Waiting for Jesus to speak, I shall speak to clarify some points.
1. You must have noted82 that on June 28 there is a prayer to the Most Holy Blood. However, while Jesus complains that his Blood is venerated too little, He does not prescribe, in overbearing fashion, that this prayer be made known. Whereas with the one on June 4, in reparation to Jesus in the Sacrament, He gave me no rest until I sent it to you. Jesus has me understand that this prayer should often be repeated, and He has me say it personally with the phrase dictated by Him: “...by the hand of Satan.” I am sorry to disobey the ecclesiastical censor. But between him and the Master, I choose the Master. Indeed, even if I wanted to do otherwise, I could not.
How sorry I am to have to say that I don’t know who wrote that prayer. Oh, of course I know Him! But He hides behind anonymity. He gives us a formula perfect in its conciseness, complete, as only He could construct it; He asks that it be said, and that’s all. So that I tell those far from here that it was written by a sick woman.
“Written” is a very broad formulation. I can write The Divine Comedy, if I set about doing so with patience. But I am certainly not the one who composed it. It is just the same now. I wrote it, and He composed it. But to those close by who might ask where this sick lady is I say, “I don’t know who wrote that prayer.” If I said, “I wrote it,” I would receive praise that would be unjust. If I said who dictated it, people would think in two different ways. I would undergo one of them patiently, thinking of Jesus described as a “madman.” But I don’t want the other to be said. For if Jesus, a true compassionate Samaritan, bends over my soul, which is entirely torn, this is proof of his infinite Mercy and not of merit on my part.
I feel, with the same precision as if I had already lived through it, that if pride were to enter me, everything would be over. I was telling you that this morning. It’s my personal conviction, and the good Jesus confirms it, saying to me that “pride kills all the virtues, beginning with charity. It thus brings with it a loss of God’s light. The proud,” Jesus explains to me, “do not treat the good Father in Heaven with holy respect; they lack merciful instincts towards their brothers and sisters; they think they are above the weaknesses of the flesh and the rules of the Law. They therefore sin continually, and with the same sin which was the cause of the ruin first of Lucifer and then of Adam and his offspring. But, above all, it slays charity. It thus destroys union with God.”
Regarding charity. Please warmly insist upon this subject with the Sisters at the Hospital. It is understandable and justifiable that they are tired, busy, and nervous, called and called again as they are by demanding and often ungrateful patients. But they are wearing the uniform of charity. Of active charity and of the holiest activity. In their hands are souls suffering in suffering bodies, souls that sometimes encounter God’s face in his servants, precisely in hospital wards, souls that may be close to meeting with the eternal God in the particular judgment. Oh, how much responsibility those caring for the sick have! By their way of acting, they may impede the contact, the encounter between two who - at least on the part of One of them - had sought each other without being able to find one another.
Very frequently pain is a chain, a spark, and a magnet between God and the creature. But when creatures do not know God, and the more they are unfamiliar with Him, it is necessary to exploit the means – illness - with such boundless charity in order to get souls to go where Jesus is attracting them to his lovable Heart and not flee from it, scandalized, hurt, and skeptical because they see that a servant of Jesus is - a bunch of nettles instead of being a velvety bunch of violets.
Other patients may be lukewarm Catholics... But how can they catch fire if they are surrounded by hearts which, under the inflamed banner of the Cross, are as cold as dead flesh? To hand souls over to Jesus, to take these poor souls that life casts upon the painful shores of a hospital, like so many wounded, desperate shipwreck victims, and gather them in with love, care for them, calm them, infuse into them the three sublime theological virtues and the other most gentle cardinal virtues, and lead them towards the Light. To act so that in life - if they overcome illness - and in death - if the hour of death has come - they will depart from the hospital or from life with the Light that does not die set aflame by the merciful nursing sister.
If it is a great responsibility to be godmothers for Baptism, what is this responsibility of the “godmothers of pain and death”? I was a nurse, and I know and feel compassion. But not all have been.
Why scandalize, prompt backbiting, wound souls, and close them up, at the time when they ought to remain open, because they are struck by anticharity?
Forgive me, and may the Sisters forgive me. But out of mercy on them, who will have to answer to the Eternal Judge for themselves and for the souls under their care, out of mercy on those suffering bodily and having such great need of light in their souls, I entreat you to insist on charity, which “makes us solicitous servants,” as our motto as Samaritan Nurses said.
From charity patience, calm, and a smile (so useful at the side of those suffering and so heroic) come to the nurse. Everything in this life comes, and Christ’s kiss comes in the other (sometimes in this one, too), that kiss which is a passport to the kingdom of God.
In regard to your sick woman, who has been infirm for fourteen years, I will pray for her while suffering. I will be happy if my pain obtains for her the vision of our divine and sweet Jesus. She is deaf and dumb. But even if she were also blind, Jesus could always shine in her darkness and speak to her lifeless eardrums. It would suffice for Him to reveal Himself for an instant... Afterwards one can no longer go out of his furrow of light... I will pray a lot for this woman paralyzed in her members, as I pray for the other souls that you direct and that are more or less burdened down in spirit. Oh, I would very much like to rise to God while drawing behind me, like a flight of angels, a real horde of souls. I am not afraid of suffering too much because I suffer to please Jesus.
And now, thank you for the really unexpected surprise. On Sunday, I had made an authentic sacrifice by rejecting the temptation to buy a book, The Life of J.M. Vianney, which they had given me to read. But, do you see how good the Lord is? When I contemplate his divine goodness, tears come to my eyes. For I, in everything that I receive, see Jesus. It is the hand of Jesus that gives me this or that. Such a lively feeling whereby I first say, “Thank You” to Jesus and then to the merciful person who, inspired by Jesus, gives comfort to poor Maria. Jesus stands like a screen between the world and me, and I see Him superimposed upon everything and everyone.
So, thank you, Father, for having followed the inspiration of Jesus and having - Jesus begins to speak, and I become silent. ,
Jesus says:
“Having seen Me cease to suffer in the flesh was a relief for my Mother, but it was not a ‘burst of joy.’ She saw the Flesh of the Son no longer in agony and knew that the horror of the material deicide was over.
“But in the ‘Woman Full of Grace’ there was also a knowledge of the centuries to come, in which incalculable throngs of men would continue to wound her Son spiritually, and She was alone.
“The deicide did not end on Golgotha at the hour of my death. It is repeated whenever one of those redeemed by Me kills his soul, desecrates the living. temple of his spirit, and raises up his sacrilegious mind to blaspheme Me, not only by his obscene, coarse language, but by a thousand modes of current living, which is increasingly contrary to my Law and neutralizes more and more the incalculable merits of my Passion and Death.
“Mary, the sublime Co-Redeemer, does not cease to suffer, as I do not. In the inviolable glory of the Heavens, We suffer over the men who deny Us and offend Us.
“Mary is the eternal woman giving birth to you with unequaled pain, for She knows that this pain gives rise not to blessed ones for heaven, but, for the most part, to damned ones for hell. She knows She is giving birth to dead creatures or those destined to die before long. Dead, because my Blood does not penetrate into certain creatures, as if they were made of extremely hard jasper. From the youngest age on they kill themselves. Or destined to die before long - that is, those, who, after a mere semblance of Christian vitality, succumb to their own inertia, which nothing can rouse.
“Can Mary fail to suffer on seeing her children, who cost the Blood of the Son, perish? The Blood shed for all and of use to so few!
“When time ceases to be, then Mary will cease to suffer, for the number of the blessed will be complete. She, with unspeakable pain, will have given birth to the body which does not die, whose head is her Firstborn.
“If you consider this, you can well understand that Mary’s pain was supreme pain. You can understand that - great in the Immaculate Conception, great in her glorious Assumption - Mary was extremely great in the cycle of my Passion - that is, from the evening of the Supper to the dawn of the Resurrection. Then She was the second - in number and power - the second Christ, and while the sky darkened over the tragedy brought to its term and the Temple veil was rent, our Hearts were rent with the same wound on seeing the immeasurable number for whom the Passion was useless.
“Everything was accomplished, at that hour, in the material sacrifice. Everything had to be initiated, in relation to the way of the peoples in the furrow of the Church, in the matrix of the Virgin Mother, to give birth to the inhabitants of the undying Jerusalem. And, in order for it to be initiated with that imprint of the Cross, which all that is made for Heaven must bear, it was initiated in the pain of solitude.
“It was the hour of darkness. The Heavens, closed. God, absent. The Son in death. Mary initiated her second mystical conception alone.”
And now I will finish.
I was saying, then, “thank you, Father,” for having followed the inspiration of Jesus and for having giving me the opportunity to reread the Life of the Curate of Ars. like him very much because he was a victim soul. In regard to me, in my suffering I remain placid like a baby in the cradle or a little bird under its mother’s wing. My Sun maintains for me the functions of life, of pain relief, of everything. I keep myself under his rays and am happy.
Have you ever observed doves? When they can do so, they crouch in the sun, open their little wings, lift them up in turn to get themselves kissed by the sun under their wings, and raise up their small heads and gaze - I would almost say with animal beatitude - at the golden sun. They are happy to get themselves warmed by it, and we cannot know how they can withstand so long under the ray of fire descending perpendicularly upon them from that heavenly body.
I resemble a little dove in the sun. I remain there, very, very still and do not move, glad to feel myself pervaded, liquefied by its fire, in the hope that I will soon be consumed, attracted to Him. Oh, my Sun! As you say quite correctly, someone else would have to experience what I do in order to understand it... I futilely strive to explain what that Light is like: Peace, Majesty, Knowledge, Beauty... No. One cannot say what this inextinguishable, inexpressible, joy-giving splendor is for the soul.
82 She is addressing Father Migliorini.