Our Lady Of Coromoto And A Warning For The World

Before Venezuela unraveled economically and politically, it was quietly spiritually warned.

In 1652, deep in the jungles near present-day Guanare, the Virgin Mary appeared under the title Our Lady of Coromoto to an indigenous chief and his wife, asking only that they receive baptism and embrace the Catholic faith. There was no spectacle, no cosmic sign—just a maternal invitation to conversion.

It was resisted.

When the chief later rejected the request and attempted to seize the Virgin during a second apparition, she vanished, leaving behind a small, mysterious image on what appeared to be parchment. Terrified, he fled, later converting after years of inner turmoil. The image survived, fragile and nearly lost, eventually becoming Venezuela’s national Marian treasure. Coromoto would later be declared patroness of the nation, though devotion would often outpace genuine conversion.

As Aleteia notes: “How the image itself was created remains mysterious and is believed to be miraculous. While the picture appears to have been drawn on the paper, the paper does not seem to have absorbed any ink or other such substance. In this way, it resembles the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which likewise looks to be painted on the tilma but seems to mysteriously hover just above the cloth without actually affixing to it.”

Centuries passed.

In the 1970s, another Marian presence quietly emerged—this time in the mountains near Cúa. Beginning in 1976, the Virgin appeared repeatedly at Betania to María Esperanza de Bianchini, a Venezuelan mother of seven (and later many grandchildren, wife of Geo Bianchini) whose life was marked by prayer, charity, and suffering. These apparitions—later approved by the local bishop—were not dramatic in message but deeply unsettling in tone. The Virgin was reported to weep for Venezuela.

She warned of interior division before exterior collapse, of moral confusion, breakdown of families, loss of faith, and suffering that would follow spiritual neglect. She called for reconciliation, confession, prayer, and fidelity—especially within the family and priesthood. Betania was described not as a message of punishment, but of mercy offered before consequences. Memorably, Maria once said of prophetic events, “It will begin here.”

She died in 2004 while in New Jersey and was declared a “servant of God” in 2010 and her cause is now in the hands of her diocese in Venezuela (transferred from New Jersey, where her cause began).

Of like significance, María Esperanza named one of her daughters Coromoto, linking the modern apparitions directly to the ancient warning. Betania was not new. It was a continuation.

Coromoto had asked for baptism.

Betania wept for conversion.

Both were largely ignored.

Today, Venezuela lies in ruin. Hunger, repression, exile, and despair define daily life for millions. Churches stand quieter. Families are fractured. Faith survives mostly among the poor, the displaced, and the praying remnant.

This collapse did not begin with politics or sanctions. It began with the erosion of conscience, truth, and spiritual authority. History—and Scripture—show that nations do not fall suddenly. They drift, until reality intervenes.

At Coromoto, Mary invited.

At Betania, she cried.

Yet hope remains. The name “Esperanza” means “hope.”

María Esperanza emphasized that Betania was ultimately about healing. Confession restored lives. Prayer rebuilt families. The door of mercy, she said, remained open.

The relevance of Coromoto and Betania is not confined to Venezuela. It is a mirror for all nations that crown Mary while sidelining her Son.

When Heaven whispers, do we listen?

Or do we wait—until the Mother must weep?

For Venezuela, the warning may already be written in empty shelves and broken streets. For the rest of the world, it may still be a whisper.

But whispers, ignored, have a way of becoming storms.

[resources: Maria Esperanza and the Grace of Betania]