Guadalupe at Lepanto

Most Catholics wouldn’t consider the motherly image of Our Lady of Guadalupe a martial image. The serene, pregnant Virgin—signified by the black sash expectant Aztec women wore—appeared to St. Juan Diego and upon his cactus-fiber tilma in 1531, a decade after Christianity came to the Mesoamerican people. In a tender vision to Diego’s uncle, the same Lady disclosed her name, “Santa Maria de Guadalupe,” though many think the now-famous title is a mistranslation of “Coatlaloppe,” meaning “snake crusher,” which is anything but tender.

The manifestation and majesty of Our Lady of Guadalupe was always a conquering force, putting an end to the Aztec bloodshed with the unprecedented conversion of millions. Our Lady of Guadalupe completed the work of the Franciscans in appearing to her little son on Tepeyac Hill, claiming the territory once held by a temple to the mother goddess of the Aztecs, Tonantzin Coatlaloppe. She, too, was called the one who steps on serpents, but she was overthrown by another. Despite her peaceful aspect, Our Lady of Guadalupe has always blazed for battle.

The second week of Advent recalls the Woman of Revelation, whom Our Lady of Guadalupe represents—she who, “clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars,” faced off “in the pangs of birth” against a crimson, seven-headed dragon. The Snake Crusher has always presided over the struggle between Heaven and Hell. In the expectation of her Son, Catholics enter into the expectation of this holy season and the cosmic warfare that Our Lady of Guadalupe serenely stands in the midst of as the Second Eve, who stood at the foot of the Cross to bruise the head of the serpent with her heel.

The presence of Our Lady of Guadalupe over conflicts has been recently depicted in an extraordinary painting by Catholic artist and architect Daniel A. Ezekiel Balan. The dramatic scene, executed in oils on canvas board, offers a very different vision of the Holy Family as they row across the battle line at Lepanto, where the great struggle for the West took place between the Holy League and the Ottoman Empire in 1571, 40 years after the miracles of Guadalupe.

This unique work of art depicts the union of two of the greatest surprises in history: the first being the Incarnation, and the second being the Christian victory against the seemingly invincible Ottoman fleet on the Gulf of Patras, off the western coast of Greece. Everyone knows the story of Lepanto’s madcap hero, Don John of Austria, issuing rosaries to his soldiers as weapons and ordering them to march in prayer about the decks with fiery axioms such as “there is no paradise for cowards!” But not many know that his steadfast admiral, John Andrea Doria, had aboard his ship one of the first reproductions of Our Lady of Guadalupe. 
This unique work of art depicts the union of two of the greatest surprises in history: the first being the Incarnation, and the second being the Christian victory against the seemingly invincible Ottoman fleet.Tweet This

Doria received it from King Philip II of Spain before setting out from Genoa with his flotilla. Pedro Moya de Contreras, the Archbishop of Mexico, knew of the impending conflict; so, he had a copy made of the powerful Native image, touched it to the original tilma, and sent it to Spain from the New World. Admiral Doria knelt before Our Lady of Guadalupe in the hold of his flagship when battle broke in an act of hopeful expectation to the Expecting Virgin, even as Don John danced on the prow of the Real when it collided with Ali Pasha’s Sultana, striking the Islamic banner that had the name of Allah stitched in gold 29,800 times.

Our Lady of Guadalupe was there at Lepanto, hearkening to the Rosary recited by the soldiers processing round the decks, her quiet, pregnant power blazing at that apocalyptic battle with all the splendor of the star-crowned Woman of Revelation, she who graces the Church’s Advent expectations as Catholics awake to put on the armor of light. This battle, like the Birth of Christ, changed the course of salvation history, and to remember the wars of the world at Christmas, when even the Holy Family struggled under political upheaval and violence, is to remember that it is beneath the mantle of our Mother that we find peace on earth.

Balan’s painting depicts the banner of Guadalupe atop a mast on the right flank, the place where she was in the salvo, with the Star of Bethlehem guiding the Holy League and the Holy Family. Or is it the Star of the Sea presiding over the holy struggles that surround faith in her Son? Either way, what a joy to make a crèche out of a sea battle! Mr. Balan captures a character of childhood in this painting, as a boy might draw the Nativity in crude, confident strokes set nonchalantly amid a crayoned military barrage, with rockets over Bethlehem instead of angels and soldiers instead of shepherds. 

There is a childlike whimsy to this vision, despite its grit. And if anything makes it a fitting Christmas image, it’s just that. For Christmas is for children—when our little ones look upon Our Lord and see themselves. The Infant Jesus is the most stirring and comforting of mysteries. To think of God becoming a baby is to know who our God is.

This recalls the gentle words spoken by the Queen of Heaven to Juan Diego before she blessed him and the whole world with the holy tilma: “Am I not here, I who am your mother?” She is with us—she “that God kissed in Galilee,” as G.K. Chesterton writes in his pounding epic “Lepanto.” She is with us, bringing us to Jesus and Jesus to us as gently as she directed her Son to do something about the wine at Cana and, at the same time, directed us to do whatever He tells us.

This is the Catholic hope in any tumultuous time: God so loved the world that He sent His only Son to take on human nature to redeem it, to be born of a woman as fully God and fully man. To show how tremendous His love is, the woman who bore God Incarnate, whom all generations hail as blessed, was made the mother of all and the intercessor who models the inexplicable love of God for His children. As Our Lord called His disciples friends, Our Lady calls us her children and acts as a mother for all.

Advent calls for preparation to behold afresh the Word of God incarnated as the Christ Child, who bore to us a light that shines in the darkness which the darkness cannot overcome. Bearing that Infant is His mother, she who appeared to Juan Diego over 1,500 years later to bear witness to the Light of Christ. She is here, she is with us. Our Lady of Guadalupe comes over the tide and through the tempest, as in Daniel Balan’s painting, bringing the glory of summer roses to a wintry world. Despite the desecration and destruction, she remains the Protectress of the Americas and will never cease to bring forth the Word into the world and victory to those who wield her weapon in the day of battle.

Please click HERE to receive a FREE copy of “Guadalupe at Lepanto” by Daniel Balan.

Please click HERE to receive a handmade Tactical Decade Rosary.

[Image: “Guadalupe at Lepanto” by Daniel Balan]