[The night of the Holy Saturday] Mary, ending Her prayer, says: «[…] While I was praying – and only the Eternal knows how exhausted I was after giving strength to so many wavering faiths and enlightening so many minds that not even His death had illuminated – I seemed to smell an angelical scent, a heavenly freshness, a caress of a wing… Only for a moment… Not longer. A drop of pacifying sweetness seemed to be instilled into the sea of myrrh that has been submerging Me furiously for three days now. The closed vault of Heaven seemed to open a little and a beam of bright love seemed to descend upon the Abandoned Mother. And I seemed to hear an incorporeal whisper, coming from an infinite distance, say: “It is really all over”. My prayer, so far desolate, has become more peaceful. It became tinged with the bright peace – oh! just a nuance! – with the bright peace that I used to experience in My contacts with God during My prayers… My prayers!» [The Gospel…, 615.1]
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Jesus says:
«The fervent prayers of Mary have anticipated My Resurrection by some time.
I had said: “The Son of man is about to be killed, but on the third day He will rise from the dead”. I died at three o’clock in the afternoon of Friday. Whether you count the days by their names, or you count them by their hours, it was not the dawn on Sunday that was to see Me rise. With regard to the hours, they were only thirty-eight instead of seventy-two, in which My Body had remained lifeless. With regard to the days, it should have been the evening of the third day to say that I had been in the sepulchre three days.
But Mary anticipated the miracle. As when with Her prayers She opened the Heavens a few years in advance of the predetermine time, to give the world its Salvation, so now She obtains some hours in advance to give comfort to Her dying heart.
And I, at the beginning of dawn on the third day, descended like the sun and with My brightness I broke the human seals, so useless before the power of a God, with My power I prized open and overthrew the stone watched over in vain, with My apparition like lightning I knocked down the utterly useless guards placed as guardians of a death that was Life, that no human power could prevent from being such.
By far more powerful than your electric current, My Spirit entered like a sword of divine Fire to warm the cold remains of My Corpse, and in the new Adam the Spirit of God breathed life, saying to Itself: “Live. I want it”.
I, Who had raised the dead when I was only the Son of Man, the Victim appointed to be burdened with the sins of the world, should I not have been able to raise Myself, now that I was the Son of God, the First and the Last, the eternal Living Being, He Who holds in His hands the keys of Life and of Death? And My Corpse felt Life go back to It.
Look: like a man who awakes after a sleep brought about by enormous labour, I breathe deeply, and I do not open My eyes yet. Blood begins to circulate again, though not fast yet, in My veins, it brings thought again to the mind. But I come from so far! Look: like a wounded man, whom a miraculous power heals, blood comes back into My empty veins, it fills My Heart, warms My limbs, heals My wounds, bruises and sores disappear, strength comes back. But I was wounded so badly!
Look: Power works. I am cured. I am awake. I have come back to Life. I was dead. Now I live! Now I rise! I shake the linens of death, I cast off the covering of ointments. I do not need them to appear the eternal Beauty, the eternal Integrity. I clothe Myself with a garment that is not of this Earth, but is woven by Him Who is My Father and Who weaves the silk of the virginal lilies. I am dressed in splendour. I adorn Myself with My wounds, which no longer drip blood, but give off light. The light that will be the joy of My Mother and of the blessed souls, and the terror, the unsustainable sight of the damned and of the demons on the Earth and on the last day.
The angel of My life of man and the angel of My sorrow are prostrated before Me and worship My Glory. Both My angels are here. One to delight in the sight of Him Whom he guarded, and Who now no longer needs angelical protection. The other, who saw My tears, to see My smile; who saw My struggle, to see My victory; who saw My grief, to see My joy.
And I go out into the garden full of flower buds and of dew.
And the apple-trees open their corollas to form a flowery arch over My Royal head and the grass makes a carpet of gems and corollas for My Foot, that treads again on the Earth redeemed after being lifted up on it to redeem it. And the early sun, and the sweet April wind, and the light cloud that passes by, as rosy as the cheek of a child, and the birds among branches, they all greet Me. I am their God. They adore Me.
I pass through the stunned guards, a symbol of souls in mortal sin, that do not perceive the passing of God.
It is Passover, Mary! This is really the “Passing of the Angel of God”! His Passing from death to life. His Passing to give Life to those who believe in His Name. It is Passover! It is the Peace that passes through the world. The Peace no longer veiled by the condition of man, but free, complete in its recovered efficiency of God.
And I go to My Mother. It is fair that I should go. It was fair for My angels. It is much more so for Her Who, besides being My guardian and comfort, gave Me life. Before going back to the Father in My glorified appearance of Man, I go to My Mother. I go in the splendour of My paradisiac appearance and of My living Gems. She can touch Me, She can kiss them, because She is the Pure, the Beautiful, the Beloved, the Blessed Saint of God.
The new Adam goes to the new Eve. Evil entered the world through a woman, and was defeated by the Woman. The Fruit of the Woman has detoxicated men of the slaver of Lucifer. Now, if they want, they can be saved. She saved woman who had remained so fragile after the mortal wound.
And after showing Myself to the Pure One, to Whom by right of Holiness and Maternity it is just that the Son-God should go, I present Myself to the redeemed woman, to the file-leader, to the representative of all the female creatures, whom I have come to free from the sting of lust. So that she may tell them to approach Me to be cured, to have faith in Me, to believe in My Mercy that understands and forgives, to look at My Body adorned with the five wounds, in order to defeat Satan, who rummages in their flesh.
I do not let her touch Me. She is not the Pure One, who can touch without contaminating Him, the Son Who goes back to the Father. She has still much to purify through penance. But her love deserves that reward. She was able to rise through her own will from the sepulchre of her vice, to strangle Satan who held her, to defy the world out of love for Her Saviour, she was able to divest herself of everything that was not love, she was able to be nothing but love that is consumed for her God. And God calls her: “Mary”. Listen to her replying: “Rabboni!” Her heart is in that cry.
As she deserved it, I entrusted her with the task of being the messenger of Resurrection. And once again she will be somewhat derided, as if she were raving. But the judgement of men is of no importance to her, to Mary of Magdala, to Mary of Jesus. She saw Me raised from the dead and that gives her a joy that appeases all other feelings.
Do you see how I love also who was guilty, but wanted to come out of guilt? Not even to John did I show Myself first. It was to the Magdalene that I showed Myself. John had already received the state of son from Me. He could have it, because he was pure and could be not only a spiritual son, but also one who gave the Pure Mother of God and received from Her those needs and those cares which are connected with the body.
The Magdalene, the one revived to Grace, has the first vision of Grace Risen.
When you love Me to the extent of overcoming everything for Me, I take your diseased heads and hearts in My pierced hands and I breathe My Power on your faces. And I save you, I save you, children whom I love. You become again beautiful, wholesome, free, happy. You become again the dear children of the Lord. I make you the bearers of My Goodness among poor men, to witness My Goodness to them and convince them of it and of Me.
Have, have, have faith in Me. Love. Be not afraid. May what I suffered to save you assure you of the Heart of your God.
And you little John, smile after weeping. Your Jesus does not suffer any more. There is no more blood nor wounds. But light, light, light and joy and glory. May my light and my joy remain in you untill the hour of Heaven». [The Gospel…, 620]
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Photo © Stefano Galia (link) – “L’Uomo della Croce” – Racconto e rappresentazione della Passione di Cristo liberamente tratto da “L’Evangelo come mi è stato rivelato” di Maria Valtorta organizzato dall’Associazione “Noi x San Rocco” in collaborazione con la Confraternita di San Rocco e con la Parrocchia di San Silvestro – San Ciro – San Bartolomeo – SORA (FR)
