Saint José de Anchieta and the Virgin Mary

Saint José de Anchieta (d. 1597), a Portuguese Jesuit priest, became known as the apostle of Brazil. He left an indelible memory not only through his missionary activity, but also through the aura of holiness and mysticism that emanated from his person. 

He was born in La Laguna, in the Canary Islands, in 1534. After his studies at the University of Coimbra, he entered the Society of Jesus in 1551. He was sent to Brazil at a very young age with the group of Jesuits who founded the mission of São Paulo. He was ordained a priest in 1566. Together with a confrere, he founded the mission of Rio de Janeiro, from which the present-day Brazilian metropolis developed. 

He was superior of the mission of São Vicente, and from 1578 to 1586 he directed the entire missionary organization of the Jesuits in Brazil as provincial superior. His activity was also fruitful for the conversion of the Indigenous peoples to the Christian faith. He died with a “reputation for holiness” in 1597 in Reritiba, or Iriritiba, a town that today bears his name, in the present-day State of Espírito Santo. He was beatified on June 22, 1980, by Saint John Paul II and canonized on April 3, 2014, by Pope Francis. Anchieta was a protagonist in the history and culture of Brazil. His writings and his poetic and epistolary output in fact constitute the first attempts at literature in this great country. 

The most important works for Mariology are the De Beata Virgine Dei Matre Maria, a grand poem of 5,786 verses in classical couplets (hexameter and dactylic pentameter); three Sapphic odes, celebrating Mary’s Immaculate Conception, her Purification, and the finding of Jesus in the temple; and a long composition of 368 verses in medieval rhythm for the Assumption. The De beata Virgine, with the agile and inspired rhythm of the poem, expresses content of profound doctrinal value that makes Anchieta the first Jesuit Mariologist. His thought on Mary offers no particular novelties from the theological point of view, but it reveals a soul passionately devoted to the Mother of the Lord, which, contemplating her greatness and holiness and the mission she received in the economy of salvation, seeks every opportunity to show its love and veneration.

The Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God 

Since your conception makes the whole world happy, must I be the only one who feels no joy?

Or is it because my shameful sins disfigure my heart, which, being stained, suffers from its impurities?

Does mud hate purity, and does darkness hate the light?

Or is the reason that virtue always seems hard to a depraved spirit, that the eyes flee from a modest face, and that the glory of virginity acts as a torment for the impure? 

I confess that these thoughts, with their heavy weight, could plunge my corrupt mind into an abyss of sadness, if your mercy did not lift up my torn heart and my forsaken soul did not take refuge in your maternal womb. For your light repels the darkness. Your immaculateness purifies the mud. Your virtue dispels every sin. I, who am impure, will follow you who are pure. Our hearts, however, will cling to you to be freed from their vices. For who will make clean one who is conceived of an unclean seed? (cf. Job 14:4). Who will wash filthy stains in a clear stream? 

Will not your virtue perhaps do it, O most pure Virgin, you who were conceived without original sin? I am disheartened at having shared in my forefather’s fall and at having contracted the first sin in my mother’s womb (cf. Ps 50:7). I am utterly sunk in an abyss of filthy mud, and my life is dragged into corruption by its sins. You, O clear fountain of purity, who drive away every crime, will purify my heart with life-giving waters.

The Treasure of the Righteous. Happy are those whose devoted hearts burn with love in their one desire for you! 

Happy is he who, in the sweet silence of the silent night, plucks the strings loving you and loves you meditating on you! Happy is he who stands at the entrance of your virginal hall and keeps constant watch at your doors, he who meditates with a heart full of love on the profound mystery of your conception, which is the golden gate of life. Whoever experiences the lovable restlessness of your love, and is chaste in body with a limpid soul, will find true salvation in the gift of the Lord and through you will receive the fullness of life. O love and immense goodness of the Supreme Father! His right hand fashioned you as a marvelous work. Let heaven praise the one who is to be adorned with so great a grace, and with a pleasing voice sing new hymns to him. Let the earth praise you, happy at so singular a gift, which brought forth a good that brings good to all others. O Most High Father, even my prostrate mind adores you, and my love praises you for the conception of the Virgin! O splendor, O wondrous glory of our descendants, splendor of purity and whiteness of virginity!

The Clemency of the Father and the Dreams of a Virgin

Merciful sweetness and sweet mercy befit you, loving pity and kindly love. Even if a mother could forget the child she carried in her womb and nursed at her breast (cf. Is 49:15), could you, O merciful Father, forget us, whom your wisdom created by its word? That mother would certainly be cruel, but you are sweetness. That mother would not be merciful, but you are supreme mercy. Therefore, O our Father, restore with your right hand the ruined work that with your right hand you had fashioned from clay. Cruelty has already raged savagely enough and has had free rein. Anger has already drunk enough human blood. By now just fury has wielded the two-edged sword long enough to punish sins.

Now it is Mercy alone who asks, with gentle words, to exercise her role in the indignant heart of the Father. At last you find this role. And you, fountain of goodness, grieve that we are troubled by such grievous evils. From the heart of the Father flows a gentler pity. Her foliage is girded with the green of the olive [of peace]. Full of sweetness, you appease your sister [righteousness], who had long been angry, and with a plaintive voice you soften her completely. Looking upon the wretched world with maternal eyes, you rejoice with the face of so many centuries of sadness. Flow, O pure torrent. Flow, healing oil, so that at your touch the dead earth may return to life. These are your thoughts, O Virgin. These are the mysteries on which you meditate. This is the food of your spirit when you read that the prophet, whose lips were purified with a burning coal (cf. Is 6:6-7), proclaimed with a mighty voice: An untouched virgin shall conceive without the seed of man, and her womb shall swell with a happy burden (cf. Is 7:14). A Virgin who even in childbirth kept her modesty intact and who nourished her happy fruit at a virginal breast. Emmanuel shall be His glorious name, which shall be known on earth and in the halls of the heavenly skies.

When these oracles come to your mind, O Virgin, and you begin to meditate in your heart on so great a mystery, your spirit burns with love and longs to know that maiden so great. And with a humble voice you say: What ages will taste the happiness of beholding you, O virgin, splendid honor of the descendants of Jacob? In what fortunate land will you give birth, O beautiful one, and be worthy of the gift of such offspring? What mother will be so happy as to carry Him in her womb and to soothe His lips with the nectar of her breast? In short, what virtue, what beauty, what honor, and what glory await you, O exalted woman!

You will enclose the Lord in the dwelling of your sealed womb and give birth to your Son without your womb being opened. You will nourish the Word of life at your virginal breast, tending His blessed limbs with maternal hands. May it please the Supreme Father to lengthen my years, so that I may see the blessed times of His birth. How happy I would be if I were worthy to be the servant of so excellent a mother, the companion of such a Virgin!

You Shall Be That Virgin

Frequent sighs slow your speech, O Virgin, and a virginal love stirs your chaste breast. Redoubling your groans, you let yourself be bathed in a rain of tears and fill the heavenly temple with devout invocations. A stream of warm water runs down your face while the just wrath [of God] continues to weigh upon mankind. Why, O compassionate Virgin, are you afflicted with such sorrow? Why do groans tear your tender breast? Please stop oppressing your sweet heart with so many cares. Stop disfiguring your virginal cheeks. Stop spoiling your true complexion with tears, nor let streaming tears disfigure your splendid gaze.

Behold, the king is coming, surrounded by placid meekness, who will repair the ruin of Jerusalem. Do you not know what great glory is reserved for you, O Virgin? Are you unaware of the great honor that is to be paid to you? Why do you weep, believing that the maiden is absent who, without being violated, will clothe the immense God with limbs of flesh? So great an honor is reserved for you, O worthy woman. You alone will be the untouched mother of your Father.

Open your bed, O beautiful daughter of Zion. Arrange the fine linen curtains of your tabernacle (cf. Is 54:2). Hear the creaking of the heavenly doors turning on their hinges and the joyful resounding of the angelic choirs. O most chaste garden (cf. Song 2:12), your groans have already reached the divine ears of the eternal Father. Arise, O Zion (cf. Is 52:1), put on the most beautiful tunic. Clothe yourself, O royal Virgin, with new strength, so that you may enclose the heavenly power within you when a divine breath blows upon your womb. The divine Bridegroom will descend from the heavenly hall to occupy the bed prepared by His bride. What a new thing! O my soul, let not sleep close your eyes. You will see a great portent come to pass.

Why, O Death, Do You Not Kill the Mother?

O death, why do you lay open my inmost being with a sharp dagger? Why do you cruelly torture the Son and leave the Mother unharmed? O cruel one, why do you spare me after having stolen my Son? Why does your fury not turn its weapons against the Mother? You would be compassionate if you killed us both with a single dart. A single cross would suffice to kill us once you had fastened us to it. You are cruel in killing the Son. You are crueler still in sparing the Mother. It would be better if we both died together. Now aim your last dart at the Mother. Force the one whom you make live without her Son to die. These and other complaints you make, O compassionate Mother, about the Child who was taken from you. And there is no remedy for your sorrow.

The Hope of the Criminal

Oh, accursed me! What shall I do? He [God] is indignant with just wrath. The punishments His anger is devising are not undeserved. Certainly, if I look at the deeds my hands have done, there is no hope that He can be appeased. But when I think of the painful death of His Son, a great hope is born from this cruel death. As you contemplate this blood, do not look upon me in anger. This precious blood does not allow you to be without mercy.

I will seek refuge in the deep wounds of the Mother’s heart. This refuge holds that God who is fastened to the cross. Your tender inmost being, which sends rays of light everywhere through its open doors, cannot close itself to me. Even if you hide part of it, you cannot close all your wounds. Far more has been inflicted on you than you can hide. The very pain of death, which moves anger, will be able to calm it. This blood has the power of a merciful love.

Dry a little the tears from your sweet eyes as you contemplate the blood-covered face of your Son. Be soothed by the sad sight of the blood poured out: if you are gentle, He will not be harsh with me. But do not forgive me now. One day your Son will forgive me. Instead, hurl bloody weapons against my breast, so that your heart, pierced by so many wounds, may never be torn from mine. By these wounds that I, cruel one, inflicted on your Son and that He inflicted on you with His love, by these wounds I beg you, O sorrowful one, that I, covered with wounds and shedding all my blood, may suffer a painful death for the Lord and with the Lord.

Mother of the Neophytes

Thus spoke, O generous Mother, the sacred tongue of the great prophet when he foretold the mission of your Son: at the sight of it the clear fire of your loving heart blazes up, brooking no delay. Yet you remain serenely happy to warm your children under your placid wings, children who feed on your sweet milk. And so the holy multitude of those who have begun to cultivate the faith will contemplate the face of the Mother who brought it forth. It will venerate the new splendor of your face, and in the light of faith your sublime mission will shine forth. And you who gave birth to God in the world, so that by His death He might annul the wicked rights of unjust death, will now bring forth for your living Son a holy offspring, while your life still awaits the vision of God. Countless hosts are drawn by the true life, and you will be the merciful Mother of these living ones. In this way love and piety will increase in the world, and the glory and honor of the Lord will increase as well.

Coronation of the Queen

O Queen of Heaven, you already bear the eternal trophy and the royal diadem upon your beautiful hair. The earth, the sea, and the great palace of heaven are at your service, and the whole universe obeys your every sign. You are clothed with the shining mantle of the blazing sun, and the bright moon bows down at your feet. Twelve stars adorn your hair with their radiant light: this is the crown that befits your head. You far surpass all the saints, O most holy one, and you are superior in purity to all the choirs of angels. After many tribulations, you rest in the holy city and, sanctified, you govern the heavenly dwelling. By the work of God’s right hand, you are like a tall tree that has deep roots in the chosen people (cf. Sir 24:16). Where the sacred walls of Jerusalem shine, you exercise your supreme power in peace.

The Sorrow and Joy of the Virgin Mary When the Child Jesus Remained in the Temple 

Mary’s Sorrow

What anguish, what groans and sorrows, and how many tears ran down your beautiful cheeks, O Mother, when your Son was left alone in the city of Jerusalem. And what it was like when your life and the love of your heart, going away, tore your life apart and left you, O Virgin, a prey to sufferings like death. Grant me too to groan with longing to see Jesus, who is hidden in heaven above. Or when will this tribulation that oppresses me while I live on this earth come to an end? 

Three nights and three days, O Mother, you seek the light of your eyes. And where has your beloved Son hidden Himself, or where has He blessed? If you allow me, I too wish to go and seek with you Him who is the strength and peace of your soul, but who is above all the sweet sweetness of your intimate love.

Mary’s Joy

Tell me, please, O Virgin, what you felt, what joy flooded your breast when you saw your Son seated in the midst of the temple! If you would grant me a small share of that joy, O Mother, my heart would be completely free of all sorrow and would consecrate itself to you forever. O Child, Son of the supreme Father! O Son, honor and delight of the Mother, be the God of my heart and the reward of eternal life. O sweet Mother of Jesus, lovingly revive your wretched servant with your countenance: may you alone, with your Son, be my sweet love. To the Most High Father and to the Son be power. May due praise be given to the Spirit. And glory to you, O Virgin of virgins and merciful Mother of the Creator.

The Marian devotion of Saint José de Anchieta and his evangelizing mission in Brazil belong to the tradition that John Paul II’s encyclical Redemptoris Mater esteems when it presents Mary as mother and model for all missionaries throughout the history of the Church.

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