My friend Galina is currently on a pilgrimage across Eastern Europe, and in Poland, she was introduced to Our Lady of the Gate of Dawn, a Northern Renaissance painting of the Virgin Mary from Vilnius, Lithuania. Seventeen miracles are attributed to the icon, the most hardcore of which being the time Dawn (I call her Dawn) whacked some Swedish invaders by dropping iron gates on them.
This particular story has taken inappropriate root in my imagination, and now I’m picturing a Marian tea party, where various Apparitions and Black Madonnas have gathered to nosh on cucumber sandwiches and get to know each other a bit. As the scene opens, we find Dawn wrapping up her introduction:
“… so then I was all, “This is my house, Swedes,” and bam! They were ANNIHILATED. Ha! Good times. Anyway, Fátima, what did you do?”
“Well, I appeared to some children…”
“Awesome! Were they invading? Did you drop iron gates on them?”
“Um… no. They were just regular kids. And I, y’know, appeared.”
Some of the Holy Virgins probably have a few resentments to work through. Just sayin’.
In unrelated news, please know how glad I am that Pagans can’t go to Hell.