Her Perfect Beauty

I ran just three little miles today, but picked them out of the earth like flowers in the honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe, whose feast day is tomorrow. Her story reminds us that the lowly are the most precious in their ability to realize the extraordinary beauty of the Eternal.

Here's an excerpt from the account of her appearance to Juan Diego, a Mexica Aztec indian peasant, in 1531. Called the Nican Mopohua, it was written in the 16th century in the Nahuatl poetry tradition, which offers some of the most beautiful poetry in the history of the Americas:

7. As he approached the small hill called Tepeyac, as the day was already breaking,
8. he heard singing from the small hill, like the song of many fine birds; when their voices ceased it was as if the hill answered with songs even more gentle, more joyful than those of the coyoltototl, the tzinitzcan and of other delicate song birds.
9. Juan stopped to look around. He said to himself: "Am I worthy of what I hear? Perhaps I am only dreaming it? Perhaps I am only seeing it as in dream?
10. Where am I? Where do I find myself? Could this be the place that the old ones, our ancestors, spoke about; the land of flowers, the land of corn, of our meat and our sustenance? Could this be the heavenly land?"
11. He stood looking up towards the top of the hill, from the side where the sun rises, from where the beautiful celestial song came.
12. When the song suddenly ceased, when it could no longer be heard, then he began to hear someone calling him from the top of the little hill: "Juanito, Juan Dieguito!"
13. Then he dared to go where he was being called. Nothing troubled his heart: he was not anxious about anything. Rather, he felt extremely joyous and happy; he made his way up to the small hill to see where he was being called.
14. When he came to the summit of the little hill, a Maiden was standing there. When she saw him,
15. She told him to come closer.
16. When he arrived in front of Her, He greatly admired in what manner, above all comprehension, her perfect beauty was expressed.
17. Her dress shone like the sun, as if it were gleaming,
18. and the stone, the rock on which she was standing, seemed to be sending forth beams of light;
19. Her splendor looked like that of precious stones, as "ajorca" (though even more beautiful),
20. the ground sparkled as the rays of a rainbow in the mist.