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Maria Valtorta

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Maria Valtorta was born in 1897 in Caserta, Italy. In 1916 the lord attracted her to Himself by means of a dream which was to remain vivid throughout her life. In an evangelical vision, which seemed to anticipate the waking visions of her literary work, Jesus aided Maria with words of admonishment and piety.

In her early 20's and in the spring of 1920, while walking along the street, she was struck in the back by a young delinquent. With an iron bar stripped from a bed, he came from behind and struck her with all his might. She remained confined to bed for three months, just a sample of what was to be her future complete infirmity. January 4th, 1933 was the last day Maria was able to leave her house and after April 1, 1934, she was no longer able to leave her bed.

Her activity as writer reached intensity from 1943 to 1947, and continued, diminishing progressively, until 1953. The notebooks written by Maria included almost fifteen thousand pages. Little less than two-thirds of this outstanding literary production concerns the monumental work on the Life of Jesus (The Poem of the Man-God). The minor works include extensive commentaries on biblical texts, doctrinal lessons, histories of the first Christians and martyrs and pious compositions. "I can affirm" - one of Valtorta's declarations reads - "that I have had no human source to be able to know what I write, and what, even while writing, I often do not understand."



"To your very limited intellectual capacity, to your embryonic spirituality, it is not granted to know the mystery of the nature of God. But to the spiritual ones among the mass of the so-called spiritual, the mystery is made more knowable. To the lovers of the Son, to those who are truly marked with My Blood, the mystery is unveiled with a greater clarity, because My Blood is Knowledge, and My predilection, a school.

Today is a great feast in Heaven, because all Heaven sings today the 'Sanctus' to the Lamb whose Blood was poured out for human Redemption. You [Maria] are one of the few – too few – creatures who venerate My Blood as It should be venerated. But to those who do venerate It, that Blood, from the time when It was shed, speaks with words of eternal Life and suprasensible knowledge. If My Blood were more loved and venerated, more invoked and believed in, many of the evils which bring you all to the abyss would be exorcised.

It spoke, this Blood, when It was still beneath the figure of the mosaic lamb, under the figure of the prophetic words in the sign of the preserving Tau. It spoke, after It was shed, in the mouth of the apostles; It shouts Its power in the Apocalypse; It invites with Its call by the mouths of the mystics. But It is not loved. It is not remembered. It is not invoked. My Church has so many feasts. But a most solemn feast for My Blood is lacking. And in My Blood is salvation!

Today, the feast of My Blood, I illumine a mystery for you. Say: 'Glory to the Father, to the Son, to the Holy Spirit,' because it is of Us that I want to speak to you. Because of your human heaviness, figures are needed in order to think of the Father and the Holy Spirit, incorporeal Beings of infinite beauty, but Whom none of you can conceive with your human senses. So much so, that only with difficulty do you turn with all your thought to Them to invoke Them, as you invoke Me Whom you think of as a Man-God. You do not understand even remotely, therefore, the mystery of Our Trinity.

In order to think of God there is no need to bring up comparisons with other beings. He is. In being, there is all. But being has no body, and the eternal Being has no body."


[Following is a commentary by Maria Valtorta on the above Vision and Dictation, written to her spiritual director probably in response to his request for more details of her Vision. ––Trans.]


"To describe what I have seen cannot be done. Words fail. While Jesus spoke, I was seeing, but I cannot retell all my mind saw in a way that another might see it. I could make an image of it, even though I am an ass as regards drawing.

It would suffice to make three concentric circles with a point in the middle. But that would say nothing. There would be lacking the Light, and the intuition of the relations between the three circles and the point that centres them. Hence it would be a dead sign, while this is so Living, working, blissful.

Certainly I will not forget anymore the beauty of this intellectual vision, should I live even a thousand years. It will be my help, my comfort, strength, defense — all — in all circumstances. And it is an ultra-powerful Magnet which draws me to Itself and gives me an indescribable anxiety to reach It. I seem to live under the sun. But what should I say of the sun? The sun is a spent and cold star with respect to the Divine Fire fixed in the depth of the Empyreal Heavens, so distant and so near....

Yes, I have an impression of Its immeasurable distance, across which It flows through the whole Universe which is bathed in and lives by Its Light. And at the same time I feel that each being, my own especially through the goodness of God who has permitted me to have this incomparable joy — each is near this Point of Life which is God, and is under Its beam which holds each gathered in, sheltered, living, like a bell-jar over a very delicate plant. (And with this banal comparison I spoil it all, but I find nothing better.)

In brief, I feel myself under the Eye of God. And it is a sensation of joy, of warmth, of strength, of an infinite, indescribable, gladdening peace. To live thus, under the incomprehensible Gem (as my Master has justly named It!) of the Divine Beauty, a Gem which unites again in a single, intolerable Splendour the Three Divine Persons and makes of Them a Unity of Divine Light — to live thus is such a bliss that it annuls all that I have suffered and will have to suffer....

Now I truly understand what it means to say: 'Paradise.' It means to live seeing always that Sun, One and Threefold."

(Maria )



1. This story is related here solely from memory. Attempts to document it from available sources have proved unsuccessful. If any reader knows of any source or publication where this story can be found, kindly inform the Webmaster of this Site. A less dramatic but undocumented version of this story can be found also at: http://webhome.net/calvary/bios/augustn.txt .

2. Maria Valtorta, The Poem of the Man-God, trans., Nicandro Picozzi and Patrick McLaughlin (Centro Editoriale Valtortiano srl, 1986-1990), 5 Volumes, hardbound, $35.00 U.S. Distributed (among others) by Saint Raphael's Publications Inc., 31 King St. W., Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada, J1H 1N5, and in select bookstores in the U.S. See also links to other Valtorta Sites given on this Web Site.

3. From Maria Valtorta's, I Quaderni del 1943 (Edizioni Pisani / Centro Editoriale Valtortiano srl, Via Po 95, 03036 Isola del Liri [FR], Italia, 1985): 112-115, 116-117. The Vision occurred on the feast of the Most Precious Blood, 1943.

4. Fr. Romuald Migliorini, O.S.V.


[January 10, 1944]


"How beautiful!  How beautiful!  How beautiful what I see!

I seek to be very exact and clear in describing to you what Communion brought me.

You know how happy I was. But not what bliss and what a joyous Vision was granted to me from the moment of my Eucharistic union on. It was like a picture which revealed itself to me by degrees. But a picture it was not; it was a contemplation. I was recollected from it for a good hour without any other prayer than this contemplation which rapt me beyond the earth.

It started right after receiving the sacred Particle, and I don't think it escaped you how slow I was with the responses and the greeting; I was already wrapped up in it. Despite that, I said all my thanksgiving in a loud voice while the Vision came to me always more vividly. And then I quieted myself, with my eyes closed as if I were sleeping. But I had never been so awake with my whole self as in this hour.

The Vision lasts, in its final phase, even while I write. I write under the gaze of so many Heavenly beings who see how I say only what I see, without adding details or making modifications. And here is the Vision:


Having just received Jesus, I felt my Mama near me, Mary, at the left side of the bed. She embraced me with Her right arm, drawing me to Herself. She was [clothed] with Her black garment and veil, as in the Visions of the Grotto in December [1943]. At the same time I felt myself enfolded by a golden light of a sweet, an indescribably soft colour, and the eyes of my spirit sought for the source of that golden light, which I felt raining down on me from above. It seemed to me that my room, even while remaining a room as it is with its floor and four walls and furniture, had no more roof, and I saw the boundless azure [heavens] of God.

Suspended in these azure [heavens], the Divine Dove of fire was hovering perpendicularly above Mary's head and, naturally, above my head, because I had leaned my cheek on Mary's cheek. The Holy Spirit had His wings open and in an upright, vertical position. He did not move, and yet He vibrated, and at every vibration there were waves, flashes, sparks of brilliance which were burst forth. From Him gushed a cone of golden light. Its peak started from the breast of the Dove and its base enfolded Mary and me. We were gathered together in this cone, in this mantel, in this embrace of joyous light. A light very vivid, and yet not dazzling, because it communicated to the eyes a new strength which grew with every beam burst forth from the Dove, increasing always more the already existing beam of light with every vibration of the Dove. I felt as if my eye were dilated with a superhuman power, as if it were no longer the eye of a creature but of a spirit already glorified.

When I attained the capacity of seeing further, thanks to the Love enkindled and suspended above me, my spirit was called to look still higher. And against the clearer azure of Paradise, I saw the Father — distinctly, in as much as His figure was in lines of immaterial light. [He had] a beauty which I do not try to describe because it is beyond human capacity. He appeared to me as on a throne. I say this because He seemed to me to be seated with infinite majesty. But I did not see a throne, or armchair or canopy. Nothing of any earthly form of seat. He seemed to be at my left side (toward the direction of my crucified Jesus — just to give you an indication — and therefore to the right of His Son), but at an incalculable height. And yet I saw Him in the tiniest of His most luminous features. He was looking toward the window (still to give you an indication of the various positions). He was looking with a look of infinite love.

I followed His gaze and saw Jesus. Not the Jesus-Master Whom I usually see. But the Jesus-King: clothed in black but with a luminous and extremely black garment, as is that of Mary. A garment which seems to be made of light. [He was] very beautiful. Robust. Imposing. Perfect. Dazzling. With His right hand (He was standing) He held His sceptre which is also His banner. A long staff, like a shepherd's, but still taller than my very tall Jesus, and which did not end with the shepherd's crook but in a transverse rod, which forms therefore a cross..., from which hung, supported from the shorter rod, a small banner of very luminous, black silk ..., and marked on both sides with a purple cross. Upon the small banner is written — in words of light as if written with liquid diamonds — the title: 'Jesus Christ.'

I see very well the wounds of His hands since His right hand holds the staff up high, toward the banner, and His left points to the wound of His side which, however, I do not see other than as a very luminous point from which beams of light radiate that descend toward earth. The wound on the right [hand] is just toward the wrist and seems like a very bright ruby, as large as a piece of our money .... The wound of the left hand is more in the centre and wider, but then elongated toward the thumb. They shine like living coals. I see no other wounds. Rather the Body of my Lord is very beautiful and whole in all Its parts.

The Father looks at the Son on His left. The Son looks at His Mother and me. But I assure you if He did not look with love I could not bear the brilliance of His Look and of His Countenance. He is truly the King of dreadful majesty, as it is said.

The longer the Vision lasts, the more my faculty of perceiving the tiniest details increases, and of seeing always more in that vast ray [of light].

In fact, after some time I see St. Joseph (near the corner where the Manger is). He is not so tall, more or less like Mary. Robust. With grey hair which is curly and short, and with a square-cut beard. A long, thin, aquiline nose. Two wrinkles incise his cheeks starting from the corners of his nose and descending to lose themselves at the sides of his mouth, in his beard. Dark and very good eyes. I find in them the loving good gaze of my own father. All his face is good, pensive without being sad, dignified, but so, so good. He is clothed in a tunic of violet-blue like the petals of certain periwinkles, and he has a mantle the colour of camel's hair. Jesus points him out to me, saying to me: 'Behold the patron of all the just.'

Then the Light summons my spirit to the other side of the room, that is toward Martha's bed, and I see my angel. He is kneeling, turned toward Mary whom he appears to venerate. Clothed in black, his arms placed in a cross on his breast with his hands touching his shoulders. His head is bowed very low, therefore I see little of his face. He is in an attitude of profound homage. I see his beautiful long wings, very black, pointed, true wings made to fly swiftly and surely from earth to Heaven, now gathered behind his shoulders. He teaches me with his attitude, as if he says: 'Hail, Mary.'

While I am still looking at him, I feel that someone is near me at my right side who places a hand on my right shoulder. It is my St. John with his shining countenance of cheerful love.

I feel blissful. I recollect myself in the midst of such bliss believing I have touched the summit. But a still livelier sparkling of the Spirit of God and of the wounds of Jesus, my Lord, increases my capacity for seeing. And I see the Heavenly Church, the Church Triumphant! I [will] try to describe it for you.

On high, always, the Father, the Son, and now also the Spirit high above the Two, between the Two, Whom He unites with His brilliance.

Lower down, as between two azure slopes of an unearthly azure, gathered in a blessed Valley, the multitude of the Blessed in Christ, the Army of those marked with the Name of the Lamb, a multitude which is light, a light that is song, a song that is adoration, adoration that is bliss.

On the left, the ranks of Confessors. On the right, those of the Virgins. I do not see the ranks of Martyrs, and the Spirit makes me understand that the Martyrs are joined to the Virgins, since martyrdom 're-virginizes' the soul as if it were just created. Whether Confessors or Virgins, they all seem clothed in black: that luminous black of the garments of Jesus and Mary.

Light radiates from the azure ground and from the azure walls of the Holy Valley as if they were kindled sapphire. Lights radiate from their garments of woven diamonds. Above all, the spiritualized bodies and faces are light. And here I endeavour to describe to you what I have noticed in the different bodies.

A Body of flesh and a Spirit that is alive, throbbing, perfect, sensitive to touch and contact — only the Body of Jesus and of Mary are that: two glorious Bodies, but truly 'bodies.' Then, Light with the form of a body (just so that it can be perceptible to this poor handmaid of God): the Eternal Father, the Holy Spirit and my angel. Next, Light already more solid: St. Joseph and St. John, certainly because I must hear their presence and word. Finally, White Flames, which are spiritualized bodies: all the Blessed who form the multitude of Heaven.

Among the Confessors no one turns. They all look at the Most Holy Trinity. Among the Virgins someone does turn. I distinguish the Apostles Peter and Paul because, although luminous and black-garbed as all [the rest], they have a face already more distinctive than the others: a typically Hebrew face. They look at me with kindness (thank Heavens!).

Then three blessed spirits (whom I understand to be the spirits of women) who look at me, nod and smile. You could say they invite me. They are young. But previously it appeared to me that all the Blessed have the same age: youthful, perfect, and of a similar beauty. They are lesser copies of Jesus and Mary. Who these three celestial creatures are I cannot say, but since two carry palms and only one some flowers — the palms are the only sign which distinguishes the Martyrs from the Virgins — I believe I do not err in saying that they are Agnes, Cecilia and Therese of Lisieux.

What that 'Alleluia' of this multitude is I cannot say, despite my good will. An 'Alleluia' which is powerful, but also soft as a caress. And all laugh and shine more vividly at every 'Hosanna' of the multitude to its God.

The Vision ceases and, in its intensity, is crystallized in this form. Mary leaves me and, with Her, John and Joseph: the first taking his place before the Son and the others their place in the rank of the virgins.

Praise be to Jesus Christ!"

[May 5, 1944]


"I will try to describe the inexpressible, unutterable, beatific vision of late yesterday evening which, from a dream of my soul, led me into a dream of my body in order to appear still more clear and beautiful to me when I returned to my senses. And before setting about this description, which will always be farther from the truth than we are from the sun, I asked myself: 'Should I write first, or first do my penances?'. I was burning to describe what caused my joy, and I know that after my penance I am slower from material fatigue with my writing.

But the voice of the Holy Spirit's light — I call it thus because it is immaterial like light and yet it is bright as the most brilliant light, and writes for my spirit His words which are sound and sparkle and joy, joy, joy — the Spirit, enfolding my soul in His lightning-flash of love, says to me:

First your penance and then the writing of that which is your joy. Penance should always precede all, in you, since that is what merits for you your joy. Every vision is born from a preceding penance, and each penance opens to you the way to each higher contemplation. You live for this. You are loved for this. You will be blessed for this. Sacrifice, sacrifice. Your life, your mission, your strength, your glory. Only when you will have slept in Us will you cease to be a host-victim, to become glory.

So I first did all my daily penances. But I didn't even feel them. The eyes of my spirit 'saw' the sublime Vision, and that annulled my bodily sensibilities. I understand therefore the reason why the martyrs were able to endure those horrible tortures smiling. If for me, so inferior to the martyrs in virtue, a contemplation can, by pouring itself from my spirit into my bodily senses, annul in them their sensitivity to pain: for the martyrs – as perfect in love as a human creature can be, and through their perfection seeing the Perfection of God without veils – there must take place in them a true annulling of their material weakness. The joy of the vision annuls the misery of the flesh's sensibility to every suffering.

And now I seek to describe it:

[The Vision]:

I saw Paradise again. And I understood what makes up Its Beauty, Its Nature, Its Light, Its Song — all, in short. Even Its Works, which are those that, from such a height, inform, regulate, provide for the whole created universe. As already [I understood] the other time, in the first part of the current year, I believe, [when] I saw the Most Holy Trinity. But let's take it in order.

Even the eyes of the spirit, however much more fit to endure that Light than the poor eyes of the body which cannot stare at the sun — a star which is like the little flame of a smoking wick compared to the Light that is God — even the eyes of the spirit need to habituate themselves by degrees to the contemplation of this lofty Beauty. God is so good that , even while wanting to unveil Himself in all His brilliance, He does not forget that we are poor spirits still prisoners in the flesh, and therefore weakened by this imprisonment.

Oh! How beautiful, shining, dancing, the spirits which God creates at every moment to be souls for his new creatures! I have seen them, and I know. But we...until we return to Him, we cannot endure that Splendour all at once. And He in His goodness brings it near to us only by degrees.

First of all, then, yesterday evening I saw [something] like an immense rose. I say 'rose' to give some concept of these circles of joyous light which centred themselves always more around a point of intolerable brilliance.

A rose without boundaries! Its light was that which it received from the Holy Spirit: the most resplendent light of Eternal Love. Topaz and liquid gold turned into flame...Oh! I don't know how to explain it! That Eternal Love radiated, high, high and alone, fixed in the immaculate and most resplendent sapphire of the Empyrean, and from that Love descended inexhaustible waves of Light. The Light which penetrated the rose of the Blessed and of the Angelic choirs and made it luminous with that Light — which is nothing but the result of the Light of Love that penetrates it. But I did not distinguish Saints from Angels. I saw only the immeasurable garlands of those circles of Paradisal Flowers.

I was already completely blissful from this [Vision] and had blessed God for His goodness, when, instead of crystallizing thus, the Vision opened itself into a more ample brilliance, as if it had brought itself ever nearer to me, permitting me to observe it with my spiritual eye now accustomed to the previous brilliance and capable of tolerating a stronger one.

And I saw God the Father: Splendour in the splendour of Paradise. Lines of light: of the most resplendent, blackest, incandescent light. Think, Father: if I was able to distinguish Him in that flow of light, what must be His Light which, even when surrounded by so much other [light], annulled it all, making it like a reflected shadow compared to His splendour. Spirit... Oh! how one sees what spirit is! It is All. All: so perfect is it. [Yet] it is nothing, because even the touch of any other spirit of Paradise cannot touch God, the most perfect Spirit, even with His immateriality: Light, Light, nothing else than Light.

Facing God the Father was God the Son. In the garment of His glorified Body upon which shone His royal raiment that covered His most holy Members, without hiding their utterly indescribable beauty. Majesty and Goodness were merged in this His Beauty. The burning coals of His five Wounds shoot out five swords of light over all of Paradise and increase Its splendour and that of His glorified Person.

He had no halo or crown of any kind. But His whole Body emitted light, that special light of spiritualized bodies which in Him and in His Mother is most intense and bursts forth from that Flesh — which is indeed flesh, but not opaque like ours. Flesh which is light. This light is condensed still more around His Head. [Coming] not from a halo, I repeat, but from all His Head. His smile was light, and light [was] His gaze; light pierced out of His most beautiful Brow, minus Its wounds. But it seemed that just where the thorns at one time had drawn blood and given Him pain, there now exuded a more vivid luminosity.

Jesus was standing up with His royal Standard in hand, as in the Vision I had in January, I believe.

A little lower than Him, but very little, as much as the usual step of a stairs, was the most holy Virgin. Beautiful as Jesus is in Heaven, that is, with Her perfect human beauty glorified with a Heavenly beauty.

She was standing between the Father and the Son Who had some meters between Them. (So much for applying sensible comparisons.) She was in the middle and, with Her hands crossed on Her breast — Her soft, very black, small, and very beautiful hands — and with Her face slightly raised — Her smooth, perfect, loving, and very lovely face — She was looking at, adoring, the Father and the Son.

Full of veneration, She was looking at the Father. She did not say a word. But all Her gaze was a voice of adoration, prayer and song. She was not kneeling. But Her look made Her [seem] more prostrate than in the deepest genuflection, so adoring was She. She said: 'Holy!'. She said: 'I adore You!' just by Her gaze.

Full of love, She looked at Her Jesus. She did not say a word. But all Her look was a caress. And every caress of that lovely eye of Hers said: 'I love You!' She was not seated. She did not touch Her Son. But Her gaze received Him as if He were in Her lap surrounded by those maternal arms of Hers as, and more than, in His Infancy and Death. She said: 'My Son!', 'My Joy!', 'My Love!', just by Her look.

She was delighted to look at the Father and the Son. And every so often She raised Her face and Her gaze still more to seek the Love which shone down, perpendicularly upon Her. And then Her own dazzling light, of a pearl become light, was kindled as if a flame had clothed it to make it burn and make it more beautiful. She received Love's kiss and strained with all Her humility and purity, with Her charity, to return a caress to [that] Caress and to say: 'Behold. I am Your Spouse and I love You and I am Yours. Yours for eternity.' And the Spirit blazed more strongly when Mary's gaze linked itself to His brilliance.

And Mary brought Her eye back upon the Father and upon the Son. It seemed that, Love having made [in Her] a deposit, She distributed it. My poor imagination! I will say it better. It seemed that the Spirit chose Her to be that One who, gathering in Herself all Love, might then bring It to the Father and to the Son so that the Three might be united and kiss each Other, becoming One. Oh! Joy to understand this poem of love! And to see the mission of Mary, Seat of Love!

But the Spirit did not concentrate His brilliance only upon Mary, our Great Mother, second only to God. For could a basin, even if very large, contain the ocean? No. It fills up with it and overflows with it. But the ocean has waters for all the earth. Thus the Light of Love. It descends in a perpetual caress upon the Father and the Son, It clasps them in a Ring of splendor. And then It enlarges Itself still more after becoming blissful from Its contact with the Father and the Son, Who respond with love to Love, and spread Themselves over all of Paradise.

Here is how this was revealed in its details...:

First, there are the Angels: higher than the Blessed [Saints], Circles around the Pivot of Heaven which is God, One and Triune, with the virginal Gem of Mary for the heart. They have a more vivid likeness to God the Father. Spirits, perfect and eternal, they are drawn from light, inferior only to that of God the Father, with a form of unspeakable beauty. They adore... They burst forth harmonies. With what? I don't know. Perhaps with the throbbing of their love. Since there are no words; and the lines of their mouths do not displace their luminosity. They shine like still water struck by living sun. But their love is a song. And it is harmony so sublime that only a grace, a special favour of God could allow one to hear it without dying of joy from it.

Lower down, [are] the Blessed [Saints]. These, in their spiritualized appearances, have a greater likeness to the Son and to Mary. They are more solid, I would say more accessible to the eye and (I have the impression) to the touch, than are the Angels. Hence in them their physical features are more marked and differ one from the other — thus I can understand whether one is an adult or a baby, a man or a woman. I did not see any aged, in the sense of feebleness. It seems that even when spiritualized bodies belong to those who died in old age, Up There the ruin of our flesh ceases. There is a greater nobility in an elderly person than in a youth. But not that squalor of wrinkles, baldness, toothless mouths and bent spines proper to humans. It seems that their maximum age is 40 or 45. That is, they have a flourishing virility even if their gaze and appearance are of patriarchal dignity.

Among the many... — Oh! how many throngs of the Saints!... and how many throngs of Angels! The Circles are lost, becoming trails of light through the deep-blue splendours of a vastness without bounds! And far, far off from this celestial horizon there still comes the sound of a sublime 'Alleluia,' and the light — which is the love of this army of Angels and Saints — trembles...

This time I see, among the many throngs, an imposing spirit. Tall, severe, and also good. With a long beard which descends to the middle of his breast, and with tablets of stone in hand. The tablets seem to be those wax ones that the ancients used to write on. He rests his left hand on them and holds them, in their turn, resting on his knee. Who he is I do not know. I think of Moses or of Isaiah. I do not know why. I just think so. He looks at me and smiles with great dignity. Nothing else. But what eyes! Just made to dominate the crowds and penetrate the secrets of God.

My spirit becomes always more adapted to seeing in the Light. And I see that at each fusion of the Three Persons — a fusion which is repeated with an urgent and ceaseless rhythm, as if spurred by an insatiable hunger of love — at each fusion are produced the unceasing Miracles which are the Works of God.

I see that the Father, out of love for the Son to Whom He wants to give an ever greater number of followers, creates souls. Oh! How beautiful! They come forth from the Father as sparks, as petals of light, as spherical gems — I am incapable of describing how. It is an endless stream of new souls...Beautiful [these souls], joyous to descend and merge with a body in obedience to their Author. How beautiful they are when they come out of God! I do not see, I cannot see while I am in Paradise, when the Original Spot soils them.

The Son, out of zeal for His Father, receives and judges without stopping those who, their life now ended, return to their Origin to be judged. I do not see these spirits. I understand if they are judged with joy, with mercy, or with inexorability, from the changes in Jesus' expression. What brilliance in His smile when there is presented to Him a saint! What a light of sad mercy when He must separate Himself from one who must be cleansed before entering into the Kingdom! What a flash of offended and sorrowful anger when He must reject for eternity a rebel!

It is here that I understand what Paradise is, and of what Its Beauty, Nature, Light and Song are made. It is made of Love. Paradise is Love. It is Love which creates all in It. It is Love that is the foundation upon which all rests. It is Love that is the summit from which all comes.

The Father works through Love. The Son judges through Love. Mary lives through Love. The angels sing through Love. The blessed shout 'Hosanna!' through love. Souls are formed through Love. The Light exists because it is Love. The Song exists because It is Love. Life exists because It is Love. Oh! Love! Love! Love!... I annul myself in You. I rise again in You. I die, a human creature, because You consume me. I am born, a spiritual creature, because You create me.

Be blessed, blessed, blessed, O Love, Third Person! Be blessed, blessed, blessed, Love, Who are the love of the First Two! Be blessed, blessed, blessed, O Love, Who love the Two Who precede You! Be blessed, You who love me. Be blessed by me who love You because you permit me to love You and to know You, O my Light..."

["After having written all this, I have sought in the fascicles for my preceding contemplation of Paradise. Why? Because I always distrust myself and I wanted to see if one of the two [Visions] was in contradiction with the other. That would have persuaded me that I am the victim of a deception.

No. There is no contradiction. The present one is still more clear but has essentially the same lines. The preceding [Vision] is on the date of January 10, 1944. And after [writing it] I had not looked at it anymore. I affirm it as by an oath."]

[Christ here gives Valtorta a brief commentary on the preceding Vision.    Trans.]

[May 25, 1944]


"In the Paradise which Love has made you contemplate, Maria, there are only the 'living' of whom Isaiah speaks in Chapter 4, one of the prophesies which will be read the day after tomorrow. And how this 'living' existence is obtained is told in the following words. With the spirit of justice and with the spirit of charity those stains that already exist are annulled and one is preserved from new corruptions.

This justice and this charity which God gives each of you and which you must give Him, will lead you and keep you in the shadow of the eternal Tabernacle. There the heat of the passions and the darkness of the Enemy will become something harmless, since they will be neutralized by your Most Holy Protector Who, more loving than a hen for her new-born [chicks], will draw you into the shelter of His wings and defend you against every supernatural assault. But do not ever leave Him Who loves you.

Think, My soul, of the Jerusalem that was shown to you. Does it not merit every care in order to possess It? Conquer. I await you. We await you. Oh! this word that We want to say to all that are created, at least to all Christians, at least to all Catholics, which We can say to so few!

Enough, because you are weary, Maria.  Rest, thinking of Paradise."


"The Lord God planted a Garden in Eden, to the east.

And He put there the man He had formed."


[July 6, 1944]

J E S U S :

[To Valtorta]: "You see, My soul, that I was quite right to say: 'The intimate knowledge of My torment in Gethsemani would not be understood and would become a scandal?'  People do not acknowledge the Demon. Those who do acknowledge him do not admit that the Demon had been able to harass the soul of Christ to the point of making Him sweat blood. But you, who have had a little bit of this temptation: you can understand. Let us then talk together."


"You asked Me: 'How many of the agonies that You give me are those of Gethsemane?'

Oh! So many! Not for the pleasure of tormenting you. Only through the goodness of your Master and Spouse. I could not bring down upon you all at once, little spouse, the whole mass of desolation which discouraged Me that evening, and which no one guessed, no one understood, apart from My Mother and My Angel. You would die, insane, from it. And so I give you a little bit now, tomorrow another bit, in such a way as to make you taste all My food and to obtain from your suffering the maximum of love and compassion for your sorrowful Spouse, and of redemption for your brethren.

Here is why I give you so many hours of Gethsemane. Join them together and, as the artist of a mosaic, by joining the pieces together, sees the complete picture being formed little by little ; so you, by joining together in your thought the remembrance of the different hours, will see the true Agony of your Lord.

Reflect on how I love you. The first time I gave you only the sight of My physical frenzy. And just seeing Me with My Face contorted, pacing to and fro, raising My arms, wringing My hands, weeping and depressed, you had such pain from it yourself that, just a little more, and you would have died on Me.

I presented that visible torture to you more and more often until you knew it intimately and were able to endure it. Then, every so often I revealed to you My sadness. My sadness: those of a man. All of man's passions had risen up like maddened serpents, hissing their right to exist, and I had to strangle them one by one in order to be free to climb My Calvary.

Not all the passions are evil. I already explained that to you. I give this word [passion] its philosophical meaning, not the one you all give it by changing its meaning to 'feelings'. Even the good passions can become enemies at certain times, when with their voice they forge a chain: and a chain of the hardest, strongest and most twisted steel, in order to prevent us from accomplishing the Will of God.

To love life, a gift of God, is a duty: so much so that whoever kills himself is as guilty and even more so than one who kills [another]; since he who kills [another] fails in charity towards his neighbour. But he can have the attenuating circumstance of a provocation which deranged him. While whoever kills himself fails against himself and against God Who gave him life that he might live it until his summons. To kill oneself is to snatch back the gift of God and, yelling a curse, to throw it into the Face of God. Whoever kills himself despairs of having a Father, a Friend, a [Supreme] Good. Whoever kills himself denies every dogma of faith and every assertion of faith. Whoever kills himself denies God. Therefore life must be held dear.

But how to hold it dear? By making ourselves its slaves? No. Life is a good friend. A friend of that other Life. Of the True Life. For this latter is the great Life. The former is the little life. But as a handmaid serves and procures food for her Lady, so does the little life serve and nourish the great Life, which reaches its perfect age through the care which the little life gives it.

It is precisely this little life which procures for you the beautiful garments you will don when you become Ladies of the Kingdom of Life. It is precisely this little life which fortifies you with that bitter bread, soaked in strong vinegar, of everyday things, and which makes you adults and perfect in order to possess that Life which does not end. Here is why we must call 'dear' this sad existence of exile and sorrow. It is the 'bank' wherein mature the fruits of eternal riches.

Is it passably good? Praise the Lord for it. Is it sprinkled with pains? Give 'thanks' to the Lord. Is it sad beyond measure? Never say: 'Its too much.' Never say, 'God is wicked.'

I said it a thousand times: Evil does not come from God. And what is sadness but the fruit of evil? It is villainous man who causes suffering.

I said it a thousand times: God knows how long you can suffer, and if He sees that what your neighbour is doing you is too much, He intervenes: not only by increasing your strength to endure it, but with heavenly comforts; and when the hour comes: by breaking the wicked.  For it is not permitted to torture beyond measure the one who is the better neighbour.

Life is dear for the honest satisfactions which it procures us. God does not censure them. Work: It is He Who put it there.  As a punishment, yes, but also as a diversion for guilty man. Woe, if you had had to live in idleness. For ages past the Earth would have become an enormous insane-asylum of the enraged who would be tearing each other apart. You already do that, because you are still too idle. Honest toil clears and calms the mind, and gives us joy and serene rest.

Life is more dear still for the holy affections with which it blossoms. God does not censure them. Could God Who is Love censure an honest love? O joy of being sons! and joy of being fathers! O joy of finding a feminine companion who will beget sons for one's own name, and children for God! O joy of having a sweet sister, a good brother, and sincere friends! No: these sweet, honest affections God does not censure.

He Himself put love on Earth, and not like work: as a punishment and diversion for the guilty but, in the earthly Paradise, as a basis for the great joy of being sons of God, children of God. 'It is not good that man should be alone,' He said.  King of creation, Man would have been in a desert without a feminine companion. Good were all the animals with their king, but too inferior, always too inferior to a son of God. Good, infinitely good, was God with His son, but always too superior to him. Man would have suffered the solitude of being equally distant from the divine and from the animal. And so God gave him a feminine companion.

Not only that. But for his chaste love with this same companion God would have granted him sweet sons, so that the man and the woman could have said that next sweetest word after the Name of God: 'My son!' And their children could have said that next holiest word after the Name of God: 'Mama!'

Mama! Whoever says 'Mama,' already prays.

To say 'Mama,' means to thank God for His Providence which gives a mother to the children of man and even to the little 'children' of the wild animals, of the domestic animals, of the flying birds and even of the mute fish, so that man would not know the horror of growing up alone, and would not fall from lack of support when he is still too feeble to know the Good and the Evil. To say 'Mama,' means to bless the God Who makes us know what love is through the kiss of a mother and the words of her lips. To say 'Mama,' means to know the God Who gives us a reflection of His principal attribute, Goodness, through the indulgence of a mother. And to know God means to hope, to believe, to love. It means to be saved.

And to have a brother: --is it not like a tree having its twin tree to support it in hours of storm, intertwining its branches in it; and which in hours of joy increases its blossoms with the pollen of its own love?

This is why I wanted Christians to call each other 'brothers,' since it is just, given that all of you come from one God and from one man's blood; and because it is holy, since it is a comfort for those who have no brothers of the flesh to be able to say to their neighbour: 'Brother, I love you. Love me.'

And to have a sincere friend: is it not like having a companion on our journey? Going alone is too sad. When God chooses a soul for the solitude of a victim, then He makes Himself its companion, since alone it could not stand without bending.

Life is a steep road, stony, often interrupted by crevices and swirling currents. Vipers and briars tear and bite on its bristling path. To be alone would be to perish. God created friendship for this. With two, strength and courage grow. Even a hero has moments of weakness. If he is alone, on what will he support himself? On the briars? What will he grasp? The vipers? Where will he lie down? In the swirling torrent or in the horrible darkness? Everywhere he would find a new wound and a new peril. But here is the friend: his breast is a support, his arm a prop, his affection a rest. And the hero recovers his strength. The traveller once again journeys secure.

To give value to friendship, I wanted to call My apostles 'friends,' and so much did I appreciate this affection that in the hour of My sorrow I wanted the three dearest apostles with Me in Gethsemane. I entreated them to watch and pray with Me, for Me...; and at seeing them incapable of doing it I suffered so much from it that I went forth weakened, and hence more susceptible to the Satanic seductions. One word! --had I been able to exchange one word with My friends, awake and understanding the state I was in, I would not have reached the point of bleeding profusely, before My torture, in My struggle to repel Satan.

But life and affections should not become our enemies. Never. If such they become, they must be broken.

I broke them. One by one.

I had already broken the human turmoil of outrage toward My Traitor. And a sinew of My Heart was torn in the effort.

It was now that the fear arose of losing My life. --Life! I was thirty-three years old. I was man in that hour. I was the Man. I had therefore a virginal love of life as had Adam in the earthly Paradise: a joy of being alive, of being healthy, strong, handsome, intelligent, loved, respected. A joy of seeing, of understanding, of being able to be expressive. A joy of breathing the pure and fragrant air, of listening to the harp of the wind among the olive trees and the brook among the stones, and the flute-like voice of the nightingale in love ; of seeing the stars shining in the heavens: so many eyes of fire that looked on Me with love ; the joy of seeing the earth made silver by the moon, so black and shining, which each evening made the world once more virginal; and it seemed impossible that under its waves of black peace someone could commit the Crime.

And all this I had to lose. Never again to see, never again to hear, never more to move, never more to be healthy, never again respected. To become a putrid abortion that one avoids with his feet, his head turned in disgust: an abortion expelled from the society which condemned Me, so as to be free to give itself to its filthy loves.

Those friends!... One had betrayed Me. And while I was waiting for death, he hastened to bring it to Me. He thought to give himself joy with My death... The others were sleeping. And yet, I loved them. I would have been able to wake them, to flee with them, elsewhere, far away, and to save both life and friendship. And instead I had to be silent and remain. To remain meant losing both friends and life. It meant being an outcast.

My Mama! O love of My Mama! Your love: invoked, it bent over My sorrow! Your love: repelled, in order not to cause you to die from My sorrow! Love of My Mama! Yes, I know: My every sob reached you, O Holy One. My every call to you crossed that space and penetrated like a spirit into the closed room where you, as always, passed your night praying, and praying in that night, not with ecstasy, but with torture of soul. I know. And I forbade Myself from calling you so as not to cause the moans of your Son to reach you, O martyr Mother who began your Passion, solitary as I was solitary, on that paschal Thursday night!

The son who dies in the arms of his mother does not die: he falls asleep cradled by a lullaby of kisses, which the angels continue till the moment when the vision of God makes the son forget his desire for his mother. But I had to die in the arms of executioners and a cross, and to close My sight and hearing on a bedlam of curses and menacing gestures.

How I loved you, Mother, in that hour of Gethsemane!

All the love that I had given you and which you had given Me in thirty-three years of life were before Me and pleaded their cause and begged Me to have pity on them, recalling your every kiss, your every care, the drops of milk you had given Me, the warm cup of your hands for My cold little feet as a poor infant, the songs from your mouth, the nimbleness of your fingers on the thick locks of My hair, and your smile and your look, your words and your silences, and your step of a dove: placing its rosy feet on the ground but keeping its wings already half-open for flight, and not even bending a stem, so lightly does it go; since you were on Earth for My joy, O Mother, but you had your wings always anxious for Heaven, O holy, holy, holy and beloved!

All the tears that I had already cost you, and all those that now fell from your eyelids and those that would have fallen in the three days to come, I heard them in the Garden, falling like moaning rain. O tears of My Mama!

But who can see his mama weeping, who can hear her weeping and, while life lasts, not have the torture of that weeping present from then on to him? I had to lose, to strangle My human love for you, Mama, and to trample both your love and Mine, in order to walk on the way of the Will of God.

And I was alone. Alone! ALONE! Earth and Heaven had no inhabitants for Me anymore. I was the Man loaded with the sins of the world. Hated therefore by God. I had to pay in order to redeem Myself and be loved again. I was the Man loaded with the Goodness of Heaven. Hated therefore by men to whom Goodness is repugnant. I had to be killed as punishment for being good.

And you too: you honest joys of work, accomplished to give daily bread to Myself first, so as then to give spiritual bread to men --you had come before Me [in the Garden] to say to Me: 'Why do you leave us?'

Then nostalgia for that quiet house made holy by so many prayers of the just; made a Temple from having welcomed the espousals of God; made Heaven by giving hospitality within its walls to the Trinity enclosed in the soul of the Christ of God!

And nostalgia for the humble, candid crowds to which I gave lights and graces, and from whom came love for Me! Voices of little children who called Me with a smile, voices of mothers who called Me with a sob, voices of the sick who called Me with a groan, voices of sinners who called Me with trembling! I heard them all in the Garden, and they said to Me:

'Why do You abandon us? You do not want to caress us anymore? Who will give us caresses like Yours on our blond or brown curls?' [said the children].

'You do not want to restore our dead children to us, to heal the dying for us? Who will have pity on mothers like You do, Holy Son?' [said the mothers].

'You do not want to restore our health anymore? Who will heal us if You disappear?' [said the sick]. 'You do not want to redeem us anymore? For us there is only You Who are Redemption. Your every word is strength which breaks a cord of sin in our dark heart. We are more ill than lepers, since for them the illness ceases with death, but for us it increases. And You? --You are going away? Who will understand us? Who be just and pitying? Who will raise us up again? Stay, Lord!' [said the sinners].

'Stay! Stay! Remain!' wails the good crowd.

'Son!' wails My Mother.

'Save Yourself!' wails life.

I had to break these throats that wailed: to strangle them in order to stop them from wailing anymore -- in order to have the strength to break My Heart, snatching out Its sinews one by one, so as to accomplish the Will of God.

And I was alone. That is: I was with Satan.

The first part of My prayer had been painful, but I could still feel the Gaze of God and hope in the love of My friends.

The second [part] was more painful, because God was withdrawing Himself and My friends were sleeping. They were reaffirming that hiss of Satan and the voice of life: 'You sacrifice Yourself for nothing. Men are not going to love You for Your sacrifice. Men do not understand.'

The third... The third [part] was madness, desperation, agony; it was death. The death of My Soul. Not only did My Body rise again. My Soul too had to rise again. Since It knew Death.

Let this not seem heresy to you. What is the death of the spirit? Eternal separation from God. Well then: I was separated from God. My Spirit was dead. This is the true hour of eternity which I grant to My favourites. That hour which you Maria, little spouse, asked to be yours from when they told you that your lot is similar to Veronica Juiliani who, at the end of her existence, knew intimately this torture surpassing all superhuman tortures.

Without having merited it, we ourselves know this death of the spirit intimately, in order to comprehend the horror of that damnation which is the torment of unrepentant sinners. We know it in order to obtain their salvation.

I know: the heart is broken. I know: reason wavers. I know all, beloved soul. I experienced it before you. It is an infernal horror. We are at the mercy of the Demon since we are separated from God.

Do you think that Martha, who defeated the dragon, had trembled more than we? No. In us the suffering is greater. The beast defeated by Martha was a frightful beast, but always a beast of Earth. We defeat the Lucifer-Beast. Oh! there is no comparison! And the Lucifer-Beast comes always nearer, as all both in Heaven and on Earth, becomes more distant.

I was already tempted in the desert. A crowd of temptations, since at that time I had only weakness from lack of material food. Now I was famished for spiritual food, and for moral food, and there was no bread for My Spirit nor bread for My Heart. No God anymore for My Spirit. No affections anymore for My Heart.

And then: slight as a breeze, piercing as a bee's sting, irritating as a viper's venom: the voice of Lucifer. A flute that sounds muted: so soft, so soft, which does not awaken our vigilant attention. Piercing with the seduction of its magic harmony, it makes us doze, it seems a comfort, it has the appearance of supernatural comfort.

Oh! eternal Deceiver, how subtle you are! The I [ ego], asks only to be helped. And that sound seems to help. Words of compassion and understanding, sweet as caresses on a fevered brow, calming as ointment on a burn, stupefying as a heady wine poured out for one who is fasting.

The weary soul sleeps. If it were no longer vigilant in its subconscious -- which is itself vigilant only in those who nourish themselves by constant union with Love -- it would end by falling into a lethargy that would put it totally at Satan's mercy: into a hypnotic sleep during which Lucifer would make it accomplish any action whatsoever. But the soul which has constantly nourished itself from Love does not lose the integrity of its subconscious, not even in the hours when men and God seem to join together in making it insane. And the subconscious awakes the soul. It shouts to it: 'Act! Get up! Satan is at your back!

The terrible struggle has begun. The venom is already in us. We must therefore struggle with its effects and against the quickening waves, always faster and more vehement, of the new venom of the satanic word which pours over us.

The uproar grows louder: no longer the sound of a muted flute, no longer a caress and ointment. It is the din of blaring instruments, it is a blow, a sword-wound, a flame that suffocates and burns us.

And there, in the flame: life which passes before our spiritual gaze. It had already passed with its resigned aspect of a sacrificed thing. Now it returns with the garments of a haughty queen and says:

'Adore me! It is I who reign! These are my gifts. The gifts I have given you; and still more beautiful gifts will I give you if you will be faithful to me.'

And in the sound of the instruments: the voices of things and of persons return. They no longer plead. They command, they call down evil on us, they insult, they curse us, because we abandon them. They all return to torment us. All. And the soul, dazed, struggles always more feebly.

When the soul, like a badly bleeding warrior, staggers and seeks some support in Heaven or on Earth so as not to fall down, then lo: Lucifer gives it his shoulder. There is none but him... The soul calls for help. No one answers but him... The soul seeks a look of pity... It finds none but his...

Woe to the soul that deludes itself about his sincerity! With the remains of its surviving energy it must get away from that support, re-enter into solitude, close its eyes and contemplate the horror of our destiny rather than his deceptive appearance, raise its trembling hands and clamp them on its ears to block out that deceiving voice.

But in doing so, every weapon falls. One is nothing more than a poor dying thing --and alone. We no longer succeed in praying with words, because the acrid breath of Satan chokes our jaws. Only our subconscious prays. It prays and it prays. Like the convulsive beating of a stabbed butterfly, it flutters its wings in agony, and every blow of its wing says: 'I believe, I hope, I love. I believe You all the same, I hope in You all the same, I love You all the same.'

It does not say: 'God.' It no longer dares to pronounce His Name. It feels itself too dirtied by Satan's nearness. But the tears of blood from its heart traces that Name on the angelic wings of its spirit which men call the subconscious, while in reality it is the super conscious. And at every blow of its wing that Name sparkles like a ruby struck by the sun, and God sees it. And the Tears of God's Pity surround with pearls the ruby of your blood that drips in heroic weeping...

Oh! souls who go up to God with that Name thus written in rubies and pearls!... Flowers of My Paradise!

Satan said to Me -- since that voice entered despite My every defence:


[Satan] :

"See? You are not yet dead and already you are abandoned. See? You have brought benefits, and You are hated. See? God Himself does not help You. If God, Whose Son You are, does not love You, can You ever hope for men to be grateful to You for Your sacrifice?

You know what they need? -- Vengeance. Not Love, as You believe. Avenge Yourself, O Christ, on all these fools, on all these cruel men. Avenge Yourself. Hit them with a miracle that will strike them with a thunderbolt. Show Yourself for what You are: God. The terrible God of Sinai. The terrible God Who struck me with a thunderbolt and Who drove Adam from Paradise.

Till now You have spoken words of goodness. Your rare rebukes were always too sweet for these beasts with skin thicker than the hide of a hippopotamus. Your Look medicates Your words. You know only how to love. Hate! And You will reign! Hate keeps their backs bent under its lash and passes triumphant over these servile backs. Crush them! They are happy to be crushed. They are nothing but sadists, and torture is the only caress they appreciate and remember.

It's late? No, it's not late. Armed men are already coming at this time? No matter. I know that You have prepared Yourself to be meek. You are wrong. Once I taught You to triumph in life. You did not want to listen to me, and You see that You are a conquered Man. Listen to me now. -- Now that I am teaching You to triumph over death.

Be King and God. You have no weapons? No soldiers? No riches? I already told You once that a remnant of love, that little which could have remained to me from the treasure of love which was my angelic life, is still in me for You Who are good. I love You, my Lord, and I want to serve You.

You are the Redeemer of men. Why do You not want to be that for Your fallen angel? I was Your favorite because I was the most luminous, and You are the Light. Now I am Darkness. But the tears of my torment are so numerous, they have filled Hell with liquid fire. Let me redeem myself. Just a little. So that from a demon I may become a man. Man is always so inferior to the angels. But how superior he is to me, a demon!

Make me become a man. Give me the life of a man troubled, tortured, anguished: as much as seems good to You. It will always be a paradise compared to my demonic torment. And I could live it in a such a way as to merit to expiate for millennia, and at last to reach again the Light: --You.

Let me serve You in exchange for this which I am asking of You. No weapon conquers mine. No army outnumbers mine. The riches that I dispose of have no measure, so that I will make You king of the world if you accept my help, and all the rich will be Your slaves. Look: Your angels, Your Father's angels are absent. But mine are ready to clothe themselves in the guise of angels to make You a crown and amaze this ignorant and wicked rabble.

You do not know how to speak words of authority? I will suggest them to you. I am here for that. Thunder and threaten. Listen to me. Speak lying words. But triumph. Speak words that curse. Say that Your Father suggests them to You.

You want me to fake the Voice of the Eternal? I will do it. I can do everything. I am King of the world and of Hell. You are only the King of Heaven. I am therefore greater than You. But I put all at Your feet if You wish it.

The Will of Your Father? But how can You think that He wants the death of His Son? You think He can delude Himself on its usefulness? You do wrong to God's Intelligence.

You have already redeemed with Your holy Word those who are open to redemption . Nothing more is necessary. Believe it: whoever does not change through the Word does not change through Your sacrifice. Believe that the Father wanted to test You. But Your obedience is enough for Him. He wants nothing more.

How much more You will serve Him by living! You could run through the world. Evangelize. Cure. Uplift. O happy lot! The Earth inhabited by God! Here is the true redemption: to make of Earth again the terrestrial Paradise where man lives once more in holy friendship with God, and hears His Voice, and sees His Appearance. Happier still than the lot of those first Two. Since now men will see You: true God, true Man.

Death! Your Death! The torture of Your Mother! The scorn of the world! Why? You want to be faithful to God? Why? Is He faithful to You? No. Where are His angels? Where is His Smile? What have You for a soul now? A rag: torn, sagging, abandoned.

Make up Your mind. Tell me: 'Yes.'

-- You hear? The assassins are coming out of the Temple. Make up Your mind. Free Yourself. Be worthy of Your Nature.

You are sacrilegious, because You allow hands filthy with blood and lust to touch You: the Saint of saints. You are the first sacrilegious person of the world. You give the Word of God into the hands of swine, into the mouths of swine.

Make up Your mind. You know that death awaits You. I offer You life, joy. I will bring Your Mother back to You.

Poor Mother! She has no one but You! Look at her, how she agonizes...and You are getting ready to agonize her still more. What kind of Son are You? What respect do You bring to the Law? You do not respect Yourself-God. You do not respect Her who bore You. Your Mother!... Your Mother!... Your Mother!..."


"I answered... Maria, --I answered, gathering My strength, drinking the tears and blood that flowed from My eyes and from My pores, I answered:

'I no longer have a mother. I no longer have a life. I no longer have Divinity. I no longer have a mission. I no longer have anything. Apart from doing the Will of the Lord My God. Go back, Satan! I said it the first and the second time. I say it again for the third time: "Father, if it is possible let this chalice pass from Me. But yet not My Will: Thy Will be done." --Go back, Satan. I belong to God!.'

Thus did I answer, Maria... And My Heart was broken in the effort. My sweat became no longer drops, but streams of blood. No matter. I conquered. I conquered Death. I. Not Satan. Death is conquered by accepting death."


[March 30, 1944]



"I see a rocky cavern in which there is a bed made of leaves piled upon a crude frame-work of branches intertwined and tied with reeds. It must be fitting as an instrument of torture. The cave has also a large rock which serves as a table and a smaller one which serves as a seat. Further back against the side, there is another: a large fragment protruding from the rock which has been treated by cleaning it -- I do not know if by nature or by patient and toilsome human labour -- and thus it presents a fairly smooth surface. Upon this protrusion, which seems to serve as a crude altar, there is placed a cross made from two branches held together by twigs. In a fissure of the clay ground, the inhabitant of the cave has also planted an ivy plant, and led its branches up to frame and embrace the cross, while in two crude vases which seem to have been moulded in clay by an inexperienced hand, stand two wild flowers gathered in the vicinity. And just at the foot of the cross, in a giant conch, is a little wild cyclamen plant with its clean little leaves and two buds close to blooming. At the foot of this altar is a bundle of thorny branches and a scourge of knotted cords. In the cave there is also a crude little jar of water. Nothing else.

From the narrow and low opening can be seen a background of mountains, and by the moving luminosity that can be glimpsed far off, you could say that from this point the sea is visible. But I cannot be sure. Some hanging branches of ivy, honeysuckle and wild roses, all the usual display of alpine places, hang over the opening and make a sort of moving veil that separates the interior from the outside.

A woman, thin, clothed in a crude dark garment over which is placed a goatskin as a mantle, enters the cave, moving the hanging branches aside. She seems exhausted. Her age is indefinable. To judge by her withered face, one would have to give her many years: more than sixty. But if she must be judged by her hair, still beautiful, thick, golden: she is no more than forty. She wears her hair in two tresses along her bent and gaunt shoulders, and it is the one thing that shines in that squalor. The woman would certainly have been beautiful, because her forehead is still high and smooth, her nose well made and her oval face, however much thinned by exhaustion, is regular. But her eyes have no more sparkle. They are deeply sunken in their sockets, and both are marked by bluish, dark-brown shadows.

Two eyes which tell of many tears shed. Two wrinkles, almost two scars, are cut from the corner of her eyes along the nose and lose themselves in that other wrinkle characteristic of someone who has suffered much, and which descends from the nostril to the corner of the mouth. Her temples also are sunken in and their blue veins are outlined in her great pallor. Her mouth bends in a weary curve and is of a very pale rose color. It must once have been a splendid mouth. Now it is faded. The curve of her lips is like that of two wings that hang broken. A sorrowful mouth.

The woman drags herself to the boulder that serves as a table, and places upon it some blackberries and wild strawberries. Then she goes to the altar and kneels down. But she is so worn-out that in doing so she almost falls, and must support herself on the boulder. She prays, looking at the cross and with tears descending in the furrow to her mouth which drinks them. Then she lets her goatskin fall and remains with only her rough tunic, and she takes the scourge and the thorns. She squeezes the thorny branches around her head and on her loins, and scourges herself with the cord. But she is too weak to do it. She lets the scourge fall and, supporting herself on the altar with both her hands and her forehead, she says: 'I cannot anymore, Rabboni! No more suffering in memory of Your sorrow!'

The voice makes me recognize her. It is Mary Magdalene! I am in her cave of a penitent.

Mary weeps. She calls Jesus with love. She cannot suffer anymore. But she can still love. Her flesh, worn out by penance, cannot endure anymore the fatigue of scourging herself, but her heart still has passionate throbs, and with her last strength she consumes herself in loving. And she loves by remaining with her forehead crowned with thorns and her waist enclosed in thorns. She loves by talking to her Master in a continuous profession of love and in a renewed act of sorrow.

She has slipped down with her forehead to the ground. The same posture she had on Calvary in front of Jesus laid on the lap of Mary. The same one she had in the house of Jerusalem when Veronica unrolled her veil. The same one she had in the garden of Joseph of Arimathaea, when Jesus called her and she recognized Him. But now she weeps because Jesus is not there.


'My life escapes me, my Master. And must I die without seeing You again? When can I be blessed with the sight of You? My sins stand before me and accuse me. You have forgiven me, and I believe that Hell will not have me. But how long the stop for expiation before living with You! Oh! Good Master! Because of the love that You have given me, comfort my soul! The hour of death has come. Because of Your desolate dying on the Cross, comfort Your creature! You are the One who has begotten me. You. Not my mother. You have resurrected me more than You resurrected Lazarus, my brother. Since he was already good, and his death could not but be a waiting in Your Limbo. I was dead in my soul, and to die means to die for eternity. Jesus, into Your hands I commend my spirit! It is Yours, because You have redeemed it. I accept for a last expiation to know the bitterness of Your dying abandoned. But give me a sign that my life has served to expiate my sins.'


Jesus has appeared. He seems to descend from the crude cross. But He is no longer wounded and dying. He is beautiful, as the morning of the Resurrection. He descends from the altar and goes toward the prostrate woman. He bends over her. He calls her again, and since she seems to believe that the Voice sounds through her spiritual senses, and with her face to the ground as it is, she does not see the light which Christ radiates. He touches her, placing His hand on her head and taking her by the elbow, as at Bethany, to raise her up. When she feels herself touched and recognizes the length of that hand, she gives a loud shout, and raises a face transfigured with joy. Then she lowers it to kiss the feet of her Saviour.


'Arise, Mary. It is I. Your life escapes. It is true. But I come to tell you that the Christ awaits you. For Mary, there is no waiting. All is forgiven her. From the first moment, she was forgiven. But now she is more than forgiven. Your place is already prepared in My Kingdom. I have come, Mary, to tell you that. I did not give an order to an angel to tell you, because I return a hundredfold what I receive. And I remember what I received from you.

Mary, let us re-live together an hour of the past. Recall Bethany. It was the evening after the Sabbath. There were but six days lacking till My death. You recall your house? It was all beautiful in the flowery enclosure of its orchard. Water sang in the pond, and the first roses scented its walls all around. Lazarus had invited Me to his supper, and you had stripped the garden of its most beautiful flowers to adorn the table where your Master had taken His food. Martha had not dared to reprove you, because she remembered My words [Lk 10:38-42], and she watched you with a sweet envy because you were radiant with love, coming and going with the preparations.'

As Jesus spoke, I saw the scene described: The house of Bethany all with flowers and cheerful. The banquet room richly laid out; Martha occupied with chores and Mary with some flowers.


'And then I arrived. And swifter than a gazelle you ran, preceding the servants, to open the gate with your habitual shout. It always seemed like the shout of a prisoner set free. In fact, I Myself was your freedom, and you were a prisoner set free. The apostles were with Me. All of them. Even that one who was now a gangrenous member of the apostolic body. But you were there to take his place. And you did not know that while looking at your head bowed to kiss My feet, and looking at your eye, sincere and full of love, and above all in looking at your spirit, I forgot My disgust at having the traitor at My side. I had wanted you on Calvary for this. And in the garden of Joseph for this. Because to see you was to be assured that My death was not without purpose. And to show Myself to you was an act of gratitude for your faithful love. Blessed are you, Mary, who have never betrayed Me, who have confirmed Me in My hope as Redeemer, you in whom I saw all those saved by My dying! While all ate, you adored.'

Then I see the arrival of Jesus with the twelve and the meeting with Mary who leads Him toward the house, into a room in front of the one for the banquet. Mary brings water in a basin and wants to wash the feet of Jesus herself. Then she changes the water and holds the basin until Jesus has purified His hands. And when He returns the towel to her, she takes it from His hands and kisses them. Then she sits on the ground at the feet of Jesus, on a carpet that covers the pavement, and listens to Him talk with her brother, who shows Jesus some scrolls, new acquisitions made recently at Jerusalem.

Jesus discusses with Lazarus the contents of these works and explains, I believe, the doctrinal errors which they contain, or else the differences between those doctrines of the Gentiles, and the doctrines that are true. They must be literary works which Lazarus, rich and cultured, had wanted to know. Mary never speaks. She listens and loves.

Then they go for supper. The two sisters serve table. They do not eat. Only the men eat. The servants also come and go, carrying platters which are rich and beautiful. But the two sisters personally serve the table, taking from the sideboards the platters which the servants set there and the amphoraes full of wine which they mix. Jesus drinks water. Only at the end does He accept about an inch of wine.


'You gave Me perfumed water, Mary, for My weary feet, and chaste and burning kisses for My hands, and still not content, you wanted to break your last precious vase to anoint My head, arranging My hair for Me like a mama. And you wanted to anoint My hands and My feet so that all of your Master would be fragrant like the members of a consecrated King'. . . .

Toward the end of the banquet, when the supper already slackens its rhythm and becomes more conversation than anything else, while they pass the fruits and sweets, Mary, who has disappeared for some minutes, returns with an amphora of alabaster and breaks the neck of it against the corner of a piece of furniture, to be able to get at it more easily. And with her hands full she takes it and anoints the hair of Jesus while standing behind Him, arranging the curls at the end of His hair, rolling them lock by lock on her fingers. She seems like a mama combing her child. When she is finished, she very lightly kisses the head of Jesus, and then takes His hands and embalms them and kisses them, and then does the same with His feet.


'And Judas -- who hated you because you were honest now, and with your honesty you repelled the greediness of males -- Judas had reproached you... But I had defended you because you had accomplished all for love, a love so great that the memory of it came with Me in the agony from Thursday evening until the ninth hour.... Now, for this act of love which you had given Me at the threshold of My death, I come, to the threshold of your death, and return love to you.'

The disciples look on. John smiles as though encouraging Mary. Peter shakes his head, but... come now! --he too smiles in his beard, and so do the others, more or less. Thomas and another little old man grumble quietly. But Judas, with an indefinable but certainly an ugly look, explodes in his bad humour:


'What foolishness! To be a fool it is enough to be feminine. Why such waste? The Master isn't a former publican or prostitute to need such effeminacies. It's also dishonouring for Him. What will the Jews say smelling Him perfumed like an effeminate youth?

Master, I'm astonished that you allow a woman such foolishness. If she has riches to squander, let her give them to me for the poor. It'll be more sensible. Woman, stop it I tell you, because you disgust me.'

Mary looks at him abashed and, blushing, is about to obey. But Jesus puts His hand upon her head which she holds bowed down, and then brings that hand down upon her shoulder to draw her lightly to Himself as though to defend her:


'Let her alone,' He says. 'Why do you reproach her? No one should reproach a good work and put there hidden meanings which only malice teaches. She has performed a good act towards Me. The poor you always have. I will not be among you any more and the poor will still be there. To them you can continue to do good. To Me, no, because I am close to leaving you.

She has anticipated for all of you the homage to My sacrificed Body, and she has already anointed It for burial because then It will not be able to be done. And it would pain her too much not to have embalmed Me. Truly I say to you that till the end of the world and in every place where the Gospel will be preached what she has done now will be recalled. And from her act, souls will take lessons in giving Me love, the beloved balm of the Christ, and will take courage in sacrifice, thinking that every sacrifice is an embalming of the King of kings, of the Anointed of God, of Him from Whom Grace descends like this nard upon My hair to make hearts fertile with love, and to Whom love rises up in a continual flowing back and forth of love from Me to My souls, and from My souls to Me.

Judas, imitate, if you can. If you still can do it. And respect Mary, and Me with her. Respect yourself also. Since it is not a dishonouring of oneself to accept a pure love with a pure love. Rather, it is by nourishing a grudge and making insinuations under the goading of sense. It has been three years, Judas, that I am teaching you. But still I have not been able to change you. And the hour is near. Judas, Judas... Mary, thank you. Persevere in your love.'

[The secondary Vision of the Bethany scene ends here. Jesus continues now His words to Mary in her cave. -- Trans. ]


'Your Master loves you, Mary. He is here to tell you this. Have no fear, no anxiety of another death. Your death is no different than that of one who pours out his blood for Me. What does the martyr give? His life for love of his God. What does the penitent give? His life for love of his God. What does the lover give? His life for the love of his God. You see that there is no difference. Martyrdom, penitence, love consummate the same sacrifice and for the same end. In you, then, penitent and lover, is the same martyrdom of one who perishes in the arena. Mary, I precede you into glory. Kiss My hand and lay down in peace. Rest. It is time for you to rest. Give Me your thorns. Now is the time for roses. Rest and wait. I bless you, blessed one.'

Jesus has obliged Mary to lie down on her bed. And the saint, her face washed with weeping from ecstasy, has stretched herself out as her God wanted, and now seems to sleep with her arms folded on her bosom, with tears continuing to fall but with a mouth that laughs.

She rises to sit up when a very vivid brilliance occurs in the cave from the coming of an angel bearing a chalice which he lays upon the altar and which he adores. Mary also, kneeling near the little bed, adores. She cannot move anymore. Her strength fails. But she is blissful. The angel takes the chalice and gives her communion. Then he rises again to Heaven.

Mary, like a flower burned by too much sun, bows over, bows with her arms still folded on her bosom, and falls face down amid the leaves of her bed. She is dead. The Eucharistic ecstasy has cut off the last vital thread."




"The extent to which a creature can be absolute in its generosity of love and requital of the one who has loved it, is always relative. But your Jesus surpasses all the vastness of human desire and every limit of satisfaction, since He, your Jesus, is God. And to you, generous and loving souls -- since this is a page which I address especially to you, souls who do not content yourselves with obeying the precept, but embrace the counsel and push your love of Me to holy heroisms -- to you I give My lavishness of God, and that of a good God.

For you I create the miracle, to give you an exchange of joy for all the joy you give Me. I substitute Myself for what is lacking to you, or I stir up what is necessary for you. But nothing do I leave lacking to you who have stripped yourselves of all for My love, even to living in a material or moral solitude in a world which does not understand you and which scorns you, a world which, repeating the ancient insult already given to Me, your Master (Mt 12:24), shouts at you: "Insane!", and mistakes your penances and your lights for diabolical signs. For the world, subjugated to Satan, believes the saints to be Satan -- the saints who have put the world under their feet and made of it a footstool for themselves to rise higher toward Me, and to plunge themselves into My Light.

But let them even say that you are "insane and demons". I know that you are the possessors of a true wisdom, of an upright intelligence, and that you have the soul of an angel in a mortal body. I remember, nor does there pass as forgotten a single sigh of love that you have had for Me. And as I defend you against the world -- because to the better ones of the world I reveal what you are in My eyes -- so also I compensate you when the hour comes and I judge that it is time to pour into your chalice some sweetness.

It is only I Myself who have drunk it to the bottom, without tempering it with honey. I who have had to cling to the thought of those who would love Me in the future, in order to be able to endure the chalice to the bottom without reaching the point of cursing man for whom I shed My Blood, and thus knowing -- or more than knowing -- abandoning Myself to the despair of My condition as one abandoned by God.

But what I have suffered, I do not want any of you to suffer. My experience was too cruel to impose it on you. And that would be to try you beyond your strength. God is never imprudent. He wants to save you and not lose you. And to impose upon you certain hours too cruel, would be to lose your soul, which would bend down like an overloaded branch, and would end by being broken and knowing the mud after having known so much of Heaven.

I never disappoint one who hopes in Me. Say it, say it, say it to all."


[July 22, 1944, St. Mary Magdalene]



Valtorta :

"A beautiful and long Vision which has nothing to do with the Holy Penitent whom I have always loved so much. I write it down adding pages to this notebook because I am alone and I use whatever I have at hand.

I see the catacombs. Although I have never been in the catacombs, I understand that these are [the catacombs]. What kind I don’t know. I see a dim  meandering of narrow corridors dug in the earth, low and moist, all made to twist around like a labyrinth. You walk straight and seem to be able to continue, at most to be able to turn into another corridor, but instead find yourself before an earth wall, and it’s necessary to turn around, to go back until you find another corridor that goes further. In them are niches and more niches, ready to receive martyrs. Ready in this sense: that each one is slightly dug out in the wall to give a pattern to the diggers. So it is at the beginning [of the catacombs]. But the more you penetrate into them, the deeper and more complete are the burial niches, all [going] in the direction of the wall, like so many berths in a ship. Others, instead, are already filled with their holy remains and closed up with a rough stone awkwardly inscribed with the name of the martyr or the deceased and with Christian signs, besides a word of farewell and of commendation.

But these already closed and completed niches are just in that section which I suppose is the central part of the catacomb, because here wider surroundings often open up, like large and small rooms that are higher, adorned with engravings, and are more illuminated than the others by little oil lamps scattered here and there out of devotion or for the convenience of the faithful whose own little lanterns have for some reason gone out.

Even the persons here are more numerous and flow from all sides, greeting each other with love, in a low voice, as the holy place requires. There are men, women and babies, of  every social condition, clothed as the poor and as patricians. The women have their heads covered with a light cloth like muslin. It is not the veil of Tulle, certainly, but it’s like a thick, thick gauze, more beautiful on the rich, poorer on the poor, dark for the married and widows, black for virgins. There are married women who have babies in their arms. Perhaps they have no one with whom to leave them and have brought them with them. And if the older children walk at the side of their mamas, the smallest, some still infants, sleep happily under their mother’s veil, rocked by the steps of their mother and by the slow and pious songs that rise beneath the [underground] vaults. They seem like little angels descended from Heaven and dreaming of that Paradise for which they smile in sleep.

The people increase and end up reuniting in a very wide semi-circular room which has, at the apex of the circle, an altar turned toward the crowd, and is all covered with pictures or mosaics. I don’t understand this well. I know that there are colored pictures in which the most vivid or clearest tones shine and golden halos sparkle. On the altar many lamps are lit. Around the altar, a crown of black-garbed and black-veiled virgins.

An old man of a good and majestic appearance enters, giving blessings. I believe he is the Pontiff, because all prostrate in reverence. He is surrounded by priests and deacons, and passes among the dense row of  bowed heads with a smile of unutterable beauty on his face. His smile alone tells of his holiness. He ascends to the altar and prepares for the rite while the faithful sing.

The celebration takes place. It's almost like ours. Much more complex than what I saw in the Tullianum, celebrated by the apostle Paul, and than that seen as celebrated in the house of Petronilla.

The old celebrant -- a Bishop, certainly, if not the Pontiff -- is helped and served by deacons, who have much different vestments than his own because, while he wears a celebration vestment which (to give you some idea) is like those dressing gowns that women use when combing their hair –  small circular mantles that cover them in the front and on their back and shoulders and arms, even as far as their wrists – the deacons on the other hand have a celebration vestment almost like those of today, lengthened to the knees and with ample and short sleeves.

The Mass consists of songs, which I understand to be parts of psalms or of the Apocalypse, and readings of parts of epistles or the bible, and [parts] from the Gospel, which are commented upon to the faithful by the deacons in turn.

Having finished the reading of the Gospel – a young deacon reads it in a singing voice – the Pontiff rises. I call him this because I hear him pointed out thus by a mama to her rather restless baby. The [Gospel] part chosen was the parable of the ten virgins: the wise and the foolish ones. The Pontiff says: ‘This parable, properly about virgins, is addressed to all souls, since the merits of the Saviour's Blood and Grace "re-virginize" them and make them like young maidens awaiting the Bridegroom.

Smile, O failing old men; raise up your face, O patricians, who till yesterday were immersed in the mire of corrupt paganism. Look, O mothers and wives, without further regret at your candid ignorance of young maidens. In your soul, you are not unlike these lilies among which the Lamb walks and which now make a crown for His altar. Your soul has the beauty of a virgin whom no kiss has deflowered, when you are reborn and remain in Christ, our Lord. His coming makes the soul -- which before was filthy and black with the most debasing vices -- black than the dawn over a mountain covered with snow. Repentance washes your soul, your will purifies it, but love, love of our holy Saviour, love which comes from His Blood that shouts with the voice of love, restores to you perfect virginity. Not that [virginity] which formerly you once had from the dawn of your human life. But that [virginity] which was from the father of all: Adam, and that which was from the mother of all: Eve, before Satan passed near their angelic innocence, misleading them. Their innocence: a Divine gift which clothed them with grace in the eyes of God and the universe.

O holy virginity of the Christian life! Bath of Blood, of the Blood of a God that makes you new and pure as the Man and the Woman [who had just] come forth from the hands of the Most High! O second birth of your life, into the Christian life, prelude of that third birth which Heaven will give you when you ascend at God’s beckoning: black through faith or purple through martyrdom, beautiful as angels and worthy of seeing and following Jesus Christ, Son of God, our Saviour!

But today, more than to those souls re-virginized by Grace, I address myself to those enclosed in a virgin body, with the will of a virgin. To the wise virgins who have understood the invitation of our Saviour's love and the words of the virgin, John, and want to follow the Lamb forever among the ranks of those who do not know contamination, and who eternally fill Heaven with the canticle which none can speak but those who are virgins out of love of God. And I speak to the [virgin] strong in faith, in hope, in charity, who is fed this night with the immaculate Flesh of the Word, and is strengthened with His Blood as from heavenly Wine to be strong in her venture.

One among you will arise from this altar to go meet a destiny whose name can be "death." And she goes there trusting in God, not with the faith common to all Christians, but with a still more perfect faith which is not limited to believing for oneself, to believing in the Divine protection for oneself. But she believes also for the others and hopes to bring to this altar him who tomorrow will be, in the eyes of the world, her husband, but in the eyes of God, her dearly beloved brother. A doubly perfect virginity which feels secure about its own strength to the point of not fearing violation, of not fearing the anger of a disappointed husband, of not fearing the weakness of its feelings, nor the dread of threats, nor the disappointment of its hopes, of not fearing the dread and near certainty of martyrdom.

Arise and smile at your true Husband, O chaste virgin of Christ who go to meet that man while looking at God, who go there to bring the man to God! God keeps you and smiles on you, and His Mother who was a Virgin smiles on you, and the angels make a crown for you. Arise, and come slake your thirst at the immaculate Font before going to your cross, to your glory.

Come, bride of Christ. Repeat to Him your song of love beneath these vaults which are more dear to you than the cradle of your birth in the world, and carry it with you till the moment that your soul will sing it in Heaven while your body will rest in its last sleep in the arms of this, your true Mother: the Apostolic Church.’

The Pontiff's homily being now finished, there is a little noise, because the Christians whisper, looking and nodding at the ranks of the virgins. But there is a ‘shhhhh’ to impose silence, and then the catechumens are sent out and the Mass follows.

There is no Credo. At least I don’t hear it. Some deacons pass among the faithful gathering offerings, while other deacons sing with their manly voices, alternating stanzas of a hymn with the candid voices of the virgins.

Swirls of incense rise toward the vault of the [underground] room while the Pontiff prays at the altar and the deacons lift up on their palms the offerings collected in precious vessels and in equally precious amphorae.

The Mass continues now just as it is today. After the dialog which precedes the Preface, and the Preface sung by the faithful, there is a great silence in which are heard only the aspirations and whispers of the Celebrant who prays bowed over the altar and who then rises and, in a more distinct voice, says the words of Consecration.

The ‘Our Father’ is very beautiful, intoned by all. When the distribution of the [consecrated] Species is begun, the deacons sing. The virgins are given Communion first. Then they sing the song heard for the burial of St. Agnes: ‘I saw upon Mount Sion a Lamb standing’ This canticle lasts as long as the distribution of the Species,  alternating with the Psalm: ‘As the deer sighs for the waters, so my soul pants for You my God.’ (I believe I have transposed it well.)

The Mass has ended. The Christians crowd around the Pontiff to be blessed by him individually also, and to bid farewell to the virgin whom the Pontiff had addressed. These farewells take place however in a neighbouring room, I would say an antechamber of the true and proper church. And they take place when, after a longer prayer by all the others present, the virgin rises from her place, prostrates herself at the foot of the altar and kisses the edge of it. She truly does seem a deer that doesn’t know how to detach itself from its font of pure water.

I hear them call her: ‘Cecilia, Cecilia.’ And finally I see her, I see her face, because now she is right near the Pontiff and her veil is raised up a little. She is very beautiful and very young. Tall, with a graceful figure, very refined in her features, with a beautiful voice and the smile and look of an angel. Some ask her how she could ever have decided on an earthly marriage; others, if she doesn’t fear the wrath of her patrician [fiancé] when he discovers she is a Christian.

A virgin regrets that Cecilia is renouncing her virginity. Cecilia answers her, to answer all: 'You are mistaken, Balbina. I am not renouncing my virginity for anyone. I have consecrated my body to God as [also] my heart, and to Him I remain faithful. I love God more than my relatives. But I still love them so much as not to want to bring them to death before God calls them. I love Jesus, eternal Spouse, more than any man. But I love men so much as to have recourse to this means in order not to lose the soul of Valerian. He loves me, and I love him chastely, I love him perfectly, so much so that I want to have him with me in the Light and in the Truth. I do not fear his anger. I hope in the Lord to conquer. I hope in Jesus to Christianize my earthly spouse. But if I do not conquer in this, and martyrdom is given me, I will the sooner conquer my crown.

But no!… I see three crowns descending from Heaven: Two alike and one made of three orders of gems. The two alike are all red with rubies. The third is of two bands of rubies around a great string of very pure pearls. They await us. Do not fear for me. The power of the Lord will defend me. In this church we will find ourselves soon united for the salvation of the new brothers. Farewell. In God.'

They go out of the catacombs. All wrap themselves in dark mantles and slip away on the roads still half-dark because the dawn is just barely beginning.

Cecilia follows, going together with a deacon and some virgins. At the gate of a wide building they leave each other. Cecilia enters with only two virgins. Perhaps two maidservants. The doorkeeper however must be a Christian because he greets [her] thus: 'Peace to you!.'

Cecilia withdraws into her rooms and together with the two [virgins] prays and then prepares for the wedding. They comb her hair very well. They slip a very fine garment of blackest wool on her, adorned with a laced fret of  embroidery: black on black. It seems like embroidery in silver and pearls. They put jewels on her ears, her fingers, her neck and her wrists.

The house is animated. Matrons and other maidservants enter. A continual and festive going and coming.

Then I attend what I believe is the pagan wedding. That is, the arrival of the bridegroom amid music and guests and with ceremonies of greetings and sprinklings and  similar rituals, and then the departure in a sedan chair toward the bridegroom’s house, all ready for the celebration. I notice that Cecilia passes beneath arches of black woolen bands and of  boughs which seem to me to be myrtle, and she stops before the lararium, I believe, where there are new ceremonies of sprinklings and formulas. I then see the two giving each other their hand and saying the ritual phrase: ‘Where you [are], Caius, I Caia [am].’

There are so many people, and more or less all in the same garments: togas, togas and more togas, that I don’t understand who is the priest of the rite, or if there is one. I seem to have vertigo!

Then Cecilia, held by her bridegroom’s hand, makes a circuit of the hall (I don’t know if I am saying it well), in short, of the room with niches and columns where the lararium is, and she greets the statues of  Valerian’s ancestors, I believe. And afterward she passes beneath new arches of myrtle and enters into the house proper. On the threshold they offer her gifts and, among other things, a distaff and spindle. An old matron offers it to her. (I don’t know who she is.)

The feast begins with the usual Roman banquet and continues amid songs and dances. The room is very rich, as is all the house. There is a courtyard – I believe it’s called an impluvium, but I don’t remember well the names of Roman buildings nor do I know if I apply it correctly – a courtyard that is a gem of  fountains, statues and flower beds. The triclinium is between this and the thick and flowery garden which is beyond the house, amid the bushes, marble statues and very beautiful fountains.

It seems to me that much time passes because evening falls. One sees that for the Romans there were no ration tickets. The banquet never ends. It's true that there are pauses in the songs and dances. But in a word....

Cecilia smiles at her bridegroom who speaks to her and looks at her with love. But she seems a little inattentive. Valerian asks her if she is tired and, perhaps in order to do something pleasing for her, rises to dismiss the guests.

Cecilia withdraws into her new rooms. Her Christian maidservants are with her. They pray, and in order to have a cross, Cecilia dips a finger in a bowl which must serve for her dressing table, and marks a slight dark cross on the marble of a wall. The maidservants take off her rich attire, putting a simple woolen garment on her; they loosen her hair taking the precious hairpins out of it and knot it in two plaits for her. Thus, without any jewels, without any curls, with her plaits on her shoulders, Cecilia seems a young girl, while I judge her to be 18 to 20 years old.

A last prayer and a nod to the maidservants who go out to return with others more elderly, certainly of Valerian’s house. They go out in procession to a magnificent room, and the eldest accompany Cecilia to the bed, which is rather like Turkish couches of today, only the base is of inlaid ivory and the pillars are of ivory at the four sides, supporting a purple canopy. The bed too is covered with a very rich purple cloth. They leave Cecilia alone.

Valerian enters and goes with outstretched hands to Cecilia. One sees that he loves her much. Cecilia smiles at his smile. But she doesn’t go toward him. She remains standing in the centre of the room, since the old maidservants who laid her on the bed had no sooner gone out, then she got up again.

Valerian is astonished. He believes they did not serve her as they should have and is already angry at the maidservants. But Cecilia pacifies him saying it was she who wished to await him standing.

‘Come, then, my Cecilia,’ says Valerian seeking to embrace her. ‘Come, for I love you so much.’

‘I too. But do not touch me. Do not offend me with human caresses.

‘But Cecilia!... You are my bride."

‘I am God’s, Valerian. I am a Christian. I love you, but with my soul in Heaven. You have not married a woman, but a daughter of God whom the angels serve. And the angel of God stands with me as a defence. Do not offend that heavenly creature with acts of trivial love. You would have his chastisement.'

Valerian is bewildered. At first his astonishment paralyzes him, but then anger at being mocked overcomes him and he is agitated and shouts. He is violent, a supremely disappointed man. ‘You have betrayed me! You have made a game of me. I don’t believe it. I cannot, I don’t want to believe that you are a Christian. You are too good, beautiful and intelligent to belong to this filthy gang. But no!… It’s a joke. You want to play like a child. It’s your feast. But the joke is too atrocious. Enough. Come to me.’

‘I am a Christian. I am not joking. I glory in being one because to be such means to be great on earth and beyond. I love you, Valerian. I love you so much that I have come to you to bring you to God, to have you with me in God.’

‘A curse on you, madwoman and perjurer! Why have you betrayed me. Don’t you fear my vengeance?

‘No, because I know that you are noble and good and you love me. No, because I know that you do not dare to condemn without proof of guilt. I have no guilt...'.

‘You lie speaking of angels and gods. How can I believe in this? I must see and if I saw…if I saw I would respect you as an angel. But for now you are my bride. I see nothing. I see only you.’

‘Valerian, can you believe that I lie? Can you believe it, you indeed who know me? Lies, Valerian, are for cowards. Believe what I tell you. If you want to see my angel, believe in me and you will see him. Believe in her who loves you. Look:  I am alone with you, You could kill me. I have no fear. I am at your mercy. You could denounce me to the Prefect. I have no fear. The angel shelters me with his wings. Oh! If you could see him!...'

‘How could I see him?’

‘By believing in that which I believe. Look: on my heart is a little scroll. You know what it is? It is the Word of my God. God does not lie, and God had said to have no fear, we who believe in Him, because serpents and scorpions will be without poison for our feet...' .

‘But you all die too by the thousands in the arenas...'

‘No. We do not die. We live eternally. Olympus does not exist. Paradise does exist. In It there are no lying gods and bestial passions. But only angels and saints in celestial lights and harmonies. I hear them I see them O Light! O Voice! O Paradise! Descend! Descend! Come to make Your own this son of Yours, this my husband. Your crown first for him before me. For me the sorrow of being without his affection, but the joy of seeing him loved by You, in You, before my coming, O joyous Heaven! O eternal marriage! Valerian, we will be united before God, virgin spouses, happy with a perfect love' Cecilia is ecstatic.

Valerian looks at her admiringly, moved. 'How could I how could I have that? I am a Roman patrician. Until yesterday I was depraved and I was cruel. How could I be like you, an angel?’ 

‘My Lord came to give life to the dead. To dead souls. Be reborn in Him and you will be like me. Let’s read together His Word, and your bride will be happy to be your teacher. And then I will lead you with me to the holy Pontiff. He will give you the complete light and grace. Like a blind man whose pupils are opened, you will see. Oh! Come, Valerian, and hear the eternal Word which sings in my heart.’

And Cecilia takes her husband by the hand, now all humble and calm as a baby, and sits near him on two wide seats and reads the First chapter of the Gospel of St. John up to verse 14, then the Third chapter with the episode of Nicodemus.

The voice of Cecilia is like the music of a harp in reading those pages, and Valerian listens to her, first remaining seated with his head propped on his hands, placing his elbows on his knees, still a little suspicious and incredulous. Then he leans his head on the shoulder of his bride and with his eyes closed listens attentively and, when she stops, entreats her: ‘Again, again.’ Cecilia reads fragments of Matthew and Luke, all suited to persuade her husband always more, and she ends by returning to John from which she reads about the washing [of the feet] and what follows.

Valerian now weeps. Tears fall quietly from his closed eyelids. Cecilia sees them and smiles, but she doesn’t show that she notices them. Having read the episode of the incredulous Thomas, she is silent…

And they remain thus, the one absorbed in God, the other in himself, until Valerian shouts: ‘I believe, I believe, Cecilia. Only a true God could have said those words and loved in that way. Bring me to your Pontiff. I want to love what you love. I want what you want. Have no more fear of me, Cecilia. We will be as you wish: married in God and, here, brother and sister. Let’s go, because I don’t want to delay in seeing what you see: the angel of your blackness.’

And Cecilia, radiant, rises, opens the window, pulls aside the curtains so that the light of the new day enters, and signs herself saying the Our Father: slowly, slowly, so that her husband can follow her, and then with her hand she signs him on the forehead, the breast, and shoulders in the sign of the cross. Then she goes out holding her husband always by the hand, guiding him toward the Light. I see nothing else. But Jesus says to me:





‘How much you all have to learn from this episode of Cecilia! It is a gospel of the Faith. For the faith of Cecilia was still greater than that of so many other virgins.

Consider. She went to the marriage trusting in Me Who said: "If you have as much faith as a grain of mustard seed, you could say to a mountain: 'withdraw yourself,' and it would be removed."   She went there sure of a triple miracle: of being preserved from any violence, of being an apostle for her pagan husband, of being immune for the moment, even on his part, from any denunciation. Sure in her faith, she took a risky step in the eyes of all, -- not in her own eyes, since hers fixed on Me saw My smile. And her faith had [the fruit] she hoped for.

How did she go to the ordeal? Strengthened by Me. She rises up from an altar to go to the trial. Not to a bed. She does not speak with men. She speaks with God. She does not lean on anyone else but Me.

She loved Valerian holily, she loved him beyond the flesh. An angelic bride, she wants to continue to love her companion thus for all her true Life. She does not limit herself to making him happy here. She wants to make him happy for eternity. She is not an egotist. She gives him that which is her own good: the knowledge of God. She confronts the danger too to save him. As a mother, she does not care even about dangers in order to bring her offspring to Life.

The true Religion is never barren. It gives an ardour for spiritual fatherhood and motherhood that fills the ages with warm saints. How many are those who in these twenty centuries have poured themselves out, making themselves voluntary eunuchs   also, to be free to love not a few, but [to love] so many, all the unhappy ones!

Look at how many virgins become as mothers for orphans, how many virgins become as fathers for the abandoned. Look at how many generous [souls] without cassocks or habits make of their life a holocaust to bring to God the greatest misery: souls who are lost and driven mad in despair and in a spiritual loneliness.  Look. You do not know them. But I know them, one by one, and I see them as beloved of the Father.

Cecilia teaches you something too. That to deserve to see God it is necessary to be pure. She teaches it to Valerian and to all of you. I have said: ‘Blessed are the pure, for they shall see God.’

To be pure does not mean to be a virgin. There are virgins who are impure, and fathers and mothers who are pure. Virginity is [being] physically inviolate -- and should be – spiritually inviolate. Purity is chastity which endures in [whatever] circumstances of life. In all [circumstances]. He is pure who does not practice and approve the lust and appetites of the flesh. He is pure who does not find delight in licentious thoughts or conversations or sights. He is pure who, convinced of  God’s presence everywhere, behaves, whether alone with himself or with others, as if he were in public.

Say [to yourself]: Would you do in the middle of a [public] square what you permit yourself to do in your room? Would you say to others, with whom you want to remain in high esteem, what you ponder within? No. Because on that road you would incur the punishment of men and [be] near men in their scorn [for you]. So then, why do you act differently with God? You are not ashamed to appear to Him as pigs, while you are ashamed to show yourselves such in the eyes of men?

Valerian saw Cecilia’s angel and [also] had his own, and he brought Tiburtius to God. Valerian saw the angel after Grace, along with his own will, made him worthy to see the angel of God. And yet Valerian was not a virgin. But what merit to know how to tear oneself away from every inveterate pagan habit through a supernatural love! A great merit in Cecilia who knew how to keep her affection for her husband in all the spiritual spheres, with a virginity doubly heroic; and a great merit in Valerian to know how to want to be reborn to the purity of infancy, in order to come with a black robe into My Heaven.

The pure of heart! A perfumed and blossoming flowerbed over which the angels hover. The strong in faith! Rock upon which rises and shines My Cross. Rock upon which every stone is a heart cemented to another in the common Faith which binds them.

Nothing do I deny to one who knows how to conquer the flesh and temptations. As for Cecilia, I give victory to one who believes and is pure of body and of thought.

The Pontiff Urban had talked about the re-virginizing of souls through their rebirth and perduring in Me. Know how to reach that. It is not enough to be baptized in order to be living in Me. It is necessary to know how to remain there.

A persistent struggle against the demon and the flesh. But you are not alone to fight it. Your angel and I Myself are with you. And the earth will start toward true peace when the first to make peace will be hearts with themselves and with God, with themselves and with their brothers, no longer being burned up at that which is evil and which always goads [one] to greater evil. Like an avalanche that begins from a nothing and becomes a gigantic mass.

So much I should say to married couples. But to what avail? I have already said it. There is no desire to understand. In a fallen world not only does virginity seem madness, but chastity in marriage, continence, which makes of man a Man and not a beast, is no longer reputed as anything but weakness and loss.

You  are all impure and you exude impurity. You do not give names to your moral evils. {But] there are three of them, always ancient and always new: pride, greed and sensuality. But  you have now reached perfection in these three wild beasts which tear you all to pieces and go off seeking [prey] with maddened greed.

It is for the better among you that I have given this episode; for the others it is useless, because in their soul, fouled with corruption, it only tickles them with laughter. But  you, the good, are faithful. Sing your faith with a pure heart to God. And God will console you by giving to you, as I have said. To the good among the better ones, I will give the complete knowledge of Valerian’s conversion through the merit of a pure and faithful virgin.’"

[August 7, 1943]
The Three Abodes of the Beyond



"Souls, separated from their bodies, have three abodes. And they will have these until after the Judgment — which will not err —when there will remain but two. The blessed rejoice immediately in Eternal rest. The repentant actively complete their expiation, thinking of the hour of their liberation in God. The damned are driven to rage by the good they lost — indeed, the more impious they have been, so much the less do they find rest in their terrible torture."


   [October 19, 1943]
  Complete Your Metamorphosis in Me Now



 "Flee the distractions of the earth, isolated with Me. When one is going to enter a strange land to dwell there, its language is learned in order that one be not incapable of living there; at least one seeks to grasp the first rudiments of that language, and imprudent is he who goes [there] without learning even a word of it. He will have much toil the first time [there].


In the eternal dwelling, Wisdom makes you learned in the first moment, it is true. But see, My soul, the last times of the earth are preparations for Heaven. When My Goodness gives all the signals and all the time for preparing oneself for Life, when not only through the work of My Mercy, but through that even of human will, there is given a means of providing for the last arrangements for your coming to that Life, then blessed is he who prepares himself there with care — which is never excessive.

If you took this care, all of you whom age or a long sickness, or the ruthless contingency of war, place in the almost certain lot of dying, there would not be for you so many painful stops in Purgatory. You would complete your metamorphosis in Me with love for Me, with a true repentance for having grieved Me, with true generosity, with true resignation, with all the virtues practiced with good will, and you would not have to complete such work which makes of a man, a dough kneaded of flesh and blood in which the spirit has reigned little — which makes of him a spirit that has known the true Truth: that is, that God is the only Thing that merits all the movements of one's being."

 [October 11, 1944]


Suffer Here Rather Than There



 "...[If you are all suffering], do you believe you have not deserved to suffer this from which you now suffer? Would you perhaps be perfect monsters of pride, so perfect as to proclaim yourselves without faults to expiate? Look within you, at your past.... Oh! no one is without faults to expiate. Well, then, if I am pleased with the chastisement  which I wanted to give you here, on earth, and which is a chastisement of love, because I do not want to punish you There where the chastisement is measured in centuries or an eternity, while here it is ever [but] a crumb of time, months or years as they may be — why do you immediately want to reactivate My strictness by disobeying and showing Me a heart angered by impatience?  Make God your Friend, and God will be with you against the enemies — which are the things of life: the consequences of the tragedy provoked by you through [your] culpable fickleness, in leaving Satan and his lesser satans free to torture the human race.


But if, with the ancient pride of the human race, you want to do what you please, deaf to the Heavenly voices which want your good, if you want to do it, deaf to the voices of charity and moved by the thought of egoism which I abhor, then lo, I say to all of you: 'Do it. But you will not avoid that which, by submitting to Me, you would have avoided. And then it will be useless to call on God.' "
   [October 17, 1943]
  The Purifying Flames




 "I want to explain to you what Purgatory is and in what it consists. And I explain it Myself, with a form that will clash with so many who believe themselves to be trustees of  knowledge of the Beyond — and are not.


The souls immersed in those flames suffer only from love.

Not undeserving of possessing the Light, but not yet worthy of entering immediately into that Kingdom of Light, these souls, upon presenting themselves to God, become clothed with the Light. It is a brief, anticipated bliss, which makes them certain of their salvation, and makes known to them what their eternity will be. It makes them experience what they had committed toward their soul; thus defrauding it of years of the blessed possession of God. Immersed thereafter in the Place of Purgation, they are clothed with the expiatory flames.

In this matter, those who talk of 'Purgatory' speak rightly. But where they are not right is in wanting to apply various names to those flames.

These flames are a conflagration of Love. They purify by enkindling souls with love. They give Love because, when the soul has reached in them that love which it did not reach on earth, it is liberated and joined to Love in Heaven.

This seems to you a different doctrine than what is known  — true? But reflect.

What does God, One and Triune, want for the souls created by Him? The Good.

He Who wants the Good for a creature, what sentiments does He have for that creature? Sentiments of Love.

What are the first and the second commandments, the two most important? Those of which I have said there are no greater, and in which are the keys for reaching Eternal Life? They are a commandment of love: 'Love God with all your strength, love your neighbour as yourself.'

Through My own mouth and by the prophets and the saints, what have I said to you an infinite number of times? That Charity is the greatest of absolutions. Charity consumes the faults and the weaknesses of man, because he who loves lives in God, and by living in God he sins little; and if he sins he at once repents, and for him who is repentant there is the forgiveness of the Most High.

What is lacking to souls? Love. If they had loved much, they would have committed few and light sins, connected with your weakness and imperfections. But they would never have reached a conscious obstinacy in faults, even venial ones. If they would have striven not to grieve their Love, Love also, seeing their good will, would have absolved them even of the venial transgressions they committed.

How does one repair, even on earth, a fault? By expiating it — even if only with difficulty — through the means with which it was committed. He who has damaged something, by restoring whatever he has taken away with his insolence. He who has calumniated, by retracting the calumny, and so on.

Now: if poor human justice wants this, will not the holy Justice of God want it? And what means will God use to obtain reparation? Himself, that is, Love, and by exacting love.

All pivots on love, Maria, except for the truly 'dead': the damned. For these 'dead,' even Love is dead. But for the three Kingdoms — that of the heaviest: the Earth; that in which the weight of matter is abolished, but not of the soul burdened by sin: Purgatory; and finally that in which its inhabitants share with their Father the spiritual nature which frees them from every duty — for all three the motor is Love. It is by loving on earth that you work for Heaven. It is by loving in Purgatory that you conquer Heaven which in life you had not known how to merit. It is by loving in Paradise that you enjoy Heaven.

When a soul is in Purgatory it does not do anything but love, reflect, repent in the light of Love which has kindled for it these flames — which already are God, but which hide God from it for its punishment.

Behold the torment. The soul remembers the vision of God it had in its particular judgment. That memory is carried with it and, since to have even but glimpsed God is a joy which surpasses every created thing, the soul thus has anxiety to enjoy again that joy. That memory of God and that ray of light which had clothed it at its appearing before God, thus cause the soul to 'see' in their true essence the failures committed against its Good. And this 'seeing,' together with the thought that it has voluntarily forbidden itself the possession of Heaven and union with God for ages or centuries, constitute its purgative pain.

It is love, and the certainty of having offended Love, which is the torment of those being purged. The more a soul in life has failed, the more it is as if blinded by spiritual cataracts which make more difficult its knowing and reaching that perfect repentance of love which is the first collaboration with its purgation and  its entrance into the Kingdom of God.

Love is weighed down and slowed down the more a soul has oppressed it with guilt.  But as the power of Love cleanses it little by little, its resurrection to love is quickened and, in consequence, so is its conquest of Love — which is completed in the moment in which, having finished its expiation and reached the perfection of love, it is admitted into the City of God.

There is need to pray much so that these souls, who suffer in order to reach Joy, may be swift in reaching the perfect love that absolves them and unites them to Me. Your own prayers, your suffrages, are as so many increases in the fire of love. They increase its ardour, its heat.  But  — oh! blessed torment! — they also increase the capacity to love. They quicken the process of purgation. They raise to ever higher levels the souls immersed in that fire. They bring them to the threshold of Light. And, at last, they open the Gates of Light and introduce the soul into Heaven.

For each of these works provoked by your charity for one who has preceded you into the second life, there is a corresponding jump in charity for you. The Charity of God which thanks you for providing for His repentant children, the charity of the repentant themselves, who thank you for endeavouring to place them in the Joy of God.

Never do your dear ones love you as they do after their death from the earth, because their love is thereafter infused with the Light of God, and in this Light they understand how you love them and how they should have loved you.

They cannot speak words to you any more which invoked forgiveness and give love.  But they speak them to Me for you, and I bring them to you, these words of your Dead, who now know how to see and love you as they ought. I bring them to you together with their requests of love and with their blessing, already valid inasmuch as from Purgatory, because already infused with that kindled Charity which burns and purifies them. And [it is] perfectly valid, then, from the moment in which, being liberated, they come to meet you upon the threshold of Life, or will be reunited to you in that same Life, if you have already preceded them into the Kingdom of Love.

Trust in Me, Maria. I work for you and for your dearest ones. Lift up your spirit. I come to give you joy. Trust yourself to Me.

[October 21, 1943]




"I take up again the subject of souls received into Purgatory. If you, [Maria], have yourself already grasped the complete meaning of My words, no matter. These are pages for all, because all have some dear ones in Purgatory and almost all, with the life they lead, are destined to stay in that abode. For those as for these, continue then [to write].

I have said that souls being purged suffer only through love and expiate with love. Here are the reasons for this system of expiation.

If you, unreflecting men, consider attentively My Laws in their counsels and in their commands, you see that it all pivots on love. Love toward God, love toward your neighbour.


In the first commandment I, God, impose Myself on your reverential love with all the solemnity which is worthy of My Nature in respect to your nothingness: 'I am the Lord your God.'

Too many times you forget this, O men, who believe yourselves to be gods and, if you do not have in you a spirit vivified by grace, you are nothing else than dust and rottenness: animals who unite to your animality the cunning of an intelligence possessed by the Beast, which makes you commit works of beasts — worse than beasts: those of demons.

Say it to yourselves morning and evening, say it to yourselves at noon and at midnight, say it to yourselves when you eat, when you drink, when you go to sleep, when you wake, when you work, when you rest, say it to yourselves when you love, say it to yourselves when you contract friendships, say it to yourselves when you command and when you obey, say it to yourselves always: 'I am not God. The food, drink, sleep, are not God. The work, rest, occupations, the works of genius, are not God. A woman, or worse: women, are not God. Friendships are not God. Superiors are not God. One alone is God: He is my Lord Who has given me this life so that with it I may deserve the Life which does not die, Who has given me clothing, food, dwellings, Who has given me work so that I may gain a livelihood, genius so that I may witness to being the king of the earth, Who has given me the capacity to love and creatures to love with holiness, and not with lust, Who has given me power, authority, so that I may make of them a means of holiness and not of damnation. I can become like Him since He has said: "You are gods," but only if I live His life, that is, His laws; only if I live His Life, that is, His Love. One alone is God: Him. I am His son and subject, the heir of His Kingdom. But if I desert and betray, if I create my own kingdom in which I want humanly to be king and god, then I lose the true Kingdom and my lot of a son of God falls and is degraded to that of a son of Satan, since egoism and love cannot be served simultaneously, and he who serves the first serves the Enemy of God and loses Love, that is, loses God.'

Take from your mind and from your heart all the false gods which you have put there, beginning with the god of mud which you yourselves are when you do not live in Me. Remember what you owe Me for all that I have given you — and more would I have given you if you had not tied the hands of your God with your manner of life — remember what you owe Me for what I have given you for the life of each day and for Eternal Life. For this, God has given you His own Son, so that He might be immolated as a lamb without spot and might wash away with His Blood your debts and thus not cause, as in the Mosaic temple, the iniquities of the fathers to fall back upon their sons unto the fourth generation of sinners, who are 'those who hate Me,' since sin is an offense to God and he who offends, hates

Do not raise up other altars to untrue gods. Have — not only upon altars of stone, but upon the living altar of your heart — have the sole and only Lord your God. Serve Him, and to Him tender the true worship of love, of love, of love, O sons who know not how to love; you who say, and say, and say words of prayer —words only, but who do not make of love your prayer, the only one that pleases God.

Remember that one throb of true love which rises like a cloud of incense from the flames of your heart in love with Me, has for Me a value infinite times greater than thousands and thousands of prayers and ceremonies made with a lukewarm or cold heart. Attract My Mercy with your love. If you knew how active and great is My Mercy with him who loves Me! It is a wave that passes and washes however much in you constitutes stain. Give yourselves a "black" robe in order to enter into the holy City of Heaven, in which there shines like the sun the Charity of the Lamb Who has immolated Himself for you.



Do not use the holy Name from habit or in order to give force to your anger, to vent your impatience, to strengthen your curses. And above all do not apply the term 'god' to a human creature whom you love through the hunger of the senses or through the worship of the mind. To One only should be spoken that Name. To Me. And to Me it should be said with love, with faith, with hope. Then that Name will be your strength and your defence. The worship of this Name will justify you, because he who works by setting My Name to the seal of his actions, cannot commit evil actions. I am talking of one who works with truth, not of liars who seek to cover themselves and their works with the splendour of My Name — thrice holy. And whom do they seek to deceive? I am not subject to deception. And men themselves — at least if they are not sick of mind  — in confronting the works of these liars with what they say, understand that they are counterfeits, and so experience outrage and disgust toward them.   'REMEMBER TO KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH DAY'

You who know not how to love anything but yourselves and your money, and to whom any hour seems lost to you that is not dedicated to satisfying your flesh or fattening your purse: in your enjoyment of work as gluttons and brute beasts, know how to put a stop to [those pursuits], such as may give you a means of thinking of God, of His goodness, of His patience, of His love. You should, I repeat, have Me always present in whatever you do; but since you do not know how to work by preserving your spirit fixed in God, cease from working, one time in the week, in order to think only of God.

This, which could seem to you a servile law, is instead a proof of how God loves you. Your good Father knows that you are fragile machines which are in continual use, and He has provided for your flesh — even for that since it is also His work — by giving you a command to make it rest one day out of seven in order to give it a just relief. God does not want your sickness. Had you remained His sons,  His very own, from Adam onward,  you would not have known sickness. Sickness is the fruit of your disobedience to God, together with sorrow and death; and like mushrooms, they are born and hidden upon the roots of the first disobedience: that of Adam, and they sprout each from the other, a tragic chain, from the germ which has remained in your heart, from the poison of the accursed Serpent which gives you fevers of lust, of avarice, of greed, of sloth, of culpable imprudence.

It is culpable imprudence to want to force your being to continue to work for gain, as is that of wanting an over-enjoyment of the belly or the senses without contenting yourselves with the food necessary for life and the companion who is necessary for the continuation of the species, but glutting yourselves beyond measure like animals from a swamp, and exhausting and defiling yourselves like — or rather, not like brute animals which are not like you, but are superior to you in their unions to which they go by obeying laws of order — but rather defiling yourselves worse than brute beasts: like demons who disobey the holy laws of right instinct, of reason and of God.

You yourselves have corrupted your instinct and it now leads you to prefer corrupt meals, formed of lusts in which you profane your body: My work; and your soul: My masterwork. And you kill the embryos of life by denying them to life, because you suppress them willingly before time, or through your leprosies which are deadly poison to a rising life.

How many are the souls whom a sensual appetite of yours calls from heaven and to which you then close the gates of life? How many those who have hardly reached their term, and come into the light dying or already dead, and to whom you bar Heaven? How many those on whom you impose a weight of sorrow, which they cannot always carry, with a sick existence, marked by sorrowful and shameful diseases? How many those who cannot stand this lot of an unwanted martyrdom affixed by you as a firebrand upon their flesh — which you have begotten without reflecting that, when one is corrupted like graves full of rottenness, it is no longer permitted to beget children so as to condemn them to the sorrow and the disgust of society? How many are those who, being unable to stand this lot, commit suicide?

But what do you think? That I will damn them for this their crime against God and themselves? No. Before their sin against two [God and themselves], there are you yourselves who sin against three: against God, against yourselves, and against the innocent whom you beget so as to bring them to despair. Think on that. Think well on that. God is just, and if He weighs the fault, He also weighs the cause of the fault. And in this case the weight of the fault lightens the condemnation of suicide, but loads the condemnation on you, true homicides of your despairing offspring.

In that day of rest, then, which God has put in the week — and has given you as His example of rest — think of Him: the infinite Agent, the Begetter Who is continually begotten from Himself; He has shown you the need of rest, He has done it for you, so as to be your Master in life. And you, [such] negligible powers, you do not want to take account of it, as if you were more powerful than God! — In that day of rest for your flesh, broken under excessive fatigue, know how to occupy yourselves with the rights and duties of your soul. Its rights: to true Life. The soul dies if it is kept separated from God. Give Sunday to your soul — since you know not how to do it on all other days and at all hours — so that on Sunday itself your soul is nourished with the Word of God, it is filled with God so as to have a lasting vitality for the other work days. For a son whom work has kept far away throughout the whole week, how sweet is rest in the house of his father! And why do you not give this sweetness to your soul? Why sully this day with debaucheries and lust, instead of making it a clear light for your bliss now and hereafter?

And after love for Him who has created you: love for the one who has begotten you, and for him who is your brother. If God is Charity, how can you say that you are in God if you do not seek to be like Him in charity? And can you say that you are like Him if you only love Him, and not others created by Him? Yes, God should be loved more than all, but one cannot say he loves God who disdains to love those whom God loves.

Love first of all, then, those who, through having begotten you, are the second creators of your being on earth. The supreme Creator is the Lord God Who forms your souls and, Proprietor as He is of Life and of Death, permits your coming to life. But second creators are those who, from two different flesh and bloodlines, make a new flesh, a new son of God, a new future inhabitant of Heaven. Because it is for Heaven that you are created, it is for Heaven that you should live on earth.

Oh! sublime dignity of a father and a mother! Holy Episcopate — I speak with bold words, but true — Holy Episcopate which consecrates a new servant to God with the chrism of one conjugal love, washes him with the tears of her who begets him, clothes him with the work of his father, renders him a bearer of the Light by instilling the knowledge of God into children's minds and the love of God into innocent hearts. Truly I say to you that parents are only a little inferior to God, just by the fact of creating a new Adam. But what then when parents know how to make of the new Adam a new little Christ? —then their dignity is hardly a step lower than that of the Eternal.

With a love only inferior, then, to that which you should have for the Lord your God, love your father and your mother, this double manifestation of God which their conjugal love causes to become one 'unity'. Love this unity because its dignity and its works are most like those of God for you: they are your parents, your earthly creators, and all in you should venerate them as such.

And you, O parents, love your offspring, Remember that to beget a flesh is much, but at the same time it is nothing. Even the animals beget a flesh, and many times they care for it better than any of you. But you beget a citizen of Heaven. With this you should preoccupy yourselves. Do not quench the light in the souls of your children, do not let the pearl of the soul of your children get the habit of the mud. Give love, holy love to your children, not foolish cares for physical beauty, for human culture. No. It is the beauty of their soul, the education of their spirit: that is what you should care for.

The life of parents is sacrifice, as is that of priests and teachers convinced of their mission. All three categories are 'formators' of that which does not die: the spirit, or the psyche, if you prefer. And granted that the spirit stands to the flesh in the proportion of 1000 to 1, consider to what perfection you should attain, O you parents, teachers and priests, in order to be truly what you should be. I say 'perfection'. 'Formation' is not enough. They are to form others, but in order to form them 'un-deformed', they must mold them on a perfect model. And how can they claim to be such, if they are imperfect themselves? And how can they become perfect themselves if they are not molded on the Perfect, which is God? And what can give man the capacity to mold himself on God? Love, always love. You are all but iron, raw and unformed. Love is the furnace which purifies and melts you and makes you fluid to flow through supernatural veins into the form of God. Then you are the 'formators' of others: when you have formed yourselves on the perfection of God.

Children many times exhibit again the spiritual bankruptcy of their parents. Through the children it appears what the parents were worth. For, if it is true that sometimes from holy parents are born depraved children, this is the exception. Generally, at least one of the parents is not holy and, given the fact that it is easier for you to copy evil rather than good, the child copies the less good parent. It is also true that sometimes from depraved parents a holy child is born. But even there it is difficult for both parents to be depraved. Through the law of compensation the better of the two is good for both, and with prayers, tears and words, completes the work for both by forming the child for Heaven.

In any case, whatever your parents be, O children, I say to you: 'do not judge, love only, forgive only, obey only, except in those things which are contrary to My Law. For you there is the merit of obedience, of love and of forgiveness, forgiveness from you, the children, Maria, which hastens the forgiveness of God for your parents, and hastens it so much the more as your forgiveness is complete; for your parents there is — whether in regard to you, or in what concerns God — for them there is the responsibility and the just judgment  of God, the only Judge.

It is superfluous to explain that to kill is a lack of love. Of love toward God, from Whom you take the right of life and of death toward a creature of His, and the right of Judge. Only God is Judge, and a holy Judge, and if He has granted to man to create for himself assemblies of justice in order to put on you a bridle, either in crime or in punishment, woe to you if, as you fail in the Justice of God, you fail in the justice of man by setting yourselves up for judges of one like yourselves who has failed you, or whom you believe has failed you.
Think, O poor sons, that an offence, a sorrow, upsets minds and hearts, and that this anger and this very sorrow put a veil upon your intellectual vision:  a veil which bars you from the vision of the true truth, and also of charity as God presents it to you, so that thereby you may know how to regulate even your just outrage, and not make of it  — by too pitiless a condemnation — an injustice also. Be holy even while the offence burns you. Remind yourselves of God then above all.

And you also, judges of the earth: be holy. You have in your hands the most vivid horrors of humanity. Scrutinize them with your eye and mind steeped in God. See the true 'why' of certain 'miseries'. Think that even if they are true 'miseries' of a humanity which is degraded, many are the causes which produce them. In the hand that kills, seek the force that moved it to kill, and remind yourselves that you also are men. Question yourselves: if you — betrayed, abandoned, goaded — would have been better than this man or woman who is before you awaiting sentence. While making a severe examination of yourselves: think if there be now woman who could accuse you of being the true killers of her child which she blocked, because after the hour of play you withdrew yourselves from your pledge of honour. And if you can do that, be yourselves also severe.

But if, after having sinned against the creature born from your intrigue and from your lust, you still want to obtain a pardon from Him Who is not deceived and not forgetful with years and years of correct life — after that incorrectness which you did not want to repair, or after that crime which you had provoked — then at least be operative in preventing the evil, and especially there where feminine fickleness and the misery of the surroundings predispose one for a fall into vice and infanticide.

Remember, O men, that I, the Pure, did not refuse to redeem dishonorable women. And for the honor which they no longer had, I had raised up in their soul , like a flower from profaned ground, the living flower of repentance which redeems. I had given My pitying love to the poor disgraced women whom a so-called 'love' had prostrated in the mud. My true love had saved them from the lust with which that so-called love had infected them. If I had cursed them and fled, I would have lost them forever. I loved them even for the world, which after having enjoyed them, covers them again with hypocritical ridicule and false indignation.  In place of the caresses of sin, I caressed them with the pureness of My Look; in place of delirious words, I had for them words of love; in place of money, shameful price of their kiss, I had the riches of My Truth.

Thus does one do, O men,  in order to pull out of the mud one who has sunk into the mud, and thus one is not clutched by the neck oneself so that both perish. Nor does one throw stones at them to make them sink the more. It is love, it is always love that saves.     'YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY'

I have already said what sort of sin adultery is,  and I do not repeat it, for now at least. On this backwash of animality there is so much to say  — and so much you cannot even grasp, because you boast about being betrayers of the hearth — that out of pity for My little disciple [Maria], I keep silent. I do not want to exhaust the strength of this worn out creature and disturb her mind with human crudeness since, being near her goal, she thinks only of Heaven.

It is obvious that he who steals is failing in love. If he would remember not to do to another that which he would not want done to himself, and if he loved others as himself, he would not take with violence and fraud that which is his neighbor's. He would not fail therefore in love, as instead he is lacking therein by committing a larceny which could be of goods, of money, as well as of an occupation. How many commit theft by stealing a position of a friend, an invention of a companion. You are thieves, thieves three times, for doing that. You are more so than if you stole a portfolio or a gem, because without these one can still live, but without an earning position one dies, and with that stealing of his position his family dies.
  'YOU SHALL NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST YOUR NEIGHBOUR'  I have given you speech as a sign of your elevation above all the other animals of the earth. You should therefore love Me through your speech, My gift. But can I say that you love Me through your speech when, of this gift from Heaven, you make yourselves a weapon in order to ruin your neighbour with a false oath? No, you do not love either Me or your neighbour when you assert what is false, but rather you hate us. Do you not reflect that speech kills not only the flesh, but the reputation of a man? He who kills, hates; he who hates, does not love.
  'YOU SHALL NOT COVET YOUR NEIGHBOUR'S WIFE, NOR HIS GOODS...'  Envy is not charity: it is anti-charity. He who desires immoderately the belongings of another is envious and does not love. Be content with what  you have. Think that under the appearance of joy there are often sorrows which God sees and which are spared you, who are seemingly less happy than those whom you envy. Because if, then, the object desired is the other's wife or the other's husband, then you should know that to the sin of envy you join that of lust and of adultery. You therefore accomplish a triple offence toward the Charity of God and of neighbour.

As you see, if you infringe against the Decalogue, you infringe against love. And  it is thus also for the counsels that I have given you, which are the flower of the tree of Charity. Now if by infringing against the Law you infringe against love, it is obvious that a sin is a failure in love. And therefore you must expiate with love.

The love which you did not know how to give Me on earth, you must give to Me in Purgatory. Here is why I say that Purgatory is nothing else than a suffering of love.

Through all your life you have loved God little in His Law. You have thrown behind your back the thought of Him, you have lived loving all [else] and loving Him little. It is just, therefore, that neither deserving Hell nor Paradise, you deserve It now by igniting yourselves with charity, burning ardently to the same extent that you were lukewarm on earth. It is just, therefore, that you sigh longingly thousands and thousands of hours with an expiation of love for what  you had thousands and thousands of times failed to sigh for on earth:  God, supreme goal of created intellects. To every time that you have turned your back on Love, there corresponds years and centuries of loving nostalgia. Years or centuries, according to the gravity of your fault.

Now that you have become secure [in Purgatory]  about God, and have known some of the supernal beauty of God through that fleeting encounter of the first judgment, the memory of it comes with you so as to render more vivid the anxiety of love: you sigh for Him, you weep over His distance, you regret and repent having been yourselves the cause of such distance, and always render yourselves more penetrable by that fire ignited by Charity for your supreme good.

When, by the prayers of the living who love you, the merits of Christ are thrown like an ardent essence into the holy fire of Purgatory, the incandescence of love penetrates you more strongly and more inwardly; and amid the glowing of the flames, that memory of God seen in the moment of judgment becomes always more lucid.

As in life on earth, the more love grows, the thinner becomes the veil which hides the Divinity from the living: so equally in this Second Kingdom, the more the purification grows, and therefore love, the nearer and more visible also becomes the Face of God. Already It smiles and shines through the flashes of the holy fire. It is like a Sun which comes ever nearer, and Its light and Its warmth annul always more the light and heat of the purgative fire, until, passing from that deserved and blessed torment of the fire to the conquered and blessed relief of possession, having passed from a flame to The Flame, from a light to The Light, you go up to be light and flame in Him, the eternal Sun, like a spark absorbed by a blazing pyre and like a lamp thrown into a conflagration.

Oh! joy of joys, when you find yourselves raised up to My Glory, having passed from that kingdom of waiting to the Kingdom of Triumph. Oh! perfect knowledge of Perfect Love!

This knowledge, O Maria, is a mystery which by God's Will the mind can know, but cannot describe with human words. Believe that it merits suffering a whole lifetime to possess it at the hour of death. Believe that there is no greater charity than to procure it with prayers for those whom you have loved on earth and who now begin their purification in that love to which in life they closed the doors of their hearts so many, many times.

Courage, blessed one to whom hidden truths have been unveiled. Go on, work and ascend. For yourself and for those you love in the Beyond.

Let the thread of your life be consumed by Love. Pour back your love upon Purgatory in order to open the Gates of  Heaven to those whom you love. Blessed are you if you know how to love even to incinerating what is weak and has sinned. To meet the spirit purified by the immolation of love, there come the Seraphim, and they teach it the eternal "Sanctus" to sing at the foot of My Throne."


[May 11 1944]



"I want to talk to you, Maria, of a point which someone dear to Me and to you has desired, and on which subject I have not talked before since I was reserving it until now.

My Peter says: '. . . Your adversary, the Devil, goes about like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour; resist him, strong in your faith, knowing that your brothers scattered throughout the world suffer the same as you.'

In the African countries in which the lion dwells, men and beasts know how to conduct themselves with him. Once I brought you with Me into the East near a rich spring of water, and I said to you: 'Be like this.' Today I bring you with Me into the eternal forests whose gigantic trees are the great-grandchildren of those which emerged from nothing by the Will of the Father, and which amazed the astonished eyes of your first fathers. Thus you will see something different than that which [presently] saddens you.

Look: High against the sky of a deep blue darker than My own eyes, stand the tops of these green giants thousands of years old. And they are intertwined, one with the other, speaking up there to the winds and the stars of events happening below which [the winds and stars] do not see, since the green roof hides them.

Beneath [them] is the underbrush, tangled with creepers and roots that seem like serpents, and adorned with the treacherous necklaces which are [indeed] lurking serpents. Lower still, is the plush, thick grass, born in a virgin earth rich with thousands of juices, and in which it is sweet for the antelopes and gazelles to find pasture and rest , and where food [is found] for the millions of birds of every song and colour. Flowers, ferns, necklaces of corollas, green dens, mossy caves and cool streams of water, and a restful green light in the midst of a sun that dazzles wherever it penetrates: on roads opened with toil by man, or along a mirror of water so wide as to oblige the vegetal vault to open itself into a green pool.

In these forests, the lion is king. None of those that run or leap, crawl or climb, fly or walk, stands up to him. Man, who passes with his weapons at the edge of the forest, migrating toward areas of pasture and marketing, constructs for himself and his peers spiked corrals to enclose his herds therein during the cool and serene nights. The animals hide themselves in the thicket or crouch on the top of the trees as evening falls, to escape the lion's attack. For the lion does not attack while the sun is in the sky. He waits for the night, the deceptive shadow of the moon, or the deep darkness, for his prey. He goes forth and roars as evening comes. He roars around man's enclosures and around the dens of the beasts. He does not penetrate [into them]; he waits. He waits for the imprudent one that comes out of its refuge.

How much imprudence, always! The desire for comfort, the curiosity to see, the haste to arrive. The lion is there. He waits: anticipating the taste of the prey, he beats his flanks [with his tail] from impatience and wrath at the long wait. He goes around seeking the point from which the imprudent one will come out. And when he finds it, he takes up his position there. Or, lurking in ambush, he studies the signs of its habitual tracks. And he is quiet now, since he knows that the imprudent one is going to come out. He is quiet so it will be thought that he is no longer there. And he is never more there then when he is quiet.

Maria, the devil acts like the lion. He circles around, taking advantage of the falling of the Sun, he circles around your souls. He does not dare to go out and attack while the Sun is high above your spirit. He roars, but does not attack. And what does it matter if he roars? Let him roar with rage. Stay beneath the Sun, beneath your God, and have no fear. You no longer see the Sun? But He is there. If an hour of trial makes you blind, know how to feel Him through His warmth, since you cannot see His appearance. Do you not know that you would die of cold if your Sun were dead for you? If your spirit lives, even though God has made it blind, it is because the Sun kisses you still.

Oh! If souls knew how to remain always under the eternal Sun, and even in the darkness of a trial, not to go out from that Solar zenith and to say: 'I remain in my place. Here, where He has left me, my God will find me again because I do not change my thought of faith and of love!'

The devil goes around seeking a gap into which to reach the claws of his paw and snatch the careless one that stays too near the opening: --temptation. Or else he waits for him to come out: a willing prey [wanting] to cheer up the senses. Or again, he is quiet and lies in ambush: it is the most cunning ambush. And whoever proceeds without connection to the Divine falls into his trap. I repeat: While he roars he is of little danger; but when, after making himself heard, he is quiet, then he is dangerous in the extreme: he is quiet because he has discovered your weak point and your habits, and is now ready to pounce upon you.

Be vigilant. If the light of God is upon you it will illumine you, and nothing else is needed. But if you are in darkness, stay anchored in the faith. Nothing and no motive should make you budge from it. All seems dead and annulled? Say to yourselves: 'No. All is as before.' Say it to Satan: 'No. All is as before.'

How many, before you, have undergone your same tortures! 'Your brothers scattered throughout the world.'  Your brothers. Throughout the world. 'The world,' here, is not so much this Earth which you inhabit, with its living beings. ''The world' is the Communion of all the living. 'Of all the living,' I say. That is of all those who are in Life in eternity after having willed and known how to remain in 'Life' while they were on Earth.

Well then, these your brothers scattered like eternal flowers in My Paradisal Gardens, not only recall their own passed battles, and therefore know how to understand yours; but, through the Charity which is now their Life, they suffer, in bliss, to see you suffer. A suffering of love which does not blunt their joy, but which mixes with it a vein of super active charity and makes them pity and help you in your anxieties. All Heaven is tensed over those of you who struggle with My Name in your heart, and for My Name, and [all Heaven] helps you. Do not go out of the triple barrier of the theological virtues: faith, hope and charity. Nor from the sure defence of the fourfold cardinal virtues: justice, temperance, fortitude and prudence --here are your defences. The claws of Satan are broken against these, and he loses his severity without harming you.

When the Sun, your God, returns to shine on your spirits, victorious in the night which has tortured you, you are astonished to see how much work of liberation this same demon has done, against his own will, circling furiously around you. In his powerless fury, putting you on the defensive, he has thus caused the smallest imperfections to die definitively, like thin grass too often trampled; and on the ground, now naked, the triumphant light descends to make your flower -- your spirit, created to live in Heaven -- grow more strongly.

Go in peace. Return, with peace, onto your cross and into your darkness. And bring with you this memory of the sun. Go. Believe in Me and in My Mother even if in these hours, which are between the sixth and the ninth, you cannot see Us because suffering blinds you."


[January 8, 1944]


"Among the many things which the world denies, swollen as it is with pride and with today's incredulity, is the power and the presence of the demon. Atheism which denies God, logically also denies Lucifer: created by God, the rebel of God, the adversary of God, the Tempter, the Envier, the Cunning, the Tireless, the Imitator of God. I have already said to all of you that Satan, who became that through a sin of pride, even now that he has been hurled from the Kingdom of the Most High which he dared to attack, into the deep abyss where there is darkness and horrors, that he wanted to establish in that deep place a copy of the Celestial Court, to have his own ministers and his own angels, his own subjects and his own sons. And that in his manifestations he disguises himself as a spirit of light, covering his appearance and his thought as the most Debased with deceiving cloaks copied from the Most High, in order to draw you all into error.

But those who really live with their spirit enlivened by Grace, hear the false sound and see beyond the appearance, and by spiritual intuition know the Seducer behind the disguise that is shown. Naturally that happens for those whom the triple virutes protect with a holy defence and whom Grace enlivens. The others -- and not only the atheists who deny, but the lukewarm who doze, the indifferent who do not notice, the distracted who do not reflect, the imprudent who go on like lunatics -- these others cannot see Satan behind that harmless or hypocritical appearance, and thus they become a laughingstock.

Do not deny the existence of Satan, sons who perish from always denying --from denying everything. Satan is not [just] a poor women's tale, and he is not a medieval superstition. He is a true reality. There is a Satan. And he is tireless in his action. On High, God is tireless in the good. Down Below, Satan is tireless in evil. The word of the psalm is not [just] a lovely phrase of piety, nor the word of the Apostle [just] the lovely phrase of an orator. Satan is around all of you like a roaring lion, and in darkness he acts to bring you to himself. But [think] to what extent your incredulity now, your indifference, your atheism would allow him to act even in the light, openly, since you throw wide the gates of your soul and with your immoderate desires say to him: 'Enter. Provided I have what I want in this hour on earth, I make you lord of my self.' If it were not so, you could not have arrived at that form of life which you have reached and which horrifies God and His saints, His servants and sons.

But remember that [whether] metaphorically, artificially, or really, Satan acts deceitfully in darkness. He gets around you with the twisting and subtleties of a serpent lurking in the thick woods. However much he sees you already so torn away from God, still he does not dare present himself face to face and say to you: 'It is I. Follow me,' because he knows you are as much cowards in evil as in good. In this explicit encounter there are still few among you daring enough to say to him: 'I am coming.' You are hypocrites even in evil and, though desiring his help, you dare not confess this desire. But Satan has no need of words. His gaze penetrates your heart like My own. I see your lust for Satanism; he sees the same thing, and acts.

After he tried to destroy the Christ by tempting Him, the Church by giving Her dark epochs, Christianity by its schisms, civil society by its sects: now, on the eve of his manifestation in preparation for the final one, he tries to destroy your conscience after having already destroyed your thought. Yes. Destroyed. Destroyed: not your capacity for thinking as men, but as sons of God. Rationalism and science, separated from God, have destroyed your thought as gods, and now you think [only] as mire can think: at the level of the earth. You do not see God with His seal impressed upon the things that your eye sees. For you, they are [only] stars, mountains, rocks, water, grass, animals. For the believer, they are works of God, and without needing anything else he immerses himself in the contemplation and praise of the Creator before the innumerable signs of His power which surround you and make your existence beautiful, and are useful in your lives.

Now Satan attacks your conscience. He offers the ancient fruit : pleasure, greediness to taste [it], arrogant pride, and the sacrilegious hope -- biting you in your flesh and in your knowledge -- to attain to becoming gods. And that pleasure makes you into animals burning with lust, repulsive, sick, condemned in this life to the sicknesses of the flesh, and in the other [life] to the death of the spirit. And that greediness to taste gives you into the hand of the Deceiver, since through your illicit thirst to experience and know those things which are the mysteries of God, and by trying to impose on God your will to [have] knowledge, you thus enable Satan to ensnare you in his errors.

You make Me pity you. And you cause Me horror. Pity, because you are lunatics. Horror because you want, you will to be thus, and you brand the flesh of your souls with the sign of the Beast, rejecting the Truth for the Lie. And you can believe that Satan serves you? No. It is much easier for God to grant you what you ask, if it is something licit, than that Satan should give it to you. Satan is self-serving. And I assure you that for that one hour [he gives you], he asks for your whole life; for that one triumph, [he wants] all your eternity.

And you can think that by saying: "I want, I will," that God wills it? No. God wills only your good. Not all that you want.

And you can delude yourselves that at your command God and His ministers come to you? No. Only a chaste and pious life, only a life crowned with the three torches of faith, of hope, of charity, only a life defended by the other virtues practiced against Satan, the world and the flesh, only a life lived in My Law, in that teaching of Mine which is in My fourfold Gospel, and which has been the same for twenty centuries -- and will be the same while earth and man exist -- only, that is, a "Christian" life, a life like that of Christ: of homage, obedience, fidelity to the Father, of constant generosity, [only such a life] obtains for your spirit that purification, that sensitivity which can allow you to receive God and His ministers in so sensible a manner as to give you the joy of a vision and the joy of words simply inspired or really spoken.

I have said to you: ' God and Satan cannot be served together.'  No. Where the one is, the other is not. Your life is the sign of God, and your life is [also] the sign of Satan. When you are capable of reflection -- I admit that you still have a piece of your soul free from the possession that kills -- examine yourselves, your works, the inspirations you receive. If you see them still to be only humanly honest, say: 'The power of God could be here.' But if they are contrary to human morals and at poles opposite to superhuman morals, say likewise: 'Here it cannot be God, but His Enemy.'

And those of you already mislead to the point of having embraced the ominous religion I call 'Satanism' -- that parody of religion which is a sacrilege and a crime -- remember that I have no need of darkness, of solitude, of magnetism in order to come. I am Myself Light, and My saints are light. I do not fear the sun and I do not fear the crowd. I know how to transport [one] from the midst of a crowd and to appear as the Sun in the sun.

My disciples can tell you how simple, sweet, spontaneous and absolute is My coming to them; how it lifts them above all that surrounds them, engulfing them in the light and sound which is Heaven come to them. They can tell you how after every contact they felt their materiality losing its weight and acquiring a spiritual quality, how after every fusion their flesh dies a little more and I live always more strongly in them --I, Conqueror of the flesh [which is] the instrument of Satan, and therefore [I am] Conqueror of Satan.

My disciples can tell you how, being renewed each time more profoundly, they die mystically and rise again each time always more spiritualized. They can tell you what peace, what serenity, what balance is in them, what intelligence, what love, what purity. Not human, and still more than superhuman: Mine, because I become them and they become Me. The creature is no more. I am there. They are a drop of blood in My Heart. I live. I reign. I make them gods since I assimilate them to Me. What Satan does not give, he cannot give: becoming like God. I give it to these, My disciples, because I fuse them with Myself and deify them in that fusion."

[December 29, 1945]


"His primeval name was Lucifer: in the Mind of God it meant 'banner-bearer' or light-bearer,' that is, of God, because God is Light. Second in beauty among all that exists, [Lucifer] was a pure mirror that reflected the intolerable Beauty [of God]. In missions to men he would have been the executor of God's Will, the messenger of the decrees of Goodness which the Creator would have transmitted to His blissful, faultless children, to bring them always higher into His likeness. This light-bearer, with the rays of Divine Light which he carried, would have talked with men. And they, lacking any faults, would have understood these flashes of harmonious words full of love and joy.

Seeing himself in God, seeing himself in himself, seeing himself in his [angelic] companions -- for God enveloped him with His Light and took delight in the splendour of His archangel, and the angels venerated him as the most perfect mirror of God -- Lucifer admired himself. He should have admired God alone. But in the being of everything created, all forces both good and wicked are present, and these interact until one of the two sides conquers in order to produce good or evil: as in the atmosphere all the gaseous elements exist, because [they are] necessary. Lucifer attracted arrogant pride to himself. He cultivated it, expanded it. He made a weapon of it for himself, and a [means of] seduction. He wanted more than he had. He wanted all: he who was already so great. He seduced the less attentive among his companions. He distracted them from contemplating God as the supreme Beauty. Knowing the future marvels of God, he wanted himself to be in the place of God. With his troubled thought, he saw himself as head of future mankind, adored as a supreme power. He thought: 'I know the secret of God. I know His words. His plan is known to me. I can do all that He wants [to do]. As I presided at the first creative works, I can go ahead. I am. That word which only God can say was the shout of ruin for this proud one. And he was Satan.

He was 'Satan.' Truly I say to you that the name of Satan was not given by man who, even by the order and will of God, gave a name to all that he knew existed. And man still christens his discoveries with a name he has created. Truly I tell you that the name 'Satan'  came directly from God, and it is one of the first revelations that God made to the spirit of His poor son wandering over the earth. And as My most holy Name has the meaning which I said to you once, now listen to the meaning of this horrible name. Write as I tell you:

  • S
  • A
  • T
  • A
  • N

This is Satan. And this is what those who are sick with Satanism are. And again he is: Seduction, Astuteness, Tenebrosity, Agility, Nefast. The 5 accursed letters that form his name, written with fire on his lightning-struck forehead. The 5 accursed characteristics of the Corrupter against which My 5 blessed Wounds flame out and which, with their suffering, save whoever wants to be saved from that which Satan continually infects.

The name of "demon, devil, Beelzebub" can be [used] of all the dark spirits. But this name [Satan] is "his" alone. And in Heaven he is only named with that [name] because There one speaks the language of God in a fidelity of love, even when indicating whatever one wishes, in accordance with God's thought of it. He is the "Opposition." That which is opposed to God. That which is the opposite of God. His every action is the antithesis of God's actions. And his every pursuit is to bring men to be opposed to God. This is what Satan is. He is the 'setting-himself-against-Me' in action. To My three theological virtues he opposes the threefold concupiscence. And to the four cardinal [virtues] and all the others which issue from Me [he opposes] the serpentine hatchery of his horrible vices.

But as it is said that of all the virtues the greatest is charity, so I say that the greatest and most repulsive to Me of his anti-virtues is arrogant pride. Because through it all evil has come. For this [reason] I say that, while I still have pity on the weakness of the flesh that yields to the heat of lust, I also say that I cannot have pity for pride which, like a new Satan, wants to compete with God.

I seem unjust to you? No. Consider that lust is, after all, a vice of one's lower part which, in some, has so voracious an appetite, satisfied in moments of stupor, that it dazes them. But arrogant pride is a vice of one's higher part, consummated with an acute and lucid intelligence, premeditated, perduring. It wounds that part which is most like God. It tramples on the gem given by God. It communicates likeness with Lucifer. It sows more suffering than the flesh. Because the flesh can make a spouse, a woman, suffer. But pride can make victims in whole continents, in every class of persons. From arrogant pride man has been ruined and the world will perish. From pride the faith languishes. Arrogant pride: the most direct emanation of Satan. I have forgiven the great sinners of the senses, because they were without pride of spirit. But I was unable to redeem Doras, Giocana, Sadoc, Eli and others like them, because they were the "proud."

[September 19, 1944]


"Besides being cunning, Lucifer is extremely intelligent. His cunning he uses to trap [you], but his intelligence [he uses] to think whether and when and how he can hurt Me and ruin a creature. And believe it, he never uselessly wastes his time.

Granted, therefore, that however omnipresent he is on earth, he has so much to do near so many men who inhabit the globe; and granted also whatever good man's little attention and meager will may accomplish: I say therefore of Lucifer's truly great power -- almost an omnipotence over creatures -- that he must calculate his time well and not lose a moment of it in order to work with usefulness. --With his wicked usefulness, which is to fatten his infernal coffers with treasures robbed from God: souls.

He is truly a tireless worker. On high, the Tireless One works good for each of you. Below, this tireless one works evil for you. And truly I say to you that he has more luck than God. His conquests are more numerous than Mine. But from what was said above, you can well understand that cunning, intelligent, and busy as he is, he cannot grant himself the luxury of being occupied with all in the same measure. And he is not.

Oh! in his evil he is an ascetic for the idea he pursues, wholly devoted to it. And he is not distracted, nor does he arrive at compromises, weariness, or postponements! Would that you, O men, acted toward the good as Satan does toward evil! But you do not. As the creature is born little by little to intelligence, Lucifer at first concerns himself very little about it. He limits himself to watching it, eyeing it as a probable future goat of his infernal flock. As a creature is born little by little to knowing how to will and how to think, that is, after six years [of age], [Lucifer] increases his attention and begins his instruction.

The angelic minister instructs and leads spirits with words of light. The satanic minister instructs and stirs up spirits with words of darkness. It is a struggle which has no end. Whether conquered or conqueror, the former: the angel of light, and the latter: the angel of darkness, battle around a spirit until its last mortal hour, to snatch the prey from one another: the angel of light delivering it to its Lord, in light, after having had [the soul] in his protection all its earthly day; the angel of darkness dragging it with him into the darkness, if the final victory is his. However, between the two who battle there is a third, and he is, after all, the most important personage. There is man for whom the two [spirits] battle. Man: free to follow his own will and endowed with intelligence and reason, fortified by the incalculable strength of Grace which Baptism has returned to him and which the Sacraments maintain and increase in him.

Grace, as you know, is the union of the soul with God. Therefore it should give you such strength as to render you impregnable and incorruptible to Satanic traps and corruption, because union with God should make you demigods. But to remain such it is necessary to want it, to will it. It is necessary to say to Satan and to yourself: 'I am God's and I want to be only God's.' Therefore: obedience to the precepts and the counsels; therefore continuous effort to follow, pursue, and conquer the good --and an always greater good; therefore absolute fidelity and constant vigilance; and therefore heroism to conquer self and what is external [to self] in the seductions of the threefold concupiscence, and in its multiple faces.

Few, very few, too few, know how to do these things. And then? And then for [the others], they are so easily caught when they want to be, they are so inert in escaping when they have been caught, that Satan is little concerned [about them]. He acts like a cat with a mouse: he catches them, chokes them a little, stuns them, and then lets them alone, limiting himself to giving them another clawing, and snapping again at them if they give any sign of attempting a timid flight. Nothing more. He knows they are 'his,' and he does not lose much time on them, nor much [of his] intelligence. But with 'Mine!' Oh! with Mine it is something else! They are the prey that tickles his livid hunger most. They are the 'impregnable.' And Satan, expert hunter that he is, knows that there is merit in capturing the difficult game. They are the 'joys' of God. And Satan holds a great festival when he can give sorrow and offence and disappointment to God. He lives from hate. As God lives from love. He is Hate. As God is Love. Hate is his blood. As Love is Mine. See him, then, multiplying his cares and surveillance around one of 'Mine.'

To enter a dismantled fortress is child's play. The cruel king of Hell does not want that. He wants the fortresses of God, the clean, smooth rocks, limpid as crystals, resistant as steel, which show sculptured on every side, even in their deepest recesses, the most holy Name: God.  --Rather, it is from these hidden recesses that [the holy Name] exudes like a fluid which flows from inside to the outside. It is the Name which they love, serve, pronounce with their adoring spirit at every beat of their heart. To catch them, to catch you, to snatch you from Me, to cancel that Name from your triune being of spirit, flesh and reason, to make of all of you -- the flowers of My garden -- an uncleanness for his Hell, and to laugh, hurling his blasphemous laughter against the Divine Throne, to laugh for his victory over man and over God: --this is the joy of Satan.

The more you are 'Mine' the more also he persists in making you his. And since there is in you an unremitting vigilance and will, he, the Cunning, does not follow and pursue you with his usual method for others. But he attacks you treacherously, at always greater distance, in the most unforeseen moments and with the most unexpected motives. He takes advantage of pain, of need, of abandonment, of disappointment, and leaps like a panther upon your bewildered, grieving, momentary weakness, hoping to conquer you then in order once for all to make his own again all that you had conquered. The means? Infinite. The method? Only one: that of a benevolent, lying sweetness, of a reasonable and quiet word, of an apparent friendship that helps, that wants to help.

Have you had attacks from him? And you will have them again: many, and always more cunning. Oh! what spite [he has] for Me and for you! You will have always more [of his attacks], and so subtle as to draw into deception even the shrewdest person. Shrewdness humanly speaking. Because --smile, soul that I love-- because simplicity permeated with God, and kept as such, is impenetrable to every subtlety.

He will wound you externally. But the soldier's honour is the scar that marks his flesh and says: 'This mark is proof of a manly battle.' And the more a soldier's flesh is striped with these marks, the more too does the world bow to his valor. In spiritual battles the same thing happens. And your wounds -- which do not damage your spirit but only bruise that which envelopes your king-spirit -- are your honour. And for these wounds you will be honoured in Heaven.

Truly I say to you, you call 'martyrs' only those who perish by the work of tyrants. But all My saints are martyrs. Because in order to be saints they had to undergo persecution by Satan and remain faithful. Glory to the one who conquers! The palms of Heaven are for you."

[July 20, 1943]

 Valtorta :

". . . It is since the evening of the 18th that the good Jesus shows me a horrifying, ugly beast, so horrifying that it disgusts me and I want to scream. And the good Jesus makes me understand that its appearance is always less than the reality, because no human reality could reach an exact imitation of supreme Beauty and supreme Ugliness.

Now I describe the ugly beast.

I seem to see a great hole: black, black, and very deep. I understand that it is very deep, but I do not see anything but its opening, completely occupied by a horrible monster. It's not a serpent, it's not a crocodile, it's not a dragon, it's not a bat, but it has something of all four [of these].

A long and pointed head without ears and with two sly and savage eyes which are always hunting for prey; a very wide mouth and armed with quite sharp teeth, always intent on catching in flight anything careless that arrives within range of its jaws. To sum up, its head has much the form of a serpent, and its teeth are like a crocodile's. A long and flexible neck allows much agility to the dreadful head.

An ugly, slippery body covered with skin like that of an eel, that is, without scales (to help you understand), with a color between rust, violet, dark grey. . . I really don't know. It even has the colour of leeches.

At its shoulders and at its haunches (I say 'haunches' because there its throbbing belly swollen with prey ends, and its long tail begins which terminates in a point), are attached four short and webbed paws like those of a crocodile. At its shoulders, two ugly bat-wings.

The ugly beast does not move its great, loathsome body. It only moves its tail, which writhes back and forth like an 'S,' and it moves its horrible head with its fascinating eyes and murdering jaws.

O Divine Mercy! What an ugly, awful beast! From its black den spurts darkness and horror. I assure you that yesterday, as I saw it with a very vivid accuracy -- and didn't understand what it was about to do -- the desire came to me to scream with disgust. A good thing that I saw it was never looking toward me as if from revulsion. A mutual revulsion if ever there was one. If this is a pale representation of Satan, what ever will he [really] be? It's to die twice over just to see him.

A good thing too that if, in one corner, was the awful beast, very near [also] was my Jesus: "black", beautiful, blond . . . Light in light! Comparing the luminous, comforting figure of Christ with that of the other, His most sweet, clear gaze with that wicked one of the other, is truly to weep with unhappy sinners destined for the second, [the beast], because they have rejected Jesus.

Well then, now that I have seen . . . I don't want to see him anymore because he is too ugly. I will pray that the least possible [number] of such unfortunate [sinners] end up in his clutches, but I pray the good God to take away from me this sight.

Today it is less vivid and I am most grateful to the Lord for that. And I am still more grateful that the dear Voice makes me understand the reason for that Vision which yesterday terrorized me, believing that it was destined for me as a warning.



"Consider [Maria] My Radiance and My Beauty with respect to the black monstrosity of the Beast.

Have no fear of looking even if it is a repulsive spectacle. You are within My arms. He cannot draw near and harm you. You see him? He does not even look at you. He already has so much prey to follow.

Now does it seem to you that it is worth your leaving Me to follow him? And yet the world follows him and leaves Me for him.

Look how glutted and throbbing he is. It is his hour for feasting. But look also at how he seeks out the shadow to act. He hates the Light, and he calls himself Lucifer! You see him, how he hypnotizes those who are not marked with My Blood? He heaps up his efforts because he knows that it is his hour and that My hour draws near in which he will be conquered eternally.

To increase his prey, his infernal cunning and Satanic intelligence are a constant working of Evil, in opposition to Our One and Triune working of Good. But cunning and intelligence would not prevail if My Blood and their honest will were in men. Man lacks too many things to have the weapons to oppose the Beast, and It knows that and acts openly, without even veiling Itself with a deceptive appearance.

Let Its loathsome ugliness push you to an always greater diligence and an always greater penitence. For you and for your unfortunate brothers who have a soul bereaved or seduced and do not see, or, seeing him, run to meet the Fiend, even to have his help for an hour, and to pay with an eternity of damnation."

[January 20, 1946]

[Note: Besides Dictations given her by Christ and the Virgin Mary, Valtorta also received Dictations from her personal Guardian Angel whose name, he told her, was "Azariah." Thus the following Dictation is from Valtorta's angel, Azariah, preceded by the short explanatory note below from Valtorta.  --Trans.]

Valtorta :

"While I work with the needle, I mentally contemplate the moral figure of Jesus Christ. I think that if I could have a picture painted of Him according to my own indications, and therefore the nearest possible to what His most holy Face as a Man was, I would want to have written beneath it a phrase which would be 'all' that Jesus of Nazareth was. I think of: 'Come to Me;' of: 'I am the Way - the Truth, the Life;' of: 'I am, do not fear.' But I feel that it is still not what my soul wants in order to indicate 'the Christ.' Azariah speaks to me:"

Azariah :

"Jesus is the Epitome of the love of the Three. Jesus is the Epitome of that which is the Most Holy Trinity and Unity of God. The Perfection of the Three is epitomized in only One. The infinite, multiform Perfection is epitomized in Jesus. An abyss of Perfection before which the Heavenly armies and blessed multitudes of Paradise prostrate themselves. An abyss of Love which could be and can be grasped and accepted only by those who possess love.

Whence here is the explanation of how that archangel [Lucifer] could become the Spirit of Evil, who was [formerly] a kind and holy spirit. --But not holy to the point of being all love. It is the measure of love which one has in oneself, that gives the measure of one's perfection and resistance to any corruption. When love is complete, nothing more can enter to corrupt one. That particle [of oneself] that does not love is an easy breach through which to be infiltrated with the first elements that are not love. And they force, widen, flood and submerge the good elements, until they kill them.

Lucifer had an incomplete measure of love. His self-complacency occupied a space in him, a space in which there could be no love. And it was the breach through which entered -- ruinously -- his depravity. Because of it, he could not grasp and accept the Christ-Love, the Epitome of the infinite, unique, Triune Love. And the fact that today the heresy is more widespread which denies the Divine Humanity of the Second Person and makes of Him [but] a simple good and wise man, is easily explained with this key: the lack of love in the human heart, the incapacity to love, the poverty of the possession of love.

Observe, my soul, that whether in the time of Christ or later in His era, for the man who could not believe if he were not humble and loving, there were always two points on which such a man's arrogant intellect halts: 1) that the Christ was God and Man and was performing only spiritual acts --and for these He was hated even by His own most intimate [followers], and therefore betrayed; and also: 2) that He created the Sacrament of Love. Then, now, always, those 'without love' said and will say, heretically, that God could not be in Jesus, and that Jesus could not be in the Most Holy and adorable Eucharist. Therefore, my soul, if you had to have one word written under the image of the Man-God, you should have this written: 'I am the Epitome of Love.'"


Valtorta :

"And holy Azariah is silent, adoring. What peace! What peace in me, what light, what sensation of mental well-being, of a thought that is calmed by an answer that totally persuades it. And after the angelic lesson these [feelings] continue! I close my notebook with my treasure, and turn to manual work while my mind, gratified, contemplates the lesson it has had.

I re-read it later, meditate and stop short at the phrase: 'Lucifer [was] not holy to the point of being all love.' In the sublime concept that I have of the angels I do not succeed in grasping how a spirit such as an angel is, would have been able to have anything lacking. My amazement before the sin of the angels has always been invincible! And no one has ever given me an explanation that persuaded me as to how some of these spiritual beings had been able to sin [when they were] created by the perfect Will of God in a creation in which the element of 'Evil,' not yet formed, was lacking, and who were contemplating the eternal Perfection, and That alone. And now the phrase: 'not holy [to the point] of being all love,' stops me, stirring up anew my: 'How can that be.' Holy Azariah says to me:"

Azariah :

"The angels are superior to men. I say 'men' in speaking of beings called thus, composed of matter and of spirit. We [angels], then, are superior, we [who are] all spirit. But recall that when Grace lives in man and [in him] circulates the Blood of the Mystical Body whose Head is Christ, and while the seven Sacraments strengthen him from birth to death for every state and for every phase of life, then in all of you -- 'living temples of the Lord,' -- we [angels] see the Lord and adore Him in you, and then you yourselves are superior to us: you are 'other Christs,' and you have what is called the 'Bread of angels' but is solely the Bread of men. What mystical, insatiable hunger for the Eucharist is in us, and how it makes us cleave to you when you nourish yourselves with It, so that we may smell the Divine fragrance of this perfect Food!

But to return to the initial point, I tell you that in the angels -- different in nature and perfection from all of you -- there is in the angels, as in you, free will. God has created no one a slave. In the beginning there was in creation only Order. But that Order does not exclude freedom. Rather in that Order is perfect freedom. To be exact, in such order there is not even the fear of an invasion, an intrusion, of the anarchy of other wills which could produce collusion and ruin that penetrate into the orbit and trajectory of other beings or created things. Thus it was for the whole Universe, before Lucifer abused his own freedom and with his own will put into himself the disorder of passions, so as to create disorder in that perfect Order. Had he been all love, he would have had no place in himself for anything that was not love. Instead he had a place for arrogant pride which could be called: the disorder of the intellect. Would God have been able to hinder this deed? Yes.  But why violate the free will of the most beautiful, most intelligent archangel? Would not He Himself, the Most Just, then have put disorder into His own ordered Thought? by no longer wanting what He had previously wanted: that is, the freedom of the archangel? God does not oppress a troubled spirit in order violently to place it in the impossibility of sinning. Lucifer's not sinning would then have had no merit. Even for us [angels] it was necessary 'to know how to want the Good' in order to continue to merit enjoying the vision of God, infinite Bliss!

As God had wanted this sublime archangel at His side in His first creative works, and wanted him to know about the future of His creation of love, so God wanted him to know the adorable and sorrowful necessity that his sin would have imposed on God: the Incarnation and Death of a God to counterbalance the ruin from the Sin that would have been created should Lucifer not have conquered pride in himself. Love could not but speak this language. God's first annihilation is in this act of wanting to bend sweetly, gently, this proud [archangel]; and with the vision of what his pride would have imposed on God, almost imploring him not to sin, and thus bring others to sin. It was an act of love. Lucifer, already become a Satan, took this act as fear, weakness and an insult, as a declaration of war. And he stirred up war against the Most Perfect, saying:

'You are? I also am. Whatever You made, it was for me You made it. There is no God. And if there is a God, I am [he]. I adore myself. I detest You. I refuse to recognize as my Lord One Who does not know how to conquer me. You should not have created me so perfect if You wanted no rivals. Now I am and I am against You. Conquer me, if You can. But I do not fear You.  I, too, will create; and because of me Your Creation will tremble, for I will shake it like a shred of cloud caught by the winds. For I hate You and I want to destroy whatever is Yours, to create upon its ruins that which will be mine. I neither know nor recognize any other power outside of myself. And I no longer adore, no longer adore, NO LONGER ADORE any other than myself.'

Truly then in Creation, in all Creation, from the lowest [form] to the very depths, there was a horrendous convulsion from the horror of these sacrilegious words. A convulsion such as will not [again] be until the end of Creation. And from it was born Hell: the kingdom of Hate.My soul, do you understand how Evil was born? From a free will, and, being respected as such by God, from one who was not 'all love.' And believe it: upon every fault which is committed from then on is this judgment: 'Here there is not all love.' Complete love forbids one to sin; and without any effort. He who loves does not toil to reach justice! Love carries him above all the mire and dangers, and from moment to moment purifies him from barely apparent imperfections that are still there in the last step of consummate holiness: in that state in which the spirit is so [far] developed as to be truly a king, already united by spiritual marriage to its Lord, enjoying but one step less than that which is the life of the blessed in Heaven: so much does God give Himself and reveal Himself to His blessed child.

Glory to the Father, to the Son, to the Holy Spirit."


[March 4, 1944 - 2:00 a.m.]


[To her spiritual director]: "...The torment began again, until toward 2:00 a.m., after the contemplation of the Passion of the Lord ended and my terrible headache had calmed down a little bit (a little, you know?), there sounded within me a name: 'Saint Fenicola.' Who is she? Unknown. Did she truly exist? Bah! Who ever heard of her! And I was trying to sleep. Useless! 'Saint Fenicola.' 'Saint Fenicola.' 'Here there is no sleeping,' I told myself, 'until I know who she is.' And thanks to the diminished pain which allowed me now to move myself -- while from 3:00 p.m. till midnight and beyond as my body, which suffered intermittently, yet I could not even open my eyes -- had disheartened me and made me inert..., I took an Index of the saints and found that, along with St. Petronilla (virgin), it carries St. Felicola (virgin-martyr). I heard it said as "Fenicola", but perhaps I misunderstood. Simultaneous with this discovery, I saw a young naked woman bound to a pillar in an atrocious manner. More later..."]

[March 4, 1944 - evening]


"I see two young women in prayer. A very ardent prayer which must truly penetrate into the heavens. One is more mature; she seems about 30 years old. The other must be just passed 20. Both of them seem in perfect health. Then they rise and prepare a little altar upon which they lay precious linens and flowers.

A man enters, clothed like the Romans of that era, whom the two young women greet with greatest veneration. He removes from his breast a pouch from which he draws out all that is necessary to celebrate a Mass. Then he vests himself with priestly vestments and begins the Sacrifice. I do not understand the Gospel very well, but it seems to me it is that of Mark: 'And they presented to Him some babies... who will not receive the Kingdom of God as a child will not enter there.' The two young women, kneeling near the altar, pray ever more fervently. The Priest consecrates the Species and then turns to give Communion to the two faithful women, beginning with the eldest, whose face is seraphic with ardour. Then he gives Communion to the other one. She, after receiving the Species, prostrates on the ground in deep prayer, and they seem to remain thus from pure devotion.

But after the celebration of the rite --which is the same as that of Paul in the Tullianum, only here the celebrant speaks very softly, given that there are only these two faithful [present]; this is why I understand the Gospel less -- when the Priest turns, blesses and descends from the altar placed on a wooden platform, after he descends from the altar only one of the two young women move. The other remains prostrate as before. Her companion calls her and shakes her. Even the Priest bends down. They lift her. Already the pallor of death is on her face, her half-lifeless eye sinks beneath her eyelid, her mouth breathes with difficulty. But what bliss on that face!

They lay her down on a kind of long seat that is near a window opened onto a courtyard in which a fountain sings, and they seek to help her. But, gathering up her strength, she raises one hand and points toward the sky and says but two words: 'Thank you...Jesus,' and without an agony, she expires. All that does not explain to me how it pertains to the young woman tied to the pillar whom I saw tonight and who, however much more pale and emaciated, dishevelled and tortured, seems to me so much like the survivor who now weeps near the dead woman. And I remain thus, in my uncertainty, for some hours. Only now that it is evening do I again find the weeping young woman of earlier, now standing near the fountain of the stern courtyard in which only some small flowerbeds of lilies are cultivated, and upon the walls rise some rosebushes all in bloom.

The young woman speaks with a young Roman:

'It is useless for you to insist, O Flaccus. I am grateful to you for your respect and remembrance that you have for my dead friend. But I cannot console your heart. If Petronilla is dead, it was a sign that she should not be your bride. But neither should I. There are so many young girls of Rome who would be happy to become the ladies of your house. Not I. Not on your account. But because I have decided not to contract marriage. ''Have you too caught the foolish craze of so many followers of a handful of Hebrews?' 'I have decided -- and I believe I am not a fool -- not to contract marriage.' 'And if I wanted you?' 'If it is true that you love and respect me, I do not believe that you would force my liberty as a Roman citizen. But you would leave me follow my desire, [continuing] to have for me the good friendship that I have for you.' 'Oh no! Already one [of you] has escaped me. You will not escape me.' 'She died, Flaccus. Death is a force superior to us, not a flight of someone from their destiny. She did not kill herself. She died.... ' 'Through your sorceries! I know you are Christians and I should have denounced you to the Tribunal of Rome. But I preferred to think of you as my brides. Now for the last time I ask you: Do you want to be the wife of the noble Flaccus? I swear to you that it is better for you to enter as the lady of my house and leave the demonic worship of your poor god, rather than to know the severity of Rome which does not permit its gods to be insulted. Be my bride and you will be happy. Otherwise....'

'I cannot be your bride. I am consecrated to God. To my God. I cannot adore idols: I who adore the true God. Do with me what you will. You can do everything to my body. But my soul is God's and I do not sell it for the joys of your house. ''This is your last word?' 'My last.' 'You know that my love can be changed into hate?' 'God forgive you for that. On my part I will love you always as a brother and pray for your good.' 'And as for me, I will hurt you. I will denounce you. You will be tortured. Then you will call on me. Then you will understand that the house of Flaccus is better than the foolish teachings with which you nourish yourself.' 'I will understand that the world has need of these teachings, so as not to have any more Flaccuses. And I will do you good by praying for you from the Kingdom of my God.' 'Accursed Christian! To the prisons! To starvation! Let your Christ satisfy you if he can.'

I have the impression that the prisons are near enough to the house of the virgin because the road is short; and also that the noble Flaccus is more or less a detective for the Supervisor of Rome because, when the vision (changing its appearance) brings me back to the room already seen above, with the young woman tied to a pillar, I see that it is a tribunal like that in which Agnes was judged. There are very few differences, and even here there is an ugly mug who judges and condemns, and for whom Flaccus acts as a helper and goad.

Fenicola, taken out of the cage where she was, is brought into the middle of the room. Her strength seems exhausted, but she is still so dignified. As much as the light dazzles her, and weak as she is and habituated now to the dark prison, she holds herself erect and smiles. The usual questions and the usual offerings followed by the usual responses: 'I am a Christian. I do not sacrifice to another god who is not my Lord Jesus Christ.'

She is condemned to the pillar. They snatch off her garments and, naked in the presence of the people, they tie her hands and feet behind one of the pillars of the Tribunal. To do this they dislocate her hips and also dislocate her arms. The torture must be atrocious. And even that is not enough: but they twist the cords at her wrists and at her ankles, they strike her on her breast and on her naked belly with rods and whips, they twist her flesh with pincers, and other tortures so atrocious I cannot stand to repeat them. Every so often they ask her if she wants to sacrifice to the gods. Fenicola, with an always weaker voice, responds:

'No. To Christ. To Him only. Now that I begin to see Him, and every torture brings Him nearer, you want me to lose Him? Complete your work. That I may have my complete love. Sweet nuptials in which Christ is the Bridegroom and I His bride! The dream of all my life!'

When they untie her from the pillar, she falls as if dead on the ground. Her limbs dislocated, perhaps even broken, do not support her anymore, do not respond to any command of her mind. Her poor hands, sawed at the wrists by the cords which have made two little bracelets of living blood, hang down as if dead. Her feet, also torn at the ankles, even to showing the nerves and tendons, seem clearly to be broken from the way they are bent back in an unnatural manner. But her face is full of an angelic happiness. Tears descend on her bloodless cheeks, but her eye laughs, absorbed in a vision which enraptures her. Her jailers, or better her executioners, kick her with their feet, and as if she were a sack so unclean it cannot be touched, they push her with their feet toward the predella of the Supervisor.

'Are you still alive?' 'Yes, by the Will of my Lord.'''You still insist? You truly want death?' 'I want Life. Oh! my Jesus, open Heaven to me! Come, eternal Love!' 'Throw her in the Tiber! The water will calm her ardors.'

The executioners pick her up rudely. The torture of her broken limbs must be atrocious. But she smiles. They wrap her in her garments, not out of modesty but to prevent her from controlling herself in the water. A useless concern! With one's limbs in that state, one does not swim! Only her head emerges from the tangle of the garments. Her poor body, thrown over the shoulder of an executioner, hangs as if already dead. But the light of the torches (since it is now evening), she smiles. Having reached the Tiber river, they seize her like an animal to be killed and, from the height of the bridge, hurl her into the dark water, in which she re-surfaces twice, and then sinks without a shout."



"I wanted to make My martyr Fenicola known to you in order to give to you and to all some instruction.

You saw the power of prayer in the death of Petronilla -- who was the much older companion and teacher of Fenicola -- and the fruit of their holy friendship. Petronilla, spiritual daughter of Peter, had absorbed from the living word of My Apostle the spirit of Faith. Petronilla: the joy, the Roman pearl of Peter. His first Roman conquest: she who, through her respectful and loving devotion to the Apostle, consoled him for all the sorrows of his Roman evangelization.

Peter, out of love for Me, had left house and family. But He who does not lie had caused him to find in this young woman and in a manner that was superabundant, heaped up, pressed down, according to My promises: comfort, care, feminine sweetness. As I did at Bethany, he in the house of Petronilla found help, hospitality and, above all, love. Under all the heavens and in all epochs, woman is the same in her good and in her evil. Petronilla was the Mary of Peter, with the addition of her purity of a young girl whom Baptism, received while her innocence had not yet known any abuse, had brought to angelic perfection.

Maria, listen: Petronilla, wanting to love her Master with all of herself without her beauty and the world being able to disturb this love, had prayed her God to crucify her. And God heard her. Paralysis crucified her angelic limbs. In her long infirmity in a land bathed with sorrow her virtues blossomed, and especially her love for My Mother. Listen again, Maria: When it was necessary, her sickness knew a pause. To show that God is Master of the miracle. And afterward, when that moment was ended, it returned to crucify her. Do you know no other, Maria, to whom her Master, like Peter to Petronilla, does not say when He needs her: 'Rise, write, be strong,' and when the Master's need has ceased, she turns back into a poor infirm woman in perpetual agony?

After the Apostle had died and Petronilla was healed, she found that her life was no longer her own. But Christ's. She was not of those who, after obtaining the miracle, use it to offend God. But she used her health for the interests of God. Your lives are always Mine. I give them to you. You should all remember that. I give them to you as animal life, causing you to be born and keeping you alive. I give them to you as spiritual life with Grace and the Sacraments. You should remember that always, and make good use of them. When later I restore your health, when I cause you to be reborn as after a fatal sickness, you should remember still more that that life, blossoming again when the flesh already knew the tomb, is Mine. And through this grateful recognition use it in the Good.

Petronilla knew how to do that. It was not uselessly that she absorbed My Doctrine. It is like salt that preserves from harm, from corruption; It is a flame that warms and illumines, It is food that nourishes and fortifies, It is faith that gives security. There comes a trial, the assault of temptation, the threat of the world. Petronilla prays. She calls God. She wants to be God's. The world wants her? God defends her from the world.

The Christ has said: 'If you have as much faith as a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain: "Arise and go further over".' Peter said it to her so many times. She does not ask for the mountain to be moved. She asks God to take her from the world before a trial beyond her strength crush her. And God listens to her. He makes her die in an ecstasy. In an ecstasy, Maria, before the trial crushes her. Remember this fact, My little disciple. Fenicola was a friend. More than a friend: a daughter or sister, given the little difference of about 10 years in age. Nor did she live with the holy Petronilla without being sanctified herself. As one may not [necessarily] be spoiled by living with one who is spoiled. If the world would only remember this truth! But the world instead disregards the saints or brutalizes them, and follows the Satans, becoming always more itself a Satan.

You saw the firmness and sweetness of Fenicola. What is hunger for one who has Christ as his food. What is torture for one who loves the Martyr of Calvary? What is death for one who knows that death opens the gate to Life? My martyr Fenicola is unknown to Christians of today. But she is well known to the angels of God who see her joyous in Heaven behind the Divine Lamb. I wanted to make her known to you [Maria], so as to be able to talk to you also of her spiritual teacher [Petronilla], and to encourage you to suffer. Repeat with her: 'Now indeed amid these sorrows I begin to see my Spouse Jesus, in Whom I have placed all my love,' --and think that for you also I raised up another Nicomedes to save from the waters of your passions your I [i.e., ego, self], which I wanted for Myself, and to gather up as much of you as merits to be preserved: that which is Mine, that which can work for the good of the souls of your brethren."


[June 12, 1944]


"In order, Maria, to make you forget men who are always wild beasts ready to wound the least of men among them -- always wild beasts, even if not wicked in the true sense of the word, always biting the souls if not the flesh of those who, in order to be 'Mine,' are less apt to return bite for bite and claw for claw -- come, for I want to make you contemplate the stars.

I wanted to make you contemplate them yesterday evening. But you were so wounded that you could only weep and suffer upon My Heart, and I had held you there without imposing any other fatigue on you apart from that which was, not 'Mine,' but from cruel humanity.

Maria, I have said to you that in the life of victims, to live without any imbalance, it is necessary to put oneself resolutely on the spiritual level. To see, to think, to act in all as if one acts in the kingdom of the spirit. That is, in an eternity which always says: 'Now.'

Those of you who live by the spirit, what do you want to consider things according to the flesh for? What have you asked of God? To make of you spiritual creatures. And spiritual creatures who are like God: in what time do they live? --In God's Time. What kind of time is God's Time? An Eternal Present. An Eternal 'Now.' In Heaven, for your Eternal Father, there is no past, there is no future. There is the Eternal Moment.

God knows no birth and no death, no dawn and no sunset, no beginning and no end. The angels, spiritual like Him, know but 'One Day.' A Day which had its beginning from the moment in which they were created and which will know no end. The saints, from the moment when they are born into Heaven, become possessors of this unchangeable Time of Heaven which knows no running on. It is fixed in its splendour of a diamond ignited by God, and in the epochs of the world which rotate around this Time's unchangeable fixity, like the planets around the sun: some now prevailing and some now disintegrating, while this unchangeable Time is always there, and will always be. How long? Forever.

Think, Maria. If you could count all the grains of sand that are in the seas of the whole globe, on the bottoms and on the shores of the lakes, of the ponds, of the rivers, the streams, the creeks, and you said to Me: 'change them into that many days,' you would still have a limit to this number of days. Join to them all the drops of water that are in the seas, in the lakes, in the rivers, the streams, the brooks, those that tremble on the foliage bathed by the rain or the dew, and join also to them the water in the alpine snows, in the wandering clouds, in the glaciers which clothe with crystals the mountain peaks, and you would still have a limit to this number of days.

And join to them as well all the molecules which form the planets, the stars and the nebulas, all that flies through the firmament and fills it with the music that only the angels hear -- because while in its course, every astral body sings, like a shining harpist running his hands over harps of blue, it sings the praises of its Creator, and the firmament is full of this concert of an immense organ -- still, Maria, you would have a limited number of days.

Then join to them also the dust buried in the earth -- dust which is earth of men who with their matter have returned to nothing, and which for hundreds of centuries awaits the command to turn back into man and see the triumph of God -- and there are billions and billions of atoms of man-dust, belonging to billions of men who believed themselves to be so much, and now for centuries and centuries are nothing, and the world does not even know that they lived -- and still you would have a limited number of days.

The Kingdom of God is eternal, as its King. And Eternity knows only one word: 'Now'. And you too, Maria, and all those made sacred as a holocaust, must know this sole word for measuring the time of suffering.

'Now'. For how long do I suffer? From Now. When will it cease? Now. The present. For spiritual creatures there is only that which is of God. Time also. Learn, before that moment comes, to calculate time as you will possess it in Paradise: Now. Oh! Blessed that time which is unchangeable contemplation of God Who is unchangeable Joy! 'Life is the blink of an eye, the time of earth has lasted but for a breath. But My Heaven is eternal.' Behold what should be the harmony that rules your song as martyred and blessed creatures.    *

Now: look. And consider with Me. See how many astral bodies shine in the serene velvet of the nocturnal heavens? Millions. It seems their light speaks mysterious words. I, Man, in My solitary nights, lost Myself in contemplating the stars. With My gazing, and more with My soul, I immersed Myself among those flower-beds of light: passing from flower to flower, matching the grandeurs and colors of those stellar corollas, comparing the charms of their [varied] brilliance. And it pleased Me to think that, as the flowers in the fields and gardens, softly waving in the wind of morning or of evening, communicate to each other with words of perfume: so up there, from star to star go secret words of light; and that every interruption in their brilliance, every more vivid flash, every ceasing of their rays, were so many periods to a sentence, so many assents to a question, so many discourses of a most fiery orator -- and all said for the praise of God's magnificence.

The stars! So distant and so near! Millions and millions of miles distant, flying like birds of fire through the boundless fields of the heavens, and yet so visible to the eye of man, in order to say to him: 'Believe in God. We too are a proof of His existence.' You might say that with a little toil one could reach out and touch them, so near do they seem some evenings. And yet, a fool would be he who thinks he could do so, even by climbing the highest summits of the globe. Whether man contemplates them from the flattest plain, or raises his gaze to them from the tops of Asiatic mountains on which even the eagle lives with difficulty, so rarefied the air from the altitude; or again whether by raising himself aloft -- through one of those means which are proof of human intelligence, but which you men know not how to use except for barbarity, and you therefore pollute that intelligence with infernal hate -- man can never see them nearer, and so much the less reach them. The more he rises aloft, the more do they also plunge themselves deeper into space; and there, pulsating, throbbing, they say:

'We, sons of God, are not for you, because you contaminate us with your fallen humanity. We, creatures of God, are only a spark from the Ocean of Light which is the Kingdom of God. To reach the true Star, to know Its Light, you have but to strip yourselves of all your humanity. Thus will you know God, because He reveals Himself to one who loves Him and who, in that love, consumes his man-self and makes his soul-self reign. Then, after a short life, you will possess Him for Eternal Life. We, the billions of stars, we will know death. You will not know it, if you make yourselves sons of God.'

See how God loves each of you, how He loves you, Maria. Write it very clearly and underline it, so that you see it well. How God Loves you. No man, by any means, can reach even a little star nearest the earth, humblest in its fire. But God grants you, since He loves you and since you love Him, to reach Him, to know Him, to immerse yourself in His Fire. And think that there is less distance between the earth and the stars, than between the stars and the throne of God. They are the immense pavement of the Celestial City: its foundation even more than its pavement. Up, up, much higher up, to inconceivable heights -- since they do not respond to human measures -- is that blessed Kingdom of which the Trinity is Lord and in which is prepared a place for one who loves. But since the loving haste of God knows no delay, He, anticipating that time, sucks each of you into Himself, with your spirit, gives Himself to you with His Fire.

And what does human meanness matter to you? Leave it to humans. Come. You have God who loves you, Maria. All the rest is nothing. Nothing can serve to reach God -- the Eternal Star. Only love serves for this: higher than the highest summit, mightier than the mightiest means, love, with its power -- unlimited because spiritual -- joins each of you to God, makes you know Him. It is enough that your concern be to love completely. Make love the only effort of your life. Do not lose yourselves in other quests. Seek to possess love and to cultivate it, make it always grow by nourishing it without laziness and without fear. Make of it a pyre: the flame rises, the flame shines, the flame sings. Rise toward God. Shine in the love that ignites you. Sing your love. Return to God what He has put into your hearts to make you like unto Him: The capacity to love.

God is love. Who has not love in himself, has no likeness with God."

The following excerpt, given to Valtorta on the date indicated, is appended here from the critical Italian edition of Valtorta's great Work, Il Poema Dell'Uomo-Dio[The Poem of the Man-God]. It is part of a vision from that Work in which Christ is conversing with His apostle, Simon the Leper or Zealot, out under the stars on the Feast of the Dedication of the Temple, today known as Hanukkah. According to a number of statements both by Christ and Mary throughout the Poem, this Feast of the Dedication or Renewal of the Temple at Jerusalem, occurring on the 25th of the Moon (month) Kislev (or Casleau) -- which included the last half of November and the first half of December of our calendar -- was actually the true day of Christ's birth. Hence the Feast of Hanukkah, or Dedication/Renewal, is the actual anniversary of Christ's Birth. -- Translator


[March 22, 1945]


"Look at the heavens, Simon. You see there stars and starlets, and planets of differing magnitude. All have life and splendour from God who made them and from the sun which illumines them, but not all are equally splendid and great.

In My Heaven, too, it will be so. All the redeemed will have life from Me and splendour from My Light. But not all will be equally splendid and great. Some will be simple star-dust, like that which causes Galathea [the Milky Way] to be milky, and these will be the countless ones who have had from Christ --or better: who have aspired only to that indispensable minimum, in order not to be damned; and only through the infinite mercy of God, after a long Purgatory, will they come to Heaven.

Others will be brighter and better formed: the just who have united their own will -- note: their will, not good will -- to what Christ wills, and have obeyed My words. Then there will be the planets, those of good will, Oh! the brightest ones: those with the light of a pure diamond, or with gem-like splendours of varied colours: ruby reds, violets of the amethyst, yellows of topaz, the "black"s of the pearl -- those enamoured by love even unto death; those who are penitents out of love; those who worked out of love, those who are immaculate out of love.

And there will be some of them, these planets -- and they will be My glory as Redeemer -- who will have in themselves the brilliance of the ruby as well as of the amethyst, the topaz and the pearl, because all will be out of love. Heroes, for reaching the point of forgiving themselves for not having known how to love before; penitent, through saturating themselves with expiations as did Esther with her fragrances, before presenting herself to Ahasuerus; untiring in doing in a little time -- the little that remains to them -- what they did not do in the years they wasted in sin; pure to the point of heroism in forgetting, even in their very bowels, besides in their soul and thoughts, that the senses even exist. It will be these who, by their manifold splendour, will attract the eyes of believers, of the pure, of penitents, of the martyrs, of heroes, of ascetics, of sinners. And for each of these categories, their splendour will be a word, an answer, an invitation, an assurance...."

[August 12, 1943, Evening]




"My soul, listen to the parable of the Pearl:

A grain of sand moved by the waves of the sea, was swallowed by the valves of a mollusc; a coarse and despicable little stone, a minuscule fragment of rock, a splinter of pumice: all things which do not even merit man's glance.

That grain of sand thus swallowed certainly felt regret, at first, for the boundless meadows of the sea where it had rolled around, free, under the thrust of the currents, and where it saw so many beautiful things created by My Father. But after some time, there formed around the coarse and rough little grain, a white film: ever more beautiful, more hardened, more regular. And now the little stone has no more regret over its former wild freedom, but blesses the moment in which it was thrown down -- by a will higher than its own intentions -- between the valves of that mollusc. If the little grain could speak, it would say: 'Blessed be that moment in which I lost my freedom! Blessed be the force which has taken away my liberty and made of me -- who was poor and brutish -- a precious pearl.'

The soul, with its coarse nature, is such a little stone. It bears the sign of its Divine creation, but reduced so badly by its downward tumble, that it has become ever more rough and more grey. Grace, like a Heavenly current, thrusts it through the limitless spaces of the universe toward the Heart of God, open to receive His creatures. Your God stands with Heart open desiring you, poor creatures.

But often you resist the currents of grace and the invitation of God who desires to close you up in His Heart. You believe that you are happier, more free, more masters of yourselves by remaining outside. No, My poor sons. Happiness, freedom, master ship, are within the Heart of God. Outside are the ambushes of the flesh, the world, of Satan.

You believe you have freedom, but you are tied like [galley] slaves to the oar. You believe you are happy, but cares -- these alone -- are already unhappiness. And then there is all the rest. You believe you are masters, but you are servants of all: servants of yourselves in your lower part; and no joy comes of it for you, even if you work to give yourselves joy.

I give joy because I give Peace, because I give continence, because I give resignation, patience, every virtue. Blessed those souls who do not make too stiff an opposition to the grace that thrusts them toward Me. And most blessed those who not only let themselves be brought to Me, but come to Me with the anxiousness of their desire to be swallowed by My Heart. My Heart rejects no one for the meanness and coarseness that he is. It welcomes all, and the more miserable you are -- but at the same time convinced that I can make you beautiful -- the more I work your meanness, re-clothing it with a new, precious, pure garment. My merits and My Love perform the metamorphosis. You enter, creatures, and go forth to the light of the Day of God, most precious pearls.

The soul at times has regrets about its former freedom. Especially at first, since My work is severe even under the garment of love. But the more willing the soul is, the more quickly also does it understand. The more the soul renounces every desire of false freedom and prefers the royal slavery of Love, so much the more quickly also does it taste the bliss of its imprisonment in Me and hastens the sanctifying prodigy of Love.

The world loses all attraction for that happy soul which lives closed up in Me like a pearl in a jewel-case. All the riches of the earth, all its fleeting suns, all its insincere joys and pseudo-freedoms lose their lights and voices, and there remains only the will -- always more vast and deep -- of Our reciprocal Love, of Our wanting to be one for the other, one in the other, one of the other.

Oh! too little known bliss of all blesses: to live with Me who know how to Love! For if Peter exclaimed on Tabor at only seeing Me transfigured: 'Lord, it is good for us to stay here,' what would the soul say that is itself transfigured, becoming a molecule of My Heart of a God?

But think, Maria: who lives in Me, becomes part of Me. You understand? Of Me, Jesus, Son of the true God, Wisdom of the Father, Redeemer of the world, eternal Judge and King of the future age, King forever. All this the soul becomes that has sunk into My Heart; an integral and living part of the Heart of a God, it will Live eternally like God in the Light, in the Pearl, in the Glory of My Divinity. "


[August 22, 1943]


"Maria, now I take you by the hand to guide you in the most obscure point of the book of John. The commentators of this book have exhausted their capacities with many deductions to explain to themselves and to the people who the "Great Babylon" is. With human vision to — which the shocks of events desired or which happened were not foreign — they have given the name of Babylon to many things. But how is it they have never thought that the "Great Babylon" is the whole of Earth? I would be a very little and limited Creator-God if I had created only Earth as an inhabited world! With a throb of My Will I have raised up worlds upon worlds from nothing and cast them forth — luminous fine dust — in the immensity of the firmament.

Earth, of which you are all so proud and so fierce, is but one of the bits of fine dust revolving in that infinity, and not the largest. But She is certainly the most corrupt. Lives and [more] lives teem in the millions of worlds that are the joy of your gaze on serene nights. And God's perfection will be apparent to you when — with the intellectual vision of your spirit united again to God — you can see the marvels of those worlds. Is not Earth perhaps the great Harlot who has fornicated with all the powers of the earth and of hell? And the inhabitants of Earth, have they not prostituted themselves: bodies and souls, to triumph also in the earth's day?

Yes. For it is so. The crimes of Earth have all the names of blasphemy, as has the Beast with whom Earth and Her inhabitants have also allied themselves in order to triumph. The seven sins stand as a horrible ornament on the head of the Beast who transports Earth and the earthly into the pastures of the Evil One. And the ten horns, a metaphorical number, stand to point out the infinite wickedness accomplished to obtain, at whatever cost, as much as It wants in Its ferocious lust.

Has not Earth, soaked with the blood of martyrs, been perhaps intoxicated by this holy liqueur which, drunk down with Her sacrilegious mouth, is changed in Her mouth into a potion of accursed drunkenness? The Beast that carries Her: — [Itself] the compendium and synthesis of all the evil wrought from Adam on, just to triumph in the world and in the flesh — draws after It all those who by adoring It will become king for an hour and of an accursed kingdom. You are kings as sons of God, and it is an eternal Kingdom. But you become kings for an hour and of an accursed kingdom when you adore Satan, who cannot give you but an ephemeral triumph, paid for at the price of an eternity of horror.

The Beast — says John — was and is not. At the end of the world it will be so. The Beast was, because It really has been; It is not, because I, the Christ, will have conquered and buried It, because It will no longer be necessary then for the triumphs of the world. Is not Earth seated upon the waters of Her seas, and has She not made use of these to do harm? What has She not made use of? Peoples, nations, races, borders, interests, food, expansions: She has used all to fornicate and accomplish endless homicides and Iscariot betrayals. Her very own sons, nourished by Her with the blood of sin, will accomplish God's vengeance upon Her by destroying Her, destroying themselves, bringing the sum total of their crimes against God and against man to the perfect number demanded by My thundering: 'ENOUGH!'

In that hour the blood of the martyrs and the prophets will boil up again, steaming toward My Throne with a pleasing fragrance, and the clods of the earth which had collected the groans of those killed out of hatred for Me and received their last quivering, will give a loud shout formed of all those holy moans, and will tremble with an anguished convulsion, shaking men's cities and houses where they sin and kill, and filling the vault of Heaven with a voice that asks for Justice. And Justice there will be. I will come. I will come because I am Faithful and Truthful. I will come to give Peace to the faithful and holy Judgment to those who have lived. I will come with My Name whose meaning is known to Me alone and in whose letters are the main attributes of God of Whom I am Part and Whole.

Write: GESU: Greatness, Eternity, Sanctity, Unity. Write: CHRISTO: Charity, Redemption, Immensity, Sapience, Trinity, Omnipotence (of God compressed into the Name of the Word become human). And if it seems to you that some attributes are lacking, consider that Justice is included in Sanctity, for whoever has sanctity is just; Royalty is included in Greatness; Creation, in Omnipotence. In My Name therefore the praises of God are proclaimed. O Holy Name, whose sound terrifies the demons. Name of Life, You give Life, Light, strength to him who loves You and invokes You. Name which is the crown upon My Head as Victor over the Beast and his prophet who will be seized, skewered, submerged, buried in the liquid and eternal fire whose bite is ferocious and inconceivable to human feeling.

It will then be the time of My Kingdom on Earth. Thus there will be a rest from the demonic crimes to give man time to hear again the voices of Heaven. With the Force which unchains horror taken away, great spiritual streams will descend like cascades of grace, like rivers of heavenly water, to speak words of Light.

But as, over the centuries, they did not gather up the isolated Voices which speak of the Good, beginning with that of the Word, so men will be deaf, always deaf — except those marked with My Mark, My dearly beloved friends straining to follow Me — men will be deaf to the voices of many spirits, to voices like the noise of many waters which will sing the new song to guide the peoples to meet the Light, and above all to Me: the eternal Word. When the last attempt has been completed, Satan will come for the last time and will find followers at the four corners of the earth, and they will be more numerous than the sands of the sea. Oh! Christ! Oh! Jesus Who died to save men! Only the patience of a God could have waited so long, done so much, obtained so little without withdrawing His gift from men and letting them perish long before the appointed hour! Only My Patience which is Love could await you all, knowing that like sand filtering through a very fine sieve, some rare souls would come to glory compared to the mass which does not know how, is unwilling to filter through the sieve of the Law, of Love, of Sacrifice to reach Me.

But in the hour of My coming when, in the garment of God, King and Judge, I come to assemble the elect and to curse the reprobate, hurling them there where the Antichrist, the Beast and Satan will already be for eternity, after the supreme victory of Jesus Christ, Son of God, Conqueror of Death and of the Evil One — to those elect who have known how to remain 'a l i v e' in life, a l i v e in their spirit, awaiting the hour of Our triumph, I will give the possession of the Heavenly dwelling, I will Give Myself without ceasing and without measure.

Strain toward that hour, Maria. Call it, and call Me with all the strength of your spirit. Lo, I am already coming when a soul calls Me. Together with the Beloved who saw from the earth the glory of the Lamb, Son of God, the glory of his and your Jesus, say, with every beat of your heart: 'Come, Lord Jesus'."


[June 4, 1943]




"I love all souls. I love those of the pure who live as My Heart desires for your good; [I love] the souls of those who are meek as I am meek; of the generous who expiate for all and continue My Passion; of the merciful who imitate Me in regard to their brothers. I love sinners, because it is for them that I became Redeemer and mounted  the cross. Their sins give Me sorrow but do not extinguish My love for them, do not extinguish My desire to clasp them to My bosom when they repent. I love little souls who are not without imperfections, but who are rich with a love that annuls imperfections.

I love you, you who call yourself 'Maria' [= 'Mary'], for Me the sweetest of names. The name of My Mama. That name which is a shield and defence against the ambushes of the demon, that name which is the music of Heaven, that name which makes Our Trinity bolt for joy, that name with which I surrounded Myself in life and in the hour of death. Mary of  Magdala, Mary Clopas: those who were faithful to Me and to My Mother.

Believe in this [My] love for you. Feel this love around you. Poor soul! You can only find My Heart that knows how to love you as you need.

I have loved you so much that I have even granted your whims -- truly not too reasonable -- by guaranteeing with true facts your castles in the air. Not because that pleases Me, but because I did not want to demean you before the world and because I knew that even these whims would know how to change themselves later into weapons of penance and love, and therefore of holiness.

I have loved you so much that I knew how to wait for you... I looked at you making [yourself] a bizarre little she-goat and sometimes I smiled, sometimes I was saddened; but I never became angry because I knew that My little she-goat would become one day a ewe lamb.

If I had not loved you as I have, do you think you would be what you are? No. Think well that you would only have become always worse. But it was I Who was watching.

Have no fear of My caresses. Jesus never causes fear. Abandon yourself. With your heart and with your generosity. Give Me all. And take all from Me.

Yesterday evening, this morning, you placed upon the great pyre of sacrifice for peace, your little bundle of sacrifice, and you placed it with a smile squeezed out by love, struggling against the human tears which wanted to well up, against the whispers of the Enemy who wanted to trouble you. Oh! dear one! It  will not be forgotten, this sacrifice of yours made with the joy of love.

Now I ask something of you. You know -- and you think of it with sorrow -- that many [Eucharistic] Particles are scattered among filth and ruins in the devastation of the churches. It is as if I were overthrown, because I am in the Sacrament. Well then, place your love, ideally, as a precious carpet, as a tablecloth of purest linen to gather up the Eucharistic-Me, struck, wounded, profaned, driven out of My tabernacles, not by the little humans who strike My churches -- they are only the instruments -- but by Satan who moves them. By Satan who knows that the times are growing short and that this is one of the decisive struggles which anticipate My coming.

Yes. Behind the screen of races, of domination, of rights, behind the movement of political necessities, in reality hide Heaven and Hell which fight each other. And it would suffice that half of those believing in the true God -- but what am I saying? less than this -- less than a quarter of  believers really believing in My Name would suffice to subdue the weapons of Satan. But where is that Faith?

Love Eucharistic-Me. The Eucharist is the Heart of God, it is My Heart. I gave each of you My Heart in the Last Supper; I give it to you -- provided you want it -- always.  And you will not conceive the Christ in yourselves nor bring Him forth to the light if you do not know how to make His Heart live in you. When in the womb of a woman a new creature is formed, what is formed first? The heart. And so it is for the life of the spirit. You will not give the Christ if you do not form in yourselves His Heart, by loving the Eucharist which is Life, and true Life.  Loving  as My Mother loved Me when [I was] just conceived.

Oh! what caresses through Her virginal flesh for Me, unformed and minuscule, as I throbbed in Her with My little embryonic Heart. Oh! what throbbing did I not communicate to Her heart through the dark recesses of the organism, from the depth of that living Tabernacle where I was being formed to be born and to die for each of you, crucifying the heart of My Mama on My very own Cross, for each of you!

But I communicate those same throbbing to each of you in your heart when you receive Me. Your carnal and intellectual heaviness does not permit you to perceive them, but I give them to you. You, then, open up fully to receive Me.

But you, [Maria], many times in the day -- I cannot say to you: at every moment, but if you were a cherub and not a creature that has the weariness of matter [to contend with], I would say to you: at every moment -- repeat this prayer:

Jesus, Who are struck down in our churches by the hand of Satan, I adore You in all the  Particles scattered and destroyed among the ruins. Take me for Your ciborium, for Your  throne, for Your altar. I know I am not worthy, but You love to stay among those who  love You, and I love You for myself and for whoever does not love You. Let suffering  empurple me like blood so that I become a worthy adornment to receive You Who  want to be like us in this hour of war.Let my love be a lamp which burns before You,   Most Holy One, and my holocaust [be] incense. Amen."


[June 23, 1943]

      JESUS :

"In the other Eucharistic encounter, Maria,  I made you see what the Eucharist is. Today  I will show you another eucharistic truth. If the Eucharist is the Heart of God, Mary is the ciborium of that Heart.

Look at My Mother, eternal living ciborium into which descends the Bread that comes from Heaven. Whoever wants to find Me, and to find Me with the fullness of [My] gifts, should seek My Majesty and Power, My Divinity, in the sweetness,  the purity, the charity of Mary. It is She who makes of Her Heart the ciborium for the Heart of Her God and yours.

The Body of the Lord became a body in the bosom of Mary, and it is My Mother who hands It with a smile to each of you, as if She offered you Her dearly beloved Child laid in the cradle of Her most pure maternal heart. In Heaven it is the joy of Mary to give each of you Her Offspring and to give you Her Lord. With Her Son She gives you Her spotless Heart, that Heart which has loved and suffered in infinite measure.

It is a widespread opinion that My Mother had only suffered morally. No. The Mother of mortals knew every kind of suffering. Not because She had deserved it. She was immaculate, and the sorrowful heritage of Adam was not in Her. But [She knew every kind of suffering] because, being Coredemptrix and Mother of the whole human race, She had to consummate the sacrifice to the very end, and in all forms. Therefore as a woman, She suffered the inevitable sufferings of a woman who conceives an offspring: she suffered weariness of Her flesh heavy with My weight; she suffered in bringing Me forth to the light, She suffered in Her hasty flight, She suffered lack of food, She suffered heat, cold, thirst, hunger, poverty, fatigue. Why should She not have had to suffer if I, the Son of God, succumbed to the sufferings proper to humanity?

Being holy does not mean being exempt from the miseries of matter. Being redeemers, then, means being particularly subject to the miseries of the flesh which has painful sensitivity. Holiness and redemption are practiced and achieved in all manners, even, for example, with toothaches. It suffices for the creature to make of such carnal misery a means of merit and not of sin.

I Myself and Mary made the miseries of human nature into so many weights of redemption for all of you. Even now My Mother suffers when She sees you so deaf to grace, rebels toward Me. Holiness, I repeat, does not mean the exclusion of suffering, but rather it means the imposition of suffering.

Thank Mary, therefore, who gives Me to you with the smile of a Mother, thank Her for all the suffering that being My Mother has brought Her. You all never think thanking Mary in whose womb I became flesh! That Flesh which I now give to you to nourish you for eternal Life.

Enough: contemplate and adore Me radiant in the Eucharist, in the living throne which is the breast of Mary, My most pure Mother and yours."


Valtorta :  "Now I explain. Sunday --no, rather, Friday the 18th, I seemed to see Jesus at the side of my bed; I nodded to Him there. But He did nothing. Sunday, the 20th, before you came, while you were here and after your coming for Communion, I seemed to see Jesus no longer at the side of my bed, but at the foot of the bed, as He gave me the Particle. But He did not have a pyx in His Hand: He had His Heart and He gave me His Heart as a Particle, taking it from His Breast. He was of an infinite majesty and sweetness. He then explained to me the significance of the Vision. It will be found in the notebook on the date of June 20th.

This morning I saw the Madonna. She appeared seated, smiling with love, but sad. She had Her dark mantle which descended from Her head, open over her garment, also dark; it seemed maroon. On Her head, beneath the mantle, must have been a white veil because I glimpsed a slight edge of it. In the middle of Her breast radiates a very large and very beautiful Host. And -- what constitutes the marvel of the Vision -- it seems that through the Species (which here appear like very beautiful quartz: it is bread, but it appears like sparkling crystal) appears a very beautiful baby. The Baby-God made flesh.

The Madonna, who had Her arms open to hold Her mantle open, looks at me and then lowers Her face and Her adoring gaze on the Host which sparkles in Her breast. In her breast, not on Her breast. It is as if through some mystical x-rays, I could see into the breast of Mary, or better, it is as if some x-rays made visible on the outside what is inside of Mary. As if This Woman were a body without any opacity. I don't know how to explain it. In a word, I see this and Jesus explains it to me. The Virgin does not speak. She only smiles. But Her smile is as eloquent as a thousand words, and even more.

How it would please me to know how to paint in order to make a copy of it for you and have you see it. And above all I would want to have you see the different levels of brightness. There are three: one, of a peaceful softness, constituted by the body of Mary, is the external covering and protector of the second, a radiant and vivid brightness constituted by the great Host. A victorious light, I would say (to use human speech), which makes up the internal covering for the divine Jewel that shines like liquid fire with an indescribable beauty, and which is, in its infinite beauty, infinitely sweet, and is the little Jesus who smiles with all His tender and innocent flesh through His nature as God and through His age of an infant.

Under the veils of these other two brightness, this third one is a brightness for which there is no comparison to describe it. One needs to think of the sun, of the moon, of the stars: to take the differing lights of all the astral bodies, to make of them a single vortex of light which is fused gold, fused diamond, and this gives a pale likeness of what my heart sees in this blessed hour. What will Paradise be, covered with this light?

Likewise, there is no comparison fit to tell the sweetness of Mary's smile. Regal, holy, chaste, loving, sad, inviting, comforting... are words which say [but] one thing and should say a thousand things to even approach what that virginal, maternal, heavenly smile is."



"Now that you have seen, have you understood what the Eucharist is? It is My Heart which I distribute to each of you. A greater and more loving gift I could not give you. If, when you receive Communion, you know how to see Me Who give you My Heart, would you not be moved by it? But your faith should be so strong, and as strong too your charity, so as to make you see this. This mental vision should not constitute one of My exceptional gifts. It should constitute the rule, the sweet rule. And it would be the rule if you were really My disciples.

Then you would see Me, you would hear Me say over the Bread and over the Wine the words of consecration, [you would see Me] breaking and distributing the Bread, reaching it out to you with My own Hands. My priest would disappear because I would superimpose Myself on him to say to you: 'Here is the Body of the Lord Jesus Christ, My Body which should keep you for eternal Life.' And in the light of love you would see that I reach out to you My own Heart, the super perfect part of My most perfect Body, that [Part] from which gushes forth Charity Itself.

I have done this for love of you all: I have given Myself. And this I have done for you, Maria, today: I have raised the veil of the Mystery and I have made known to you how I come to each of you, how I give Myself to you, what I give you of Mine, even if you do not know how to see and understand.

Enough for today. There are no other words to say to you. Look and adore."


[June 19, 1943]

"To obtain the true fruits of the Eucharist, there is no need to consider this as an episode that is repeated in epochs more or less distant in time, but rather to make the thought of it the basis of life.

Live thinking of Eucharistic-Me Who am ready to come, or Who have already come into you, making of our meeting a continual present which lasts as long as your life lasts. Do not separate yourself with your spirit from Me, work in the ray which issues from the Eucharist, never going out of Its orbit, like stars which revolve around the sun and live by its benefits. Here too I propose Mary to you as a model. Her union with Me should be the model of your union with Me. The life of Mary, My Mother, was wholly Eucharistic. The life of Maria [Valtorta], the little victim, should be wholly Eucharistic.

If Eucharist means to signify communion, Mary lived eucharistically for almost all Her life. For I was in My Mother before being in the world as Man. Nor did I cease to be in Her, when as Man I was in the world no longer. We were not separated anymore from the moment in which obedience was sanctified to the very heights of God, and I became flesh in Her bosom, so pure that the angels are less so by comparison; so holy, that no ciborium that welcomes Me is as holy.

Only in the Bosom of God is there perfection of holiness greater than that of Mary's. She is, after the One and Triune God, the Saint of Saints.

If it were granted to you mortals to see the beauty of Mary as it is, you would remain enraptured and sanctified by it. There is no comparison in the Universe able to tell you what My Mother is. Be saints, and you will see Her. And if to see God is the joy of the Blessed, to see Mary is the joy of all Paradise. Because in Her not only do the angelic choirs and the ranks of the Saints delight, but the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit contemplate Her as the most beautiful work of Their Trinity of Love. We were never separated, the two of Us. She aspired to Me with all the strength of Her virginal and immaculate Heart awaiting the promised Messiah. A most pure communion of desire which lured Me from the depth of Heaven. [Then] a more vivid communion from the moment of the blessed Annunciation until the hour of My Death on the Cross.

Our spirits were always united by love. [By] a most intense communion of love and of immense sorrow during My martyrdom and in the days of My burial. [And by] an Eucharistic communion after My glorious Resurrection and Ascension until the Assumption, which was the eternal union of the most pure Mother with Her Divine Son. Mary has been the perfect eucharistic soul.  She knew how to hold Her God with an ardent love, a purity above angelic purity, a continual adoration. How can I separate Myself from that Heart which lived for Me? I remained even after the consummation of the species.

The words I said to My Mother during My thirty-three years when I was Her Son on earth, are nothing compared to the colloquies which the Eucharistic-Me had with Her-My-Ciborium. But those words are too divine and too pure for the mind of man to be able to know them, and for the lips of man to repeat them. In the Temple of Jerusalem only the Priest entered into the Holy of Holies where the Ark of the Lord was. But in the Temple of the Heavenly Jerusalem only I, God, enter and know the secrets of the most holy Ark which is Mary, My Mother. Strive to imitate Mary. And, since it is too arduous a thing, tell Mary to help you. What is impossible to man is possible to God, very possible though if asked in Mary, with Mary, through Mary."


[May 17,1944]

   JESUS :

"The usual difficult spirits -- I call them 'incredulous rationalists' -- will find this Dictation incongruous. To say of My Blood today that it is the commemoration of My Ascension to Heaven! Why?

Because so I will it. And if I will it, it is a sign that it is not incongruous, because I never do anything illogical. However, I do not speak for these blind dregs of humanity, a crowd of idols deprived of a soul, representations of pride and foolishness. I speak for My children. And especially for you, Maria. We have been separated 40 days. Your sorrow and your love have counted them. Today, the day commemorating the separation from My disciples, I return, poor violet of My Cross, submerged and burned by the salt of her weeping but thirsting for My Blood to live. It is only My Blood that makes you live. It is only My Voice that consoles you. It is only My Presence that makes you happy. Here I am: with you.

You weep? Do not weep. Listen. All that you saw intellectually is what really happens.

My Blood does not cease to pour Itself out upon the earth. For twenty centuries It continues to shine in the face of creation as a testimony of love, and like dew, It descends wherever there is a cross which says: 'Here is a land belonging to Christ.' The angels of every single believer-- rather of everyone who bears the name of 'Christian' -- in their angelic nature these angels do nothing but weave flights between heaven and earth to get divine treasures for each one of their wards. Nor does  the angelic work cease here, because even the other countless angelic peoples adore, by eternal order, for those  non Christians who do not adore the true God, and they pray for My Blood to be poured out upon all creatures so It will be adored by them.

The  angels of the just adore jubilantly, united to the souls of these same just who anticipate on earth the adoration which will be eternal. The angels of those who are non Christians adore hopefully, hoping to be able to become their guardians in the sign of the Cross. The angels of sinners who are no longer children of God, adore tearfully. And still tearfully they entreat the Blood that by Its power It may redeem those hearts. Finally, the angels of the churches scattered through the earth adore, bearing to God the Blood elevated at every Mass in memory of Me.

The Blood descends and the Blood goes up with ceaseless rhythm. There is no moment of the day in which My Blood does not ascend to God, or in which It does not descend from the throne of God upon the earth. You have never reflected on it, Maria. But the Mass repeats the three most important points of My Life as Jesus Christ, the Word of God incarnate. When, at the Consecration, the species become Flesh and Blood, there I incarnate Myself as [I did] once before. Not in the womb of the Virgin. But in the hands of a virgin. Here is why I have required in My priests angelic purity. Woe to the profaners who, with their body sullied from carnal union, touch the Body of God! Because if your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit and therefore should be kept holy and chaste, the body of the priest at whose command I descend from Heaven to become Flesh and Blood and lie in his hands as in a cradle -- his body should be more spotless than the lily. And with his body, his heart, his tongue.

In the Elevation is the Crucifixion. ‘When I am lifted up I will draw all to Me,’ and when from an altar I am lifted up, there I draw with Me all the throbbing of those present, all their needs, all their sorrows, all their prayers, and with them I present Myself to the Father and I say: ‘Here I am. The One consumed by love asks You, O Father, to give all for these "My own," because I have given all for them.’

And when the Sacrifice [of the Mass] is consummated with the consuming of the Species, I return to My Father, while saying: ‘I bless all of you. I am with you till the end of the world,’ as on the morning of the Ascension. Through love I incarnate Myself, through love I consume Myself, through love I ascend. To plead in your favour. It is always Love that reigns in My works. Mediate on the Mass in these lights which I illumine for you. And think that there is no moment in the day in which a Host is not consumed for love of each of you and Blood consecrated to increase the heavenly pools in which human spirits are cleansed, their infirmities healed, their dryness watered, their sterility made fertile, and that which [previously] belonged to error is made God’s.

Contemplate My Blood which, after being poured out in painful tortures, ascends to the Father shouting for you all:  ‘Father, into Your Hands I entrust these MY spirits. Father, do not forsake them. I, the Lamb eternally immolated, I will it for them.’ And to annul even the memory of passed doubt, repeat to yourself: ‘For this my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices, and even my body rests in hope, because You have not left my soul in the hell of sorrow. But for love of Your Blood you have made known to me, and recently still more, the ways of life, and filled me again with joy by Your Presence.’

These are, with a few modifications, the words of Peter after Pentecost. Speak them in anticipation of that day. You have drunk so much gall, poor Maria. Console your heart with the honey of [these] eternal words. I bless you, like the Eleven, before ascending."


[May 26,1944]

"Why does Isaiah say: ‘You who thirst, come to the water, and you also who have no money, hurry to buy and eat [sic] wine and milk’?

Because there is One Who has paid for all the eternal riches for each of you, and for your hunger and your thirst He has procured and ground the purest grain, and procured and pressed out the most beautiful grape. And from this procurement of His -- paid for with an immeasurable price and ground and pressed out with a sweat of blood – He has made for you a Bread and a Wine which take away all hunger and all thirst that is not a hunger and thirst for what is spiritual, and They give to him who receives them, Life.

The Grain is the Flesh born in the virginal bosom of My Spouse. The Wine is the Blood whose source is in the immaculate Heart that opened like the bud of a flower when My thunderbolt descended like a fiery arrow to make of Her a Mother -- the Mother for Him Who was to Her both Father and Spouse. Oh! moment in which We Three were blissful in Her Heart and found the creature's love that We had desired in every creature, and which no one outside of  Her, most holy Mary, possessed! Her blood! A few drops around the Seed of the Lord. But it then becomes so great a river, so inexhaustible a river, that it does not cease to flow for ages, nor will it cease until the last day.

I -- Love -- I have given this Food so that it might be a Testimony to all peoples of the Father's Goodness. I -- I have given this Word. My Love has sent It upon the earth so that It might be a Master to all peoples and their Guide to God. And out of love He was torn from Us, and the eternal Word remained in His painful exile whose end was a shameful death, until the awaited fruit of the gentiles was given: the Redemption. Redemption of the body through His Blood. Redemption of weakness through His Flesh. Redemption of ignorance through His Word.

He accomplished all that Love willed, He  wrought all that He was to do. In nothing did He spare Himself.

Do not close your spirits to this Treasure. Come, since you are thirsting. You who know how to  thirst and you who, still more at death’s door, no longer know how to thirst. Here is the Wine which strengthens and the Milk which consoles and cures. And if you are poor and without money, come likewise. Love, One and Triune, opens to you His riches, provided you love Him."


  [December 12, 1944]

  Valtorta :

"In receiving Holy Communion from the hand of Fr. Migliorini, I find my Eucharistic joy again which Compito had annulled, that is, the visible presence of Jesus at the side of Fr. Migliorini. I smile at my sweet white-garbed Jesus…and while I make my thanksgiving I ask myself why He stands at the left of Father [Migliorini]. It seems to me His position should be on the right. Jesus responds, coming to meet my desire to have light and says:



‘In My attitude is an instruction of faith, of respect, and of humility. How do you see Me? In glorious garments? No. You see Me as Jesus of Nazareth, the Master, the Man.

What is the Eucharist? The greatest, most holy miracle of God. It is God. It is God because in the Eucharist the Son of God is there, God like the Father, God made flesh through Love, that is through the work of the Third Person. It is God because it is a miracle of love, and God is where love is. Love witnesses God more than any word or devotion, or act, or work. I, Author of this miracle, which is the witness of the power of God and of His Nature – Love – I render honour to this miracle. In order to tell all of you that it is true, to tell you that it is holy, to tell you that it should be venerated with the greatest respect. Jesus-Master adores His [Own] divine nature in the Eucharist. Here is why I appear to you as Master, not as the glorious Jesus. The glorious Jesus could not adore anything. To Him should go the adoration of all that is, since He is the God Who has returned to His Kingdom. But the Son of man can still show His Will to venerate the Ark which contains Me, God: [the Ark of] the Eucharistic Bread. And I do it, to teach you all to do it.

Why do I stand at the left? Again to instruct you. The priest, while he is performing his priestly functions, is worthy of the greatest respect. And the fact that I obey his command and descend: as Blood, to wash your hearts, as Flesh to nourish your spirits, affirms for you  this [respect]. Learn from Me, Who am humble, to have humility. Enough for now [Maria]. Pray. Write what you must [now], because later, little John, there is need to work. The Gospel waits.

My little John! Little pearl born in the great sea of suffering! But how you are destined to be inlaid as a gem in the crown of the Son and of the Mother. Pearls are so much the more beautiful as they are formed more in the deep sea and agitated by deep storms which upset even the [the sea's] bottom. Without these the heart of the oyster is not opened, nor is there deposited in the wound that nucleus in which suffering inlays the gem. Tears, tears, Maria! What a thing are tears! They have had only one point less value than My Blood has had. You have all been redeemed through the Blood of Jesus and the tears of Mary.

My peace be always with you.' "


[August 9, 1943]


 "They fear death who know not love and whose conscience is not tranquil. And they are the majority! These, when they feel themselves threatened by death from sickness, or age, or from whatever other factor,  become frightened, afflicted, and they rebel. They try too, with all their strength and every means, to escape it. --Uselessly, because when the hour is marked, no caution avails to ward off death.

Always just is the hour of death, because it is given by God. I alone am  Proprietor of life and of death, and if certain means of death are not Mine, [but] used by men through demonic instigation, the sentences of death are always Mine, given to take a soul away from too much earthly torment or to prevent greater faults of that soul.

Now note: why would I give the gift of life, of a long life?  For two reasons.

The first: because that creature who enjoys it is an enlightened spirit who has the mission to be a beacon for other spirits still wrapped in the clouds of materialism. Many of My saints have reached old age just for this [purpose]. And only I know how anxiously they yearned instead to come to Me.

Second: I give long life to furnish an unformed creature with the means, every means,  to be formed. Studies, friendships, holy encounters, sorrows, joys, readings, chastisements of war or of sickness, all comes from Me, and I give them seeking for a soul to grow in My Age, which is not like your [physical ages].  For to grow in My Age means to grow in My wisdom, and there can be adults in My Age who have the age of children, as you reckon age. Or, conversely, they who are a hundred years old, as you reckon age, can be childish in My Age . I do not look at the age of your flesh which dies: I look at your spirit, and I want you to become spirits who know how to walk, to talk, to act surely, and not be stuttering, tripping and incapable of doing things, as children are!

That is why I speak My 'Enough' more swiftly for creatures whom I find to be adults in Faith, in Charity, in Life. A father always desires to be reunited to his sons, and once their education or military service is finished, with what joy does he not clasp them to his heart! And will your good Father Whom you have in Heaven act differently? No. When He sees that a creature is adult in spirit, He burns with the desire to take it [to be] with Him. And if, out of pity for the people, He sometimes leaves His servants on earth so that they may be a magnet and compass for others, at other times He does not restrain Himself but gives Himself the joy of setting a new star in Heaven with the soul of a saint.

Here [on earth] where you are, the soul draws God to itself, and God descends to find His delights near this loving creature which lives from Him. The soul yearns to climb up to where it may be without veils eternally with its God. And God, from the centre of His burning ardour, draws the soul to Himself, just as the sun attracts the drops of dew. And He yearns to have it near Him, a gem enclosed in His triple Fire which gives Bliss.

Maria, the upraised arms of the soul meet the outstretched arms of God. When they touch, if they [merely] graze each other quickly, on earth it is ecstasy; when they clasp each other continually, it is the endless Bliss of Heaven  of My Heaven which I have created for all of you, My beloved ones, and which will give Me a superabundance of joy when it is filled with all my beloved ones. What an eternal day of immeasurable joy [will be] ours, for us who love each other: We, God, One and Triune; and you, God's children!

But those who through their own misfortune have not understood My Love, have not given Me their love, have not understood that only one science is useful: that of Love, for them death is dreadful. They are afraid. They are still more afraid if they feel they have done little good, or all evil.

Man's lying mouth for rarely does man's mouth speak the truth, so beautiful and blessed: the truth which I, Son of God and Word of the Father, have taught you to speak always – rather, in order to deceive and comfort himself and to deceive others, man's lying mouth says: 'I have done well and I do well.'  But conscience, which stands like a double-sided mirror under your ego and under God's Eye, accuses man of not having done well and of not at all doing well as he proclaims.

Then a great fear troubles them: the fear of the judgment of Him to Whom the thoughts, the actions, the affections of man are not hidden. But if you fear Me so much as Judge, O poor wretches, why do you not avoid having Me as Judge?  Why do you not make Me your Father? If you fear Me, why do you not act according to My orders? You do not know how to listen to Me when I talk to you with the voice of a Father who guides you, hour by hour, with a hand of love? But at least obey Me when I talk to you with the voice of a King. It will be a less rewarded obedience, because less spontaneous and sweet to My Heart. But it will always be obedience. So then why do you not do it?

Death is not dodged. Blessed are they who will come to that hour with a garment of love to meet Him Who arrives. The death of these will be serene as the passing from the earth of My father, who did not recoil [from death] because he was a just man who had nothing to reproach in his life. The end of these who love Me will be joyous as the sleep of My Mother who closed Her eyes on earth upon a vision of love, since her life which knew not sin was all love, and She reopened Her eyes in Heaven, awaking upon the Heart of God.

Do you know, My joy , how beautiful it will be for you too? This morning, when I  came as the Eucharist, you had jumped with ecstasy because you had seen Me giving Myself to you. But that is nothing. A little grain of ecstasy thrown into your heart. Only one, in order not to incinerate you, because you had sensed it..., you believed you would die in your emotion. But when that moment [of  death] comes I will pour out anew a river of joy, because it will no longer be necessary to maintain your human life and we will go away together.

Courage, a little suffering yet for love of your Jesus and then your Jesus will abolish pain for you to give you Himself, completely -–Himself: joy without measure."
  Valtorta :  "In fact, this morning I had so vivid an impression that I had been on the verge of being There as  [to want] to shout. Because one shouts not only from terror or pain, but also from too much joy. I thought my heart had yielded to that joy and that I was thus dying, with the Particle still on my tongue."

  [May 19, 1944]

  JESUS :  

"How sweet it is to communicate this Our thought with one who is loved! Its lights offered as gems to those most dear! It is the love of love: the purest, the choicest.

I want to give you all My Thought. To make you understand the Thought hidden in the Word. It is as if I took you and put you in My Mind and made you know the treasures enclosed in It. So as to make you always more like Me and therefore more pleasing to My Father and yours. In the Gospel of John, perfect possessor of the Thought of the Word of God made Flesh, of the thought of his Jesus, Master and Friend, there is said the phrase: 'Now He said this to signify with what death he would have rendered glory to God.'

With what death he would have rendered glory to God. Sons! All deaths are glory rendered to God when they are accepted and undergone with holiness. Far be from you even the holy envy of this or that death. And far the human measuring of this or that death's value. Death is a will of God that is accomplished. Even if its executor is a ferocious man who makes himself arbiter of another's destiny, and by his adherence to Satan becomes the latter's instrument to torment his fellow men and be their assassin –cursed by Me. Yet death is always the last obedience to God Who has threatened man with death for his sin.

You all know [about] so many Indulgences, and there are tiny souls (not little: tiny) who, constrained and wrapped up in the practices of their religion like a mummy amid the darkness of a subterranean tomb, make out their daily sum of how many days of Indulgences they acquire with this or that prayer. The Indulgences are there, it is true, so that you may benefit from them in the future life. But put light, put wings to your soul and your religion. They are heavenly things. Do not make slaves of them, captive in a dark prison. Light, light, wings, wings, raise yourselves!  Love!  Pray from love, be good out of love, live from love.

There are two Indulgences that are the greatest:  Plenary Indulgences. And they come from God, from Me, eternal Pontiff. That of Love which covers a multitude of sins. It destroys them in its fire. One who loves with all his strength consumes from moment to moment his human imperfections. One who loves commits no more imperfections. The second Plenary Indulgence, given by God, is that of a resigned death  –  whatever kind it may be of a willing death so as to perform the last obedience to God.

Death is always a Calvary. Great or small, it is always Calvary. And it is always 'great' even if in appearance it has nothing that makes it seem such, because it is proportioned by God to the strength of each one (I speak here of My children, not of those who are Satan's), it is proportioned to [each one's] strength which God increases to the measure of the death which is the destiny of His creature; and it is great because, if it is accomplished in a holy manner, it assumes the greatness of that which is holy. Every holy death, then, is glory rendered to God. How beautiful it is to see the rose open on its stem! Look: it is closed up like a ruby in its emerald setting, but the folds of the setting unfold and, like a mouth that opens in a smile, the purple petals unlock. It responds with its own silken smile to the kiss from the sun. It opens itself. It is a halo of living velvet around the gold of the pistils. With its color and its fragrance it sings the glory of Him Who created it. And then at evening it bends itself wearily and dies with a more lively fragrance, which is its last praise to the Lord.

How beautiful it is to hear in the woods, at evening, the chorus of the birds. Before putting themselves to rest, they sing with all the trills of their throats the prayer of praise to the Father Who nourished them! [Then] it seems like the choir falls away; but there is always the most enamoured [bird] that throws out a new trill and incites the others to follow him, since the sun has not yet fallen, and the light is such a beautiful thing that they should bid it farewell so that it may love them and return in the morning, when the good God again allows a scattered seed on the ground to be seen, a lost gnat, or a little tuft of wool to be carried to the little ones, or to give to a little throat what the good Lord feeds [them]. And the chorus continues until the light dies and these grateful [ones] gather themselves on a branch, little balls of warmth that still give a chirp under their feathers in order to say: 'Thank you, O my Creator.'

The death of the just is like that of the rose, it is like the sleep of the bird. Sweet, beautiful, pleasing to the Lord. In the arena of a circus or in the darkness of a prison, amid the affection of relatives or in the solitude of one who has no one  [near], swift or slow with torments, death is always, always, always glory rendered to God. Accept it with peace. Desire it with peace. Accomplish it with peace. Let My peace remain in you even in this trial, in this desire, in this consummation. Have My peace already in you, even now, and for this last thing. Think that the bloody death of an Agatha is no different for Me than that of a Liduina, and that of a Therese Martin from that of a Dominic of Guzman, that of a Thomas More from that of a Contardo Ferrini.

He who does the Will of My Father, I said, is blessed. Blessed, I said, and My brother and sister and mother.6This I said. Because I rendered glory to God My Father by doing His Will in My life and death. Imitate, then, your Master and I will call you: 'My brothers, My sisters'."

  [May 19, 1944]

  JESUS :  

"...The poison of Satan ferments in your blood, My poor children, I know. But I have given you Myself for the antidote. I have taught you to engrave on yourselves, in yourselves, My Sign which conquers Satan.

Circumcise your spirit [which is] from Me.  A much deeper and more perfect circumcision! It takes away from your flesh those cells in which nestle the germs of death, and grafts into you the Life which I am. It strips you of animality and reclothes you with Christ. It buries you as children of the guilty Adam    and you too are guilty through the Original Fault and through your own faults  [it buries you] in Baptism and in your Confession of Christ, and makes you rise again children of the Most High. Do not separate yourselves from Me. Oh! Well will I bring you to Heaven if you remain part of Me, and even  since you are not all 'heaven', but there always remains in yourselves a little mire of earth  lo, I promise you that the Father's benediction will not be lacking even on this your mire, because the Father cannot but bless His Son, and My Power will so overshadow you  if you remain in Me, if you pray with Me, saying 'Our Father,' just as I have taught youthat the Father will give you the Kingdom of Heaven, as is asked in the first part, and also the daily bread and forgiveness of faults, as is asked in the second [part].     `

If you remain in Me, like babies in the bosom of their mother, our Father will be able to see only the robe that clothes you: Me, your Redeemer and your Begetter for Heaven, and His Son. And upon His Son, object of all His contentment and for Whom He has made, besides all things, forgiveness and glory too: for His Son, Who wants you forgiven and glorious, He will rain down His graces.

Your deaths I have destroyed with Mine. Your faults I have cancelled with My Blood. In anticipation I have ransomed them for you. I have rendered all powerless to harm you in the future life, nailing your evil  – from Adam to each one of you – to My Cross. I can say I have consumed all the poison of the world in sucking the sponge dipped in the gall and vinegar of Golgotha, and I have turned all that Evil back into Good because, by dying from it, I distilled it. And of that mixture of death I made the Water of Life, gushing from My gashed Breast. Remain in Me with purity and strength. Do not be hypocrites, but sincere in the Faith. It is not external practices which constitute faith and love. Even the sacrilegious have these [external practices], which they use to deceive you and procure for themselves human glory. This you should not do. Remember that as I have regenerated you all to the Life of Grace to which you had died, so I have resuscitated you with Myself to Eternal Life. Aim then for that place of Life. Seek all things that are the money for you to enter There. All the things of the spirit: Faith, Hope, Charity, the other Virtues which make man a son of God.

Seek the Science that does not err:  that which is contained in My teaching. This is what renders you capable of guiding yourselves in a way that Heaven may be yours.

Seek Glory. Not the ludicrous and often culpable glory of earth, which I often condemn and always judge to be not true glory, but only a mission which God gives each of you so that you may make of it a means to reach heavenly Glory. True Glory is obtained by turning the world's values upside down . The world says: 'Enjoy, hoard, be proud, arrogant, heartless, hate in order to conquer, lie to triumph,  be cruel to rule.'  I say to you: 'Be moderate, continent, without thirst for flesh, for gold, for power, be sincere, honest, humble, loving, patient, meek, merciful. Forgive whoever offends you, love whoever hates you, help whoever is less happy than you. Love, love, love.'   Truly I say to you that no act of love, even so small as a sigh of compassion toward one who suffers, will  pass unrewarded. An infinite reward in heaven. [And] even on earth an already great reward, incomprehensible except to him who experiences it. A reward for all My good [children] of the peace of Christ, [and] of the luminosity of the Word for the 'very good' into whom I come to find My comfort. My dear children, whom I love with a love much greater than all the hate that circulates like a hellish fluid on Earth, love Me in your turn; whatever you do or say, do it in the Name of your Jesus, thus rendering thanks through Him to God your Father, and the grace of God will remain upon you like a shield on earth and
a secure halo for Heaven."


 [July 13, 1944



 "Not only is the death of the sinner horrible, but also his life. No need to delude oneself on his external appearance. It is varnish, a curtain set up to cover the truth. Truly I say to you, one hour, only one hour of peace of the  just – I do not even say one hour of joy of a beloved who rests on My Bosom, [but] I say of the  just – is incalculably richer with happiness than the longest life of sin.

The appearance is otherwise? Yes, it is otherwise. But as the eyes of the world see not the richness of the joy of one of My saints, so also the eyes of the world see not  the abyss of restlessness and discontent that is in the heart of the unjust man. And like the crater of an erupting volcano, his heart constantly belches out acrid, corrosive, poisonous vapours, which poison the poor wretch still more. Yes, in seeking to suffocate his restlessness, he who acts not with goodness seeks to give himself the satisfactions that can soothe his misguided mind. –And therefore evil satisfactions, because from his ferment  there can come only poison. Here is the key that explains certain lives that are so dark, and in which the darkness grows from day to day as by falling in leaps and bounds into the deepest abysses. It is the very weight of their actions outside the Law – I am speaking of My Law on which, after all, depend all human laws aimed at containing men within moral guidelines – it is the very weight of their actions outside the Law that drags them always lower. Those who see – since having already risen in God they can see what is invisible to the eyes of the living – are horrified in contemplating the perfection in evil of obstinate and impenitent sinners. Their death, as the psalm says, is a horror. A horror which hurls them into the Other Life so that they sink into a greater Horror.

They are giants of sin also because their social position makes them already giants in society. But there are also those great in sin who are mixed in the crowd and undistinguished externally by special works, but within they are corrupted with those faults which shout against God and against one's neighbour. How many! The good, when they succeed in knowing spiritually by a special grace, are horrified by them as by rottenness. And they really are a rottenness which changes [their] colour and features, and  taints them with its own stench which carries the very noticeable odour of Satan and of Hell.  But remember your Master, O you good. They are repugnant to you? To you? And what are they to Me, pure and holy?  –Disgusting. And yet I loved them even to die for them to try to save them. Love them therefore with the greatest love: with that love which surmounts all in order to save. You do not save [them]? No matter.  You love that soul all the same just because it is a work of God. Is it filthy now with Satan's excrement? Cleanse it with a constant dew of supernatural love. –Of  true love: because  stripped of every human attraction; rather heroic, because it perdures despite the fact that your humanity, and even your soul, feel revulsion at [that soul's] wormy stench.

If you save it, [O you good],  you will have great glory thereby. If you do not save it, the merit will be equally yours and you will find it, because you loved according to My commandment.  

       [January 29, 1944]

    Valtorta :

"What I see this evening:

An immense expanse of land. A sea, so great it is without limits. I say 'land' because there is some land as in fields and in roads. But there is not one tree, not one stalk, not a blade of grass. Dust, dust and more dust. I see this in a light that is not light. A brightness barely outlined, livid, of a violet-green shade like one notices at the time of a very violent storm or of total eclipses. A light, causing fear, of extinguished stars. Lo: the sky is deprived of astral lights. There are no stars, no moon, no sun. The sky is empty, as also the earth. The former stripped of its flowers of light, the latter of its vegetal and animal life. They are two immense remnants of what [once] was. I have all the leisure [I need] to see this desolate vision of the death of the universe, which I think would have [had] the same appearance at its first moment; when there was already a sky and earth, but the former unpopulated with stars and the latter naked of life: a globe already solidified but still uninhabited, flying through space while awaiting the Finger of the Creator to give it grasses and animals.

Why do I understand that this is a vision of the death of the universe? Through one of those 'second voices' which I know not from whom they come, but which within me do what the chorus does in the ancient tragedies: [play] the part of guides about special aspects which the protagonists do not illuminate. This is just what I mean and which I will tell you about later. While I swing my gaze around on this desolate scene, the necessity of which I do not understand, I see, erect in the middle of a limitless plain – and emerged from where I do not know  – I see Death. A skeleton which laughs with Its bared teeth and Its empty eye-sockets, Queen of that dead world, and wrapped in Its shroud as in a mantle. It has no scythe. It has already scythed. It swings Its empty gaze over Its harvest and smirks.

It has its arms folded on Its breast. Then It unfolds them, those skeleton arms, and opens Its hands of nothing more than naked bones and, since It is a giant and omnipresent figure – or better said, a very near  figure – It rests a finger on me, the index finger of the right hand, on my forehead. I feel the iciness of the pointed bone which seems to perforate my forehead and enter like a needle of ice into my head. But I understand that this has no other significance than that of wanting to recall my attention to what is about to happen. In fact, with Its left arm It makes a gesture indicating  to me the wide expanse on which we stand there: It, Death, the Queen, and I, the only one alive. At Its mute command, given with the skeleton fingers of Its left hand and with a rhythmical turning to the right and to the left of Its head, the earth is cleft into thousands and thousands of fissures. And in the bottom of these dark furrows are scattered white things, but I don't understand what they are.

While I try to think of what they are, Death continues with Its gaze and command to plow  the sod as with a plowshare, and the land is opened up always more, as far as the distant horizon; and Death furrows the waves of the seas – which are deprived of any sails – and the waters are opened up in liquid chasms. And then from the furrows of the land and from the furrows of the sea those white things that I saw scattered and dislocated rise up, recomposing themselves. There are millions and millions and millions of skeletons which surface from the oceans, which straighten up on the ground. Skeletons of all heights. From the tiny ones of infants with small hands like little dusty spiders, to those of adult men, and even giants whose bulk make one think of certain antediluvian beings.  And they stand [there] astonished and as if trembling, like those awakened suddenly from a deep sleep and who are disoriented as to where they are.

The sight of all those skeleton bodies, growing white in that 'non-light' of the Apocalypse, is dreadful. And then, around [each of ] those skeletons, there slowly condenses a mist like a fog rising from the opened ground, from the opened seas. It takes on form and density, it becomes flesh, a body like ours, like us who are living. The eyes – or rather the eye-sockets – fill in with irises; the cheek-bones become covered with cheeks and over the naked jaw-bones the gums spread out, the lips reform themselves, the hair returns on the skulls, the arms shape themselves, the fingers become nimble, and the whole body comes alive again, just as ours is. The same [as ours], but different in appearance.

There are very beautiful bodies, of a perfection of forms and colours which make them like masterpieces of art. There are others of them that are hideous, not from lameness or deformities true and proper, but in their general appearance which is more that of a brute beast than of a man. Grim eyes, a contorted face, a beastly appearance and, what strikes me more, a gloom that emanates from the body increasing the lividness of the air that surrounds them. While the most beautiful ones have laughing eyes, a serene face, a gentle appearance, and they emanate a luminosity that forms a halo around their being from head to feet, and radiates around them.

If all were like the former [bodies], the darkness would have become total, to the point of concealing everything. But by virtue of the latter [bodies], the luminosity not only perdures but increases, so much so that I can notice all quite well. As for the ugly ones, about whose destiny as the accursed I have no doubts, since they bear this curse marked on their forehead, they are silent, casting frightened and grim looks around, below and above them, and they group themselves on one side at some intimate command which I don't hear, but which must be given by someone and perceived by these risen ones. The very beautiful ones also join themselves together smiling and looking with pity mixed with horror at the ugly ones. And they sing, these very beautiful ones, they sing a slow and soft chorus of blessing to God.

I forgot to say that the bodies were all naked but that it didn't make sense, as if malice were dead too: in them and in me. And then, for the bodies of the damned, their darkness made a screen, and for that of the blessed, their very light made a garment. Therefore what is animality in us disappeared under the emanation of the internal spirit, a master [who is] quite cheerful or quite despaired of the flesh.

I see nothing else. I understand that I have seen the final resurrection.... And now Jesus begins to speak:



 "When time is ended and life must be only Life in the heavens, the whole world will return, as you thought, to being what it was in the beginning, before it is completely dissolved. Which will happen when I have judged [it]. Many think that from the moment of the end [of time] to the universal Judgment will be only a moment . But God will be good to the end, O daughter. Good and just.

Not all those living at the last hour will be saints, nor all damned. Among the former will be those who are destined for Heaven but who have something to expiate. I would be unjust if I cancelled for them the expiation that I also threatened for all those who preceded them and found themselves in the same condition as these [last] at the hour of their death. Therefore, while justice and the end will come for other planets, and like torches on which one puffs, the stars of the heavens will be extinguished one by one, and darkness and cold will go on increasing, in My hours which are your centuries  – and already the hour of darkness has begun, in the firmament as in hearts  – those living in the last hour, those who have died at the last hour, and have merited Heaven but still need to be cleansed, will go into the purifying fire. I will increase the heat of that fire so that their purification may be quicker and the blessed do not wait too long to bring their holy flesh to glorification and make it, too, enjoy their God, their Jesus, in His perfection and in His triumph.

This is why you saw the earth devoid of grasses and trees, of animals, of men, of life; and the oceans deprived of sails: motionless expanses of still waters, since there will be no need of their movement any more in order to give life to fish in those waters, as there will be no need of heat any more for the earth to give life to crops and to beings. This is why you saw the firmament emptied of its luminaries, with no more fires and with no more lights. Light and heat will no longer be necessary for the earth  –now an enormous corpse carrying in itself the corpses of all the living, from Adam to the last son of Adam. Death, My last handmaid on Earth, will accomplish Its final task, and then It too will cease to be. Death will be no more. But only Life eternal –in bliss, or in horror. Life in God, or life in Satan for your 'I' (ego) re-composed in soul and body.

Enough now. Rest, and think of Me."






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