Our Lady of Guadalupe, Queen of the City
And how a Prayerful Procession turned into a Spiritual Sprint
It's a new procession, at least by New York City standards.
The procession honoring Our Lady of Guadalupe emerges as another icon among the City's storied legacy of Catholic celebrations.
It joins the esteemed ranks of the centuries-old St. Patrick's Day parade, San Gennaro, Our Lady of Mt. Carmel processions, and countless others whose legacies helped weave the fabric of the City's Catholic identity.
But there's one problem.
It starts at 7:00 am. Granting it the dubious title of the procession with the earliest start time.
Well, actually, there are three problems.
It leaves from the Santurio Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe St. Bernard, the city's official shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe, in lower Manhattan, on the West side, on 14th Street.
But that's not the problem.
The problem is where it ends—at St. Patrick's Cathedral, way uptown.
To put things in perspective, this isn't like the St. Patrick's Day parade, where they close the streets and create traffic-free corridors. This is rolling closures and dodging traffic. And moving a few thousand people through rush hour traffic, even with the help of New York's Finest, is at the least, a Herculean task.
Let’s just say I had my concerns…
I arrived early, or so I thought, as a thousand people came earlier, making my idea of early seem late.
As I moved through the crowds, I could hear the quiet conversations dotted by pockets of laughter. Voices muffled by hoods and scarves wrapped securely as the “warmth” of the winter's sun had yet to arrive.
Meanwhile, inside the packed Shrine, the words “…Santa Maria, Madres de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerta. Amen.” echoed off the elaborately adorned ceilings. The transcendent feeling of prayerful reverence and joyful anticipation thick in the air.
As Father Jesus Ledezma blessed the congregation, he touched the burning wick of the lucarium to the awaiting torch, marking the start of the procession. Its flame carried high through the crowds, lighting torch after torch, symbolizing the unity of those gathered, the Light of Christ, and in tribute to she who bore Him within her womb.
And as the sun cast its first light on the cold city streets, the procession moved out.
The NYPD dutifully held back traffic as intersections were traversed. Passing Union Square onto Park Avenue and turning towards Madison Avenue after several blocks.
The timing of the procession, during New York's infamous rush hour, and its sheer length, made the procession virtually unavoidable for tens of thousands as they bustled off to work. A fitting tribute to Our Lady as the procession traversed countless neighborhoods in Mary's City— aptly named, having over 94 churches named for her within the boroughs, more than any other city in America.
Truly idyllic.
Except for problem number three.
"We're not going to make it to the Cathedral on time at this rate." The Officer leaned over to tell the organizers. There was a collective gasp.
It was true.
As the procession cheerfully lumbered up the avenues through intersections and traffic stops, it was lumbering too slowly. There were about 25 blocks to go, which would take an average person about 40ish minutes to walk. But it was 9:27 am, and the thousand-strong crowd had to arrive at the Cathedral steps at 10:00 am.
The organizer raised his bullhorn and shouted, "¡Apúrense, amigos míos!" (Hurry up, my friends!) and "Muévanse más rápido" (Move faster!) repeatedly. Then, shouting instructions to the lead element that bore the image of Our Lady, they began speed walking.
And with that, the rolling procession became a running one.
Groups would run short distances and then burst out in laughter, winded, but determined to 'get to the Church on time.' And with every sprint they made, their joy and camaraderie increased.
What began as a procession of Faith added fitness to its providence.
And it paid off.
Emboldened by their heroic efforts, their voices raised high, "¡Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe!" echoing off the sky-piercing skyscrapers of the concrete canyons as they joyfully approached the towering bronze doors of St. Patrick's Cathedral, filled with both a spirit of accomplishment and the Spirit of Joy…at 9:59 am.
I'll leave it at this.
It's truly a paradox.
The last stretch of the procession was the most painful and yet the most joyful. It's as if the sacrifice unlocked a Grace that no other key could open, revealing a timeless truth.
It’s when we embrace hardship, when we give of ourselves out of love, and when we shoulder each other's burdens, a joy emerges that is as profound as it is unexpected.
Today, this truth was not just told but lived and felt in the heart of New York City. It was reflected in the shining eyes, wide smiles, and hearty laughter of all those who journeyed together.
Of the many processions I've witnessed, this will be remembered as one of the most remarkable, not only for the unexpected marathon it became, but for the Grace-filled unity that embraced us all.
Every procession is unique.
Each bearing its own Spiritual imprint. Each with a distinctive Grace of its own.
And while it’s far from the most profound insight from the day, there’s one that I’ll certainly remember:
Next year, wear running shoes.
“ A fitting tribute to Our Lady as the procession traversed countless neighborhoods in Mary's City— aptly named, having over 94 churches named for her within the boroughs, more than any other city in America.”
- An appropriate procession for The Blessed Mother of our Lord and Savior.