By Any Other Name
The Blessed Mother. The Virgin Mary. Holy Mary, Mother of God.
The mother of Jesus is renowned under these titles and many, many more, and the Church Fathers, among theologians and believers across the ages, have held to the idea that the entire Christian story begins with the Annunciation; the angel Gabriel declared that God had chosen Mary to be the mother of his only begotten son. Her unparalleled charism, second only to Christ himself, quietly permeates much of the gospel, and includes the story of Cana, where during a wedding, the Lord turned water into wine. This came after Mary’s instruction to the wine steward, to “do whatever [Jesus] tells you to do.” Notice how she inveighs upon her son to act.
From the 7th century and possibly earlier, the doctrine of the Assumption, Mary’s corporal transition to heaven, underpins her increasing primacy as our intercessor. Not to bypass a millennium of history, but especially throughout the Middle Ages, when in the words of the novelist Michel Houellebecq Mary was the “beating heart” of the church, her presence and her power are relied upon, year after year and day after day.
In 1531 near Mexico City, a native peasant named Juan Diego underwent a visitation from the Blessed Mother. As proof that she was who she said she was, Juan was instructed to gather roses from a nearby hillside and present them to the local archbishop, flowers that were entirely out of season, and in any event, had never grown in Mexico. Juan gathered the roses into his cloak, or tilma, for transport, and when he arrived at the archbishop’s residence and opened the tilma, there was depicted the now-familiar image of Mary, surrounded by these same roses, and outfitted in Aztec garb. And so, a mass conversion among the indigenous took place, and today that same cloak with its holy imprint remains on display at the church that was built on the site of the visitation, where Mary is revered—there and throughout the world—as Our Lady of Guadalupe.
In the foothills of the Pyrenees mountains of France, during the year 1858, a vision of a young woman was revealed to a teenage girl named Bernadette Soubirous. Later, there appeared a spring whose waters coalesced from muddy to clear, and after drinking from this spring, a local resident suffering a partial paralysis testified that her affliction was gone. The vision of the young woman reappeared, and when Bernadette asked her name she replied, “I am the Immaculate Conception.” We know her today as Our Lady of Lourdes.
Subsequent cures attributed to these healing waters became documented “signs” as they’re called in John’s gospel, or as we think of them today, miracles. The church restricts these otherwise inexplicable healings to the physical (totaling at present 72 documented cases) but has likewise always stressed spiritual realignment, notwithstanding bodily or mental health, as the result of a pilgrimage to this shrine.
Our Lady of Fatima, made manifest for three shepherd children in 1917 in Portugal, arrived bearing dire warnings and chastisements in a series of apparitions. These culminated in the Miracle of the Sun, which was witnessed, according to estimates, by some 70 thousand people. Among these were obviously many of the faithful, but that number includes the skeptical, the cynical, and the outright atheistic, who reported they saw the sun spinning in the sky, rushing toward the earth and shooting flames toward the ground. Eyewitness accounts are numerous. Feel free to conduct your own research regarding the young seers and the Fatima prophecies. Not for the faint of heart.
Celebrated on August 5th, The Feast of Our Lady of the Snow comes fast on the heels of Our Lady of Mt Carmel, whose raucous Brooklyn recognition concluded three weeks ago. In the respective events, Mary’s celebration under this title is less sprawling. The devotion suffers from no less intensity.
Her story begins in Rome in the year 352. A wealthy childless couple desired to donate their riches to a charitable cause and reached out to the Blessed Mother, praying for guidance on the best use of their legacy. She appeared to them both in a dream, instructing them to build a church where they saw “the snow.” In Rome. In August. Nevertheless, the couple sought an audience with Pope Liberius and, to their astonishment, learned that the pope had experienced the same dream.
The faithful set out to seek this miraculous snow, and there they found it, on Esquiline Hill. Liberius ordered a church constructed on the site, where today stands the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore.
A serious complication devolved from this miracle when, during the Byzantine Iconoclasm, the Eastern Church, long uneasy with what could be construed as worship of graven images but perhaps under baleful Muhammadan influence as well, sought to eradicate artistic representations of Christ, his Blessed Mother, and the saints. Alarmed over the possible destruction of their beloved icon, Our Lady of the Snow, a Greek couple residing in Sanza, in the deep south of the Italian peninsula, buried their statue in a cave on Mount Cervi. Uncovered around 900 AD, the Sanzese commenced a devotion to Our Lady of the Snow, and each year on July 27th, the faithful of carry a statue Our Lady to that same peak. Masses are celebrated, prayers are repeated, devotions are launched heavenward, and on August 5th, the statue is then transported back down the mountain to mark this feast.
Much in the way of their compatriots ensconced mere blocks away at Our Lady of Mount Carmel, and like all immigrants everywhere, the Sanzese brought their traditions with them to the new world. Founded in 1888, near the onset of mass emigration from southern Italy and Sicily, the Society of St. Mary of the Snow calls itself the oldest mutual aid society in New York, its mission to assist the then-recent arrivals from Sanza. We can assume this aid took the form of finding housing and employment for the newcomers and keeping immigrants connected to family members left behind.
As the Italian American diaspora has drifted into the ether of suburbia, the Society’s numbers today are fewer, but their core remains intact. At a recent event hosted by the Ladies’ Auxiliary of the Society, we listened to encouraging talk of revival, and tradition upheld. The charitable works continue, if less direct, with coat drives and monetary contributions to organizations better situated to address specific needs, such as homelessness.
The foundational miracle of Our Lady of the Snow has long been called into question by the Church, but, not unlike the unverified healings at Lourdes, to those whose belief is true, whose faith remains steadfast, it makes no difference. Catholicism itself is tied as much to devotion as it is to doctrine, as much to tradition as it is to orthodoxy, to legend as it is to hard fact. Occupying the placid center of it all stands the Queen of All Saints, Mystical Rose, Morning Star. Our Blessed Mother, by any other name, calling us all to her son, Jesus, and so to God. Calling all of her children home.
