More than 50,000 people gathered in St. Peter’s Square on Oct. 19 for the canonization of seven saints, including the physician José Gregorio Hernández and Mother Carmen Rendíles—two names many outside of Latin America may have been unfamiliar with. But for those in Venezuela and its diaspora, the event was monumental: Venezuela finally had its first saints. 

I attended the canonization with others who had come from around the world. The long-awaited canonization drew an estimated 3,000 pilgrims from the country where my mother was born and where I spent so much time as a child. To a Venezuelan-American who still has family in that country, the canonization felt bittersweet. While we rejoiced in this historic moment, the growing tensions between Venezuela and the United States, as well as the increased repression of migrants and refugees seeking protection in the United States—created a complex experience for many of us.

During my stay in Rome, I met Venezuelan pilgrims coming from Doral, Fla., (Doralzuela, as it’s called, due to its high concentration of Venezuelans) and from places like Spain, Sweden, Denmark, the United Kingdom and Australia. There were also many pilgrims who came from Venezuela, often representing their parishes, dioceses or religious movements, and accompanied by bishops from all over the country. Many of the Venezuelan pilgrims I spoke to told me that they fundraised for their trips for months, ever since the canonizations were announced—getting small donations from family and friends and selling traditional foods after Mass to collect additional funds. 

Pilgrims display Venezuelan flags on the backs of their jackets at the Mass for the canonization of seven new saints in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican on Oct. 19.
Pilgrims display Venezuelan flags at the Mass for the canonization of seven new saints in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican on Oct. 19. Credit: Astrid Liden. Credit: Astrid Liden

The Archdiocese of Caracas had a block of seats, and many of us living abroad had not heard about its registration process. But those with extra tickets shared them, and the archdiocese did its best to ensure all could attend. By the grace of God and the intercession of José Gregorio and Madre Carmen, many of us who had not reserved tickets found our way in. We were, as Pope Leo XIV reminded us, also there in the memory and spirit of our family and friends who had passed after waiting decades to see these two holy examples be named saints.

The celebrations extended beyond the canonization Mass. It was an occasion of national unity. I attended concerts organized by El Sistema (Venezuela’s public music education program), as well as an adoration vigil with dozens of bishops, priests and religious—events that allowed for joyful reunions with friends and family. 

We were proof that Venezuela’s devotion to the now-Sts. José Gregorio Hernández and Mother Carmen Rendíles extended beyond the nation’s borders. Like many other Venezuelan families, mine always had a devotion to José Gregorio. My grandmother was also in the medical field, and statues of el médico de los pobres (“the doctor of the poor”) were always present at our family altar. If someone in the family was sick, we would ask for his intercession. He was an example of someone who, despite coming from a high-class background, gave back to those most in need in his country. He was also the first Venezuelan layperson to be beatified, and Venezuelans widely followed his process of canonization.

Mother Carmen’s canonization, though joyous, came as more of a surprise to many of us, especially given its speed. While my family has always been close with her congregation, in particular because of my cousins who teach at the school she founded, her elevation to sainthood was both astonishing and personally fulfilling.

Images of the two new Venezuelan saints are displayed onscreen during a concert by El Sistema on Oct. 19 at the Terrazza del Pincio in Rome.
Images of the two new Venezuelan saints are displayed onscreen during a concert by El Sistema on Oct. 19 at the Terrazza del Pincio in Rome. Credit: Astrid Liden.

The past 20 years have been anything but easy for the Venezuelan people. An estimated eight million Venezuelans live outside of the country because of its political, economic and social crises rooted in authoritarian rule. And the past two years have seen increased repression by President Nicolás Maduro following the electoral victory of opposition candidate Edmundo González Urrutia, whose campaign was led by the political activist María Corina Machado, who was barred from running for president herself. The regime has also attempted to promote a false narrative that the canonizations occurred because of the efforts of Mr. Maduro. 

There have also been challenges for those in the diaspora. Venezuelans in Latin America, especially in countries like Chile, Colombia and Peru, have faced increased levels of xenophobia and discrimination. As for the United States, the Trump administration has used the Venezuelan diaspora to justify many of its policies of mass deportation, accusing Venezuelans of being members of the Tren de Aragua gang and invoking the Alien Enemies Act to speed up their removal. We have seen asylum seekers arrested and sent to notorious prisons in El Salvador, all for legally seeking protection from a brutal regime. We have seen the end of Temporary Protected Status for Venezuela on the grounds that the conditions in the country have “improved,” though we know that is not the reality. The threat of military action and attacks on drug boats by the Trump administration in the Caribbean have brought Venezuela back into international headlines along with speculation about an American invasion of the country.

However, these past few years have also been ones of renewed hope. The electoral victory of Mr. Urrutia in July 2024 is proof that the Venezuelan people want and have long wanted change. And just a few weeks ago, Ms. Machado was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her steadfast commitment to democracy in Venezuela, an award she dedicated, in part, to the people of Venezuela and their tireless efforts at bringing peace and justice to their country. 

Having not one, but two canonizations, for our first saints during the Jubilee Year of Hope is not something Venezuelans take lightly. I left Rome not only full of joy and hope, but also with many gifts from fellow pilgrims: a medal of Our Lady of Coromoto (patroness of Venezuela), countless holy cards brought from Venezuela (including one containing a relic of St. Madre Carmen) and even a flag given to me by a friar from El Tigre, Venezuela. These detallitos, as we call them, not only symbolize the devotion of a nation, but also the hope of an entire people. 

As Cardinal Parolin said in his homily during the Mass of thanksgiving celebrated Monday morning in St. Peter’s Basilica, the occurrence of these canonizations is a kairos, an opportune moment that we Venezuelans must not let pass by.

“The new saints intercede,” he said, “so you can go forward with hope and determination.” He also called on the country to “open the unjust prisons” and build “respect for human rights,” which was taken as a direct reference to the oppression by Maduro’s regime. 

May we one day have a free Venezuela that we pilgrims can return to. St. José Gregorio Hernández and St. Mother Carmen Rendíles, pray for us.

[Read next: “Can canonizations in Rome help free political prisoners in Venezuela?”]

Astrid Liden is the daughter of a Venezuelan mother and a Swedish father and was raised in Minnesota. She is a Rhodes scholar who recently completed a master of public policy degree at the University of Oxford. She currently works as the communications officer for the Hope Border Institute.