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

And He put there the man He had formed." 9

[July 6, 1944]
[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

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

Here is why I give you so many hours of Gethsemani. 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
sadnesses. My sadnesses: 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 neighbor. 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

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 neighbor 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 neighbor.

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.11 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 neighbor: '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 then 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 Gethsemani. 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 undertanding 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 white and shining, which each evening made the world once
more virginal; and it seemed impossible that under its waves of white 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 Gethsemani!

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
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 favorites. 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
suprahuman 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,15 who defeated the dragon, had trembled more than we?
No. In us the suffering is greater. The beastdefeated 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,16 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, reenter 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 superconscious. 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 defense:

[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

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

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,
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."

~ ~ ~
"I had promised you a great present, Maria. I have granted it as to few others. I have
given it to you.

You have known the last, extreme temptation of your Jesus. I had revealed it once to
you. But you were still too immature to know it fully. Now you are able.

You see that I was right to say that it would not be understood and admitted by those
little Christians who are but larval Christians, and not formed Christians?

Go in peace, for I am with you."


[June 14, 1944]

"'IF I do not wash you, you will have no part in My Kingdom.'8

Soul whom I love, and all you whom I love, hear Me. It is I Who speak to you,
because I want to pass this Hour with you.

I, Jesus, do not keep you far from My altar even if you come to it with your soul
wounded with sores and maladies, or entwined in the coiling vines of passions which
mortify and shame you in your spiritual liberty, binding you and giving you into the
power of the flesh and its king: Lucifer.

I am ever Jesus, the Rabbi of Galilee, the One Whom the lepers, the paralytics, the
blind, the possessed, the epileptics called with a loud voice, saying: 'Son of David,
have pity on me.'9 I am ever Jesus, the Rabbi Who stretches out His Hand to him
who is drowning and says to him: 'Why did you doubt of Me?'10 I am ever Jesus, the
Rabbi Who says to the dead: 'Rise and go.11 I will it. Go forth from your sleep of
death, from your tomb, and walk,'12 and I restore you to Him Who loves you.

And Who loves you, O My beloved ones? Who loves you with a true love, a love that
is not egotistic, changeable? Who loves you with a love that is disinterested, not
greedy, but its only goal is to give each of you what it has amassed for you, and to
say to you: 'Take it. It is all yours. All this I have done for you, so that it may be
yours and you may enjoy it'? Who? The Eternal God. And I restore you to Him. To
Him Who loves you.

I do not keep you far from My altar. Because that altar is My cathedra, My throne, it
is the dwelling of the Physician Who heals every ill. From here I teach you to have
faith. From here I, King of Life, give you Life. From here I bend over your maladies
and heal them again with the breath of My Love.

I do still more, O children. I descend from this altar and come to meet you. Here am I
Who put Myself on the threshold of these houses of Mine where too few enter, and
fewer still enter with sure faith. Here am I Who, as a Figure of peace, show Myself
on your ways where you pass dejected, poisoned, burned by pain and sorrow, by self-
interest, by hate. See how I stretch My Hands to you, because I see you totter, weary
under the weight of the boulders you have imposed on yourselves, and which have
taken the place of that cross which I had put into your hand so that it would be a
support for you like the staff for the pilgrim. See how I say to you: 'Enter. Rest.
Drink,' because I see you exhausted, thirsty.

But you do not see Me. You pass Me by, you knock up against Me, sometimes from
ill-will, sometimes from a dimming of your spiritual sight ; sometimes you look at
Me. But you know yourselves to be dirty, and you dare not come near My Whiteness
of the Divine Host. But this Whiteness knows how to have compassion on you.
Know Me intimately, men, who distrust Me because you do not so know Me.

Hear Me. I wanted to leave the Liberty and Purity which are the atmosphere of
Heaven and descend into this, your prison, into this impure air, to help you: because I
love you. I did still more: I deprived Myself of My liberty as God and made Myself a
slave of flesh. The Spirit of God enclosed in flesh, the Infinite locked up in a handful
of muscles and bones, subject to hearing the voices of this flesh for which the cold,
the sun, hunger, thirst, fatigue, is pain. I could have been ignorant of it all. But I
wanted to know the torture of man fallen from his throne of an innocent creature, in
order to love you more.

Still it was not enough for Me. I wanted -- since to have compassion one needs to
suffer that which the other suffers for whom one has compassion -- I wanted to feel
the assault of all your feelings in order to feel your struggles, and to grasp what a
cunning tyranny Satan puts there in your blood, in order to understand how easy it is
to stay hypnotized by the Serpent if one's eyes are lowered but a single moment onto
his fascinating gaze: by forgetting to live in the light. For, the serpent lives not in the
light. It goes into the shadowy recesses that seem restful, and are singularly
treacherous. For each of you these shadows have names: a woman, money, power,
egoism, the senses, ambition. They eclipse for you the Light which is God. In the
midst of them is the Serpent: --Satan. They seem a necklace. But it is his cord for your
strangulation. I wanted to know that because I love you.

Still it was not enough for Me. For Myself, It would have been enough. But the
Justice of the Father could say to His Flesh: 'You triumphed over the trap. Man-flesh
does not know how to triumph like You, now, and therefore let him be punished
because I cannot pardon one who is filthy.' I took upon Myself your filth. That of the
past, that of this moment, and that of the future. All. More [wretched] was I than Job
immersed in a putrid dunghill to make a veil for his sores.13 When I was submerged
by the sin of the whole world, I would not dare even to raise My Eyes any more to
seek Heaven, and I would groan feeling the weightupon Me of the Father's Wrath
accumulated for ages, aware of the faults to come. A deluge of faults over the Earth,
from its dawn to its night. A deluge of curses on the Guilty One. On the Host-Victim
of Sin.

O men! More innocent was I than a child whom its mother kisses on returning from
its baptism. And the Almighty was horrified of Me because I was Sin, having taken
upon Myself all the sin of the world. I sweat from disgust. I sweat blood from disgust
of this leprosy on Me Who was the Innocent One. The Blood broke through My veins
in My loathing of this reeking pool in which I was submerged. And to complete this
torture, to squeeze My Blood from My Heart, there was added the bitterness of being
cursed, for in that hour I was not the Word of God: I was Man. Man. The Guilty.

Could I not understand your humiliation -- I, Who experienced it -- and not love you
because you are humiliated? It is for this I love you. I have only to remember that
hour to love you and call you 'Brothers!'. But it is not enough to call you this so that
the Father may call you: 'Sons'. And I want Him to call you that. What kind of
brother would I be if I did not want you with Me in My Father's House?

Here then is why I say to you: 'Come, that I may wash you.' No one is so filthy that
My washing does not cleanse him. No one is so pure as to have no need of My Bath.
Come. This is not water. There are miraculous springs which heal the sores and
maladies of the flesh. But this is more than those. This Spring gushes from My
Behold this slashed Heart from Which gushes the Water that washes. My Blood is the
most limpid Water there is in creation. In It, infirmities and imperfections are
canceled. And your soul becomes white and whole again, worthy of the Kingdom.

Come. Let Me say to you: 'I absolve you!' Open your heart to Me. In it are the roots of
your ills. Let Me enter. Let Me loose your bandages. Your sores disgust you? Seen in
My Light they appear as they are: swarming with loathsome worms. Do not look at
them. Look at Mine. Let Me work. I have a light Hand. You will feel only a
caress...and all will be healed. You will feel only a kiss and a tear. And all will be

O how beautiful you will be, then, around My altar! Angels amidst the angels of the
Ciborium. And My Heart will have great joy from it. Because I am the Savior, and I
spurn no one. But I am also the Lamb Who grazes among the lilies,15 and to be
surrounded with whiteness delights Me, because to make each of you white I took
life and gave life.

O how I see the Father smile, and Love make you radiant with His own radiance,
because you are no longer stained with sin!

Come to the Fountain of the Savior.16 My Blood descends upon the contrite mind and
a voice, in which is My own, says: 'I absolve you in the Name of the Father, Son and
Holy Spirit.'"

"'One of you will betray Me.' One of you! Yes, in a proportion of one to twelve, one
of you betrays Me.

Every betrayal is more painful than being lanced. Look at the Humanity of your
Redeemer. From head to foot is one whole wound. The scourging horrifies whoever
meditates on it and agonizes whoever experiences it. But it was torture for an hour.
You who betray Me scourge My Heart. For centuries you do it.

I have loved each of you. I love you now. I have compassion for you. I forgive you. I
wash you, taking My own Blood to make of It a purifying Bath for you. And you
betray Me.

I am the Word of God. I am glorious in Heaven. But in this Heaven I am there not
only as Spirit. I am there also as Flesh. The flesh has feelings and affections. Why do
you want to renew for Me, continually, that gnawing fire which is the nearness of a
traitor? Heaven is distant? No, sons who betray Me. I am near you. I am among you.
And you burn Me with the flame of your betrayal.

I look among the different classes of persons, seeking comfort. And in each one I
meet looks and more looks of traitors. Why do you betray Me? I am among you to do
you good. Why do you want to hurt Me? I bring You My gifts. Why do you throw at
Me biting asps? I call you: 'Friends'. Why do you answer Me with: 'Accursed!'?
What have I done to you?What man do you know who is more patient and good than
Look: when you are happy no one abandons you. But if you weep, if your riches
abandon you, if a sickness makes you contagious, see how all stay far from you. I
remain. Rather, it is just then that I welcome you, because then you come. You no
longer have anyone with whom to weep and to talk, and then you remember Me. And
I do not say to you: 'Go away, for I do not know you.' I could say it,because in fact,
you never came to Me while you were rich, healthy and happy, to say to Me: 'I am
indeed so, and I thank You for it.'

But no. I do not demand even this from anyone who is not already a giant of love.
This 'thanks' I do not demand. It would be enough for Me should you say to Me: 'I
am happy.' Say it to Me. Do not consider Me a stranger to you. Recall that I am there
too. Have a thought for this Jesus. I would say the 'Thanks' for you to God: My
Father and yours. Instead, you never come. And I could say: 'I do not know you.' But,
see how I open My Arms to you and say: 'Come, that we may weep together.'

Look: I am in the prisons, in the small and humiliating cells, seated on the very plank-
bed of the convict, and I talk to him of a truer liberty than that which is beyond those
four walls, of a liberty which no longer fears being wounded by faults which should
be punished. And yet that prisoner is one who has betrayed Me, offending My law of
love. Perhaps he has killed. Perhaps he has robbed. But now he calls Me. Here I am
by him. The world despises him. I love him. I called 'friend' him who killed Me and
robbed Me of My life. I can call 'friend' this unhappy man who returns to Me.

I, Flame of Love, am near the sick. Their fevers know My caress, their sweat My
sweatcloth, their weakness My Arm that supports them, their anguish My Word. And
yet many are sick from having betrayed Me in My law. They have served the flesh.
And the flesh,a mad wild beast, is lost, ruined, and ruins them now, even in life. See
too that I am the only One Who is not weary of their evil, and I watch with them, and
suffer with them, and I smile at their hopes. And, if only the Father wills it, I change
those hopes into reality.

But if I see that the decree is for death, look how I take this brother of Mine --
who trembles before the mystery of death and calls Me -- and say to him: 'Do not
fear. You believe it is darkness: it is light. You believe it is sorrow: it is joy. Give Me
your hand. I know death. I knew it before you. I know that it is [but] a moment, and
that God supernaturally helps to deaden the senses so as not to depress the soul in its
last struggle. Trust. Look at Me. Me only... Lo! You see? You have passed the
threshold. Come with Me now,to the Father. Do not fear, not even now. I am with
you. The Father loves whomever I love.

They are in deserted houses. Before, their voices were merry. [But now] death or
misery has passed, [and] the survivor wanders around alone. His friends have fled.
His loved ones, distanced by work or by death.
There is a sun in the heavens, but for the survivor all is darkness. There is peace in the
night-air, but for the survivor there is no rest. And yet, many times in that house was
I betrayed: because creatures were made gods. Creatures were loved idolatrously
[thus] betraying My law. But I enter and come to put a ray of light in the darkness, to
infuse peace where there is a storm. That survivor called Me... Perhaps
absentmindedly..., perhaps without a true will to have Me. But I go without delay.
Oh! how I ask only to be with each of you. Every memory of past error falls away
when you call Me: 'Jesus!'.

But do not scourge My Heart! It is already opened and bleeding profusely. Do not
poison Its wound. And to those who have understood Me in My sorrow of one
betrayed, I say: 'One of you will betray Me. Give Me your faithful love for a balm.'
And I say it to all. To the saints, My favorites as God. To sinners, My favorites as
Jesus. Because even sinners, for whom I became Jesus, can treat this wound for Me.

You are Samaritans? I know it. But My parable speaks of a good Samaritan who treats
the wounds untreated by the sons of the Law who pass by, absorbed in their hurry to
serve God.They do not know that God is served more by loving than by performing

I am the Wounded Man languishing on your roads. Bandits have attacked and stripped
Me. The Bandits: those who unworthily enjoy My Sacrifice of a God Who makes
Himself flesh. They stripped Me: denying Me My attributes with their numerous
heresies . They strip the Truth, because that garment entices them, since it is shining.
But they do not know that it shines because it is worn by Him Who is the Sun, and in
the hand of those who cover it with the slobber of their conceited mind, it becomes
some rag. The Truth is
truth, and with this light it illumines everything when it is seen united to God.
Separated, it becomes clamorous language. For, the Truth is Science and Wisdom.
But snatched from God, it becomes chaos.

You treat My wounds, even if [you are] Samaritans. Give Me your oil and wine: the
oil, love; the wine, the contrition of your I, your ego. Treat My wounds. I do not
disdain you. Let that sinful woman who refreshed My weary Feet talk to you and say
if I spurn the sinner.

But never betray Me again. Go, and sin no more. I forgive all for you if all in you
loves Me. Give Me a sincere kiss. My Cheek burns from the kisses of traitors. Treat
It's burns with the kiss of fidelity."

"'Love one another as I have loved you.'

From cradle to Cross. From Bethlehem to mount Olivet, I have loved each of you.

The cold and the misery of My first night in the world did not prevent Me from loving
you with My Spirit and, though annihilating Myself even to the point of being unable
-- I, the Word -- to say to you: 'I love you,' I said those words to you with My Spirit,
inseparable from that of the Father and working with Him in tireless activity.

The agony of My last night on Earth did not hinder Me from loving you. Rather, it
touched the highest summits of love. It burned, rather, in the most living
conflagration. It consumed, instead, all that was not love, even to squeezing out --
along with My disgust for sin and My sorrow at the Father's abandonment -- the
Blood from My veins.
What greater love than that which knows how to love while knowing that it itself is
hated? Thus have I loved each of you.

The first gesture of My Hands: a caress. The last: a benediction. And in between these
two gestures -- the first, born in the pitch darkness of a winter night, the last, in the
splendor of a burning summer morning -- thirty-three years of gestures of love,
corresponding to as many movements of love. Love with miracles, love with caresses
of children and friends, the love of a Master, the love of a Benefactor, the love of a
Friend, love, love, love...

And a more than human love at the last Supper. Before being bound and impaled,
these Hands of Mine washed the feet of the apostles, even of that one whose heart I
had wanted to wash; and they broke the bread. And I broke My Heart with that bread
-- that bread I gave you. For I knew My return to Heaven was near and I did not want
to leave you alone. Because I knew how easily you forget, and I wanted you to see
yourselves as brothers seated at a single supper-table, around My Altar-table, so as to
say to one another: 'We belong to Jesus!'

What greater love than that which knows how to love the one who tortures it? And yet
it is thus that I loved each of you. And I knew how to pray for you while I was dying.

Love one another as I have loved you.28Hate extinguishes the light. Even a simple
grudge dims peace. God is Peace, He is Light, because God is Love. But if you do
not love, and love as I have loved you, you cannot have God.

As I have loved you. Therefore without haughtiness. From this tabernacle, from this
Cross, from this Heart go forth only words of humility.

I am God and I am your Servant, and I stay here waiting for each of you to say to Me:
'I hunger' in order to give Myself -- Bread -- to you. I am God and I expose Myself to
your eyes, naked and cursed, on a piece of wood that was an infamous gibbet. I am
God and Iimplore you to love My Heart. I implore you. For love of you: because if
you love you do yourselves good. I am God. With or without your love I am always
God. But you, no. Without My Love you are nothing: dust.

I want each of you with Me. I want you Here. I want to make of your dust a Light of
Bliss. I want you not to die, but to live: because I am Life and I want you to have

Love one another without egoism. It would be an impure love, destined to die of
sickness. Love one another by wanting for the others more good than what you want
for yourselves. It is very difficult. I know. But you see this Eucharistic Bread? It
made the martyrs. They were creatures like each of you: fearful, weak, even vice-
ridden. This Bread made them heroes.

In the first point I indicated to you My Blood for your purification. In this third point,
in order to make you saints, I show you this Altar-table and this Bread. From being
sinners, the Blood has made you just. The Bread of the just makes you saints. A bath
cleanses but does not nourish. It refreshes, restores, but does not become flesh in the
flesh. Food, though, becomes blood and flesh: it becomes yourselves. My Food
becomes you yourselves.

Oh! think! Look at a small baby. Today he eats his bread and tomorrow again, and
then tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow. See how he becomes a man: tall,
robust, handsome. Is it his mama who has made him so? No. His mother conceived
him, carried him, brought him to light, nursed him and loved, loved, loved him. But
if, after his milk, that little one had not had anything else but baths, kisses and love, he
would have perished from starvation. That little child becomes a man from the adult
food that he takes.
That man is such because he daily takes his food.

It is the same for your spiritual 'I'. Nourish it with the true Food which descends from
Heaven and which brings you from Heaven all the energy to make you manly in
Grace. A healthy and strong virility is always good. See how much easier it is to see a
sick man as harsh and without compassion or patience. My Food will make you
healthy and strong with a virility of spirit, and you will know how to love others more
than yourselves, as I have loved you.

For, look, sons, I have loved you not as one loves himself. But more than Myself. So
much so that I have put Myself to death to save you from death. If you love thus, you
will know God intimately. Do you know what it means to know God intimately? It
means to know the taste of true Joy, of true Peace, of true Friendship.

Oh! The Friendship, the Peace, the Joy of God! It is a reward promised to the blessed.
But it is already given to him who loves on Earth with all of himself.

Love, to be true, is not of words. It is of deeds. Active as its Source which is God. Nor
does it ever tire of working, not even from the disappointments which come from its
brothers. Poor is that love which falls like a bird with its wings weakened when an
obstacle wounds it! True love, even if wounded, rises. With talons and beak it climbs
up, if it cannot fly anymore, in order not to lie in the shadow and frost, in order to be
in the sun, medicine of every ill. But as soon as it is reinvigorated, see how it resumes
its flight. And it goes from God to its brothers, and from these to God: this angelic
butterfly which carries the pollens of the Celestial Gardens to fertilize the earthly
flowers; and it carries to God the perfumes snatched from the humblest flowers, that
He may welcome and bless them.

But woe if it gets far from the sun. The Sun is My Eucharist, because in It is the
Father blessing, the Spirit loving, while I, the Word, work.

Come and take. This is the Food that I ardently ask to be consumed by you.

"'If you remain in Me and My Teaching remains in You, whatever you ask will be
given you.'31

I descend into each of you and make Myself your food. But -- Center that I am -- I
draw you to Myself. You nourish yourselves from Me, but with more reason I
nourish Myself from you. The two hungers are insatiable and constant. The vine
nourishes its shoots. But it is the shoots which make the vine. The water nourishes
the seas, but it is the seas which nourish the water, rising up again in evaporation in
order to descend anew. Therefore you must remain in Me as I in you. Separated, it is
not I but you who die.

I am Food for the spirit and Food for thought. The spirit is nourished by the Flesh of a
God. The spirit, essence poured out from God, cannot have any food except from
That which is its Matrix.

~ ~ ~

Now for those who always allow themselves to censure My Words, I say that if they
do not understand, let them study theology. My Words correspond to what theology

And as for the phrase that the spirit is the "essence poured out from God,'-- which will
certainly give them trouble -- let them think that the soul is a 'breath infused from
God.' You, when deprived of your souls, are corpses.

Let them open Genesis. It says: 'The Lord God formed the man with the mire of the
earth and sighed into his face the breath of life.' 32 Let them not say to Me: 'To give
him life.' No. To give life to the wild or domestic animals, quadrupeds, reptiles, fish,
birds that they might exist, He had no need to 'sigh into their face the vital breath.' He
created them and it sufficed. The breath of God is the soul, the soul-life. It is the
breath of the Spirit of God which becomes a living spirit in man.

Let them also open the Gospels. And with what do you think I restored life to the
dead? With My Hand? With My Voice? No. By infusing My Breath which, being of
God, was alive, that is: it was spiritual, it was soul. I would bend over the dead and
take them by the hand and command: 'Rise.' Yes. But that was the exterior and
visible form. While I was bending down, I would breathe the spirit into their face, the
outpouring of My Spirit, and life would return.

And if in the resurrection of Lazarus, those who censure what I am saying should say
to me: 'You did not come near Lazarus,' I answer: 'For this one, in this miracle, I
invoked the help of the Father and -- learn, o men -- in order to have it without fail, I
gave Him thanks before the miracle for having heard Me: 'Father, I thank You for
having heard Me. I know that You always hear Me. But I say it for the people who
surround Me, so that they may believe that You have sent Me.' Sure faith, prompt
gratitude. Anticipated gratitude, rather: proof of sure faith. For Lazarus buried in the
tomb, beyond the space and bandages and decay, and at a distance from Me, the
living effusion of God was needed. And his life returns.

But let them also open the Book. In the 3rd Book of Kings,35 Chapter 17. 36 How
did the prophet Elias restore life to the son of the widow of Sarepta? By stretching
himself three times over the little dead body and crying out to God. But also by
breathing into the dead boy his own spirit which his prayer to God had rendered
powerful for him with a vital power. Elias, a prophet, that is a servant of God -- but
neither God nor the Son of God -- had to repeat this prayer and "infusion" three
times. But it is always a breath which he infused. A spiritual breath. And does not the
Book say: 'Do not wish to be like the animals whose life is in their nostrils?.' Which
is to say that this Life is not in [your] respiration, but in a deep, secret point, and from
there it is diffused throughout the whole body, and from there it can be poured out in
throbbings that rise up again to Heaven: charity toward God; and, spreading itself
over the earth: charity toward one's neighbor. Therefore: as an essence poured out
and infused by God, it is nourished with the food of God.

And for the other phrase: 'I have asked My own glory for you, rather I have
straightway given it to you...' --a phrase with which My censors will certainly clash:
let them take the Gospel of John and open it there where My last prayer before the
Passion is found.38 It would be salutary if they would nourish their spirit from it
daily and would give it as broken bread to the flock of My 'little ones' whom I have
entrusted to them.

Less books and tomes, scribes of the 20th century! Rather this, this, THIS prayer,
every word of which opens horizons, founts, treasures of salvation, because it teaches
you love, faith, hope, courage, justice, prudence and temperance. And if they do not
see where these virtues are in it, they will hardly accept My lesson which shows them
these virtues--

It is love: the fundamental note of My whole prayer.

It is faith: when I ask Heavenly gifts for men.

It is hope: when I speak of those who are not yet sanctified but will be, because the
Father will sanctify them even after I will no longer be an Evangelizer among men.

It is courage: because I cry out this prayer of Mine, which seems a hymn of triumph,
in the hour in which I know there is prepared that which is torture for the flesh and
the apparent failure of every hope, faith and love on the part of God and of men and
in God and in men.
It is justice: when I ask that those who are not sons of perdition, having not wanted to
follow Satan, 'may be only one thing with the Father and with Me.' No, he does not
perish who does not want to perish. He does not perish. And for him who does not
want to perish there is reserved friendship and union with God.
Because the Father and I are just and We judge with justice, keeping present the
weakness of man and the circumstances that increase that weakness.

And see how I put prudence in My prayer. I do not say: 'They are sanctified by Me
and there is need of nothing else. I am sure of them.' No, for I say rather: 'Sanctify
them in the truth.' I pray that this sanctification be never exhausted, to counterbalance
the never-exhausted and detrimental action of your nature goaded by Satan.

Finally, there is temperance when I dare to say: 'I sacrifice Myself totally and I want
men totally.' I should want them. But it would not be justice, because many do not
deserve salvation because of their marriage with Satan. And then I ask, with
temperance, for those who will be sanctified through having believed and lived
according to the Word which the Father gave Me so that I would give it to them. To
these I give the glory which the Father has given Me. 'And the glory which You have
given Me I have given to them, that they may be only one thing with Us.' 39
Here is the phrase which to them [i.e., His censors] will seem a heresy of my little
John.40 No. I protect her. I clasp her to My Heart, I place her in the circle of My
Arms, this 'little one' who knows how to listen to Me and understand Me because she
loves Me. Here is her strength. She loves Me and therefore she surpasses you,
scholars, who are as much scholars as you can be: with only the one wing of your
science, because the other [wing] is lacking to you in not having ardent, total charity;
you who are scholars, but who are not loving.

This, My little 'voice', which is like that of a little sparrow that stands with its wings
tensed to follow the
flight of the Eagle because it wished to follow Him to hear His song and to repeat it to
its companions -- since the royal Eagle does not oppress the little fledgling sparrows,
but makes them His friends even in [their] imprisonment --My little "voice", merits
to have her littleness, which is incapable of heights, drawn behind the course of the
royalFlight to Paradisal heights, and to have the Eagle, under the protection of His
powerful wings, protect her from the kites and petty hawks,42 and to grant her to be
nourished on the solitary cliff with the little morsels which He breaks up for her. 43
Because the Eagle loves her.

The Eagle loves her so, this little voice. And therefore He has rebaptized her "John",
44 since she is defended not only by the Divine Eagle, but also by the apostolic eagle
and learns his song from Ours, and has peace in the shadow of Our Strength, warmth
from the Sun to which We draw her, food in however much we give her. I defend
her: I and John.

And when the little sparrow will no longer have a voice and will be silent after its last
profession of love, when its little wings are gathered together upon its heart which
has so throbbed with love, and its eyes are closed -- not by satiety from seeing the
Sun, its Sun, but because the Sun's ardor will have consumed it, We will take the
little sparrow and bring it with Us, beyond the limits which separate the human from
the suprahuman, and we will place it in the lap of Mary, at the feet of the throne of
God, so that it may reopen its wings, its mouth and eyes, and fly, sing and see. Fly to
the Sun-God. Sing to the Sun-God. See the Sun-God.

This, for those who 'hate her without reason' as they hated Me. For those, however,
who love Me and love her, I say that I give them this Holy Hour. I have dictated it
for many, but I dedicate it to those who desired it....

~ ~ ~

I said I am also Food for thought. Thought is nourished from My Word which is the
Thought of a God. —Your thought! Your intelligence is what makes you like God,
because in your intelligence is memory, intellect and will, as in your spirit there is a
likeness [to God] through your being spirit, free, immortal.

Your thought, to be capable of remembering, understanding, willing what is good,

must be nourished from My Doctrine. And My Doctrine recalls to you the benefits
and the works of God, who God is, what is God's due. It makes you understand the
good and discern it from evil. It makes you want to do the good. Without My
Doctrine you become slaves of other [doctrines] which have the name 'doctrine' but
are errors. And like ships without compass and rudder you head toward shipwreck.
You go off course. And then how can you say: 'God has abandoned me,' when it is
you yourselves who have abandoned Him? Remain in Me. If you do not remain in
Me, it is a sign that you hate Me. And My Father hates whoever hates Me, because he
who hates Me hates the Father,I being one with the Father.Remain in Me. Make the
Father unable to distinguish the vine-shoot from the Vine, so much is the shoot one
with It. Make the Father unable to understand where I end and you begin, so full is
our likeness. Whoever loves ends up taking on the inflections, expressions and
gestures of the beloved.

I want all of you to be as so many copies of Jesus. And this because I want you to
have whatever you ask -- fused to Me you can only ask good things -- and thus not
have to know a rebuff. And this because I want you to have more still than what you
ask, because the Father pours out His treasures in a continual flow of love upon His
Son. And whoever is in the Son enjoys this infinite outpouring, which is the love of
God Who takes joy in His Word and Who circulates in Him. Now, I am the Body and
you are the members,and therefore the Joy which floods Me and comes from the
Father, the Power, the Peace, every other perfection which circulates in Me is
transfused into you, My faithful, who are part of Me, inseparable here and Beyond.

Come each and ask. Have no fear of asking. You can ask all, because God can give
all. Ask for yourselves and for all. I have taught you. Ask for those present and for
those absent. Ask for those of the past, of the present, of the future. Ask for this your
daily life and for your eternity, and ask both the first and the second for those whom
you love.

Ask, ask, ask. For all. For the good, that God bless them. For the wicked, that God
convert them. Say with Me: 'Father, forgive them.' Ask: for health, for peace in the
family, peace in the world, peace for eternity. Ask for holiness. Yes, this too. God is
the Holy One and He is the Father. Ask Him -- along with the life that maintains you
-- for holiness through the Strength which comes from Him.

Have no fear of asking. Your daily bread and daily blessing. You are not all body; you
are not yet all spirit. Ask for the first and for the second, and it will be given you.

Do not be afraid of daring too much. I have asked for My Own Glory for each of you,
rather I have absolutely given It to you, so that you may be like Us Who love you,
and that the world may know that you are children of God.

Come. In this Heart of Mine is Your Father. Enter, that He may be able to recognize
you and say: 'Let there be a great feast in heaven because I have found a son whom I

Valtorta :

"Jesus says: 'I have satisfied you. It is I Who have spoken -- always I. I wanted My
Eucharistic Voice to speak. Have It, each of you, as My gift. I bless you, Maria, and
all those who will listen to It.'"

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