Politicians who break their
word need conversion. Leadership-liars need conversion. Selfish people in a time
of pandemic need conversion. The Aztecs had no corner on ignorance.

It seems to me, after living seven decades of Christiaity, and my foundational years
in a kind of Christiaity I believe was obsessed with sin, that the real spiritual

problem is not sin, but ignorance. When the worst had been done, the crucified
Jesus said, “Father forgive them, they do not know what they are doing.” Luke
23:34. Ignorance comes from the Latin ignorantia — not knowing. I’d suggest
Christians should be expert at combating ignorance, which is not the same as
sponsoring schools which are mind-filling indoctrination centers or safe havens
from the secular world. Christianity, fundamentally a spiritual way, should help us
to become people of light — persons each striving to bring our innermost selves up
and into Christ-light.

Kontakion I

I awoke this morning to see the dawn — the gold, the pink of the new day./ My
first thoughts turned to you and your mothering appearance,/ singing from my
heart the song: Alleluia!

Ikos I

While it was still dark on Saturday morning,/ Juan Diego made his way through
desert-y hills./ Then the air was charged with light,/ the plants sparkled like
beyond-price stones,/ the conquered man heard his diminutive name called.

Rejoice, heavenly Mother with a human face.
Rejoice, who speaks to us with great courtesy.
Rejoice, Mother of the unheard, uncounted.
Rejoice, for you, every face matters.
Rejoice, lighting up a new consciousness.
Rejoice, harming no one.
Rejoice, pure of heart.
Rejoice, for you, everything belongs to God.
Rejoice, Mother of non-aggression.
Rejoice, for those who want to see God.
Rejoice, revive docility in us.
Rejoice, in your transfigured appearance.

Kontakion II

Colossal mistakes are made in religion/ when a church allies with colonizing
powers./ Nothing good comes about for God or man,/ and the hushed world longs
to cry: Alleluia!

Ikos II

Christ’s Gospel is launched by the angel’s appearance/ and your glad ascent to the
divine request./ Now Good News advances with the Tepeyac vision — your
descending in light to be with us.

Rejoice, who turns tears to joy.
Rejoice, feminine face of heaven.
Rejoice, catalyst of Cana’s signs.
Rejoice, who chooses the littlest.
Rejoice, delighting in our best efforts.
Rejoice, our highest esteem.
Rejoice, who we call remedy.
Rejoice, changing the color of sins to those of a new day.
Rejoice, stepping decisively into a wretched world.
Rejoice, who comes to heal divisions.
Rejoice, accompanied by birdsong.
Rejoice, in a golden mist.
Rejoice, listening to the anguished.

Kontakion III

When the Aztec nation had been reduced,/ its people, culture and resources
plundered,/ you showed yourself an inclusive healer./ Now in our own cruel time,/
your story and image both condole and cheer./ We, a grateful people sing: Alleluia!

Ikos III

Seeing ourselves as the only norm,/ old hatreds re-emerge as if from an
underworld./ You correct our error with a vision of tenderness,/ touching
consciences long ago plateaued.

Rejoice, even the ground and hills sparkle — enliven hearts.
Rejoice, bridge in a world of walls.
Rejoice, our sigh before you carries an invocation.
Rejoice, to return your gaze is a felt prayer.
Rejoice, echoing Christ’s, Do not be afraid.
Rejoice, even if there’d been no fall, you would still be our mother.
Rejoice, dispellor of acrimony and confusion.
Rejoice, encouraging us to look closely.
Rejoice, spanning the vast distances of our divisions.
Rejoice, love that cannot be concealed.
Rejoice, patterned in flowers, that justice would grow in us.
Rejoice, who desires encounter, though we strive to circumvent you.
Rejoice, who sees our bucket-filling tears.

Kontakion IV

You stepped at once into three erring worlds — the Aztec world of human
sacrifice,/ the disease-bearing world of euro-enslavement,/ the Christian world of
hell-damnation./ Mother of turning hearts may we learn to sing out: Alleluia!

Ikos IV

The conquerors said they’d come to explore,/ but instead created a culture of
slavery,/ family destruction,/ punishment and death./ We’re all enslaved, O Mother
of God,/ to passions of consumerism,/ power and greed.

Rejoice, in a world of forgetting, you remember God’s love.
Rejoice, in whom God’s word dwells richly.
Rejoice, whose name is wonderful.
Rejoice, who stands by us as we stand before God.
Rejoice, affirming us as children of a heavenly parent.
Rejoice, asking for a temple — but isn’t that a hospitable heart?
Rejoice, appearing to the littlest.
Rejoice, treasuring the ones we erase.
Rejoice, commissioning the least.
Rejoice, who is joy to the world.
Rejoice, the December earth thaws — how much more a human heart.
Rejoice, who looks like us in our variety.
Rejoice, friend to those who feel unseen.
Rejoice, Mother of the higher things.

Kontakion V

Before first light on Saturday morning,/ Juan Diego made his way through desert
hills./ In your first exchange,/ you asked, O Lady,/ for a temple to be built,/ a home
where people of every nation might come./ Juan Diego demurred/ but followed the
instruction,/ on the way his heart, learning to sing: Alleluia!

Ikos V

Sent away by the bishop,/ his account dismissed,/ the defeated man returned to you
sad and empty-handed./ Again the plants sparkled like precious stones/ and the
peasant’s face lifted to see your own.

Rejoice, who opens eyes, dispelling ignorance.
Rejoice, understanding the shame of abandoned children.
Rejoice, rehabilitating our degradation.
Rejoice, beloved, listening Mother.
Rejoice, love beyond dogma and nation.
Rejoice, Mother of all in misery and misfortune.
Rejoice, Mother of the robbed, the exploited, the vanquished.
Rejoice, alluring presence punishing no one.
Rejoice, healing trauma, exhaustion and sickness.
Rejoice, who converts with the gift of flowers.
Rejoice, wearing the blue-green of divinity.
Rejoice, whose black band signifies the expectation of life.
Rejoice, whose flowered dress evokes the truth.

Kontakion VI

Rejecting the seer’s excuses,/ and his pleas for another to be sent of greater worth,/
you endorsed him O Lady, as your esteemed emissary./ Strengthening news for us
who struggle with despair./ Angels watched and sang: Alleluia!

Ikos VI

Perhaps weak in faith,/ overwhelmed or confounded,/ the bishop again sent Juan
Diego away/ with a testy mandate, “Ask the Lady for a sign.”

Rejoice, who laughs at our money-power illusion.
Rejoice, who laughs when we say, “This belongs to me.”
Rejoice, God’s painted word on your tilma.
Rejoice, a resurrection in our crucified world.
Rejoice, salvation is now.
Rejoice, healing in the midst of darkness and death.
Rejoice, who lifts the bowed head.
Rejoice, flowers bloom in the place of dust and stone.
Rejoice, desert flowers in the wintry air.
Rejoice, appearing in the night of our ignorance, chaos and desolation.
Rejoice, in the night of our forgetting how to be human.
Rejoice, who does not leave us saddened.
Rejoice, desiring what is best for all.

Kontakion VII

Aligning himself with the conquering power,/ the suspicious bishop had dismissed
Juan Diego./ But the heavenly Lady called him by name,/ consoling his heart by
shared thoughts and word./ From an interior singleness of heart he cried out:
Alleluia!

Ikos VII

Returning to Tepeyac,/ Juan Diego conveyed the bishop’s test to the mystical
Lady./ Anticipating heaven’s action,/ “Come back tomorrow when I will give you
the sign.”

Rejoice, who advances in a darkness splintering light.
Rejoice, whose hands carry no weapons.
Rejoice, life’s cruelty vanishing in your presence.
Rejoice, drawing us back to compassion.
Rejoice, seeing the ones who have blood on their hands.
Rejoice, revolution of the heart.
Rejoice, Mother of the hated; who do not hate in return.
Rejoice, upholding those who have never had a good day.
Rejoice, no nationalist patron, but Mother for all.
Rejoice, Mother of encounter — no one owns you.
Rejoice, who sees the disappeared.
Rejoice, who fills a room with joy.
Rejoice, edicule of God’s nearness.

Kontakion VIII

Returning home/ Juan Diego learned of his uncle’s dire sickness — perhaps the
plague carried by the conquerors./ Nearing death he went off to call for a priest
who would bring the Last Sacraments,/ prayers carrying the angel-cry: Alleluia!

Ikos VIII

Intending to avoid delays,/ and hoping to elude the Lady,/ Juan Diego went off by a
different route around the mountain./ But she descended the hill/ intercepting him
in the middle of the road./ Without scolding she addressed him with maternal
words,/ “What’s wrong?”

Rejoice, the world in the folds of your mantle.
Rejoice, who banishes labels — a temple for all.
Rejoice, disquieting the comfortable.
Rejoice, gathering north, south, east and west.
Rejoice, wisdom-entering soul.
Rejoice, guiding us along a marvelous way.
Rejoice, sheltering us by night, by day.
Rejoice, holy and blameless before God.
Rejoice, upon whom glorious grace is freely bestowed.
Rejoice, the eyes of your heart enlightened.
Rejoice, in the immeasurable beauty of God.
Rejoice, first to hear the name, Jesus.
Rejoice, Jesus, God’s human name.
Rejoice, divinity tapping on our hearts.

Kontakion IX

“Your uncle is already healed,” the Lady shares./ As mother she understands the
human heart, asking,/ “Is there anything else you need?”/ A happy world resounds:
Alleluia!

Ikos IX

As instructed he climbs Tepeyac once again,/ despite winter weather,/ a fanciful
garden appears in full bloom./ Perhaps stupefied but in humility,/ he cuts
moisture-laden flowers,/ collecting them in the mantle he has gathered around his
neck.

Rejoice, first disciple.
Rejoice, always appearing by the water, the plants, the air.
Rejoice, bowing before God in deepest humility.
Rejoice, Tepeyac, echoing Christ’s Beatitude mount.
Rejoice, who proclaims God’s greatness.
Rejoice, receiving the shepherd-guests.
Rejoice, recreative Mother.
Rejoice, standing with the bare-footed.
Rejoice, summoning the mourners up into joy.
Rejoice, we are God’s own dear children.
Rejoice, with you, trusting God’s eternal mercy.
Rejoice, God routs the arrogant of heart.
Rejoice, God raises high the lowly.

Kontakion X

Tepeyac is alive with color and scent,/ even dewed flowers in the season of ice./
The Lady arranges the flowers/ as mothers do/ sending the seer off to rouse
Zumárraga’s heart./ Then he will join in the great: Alleluia!

Ikos X

The bishop’s retinue is curious about the tilma’s contents./ Feeling entitled, the
servants reach into the mantle,/ after flowers which elude their grasping./ Perhaps
only the clean of heart can see and touch.

Rejoice, dressed in a constellated night.
Rejoice, deepen our care for our paradise world.
Rejoice, divine-human collaboration.
Rejoice, announcing a new start.
Rejoice, even the birds sing to you, “Highly favored.”
Rejoice, locus of beauty in the land of trouble.
Rejoice, no threats of hell or eternal damnation.
Rejoice, revitalizing Juan Diego, no more human subjugation.
Rejoice, in your appearance, no more violence, no more killing.
Rejoice, in your presence there is no shame.
Rejoice, in your presence there are no minorities.
Rejoice, who completes religion in your feminine face.
Rejoice, by your appearance the human is touched by the divine.

Kontakion XI

Juan Bernadino claims he too has seen the Lady/ who identifies herself as the
Perfect Virgin Holy Mary./ With the defeated lifted up/ the moribund restored,/
with the Perfect of Heart,/ let us cry out to heaven: Alleluia!

Ikos XI

When the tilma is unfurled,/ the exquisite flowers fall to the floor,/ as do the
bishop,/ his coterie and household./ The room is perfumed and a second wonder
comes into view,/ your image O Lady,/ mystically rendered on the poor man’s
cloak.

Rejoice, in your gaze we see ourselves as God sees us.
Rejoice, who reveals the gifts of the little and the poor.
Rejoice, Tepeyac, new Sinai’s law of protection and peace.
Rejoice, in the restoration of Juan Diego’s dignity.
Rejoice, make us your trusted messengers as well.
Rejoice, convert us to recognize our own goodness and worth.
Rejoice, among God’s children, no one is inferior or superior.
Rejoice, no one is peripheral.
Rejoice, in the desert blooming, may an ever-greater humanity bloom in us.
Rejoice, may we intimidate no one.
Rejoice, walking across the barriers of separation.
Rejoice, Mother lifting up the Americas.
Rejoice, who desires for every person to feel at home.

Kontakion XII

All of creation plays its part,/ a tiny angel upholds your starred tilma imprint, O
Lady;/ his colored wings both excite and console./ How can we but cry out:
Alleluia!

Ikos XII

You did not appear to the bishop, O Mother of God,/ but to the one who called
himself, a bit of rope, tail on the dog, a leaf./ Then, the bishop’s heart turned,/ he
joined the great see-ing,/ fulfilling your modest request.

Rejoice, revolution of tenderness.
Rejoice, towards a unity of hearts.
Rejoice, towards a new shared vision.
Rejoice, heart filled with amazement.
Rejoice, unique source of joy.
Rejoice, protect us from the violent ones
Rejoice, guide us in the way of wholeness.
Rejoice, Mother of the abused.
Rejoice, Mother of those made passive and silent.
Rejoice, Mother of those we think we can do without.
Rejoice, radiant face of tenderness for all in need.
Rejoice, sharing the Christ-call to inner turning.
Rejoice, standing with us in friendship.

A note about the word explorers.

Explorers are not looking for scenic places from which to send postcards back
home — they are looking for territory and resources. Exploration is a commercial
(money) venture. They are exploring in search of strategic empire outposts. In our
own time, we might think of the Falkland War of 1982. Great Britain went to war
with Argentina — a bitter, deadly, twelve and a half billion dollar war waged to
secure islands 8000 miles away. That war claimed the lives of 907 navy personnel.
Exploration and empire expansion can be costly.

The world of exploration sounds benign or even glorious. But explorations quickly
become sad stories of winners and losers, false alliances, torture, imprisonment,
slavery, destruction, theft, human subjugation, rape, slavery, blood and murder.
That’s the cultural context for the appearance of the Perfect Virgin Holy Mary to
Juan Diego.

She is Mary with a human face and message. That message doesn’t proclaim a new
dogma but is gospel-like. Indeed her story is sometimes called a 5th gospel. It is a
story flowing from the Incarnation — that our religion doesn’t disdain, ignore, or
think the world is simply a valley of tears to be suffered until we die and then go to
an eternal heavenly happy land. God has gone to a great deal of trouble to come to
be with us. The priest poet, Gerard Manely Hopkins writes that even if there had
been no “fall” God would still have come to our world in Christ for love of us. And
so the Lady restores Juan Diego’s stolen dignity. Every life, every person matters
to God. In creating this Akathist to the Lady of Guadalupe I’ve attempted to reflect
that awareness.