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PB Cover July 2011.indd - Advaita Ashrama PB Cover July 2011.indd - Advaita Ashrama

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PB July 2011 Mexico Rising: The Gods Are Alive 39 ance of Our Lady of Guadalupe ten years after the fall of Mexico City was miraculous. The legend tells of Saint Juan Diego, a poor Indian native of Cuautitlan who walked on a cold December morning past the Tepeyac Hill. He saw a beautiful lady standing on top of the hill. Speaking to him in Nahuatl, the Holy Lady revealed to Juan Diego that she was the Divine Mother of God. She asked him to go to the bishop in the city and tell him to build a temple for her on this hill. Juan Diego followed her command and, although he managed to gain an audience with the Spanish archbishop, the bishop did not believe his story. On his way back, Juan Diego passed the Tepeyac Hill and again saw the Holy Lady standing there. She told him to go back the following day and tell the bishop to build a temple for her on this hill. The second time Juan Diego came before the bishop, he was again met with disbelief. He dreaded to walk home past the hill of Tepeyac. When the Divine Lady appeared to him once more, Juan Diego plaintively asked her not to request him to see the bishop again; he pleaded that it was impossible to convince the bishop. The Lady smiled and commanded Juan Diego to climb up Tepeyac Hill and gather the Castilian roses blooming there and bring them to the bishop as proof. To his surprise, Juan Diego found roses blooming out of season on top of the hill. Juan Diego went back to the bishop and, as instructed by the Holy Lady, opened his poncho to hand over the Castilian roses. To everyone’s surprise an imprint of the Holy Lady of Tepeyac was clearly marked on the rough cloth of cactus fibres on Juan Diego’s poncho. This was enough proof for the bishop and he fell to his knees. The Holy Lady, who spoke in Nahuatl to Juan Diego calling herself Coatlaxopeuh—or perhaps Coatlicue—was renamed by the bishop as Our Lady of Guadalupe, after a Spanish town that was similar in sound. A chapel dedicated to the Virgin was built on Te­ Our Lady of Guadalupe peyac Hill over the ruins of a temple to the Aztec mother goddess Tonantzin. The miraculous image of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the cloth appealed to both conquerors and conquered. The Spanish saw an image of the Holy Mary, but the indigenous people saw the brown-skinned image of Tonantzin and, thereby, stopped resisting conversion to Christianity. This saved the lives of so many local people who previously resisted. 499

40 Prabuddha Bharata The colour and form on this divine cloth has not faded since the 1500s. I stood in awe in front of the Divine Mother, grateful to church authorities who permit people to view this cloth from such close proximity. I sat down in the pews, taking in the holy atmosphere. The basilica is so spacious that it can accommodate the thousands of pilgrims that stream in daily. While the basilica’s architecture reminded me of modern Catholic churches in Europe, the people with their passionate intensity of devotion took me back to the temples in India. As I watched a priest perform mass assisted by a couple of altar boys, a procession of native Indians slowly passed the wide altar with its multiple steps. An old man was leading the procession, and I was fascinated by the loving way he carried a brightly-painted wooden statue of Our Lady. Watching his demeanour I did not doubt that the goddess he was carrying was dearer to him than his life’s blood. I saw a woman moving slowly through the crowd on her knees toward Our Lady. Big tears flowed down the cheeks of her guileless face as she fixed her eyes on the Queen of her heart. Such intimacy with God is timeless. The ancient religion of Mexico is there—just masked by a Christian face. A Rocking Cradle of Lies When I got back to my hotel room, I remembered the voice in the morning with its running commentary on how Western influence on Mexico for the last five hundred years had stemmed the natural flow of ancient wisdom. In olden days the people of Mexico lived in a magical, sacred world of spirituality, but they were forced into a materialistic value system. Mexico’s conquerors, in order to justify colonialism, resorted to rumours and masked the truth with clever distortions. If a lie is told with authority long 500 enough and often enough, people will be lulled into accepting it as the norm. It is not hard for ruthless leaders to get masses of good people thinking in negative stereotypes and to undermine the confidence of an entire nation. In a materialistic society people measure success by how much wealth a person or a country has accumulated. Value is placed on an education that leads to a well-paying job in a competitive business community rather than on knowledge that leads to wisdom. I remember learning in school about the Age of Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution and that material progress meant that things will get better and better. In other words, our civilization today should be the most advanced one. The first time I began to wonder about these materialistic claims was when I visited the caves of Ajanta in Maharashtra, India. These pillared halls resembled chapels I had seen in Europe— except that these caves had been carved into solid granite rock around 200 bce. I cannot think of anyone today who would take the time to undertake such a work. Could anyone today figure out how to build a city like Machu Picchu high on a mountaintop using big boulders of rock that perfectly fit on top of each other without using cement? Looking at world events right now, materialism is on a collision course with nature. Our scientific knowledge has disturbed the rhythm of nature. Who can still read the signs of nature? Who can fix our dilemma? An ancient story in India tells of a time when even the gods were exhausted from warring with demons. In times of trouble it is time for the Ancient Mother to stand up and fight for us. When the male gods heard that the great demon King Mahishasura had declared himself lord of heaven and ruler of the universe, they got angry. Each god shot forth a terrible light coming from PB July 2011

PB July 2011<br />

Mexico Rising: The Gods Are Alive 39<br />

ance of Our Lady of Guadalupe ten years after<br />

the fall of Mexico City was miraculous.<br />

The legend tells of Saint Juan<br />

Diego, a poor Indian native of<br />

Cuautitlan who walked on a<br />

cold December morning past<br />

the Tepeyac Hill. He saw a<br />

beautiful lady standing<br />

on top of the hill. Speaking<br />

to him in Nahuatl,<br />

the Holy Lady revealed<br />

to Juan Diego that she<br />

was the Divine Mother<br />

of God. She asked him<br />

to go to the bishop in<br />

the city and tell him to<br />

build a temple for her<br />

on this hill. Juan Diego<br />

followed her command<br />

and, although he managed<br />

to gain an audience<br />

with the Spanish<br />

archbishop, the bishop<br />

did not believe his story.<br />

On his way back,<br />

Juan Diego passed the<br />

Tepeyac Hill and again<br />

saw the Holy Lady standing<br />

there. She told him to<br />

go back the following day and<br />

tell the bishop to build a temple<br />

for her on this hill. The second<br />

time Juan Diego came before<br />

the bishop, he was again met with disbelief. He<br />

dreaded to walk home past the hill of Tepeyac.<br />

When the Divine Lady appeared to him once<br />

more, Juan Diego plaintively asked her not to<br />

request him to see the bishop again; he pleaded<br />

that it was impossible to convince the bishop.<br />

The Lady smiled and commanded Juan Diego<br />

to climb up Tepeyac Hill and gather the Castilian<br />

roses blooming there and bring them to<br />

the bishop as proof. To his surprise, Juan Diego<br />

found roses blooming out of season on<br />

top of the hill.<br />

Juan Diego went back to the<br />

bishop and, as instructed<br />

by the Holy Lady, opened<br />

his poncho to hand over<br />

the Castilian roses. To<br />

everyone’s surprise an<br />

imprint of the Holy<br />

Lady of Tepeyac was<br />

clearly marked on<br />

the rough cloth of<br />

cactus fibres on Juan<br />

Diego’s poncho. This<br />

was enough proof<br />

for the bishop and<br />

he fell to his knees.<br />

The Holy Lady, who<br />

spoke in Nahuatl<br />

to Juan Diego calling<br />

herself Coatlaxopeuh—or<br />

perhaps<br />

Coatlicue—was renamed<br />

by the bishop as<br />

Our Lady of Guadalupe,<br />

after a Spanish town that<br />

was similar in sound.<br />

A chapel dedicated to<br />

the Virgin was built on Te­<br />

Our Lady of Guadalupe<br />

peyac Hill over the ruins of a<br />

temple to the Aztec mother goddess<br />

Tonantzin. The miraculous image of Our Lady<br />

of Guadalupe on the cloth appealed to both<br />

conquerors and conquered. The Spanish saw<br />

an image of the Holy Mary, but the indigenous<br />

people saw the brown-skinned image of Tonantzin<br />

and, thereby, stopped resisting conversion to<br />

Christianity. This saved the lives of so many local<br />

people who previously resisted.<br />

499

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