Too quickly we have stepped into the month of May with Mother’s Day, graduations, the start of ‘summer sports’, and veneration of Mary.  The tradition of dedicating the month of May to Mary began in the 13th century. The naming of May as Our Lady’s Month was an attempt to replace the pagan festivals and to turn them into the worship of the True God and veneration of Mary, the mother of Jesus.  May is also the time when the beauty of nature flourishes anew; a reflection of the new life Mary brought to the life of the world, giving birth to our Savior, Jesus Christ.

‘May’ I share an abbreviated reflection by Margarita Clayton.  

My mother wept softly as our plane landed in Havana.  It was the summer of 1999.  She had been imprisoned by the Communist regime. . .and fled to the United States years ago; but the 1998 visit of Pope John Paul II to the island gave her confidence to return for the first time since 1961. One of Pope John Paul II’s stops was at the Shrine of Our Lady of Charity near Santiago de Cuba.  The shrine commemorates Mary’s appearance to three men (two indigenous and one enslaved) who nearly perished at sea in 1612.  The three men prayed for protection from Mary and saw a vision of her.  When they reached shore, a piece of wood bore Mary’s image, with the words, “I am the Virgin of Charity.”

After landing in Havana, my mother and I drove to her family’s former village. As we stepped out into the humid Cuban air. . . .the natural beauty was breathtaking; towering palm trees and the vibrant red leaves of a flamboyant tree.  The only indication of the passage of time were the dilapidation of buildings. We were taken to the house of one of the lay Catholics who had not abandoned his faith. . . .He smiled as he led us to something special, removing one wooden beam after another to uncover a large tarp. “Las vitrinas!” my mother exclaimed as the tarp was pulled back, revealing two stain glass windows from the former village church. One window framed by roses, is the depiction of Mary holding Jesus in her lap, surrounded by angels and shepherds.  The second stained glass window spared from the Communist regime depicted Mary standing at the foot of the cross, her hands crossed, her eyes distressed.

Meanwhile, in private homes, I saw no images of Communist heroes.  Instead, Mary—depicted as Cuba’s patroness and protectress, Our Lady of Charity—reigned inside Cuban homes.  Time and again, people referred to Mary as someone close to them in their struggles.  In another village where my mother had lived, we attended Mass at a church where the walls remained, though the roof had collapsed.  A woman entered with flowers for the image of Our Lady of Charity.

Several years later, after my seventh trip to Cuba, this time alone, I drove to the airport with my Cuban friend Marcos, a medical doctor and an adult convert to Christianity.  He confided to me, “Somehow in this atheist country, God granted me the gift of faith. I’m grateful to have found a community of love in the Catholic Church.  After I drop you off, I’m going to visit an elderly woman who lives alone.  I’ll bring her some milk and spend time talking with her.  You may not think I’m doing much, but it is the vocation God had called me to, and I will keep pursuing it.”

As my plane lifted off from Cuban soil, I cried the deep imprint of lessons learned from Cuba’s many public as well as quiet heroes.  Their acts of courage, charity, and mercy showed me that the kingdom of heaven belongs not to those who combat injustice by dominating others, but to those who can remain steadfast in the darkness, trusting in a light that no earthly power 

can extinguish. “Mary came to visit our people and wished to remain with us as Mother and Lady of Cuba, throughout its pilgrimage along the paths of history.”

In the secret rosaries prayed during the decades of atheist rule, in the woman who brought flowers to a roofless church, in the villager who hid stain glass windows, I had witnessed how Mary’s motherly love had helped prevent belief in God from being extinguished in Cuba.

Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us.

God Bless,  Fr. Tim

FYI:  "As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer."