Notes on Guadalupe Tonantzin
Porque el propio nombre de la Madre de Dios Señora Nuestra no es Tonantzin, sino Dios y Nantzin; parece esta invención satánica, para paliar la idolatría debajo la equivocación de este nombre Tonantzin
Fray Bernardino de Sahagun, Florentine Codex, Book 11.
According to Mexican tradition, an indigenous commoner (macehual), Juan Diego, was instructed after the apparition of the Virgin Mary in the hill of Tepeyac close to Mexico City, on December 12 1531, to ask Fray Juan de Zumárraga, then Bishop of Mexico, to erect a shrine honoring her. This is the Virgen de Guadalupe Basilica, where 12 million pilgrims have arrived to worship and pray to the patron saint of Mexico. The image of Guadalupe is perhaps the most ubiquitous symbol of Mexican identity today.
The Virgin of Mexico is named after an homologous image called Guadalupe, in Extremadura, Spain. Guadalupe, etymologically speaking the joining of the Arabic word for valley (wadi) and the Latin for wolf (lupu), was widely followed in the religious devotion of the Spanish conquistadores who had come to New Spain with Hernán Cortes. The virgin of the valley of the wolves would adopt a completely different significance in New Spain.
The original title of the book recounting the miracle in Nahuatl, comes from 1649.
It has the long title, in the language of Central Mexico before the arrival of the Spaniards: Huei tlamahuiçoltica omonexiti in ilhuicac tlatocaçihuapilli Santa Maria totlaçonantzin Guadalupe in nican huei altepenahuac Mexico itocayocan Tepeyacac (“By a great miracle appeared the heavenly queen, Saint Mary, our precious mother of Guadalupe, here near the great City-State of Mexico, at a place called Tepeyacac”). The book was authored by a creole priest, Luis Lasso de Vega, based on prior chronicles. In the cover of that book the well known iconography of the Virgen de Guadalupe is already present (the Virgin here is depicted with a crown). This version is predated by a Spanish version of the story told by Miguel Sanchez in 1648.
However, the oldest handwritten manuscript narrating the foundational miracle of Mexican religious practice predates the account by Laso de Vega by around a century. It is kept at the New York Public Library (NYPL), cataloged as MssCol 2045. In a visit to New York I examined the manuscript once, and I must confess that I did it with a great dose of reverence, even though I am agnostic regarding the religious miracle. This manuscript is written in Nahuatl, and was purchased, as part of a trove of Guadalupan documents in the late 19th century, in what is known as the Lenox collection. Prominent scholars, including Miguel León Portilla, Federico Navarrete and Edmundo O’Gorman, generally agree in the authenticity of this source, and even on its possible original author, an indian scholar named Antonio Valeriano.
There is an earlier document, actually a forgery, called the “Códice Escalada” that depicts the Guadalupe Virgin story. That Codex surfaced somewhat mysteriously in 1995, at the time that the Catholic church in Mexico was seeking the canonization of Juan Diego. This document is supposed to be from 1548, and includes signatures by Fray Berardino de Sahagún, Antonio Valeriano, an explicit naming of Juan Diego, with the last name Cuauhtlatoatzin, and deteriorated images of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the hill of Tepeyac and the indigenous protagonist of the miracle.
Even though some scholars have indicated that the paper of this Codex is indeed from the 16th century and that the signature corresponds to Sahagún, it cannot be authentic. Sahagún questioned the apparition, as discussed below, so it is highly unlikely he would have signed such a document. The Valeriano imagery itself is rather anachronistic, corresponding perhaps to an image from the Aubin Codex in the British Museum, at the time when he became a Judge Governor of Mexico City. Such image of Valeriano is from decades later. In 1548 he was a scholar at the Colegio de Santa Cruz de Tlatelolco, which would not merit a position as a depicted ruler, on an icpalli, a seat reserved to ruling royalty.
The NYPL manuscript is hence the oldest document that can be considered to be the basis for the first published account.
Experts have dated the NYPL manuscript as having been written at around 1556. Antonio Valeriano was praised by his contemporaries as one of the most knowledgeable scholars of the time. He became the Governor of Mexico City in 1576. Before his political office, he was a brilliant collaborator of Fray Bernardino de Sahagún. Sahagún, in turn, was the coordinator and organizer of the greatest Encyclopedia of the 16th Century, the General History of the Things of the New Spain, also known as the Florentine Codex. The prestige of attributing authorship of the Nican Mopohua to Valeriano is indeed powerful.
A crucial problem to establish the “authenticity” of the narrative in this first manuscript, as well as its author, is that there are almost no sources documenting or commenting on the Virgin of Guadalupe apparition, let alone attributing the first chronicle to Valeriano.
One of the most important scholars of the 19th century, Joaquin Iczabalceta, notes that the following contemporary scholars writing in the 16th century all fail to mention the miracle of the Virgin of Guadalupe in their works:
Friars and Spanish writers:
Fray Juan de Zumarraga (1547) — Franciscan first Bishop of Mexico
Bartolome de las Casas (1546) — Franciscan friar defendant of the indians
Geronimo de Mendieta (1552) — Franciscan Missionary
Diego Durán (1580) — Dominican friar growing in Texcoco since 7 years old
Jose de Acosta (1590) — Jesuit missionary and naturalist
Dávila Padilla (1596) — Dominican Friar
As well as the most important indigenous intellectuals:
Diego Valadés (1579) — Franciscan friar, son of a Tlaxcalan woman and a conquistador
Diego Muñoz Camargo (1576) — Nahua interpreter, writer of a history of Tlaxcala
Fernando Alvarado Tezozomoc (1598) interpreter, direct descendant of Huanitzin (governor or Mexico) and Moctezuma
Fernando de Alva Cortes Ixtlilxochitl (1600) — Indigenous noble and chronicler, direct descendant of ruler of Texcoco and Cuitlahuac (victor of the Noche Triste)
However, the History of New Spain, known as the Florentine Codex, does provide a detailed account of religious veneration in Tepeyac.
Friar Bernardino de Sahagún writes, in 1576, a long note on the religious practices he observed at the time. We know the exact time of this note because he describes the devastating cocoliztli epidemic of that year. In that text Sahagún deviates from the rest of the Encyclopedia. He stops translating the Nahuatl description of natural things, which is the topic of Book 11, and writes instead an essay on the problem of what he labels as idolatry. In his mind it is clear that the worship in the Tepeyac hill, is devoted to Tonantzin, the indigenous mother goddess, not to the Catholic Virgin Mary.
The Tepeyac mountain was well known as a prominent landmark in contemporary sources of the 16th century. It is shown in the most important indigenous map of the era, the so-called Uppsala Map of 1554, produced jut like the Encyclopedia of the Florentine Codex, in the Colegio de Santa Cruz de Tlatelolco.
This map does not provide any particular significance to the site of the shrine of Tepeyac.
The map can help visualize that a person walking from Cuautitlán to listen to mass in Tlatelolco would have to walk a significant distance. That map suggests in fact that an indigenous person that might be coming to mass in Tlatelolco, from the town of Cuautitlán in the Northeast of Mexico City, would need to cross through a causeway shown in the lower right corner of the map. In Google maps the stretch would take around 6 hours. It seems unlikely that Juan Diego was just walking at dawn from his home to run some errands, as the conventional story tells, all the way to Tepayac. His purpose must have been no accident.
Juan Diego would have passed the towns of Tultitlán and Tizayuca and then, instead of continuing on towards Azcapotzalco, coming into the city following the Northern shore of the lake, would have entered the City on that northeastern side. In the Uppsala map the specific hill of Tepeyac also shows a small island, which may have been called Tepezintli, according to the Gran Diccionario Nahuatl, an island facing Tlateolco that is explicitly mentioned in the Nican Mopohua.
The significance of Tepeyac, this very particular hill surrounding Mexico City, is discussed by Stephanie Wood in her project on a Visual Lexicon of Aztec Hierogryphics. Tepeyac would mean “At the Point of the Mountain” [Gordon Whittaker, Deciphering Aztec Hieroglyphs, 2021, 106], giving a very specific location that was known to locals, presumably of the place where Tonantzin was worshiped.
Is Tonantzin really the Virgin of the Valley of the Wolfs (Guadalupe)?
It is important to understand that the term Tonantzin does not exactly correspond to the Aztec pantheon, but was probably a linguistic innovation, as noted by Sahagún in the epigraph above.
Tonantzin is actually made up of the following particles in Nahuatl:
Teotl + inantzin
teotl = dios, nantli = mother, reverence = tzin,
Hence, it is, as the epigraph at the top from Sahagún notes, not the same as the mother of God. Tonantzin is perhaps more correctly the equivalent of Coatlicue (or the versions of Toci or Cihuacoatl).
She is our mother god that we revere.
Sahagún tells about the origin of the pilgrimage to the Virgin of Guadalupe:
Y ansí los moradores de [a]quellas tierras que eran regadas con las nubes de aquellos montes, persuadidos o amonestados del Demonio o de sus sátrapas, tomaron por costumbre y devoción de venir a visitar a aquellos montes cada año, en la fiesta que allí estaba dedicada. En México en la fiesta de Cihuacoatl, que también le llaman Tonantzin, en Tlaxcala en la fiesta de Toci, en Tianguizmanalco en la fiesta de Tezcatlipoca… p.235v.
“And so the inhabitants of those lands that were watered by those mountains’ clouds — [people] who were persuaded or scolded by the devil or by his satraps — took it as their custom and devotion to come visit those mountains every year during the festival that was dedicated there: in Mexico, during the festival of Cihuacoatl, whom they also call Tonantzin; in Tlaxcala, during the festival of Toci; in Tianquizmanalco, during the festival of Tezcatlipoca.”
The pilgrimage continues today. And it remains a beautiful sight of religious devotion and spirituality. But rather than emphasizing the well known image of the Virgin herself, I want to highlight the preciousness of the apparition in the original source, beautifully captured by the use of specific images and depictions of that which is sacred.
Birds and feathers. Song. Green gems.
Even if one does not understand or read Nahuatl, the beauty of the text comes through:
Nican mopohua motecpana in quenin yancuican Hueytlamahuizoltica monexiti in cenquizca ichpochtli Sancta Maria, Dios inantzin, tocihuapillahtocatzin, In oncan Guadalupe Tepeyacac, motenehua Guadalupe.
Here is recounted and told in an orderly fashion how by a great miracle the consummate Virgin Saint Mary, Mother of God, Our Queen, first appeared at Tepeyacac, called Guadalupe.
Acahtopa quimohtitihtzino ce macehualtzintli itoca Juan Diego. Auh zantepan monexiti in itlazoixiptlatzin in ixpan yancuican Obispo, don fray Juan de Zumárraga.
First she revealed herself to a humble commoner named Juan Diego, and afterwards her precious image appeared in the presence of the first bishop, don fray Juan de Zumárraga. And [here are related] all the miracles she has worked.
Ye yuh mahtlacxihuitl in opehualoc in atl in tepetl México, in ye omoman in mitl, in chimalli, in ye nohhuian ontlamatcaman in ahuacan, in tepehuacan.
It had been ten years since the altepetl [city-state] of Mexico had been conquered and the weapons of war had been laid down, and peace reigned in the altepetls all around;
In maca zan ye opeuh, ye xotla, ye cueponi in tlaneltoquiliztli, in iximachocatzin in Ipalnemohuani, nelli teotl Dios.
likewise the faith, the recognition of the giver of life, the true deity, God, had begun to flower and bloom.
In huel ihcuac in ipan xihuitl mil y quinientos y treinta y uno, quin iuh iquezquilhuioc in metztli diciembre mochiuh: oncatca ce macehualtzintli icnotlapaltzintli, itoca catca Juan Diego, iuh mihtoa ompa chane in Cuauhtitlan, auh in ica teoyotl, oc moch ompa pohuia in Tlatilolco.
Right in the year of 1531, just a few days into the month of December, there was a humble commoner, a poor ordinary person, whose name was Juan Diego. They say his home was in Cuauhtitlan, but in spiritual matters everything still belonged to Tlatelolco.
Auh sabado catca, huel oc yohuahtzinco quihualtepotztocaya in teoyotl ihuan in inetititlaniz.
It was Saturday, still very early in the morning, and he was on his way to attend to divine things and to his errands.
Auh in acico in inahuac tepetzintli in itocayohcan Tepeyacac, ye tlatlalchipahua.
When he came close to the hill at the place called Tepeyaca, it was getting light.
Concac in icpac tepetzintli cuicoa, yuhquin nepapan tlazohtotomeh cuicah; cacahuani in intozqui, iuhquin quinahnanquilia tepetl, huel cenca teyolquima, tehuellamachti in incuic, quicenpanahuia in coyoltototl, in tzinitzcan, ihuan in occequin tlazohtotomeh ic cuicah.
He heard singing on top of the hill, like the songs of various precious birds. Their voices were [swelling and fading], and it was as if the hill kept on answering them. Their song was very agreeable and pleasing indeed, entirely surpassing how the bell bird, the trogon, and the other precious birds sing.
Quimotztimoquetz in Juan Diego, quimolhui: ¿Cuix nolhuil, cuix nomacehual in ye niccaqui? ¿Ahzo zan nictemiqui? ¿Ahzo zan niccochihtlehua? ¿Canin ye nica, canin ye ninohta? ¿Cuix ye oncan in quihtotehuaque huehuetqueh, tachtohuan, tococolhuan, in xochitlalpan, in tonacatlalpan? ¿Cuix ye oncan ilhuicatlalpan?
Juan Diego stopped to look, saying to himself, “Am I so fortunate or deserving as to hear this? Am I just dreaming it? Am I imagining it in sleepwalking? Where am I? Where do I find myself? Is it in the land of the flowers, the land of plentiful crops, the place of which our ancient forefathers used to speak? Is this the land of heaven?”
A few pages later, the Virgin is described in this way:
Auh in oyuh ahcito in ixpantzinco, cenca quimomahuizalhui in quenin huellacempanahuia inic cenquizca mahuizticatzintli; in itlaquentzin yuhquin tonatiuh ic motonameyotia, inic pepetlaca; auh in tetl, in texcalli inic itech moquetza, inic quimina; in itlanexyotzin yuhqui in tlazohchalchihuitl maquiztli, inic neci; yuhquin ayauhcozamalocuecueyoca in tlalli.
Auh in mizquitl, in nohpalli ihuan occequin nepapan xiuhtotontin oncan mochichihuani yuhquin quetzaliztli, yuhqui in teoxihuitl in iatlapallo neci. Auh in icuauhyo, in ihuitzyo, in iahuayo yuhqui in coztic teocuitlatl in pepetlaca.
Her clothes were like the sun in the way they gleamed and shone. Her resplendence struck the stones and boulders by which she stood so that they seemed like precious emeralds and jeweled bracelets.
The ground sparkled like a rainbow, and the mesquite, the prickly pear cactus, and other various kinds of weeds that grow there seemed like green obsidian, and their foliage like fine turquoise. Their stalks, their thorns and spines gleamed like gold.
I must confess this is far more beautiful than the famous image.
I found myself writing these notes as I waited in an airport that was basically empty, in Mexico City, on December 12. I asked the waiter in the place where I was having lunch why is it so quiet. She told me everyone was probably visiting the Virgin. I realize that when 12 million pilgrims have come down to the Tepeyac hill, this is actually 10 percent of the Mexican population. In a country plagued by violence and homicide, I also read as I scrolled through the days news that there was no single violent incident in the day. Surely a large number of the pilgrims have come from Mexico City, but many, many others, have come from somewhere else in the country — and beyond its borders. They did not come by plane, as I can attest in the airport. They walk, they drive and often kneel the last several hundred meters.
I want to end by sharing a video that my son Nicolas prepared for a class in his studies of Media Arts and Practice as the School of Cinematic Arts at the University of Southern California, which inspires me to write this notes. He made a collage of image, words, music, interviews, film footage and, in the last part, a quick succession of images of the Virgin Tonantzin, including one that is in my family home.
I realize it does not really matter whether our devotion is to the Virgin Mary, of the valley of the wolves, or of any deity from another location. What we witness on December 12 in Mexico is a community, coming together, to pay homage to the beauty and the sprituality of a surviving indigenous legacy. A past that is very much alive and present.
