The Hours of the Passion: Prayers and meditations of the day of the Passion.

Wonderful, Border Collie! I'm so happy to hear it's been a life changer for you. And honestly, I've heard that from so many people now. I really believe God is preparing us for priceless and unimaginable graces through His Divine Will Devotion. I can't imagine why anyone would not want to pray them, when Jesus promises to give us a Soul for every word we pray in the Hours, if we do so in real desire to unite our will to His Will! That should be reason enough for all of us to say at least a few prayers. The Doctors and Saints say that if we help obtain the graces for just one other soul to be saved, we will gain a great crown of merit in heaven, and surely save our own soul, beside the priceless blessing of having helped in the salvation of another soul, who will be saved thanks to God's Grace, and grateful for all eternity to Jesus. Imagine how happy each of us who says these Hours regularly will be at the hour of death, and for many souls we can obtain graces through it! We all should say it! There are 1000s of words in these holy Hours, we can gain graces for 1000s of souls by it!

Unfortunately for me, I'm quite late now. I also think now it may be better to try to pray them by Good Friday and Holy Saturday, so on Easter it will be complete. I will post more than one a day from here on out. The Distribution of the Hours can be found here: http://www.passioiesus.org/en/horasdelapasion/distribucion.htm

Posting it helps remind me to pray them at the same time. I hope many others on the forum will join in as well. May Our Lord Jesus richly bless you all.

Controversies another time, please. This is Holy Week and this week is not for arguments. Thank you.

The Tenth Hour: "From 2 A.M. to 3 A.M.
Jesus is presented to Annas.

Prayer of Preparation

Jesus, be always with me. Sweet Mama, let us follow Jesus together.

My Jesus, divine sentinel, you are in my heart watching over me. And not wanting to remain alone without me, you wake me and make me find myself together with you in Annas' house.

You are now at that point in which Annas interrogates you concerning your doctrine and your disciples. To defend the glory of the Father, O Jesus, you open your most sacred mouth, and with a ringing and dignified voice, respond:

“I have spoken in public and everyone who is here has heard me.”

At your dignified words everyone trembles. But, oh, what wickedness! Wanting to honor Annas, a servant with an ironclad hand comes up to you and slaps you so hard that you stagger, and your most holy face turns livid.

Now, my gentle life, I understand why you woke me. You were right; who would sustain You at this moment, as You are about to fall? Your enemies burst into satanic laughter, whistling and clapping, applauding an act so unjust. And You, staggering, have no one to lean on. My Jesus, I embrace You. And forming a wall with my body to support You, I offer You my cheek—to come quickly and boldly to bear any pain for your Love. I suffer this outrage with You, and I make reparation with You for the cowardice of so many souls who easily become discouraged; for those who fail to speak the truth out of fear; for the lack of respect due to priests, and for all murmuring.

My suffering Jesus, I see that Annas is sending you to Caiphas. Your enemies shove you down the stairs. My love, in this painful fall you make reparation for those who fall into sin at nighttime, taking advantage of the darkness. And you call heretics and unbelievers to the light of the faith.

I want to follow you in these reparations as well, and I send you my sighs to defend you from your enemies, until you reach Caiaphas. Continue to watch over me while I am asleep, and wake me when you need me. Now, give me a kiss, and bless me; and I will kiss your heart and continue my sleep in it.

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus, brought before Annas, is questioned by him about His doctrine and about His disciples. To glorify the Father, he answered regarding his doctrine, but to avoid offending charity he did not touch on his disciples.

Now when I am asked to glorify the Lord, am I fearless and courageous, or am I subject to human respect? I must always speak the truth, even in the presence of those who are influential.

In my conversations, do I always seek the glory of God? Do I seek God’s glory by enduring everything patiently as Jesus did? Do I always avoid speaking badly of my neighbors, excusing their faults when I hear others speaking ill of them?

Jesus watches over our heart. But do I keep watch over Jesus’ Heart so that He receives no offense for which I am unwilling to make reparation? In everything I do, am I always alert so that my every thought, glance, word, affection, heartbeat, and desire stay like sentinels around Jesus, keeping watch over his Heart and offering reparation for all the offenses It receives? To make this reparation to his Heart, do I ask Jesus to keep watch over our every act and to help us keep watch over our hearts?

Every act that we perform in God is a Divine Life that we acquire within us. Since we are very limited and God is immense, we are incapable of enclosing God within our menial acts. It is necessary, then, that we multiply these acts as much as possible at least to increase our capacity to understand and love.

When my Jesus calls me, am I ready to respond? God’s call can be heard in many ways: through inspiration, reading good books, and by good example. One may even feel it tangibly through the attraction of grace and even in intemperate changes of weather.

My sweet Jesus, may your voice always echo in my heart. May everything that surrounds me both internally and externally be a continuous voice that always calls me to love You. And may the harmony of your divine voice keep me from listening to any distracting human voice.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

 

The Eleventh Hour: From 3 to 4 AM
Jesus in the house of Caiaphas.

Prayer of Preparation

My afflicted and abandoned Good, while my weak nature sleeps in your sorrowful Heart, my sleep is often interrupted by the pangs of love and sorrow of your Divine Heart. Between vigil and sleep, I hear the blows that they give You, so I wake up and I say:

"My poor Jesus, abandoned by everyone! There is no one who takes your part. But from within your Heart I offer You my life as support for You, as they knock You about."

Then I drowse off again. But another pang of love of your divine heart wakes me, and I feel my ears deafened by the insults they give you, by the whisperings, the shouts and the stirring of people.

My love, why is everyone against you? What have you done, that, like so many rabid wolves, they want to tear you apart? I feel my blood freeze as I hear the preparations your enemies are making. I tremble and become sad, while thinking about what I can do to defend you.

Having me in his heart, my sad Jesus presses me closer to himself, and says:

“My child, I have done no wrong, and [at the same time] I have done everything. I have committed the “crime” of love which contains all sacrifices—love, which is of immeasurable cost. We are still at the beginning. Remain in my heart, observe everything, love me, be silent, and learn. Make your chilled blood flow in my veins to give relief to my blood which is all ablaze. Make your shivering flow in my members so that, unified in me, you may become steadfast; and warm yourself so you can feel part of my pains, as well as acquire strength by seeing me suffer so much. This is the best way to defend me. Be faithful and attentive.”

My dear love, your enemies are making so much noise that I cannot go back to sleep. The shoves are becoming more violent. I can hear the rattling of the chains. They have bound you so tightly that blood is dripping from your wrists, and it stains those streets. Remember that my blood flows in yours, and as yours is poured out mine kisses it, adores it, and makes reparation. May it be light to all who offend you at nighttime, and magnet to draw all hearts around you.

My love and my all, as they drag you, and the air is deafened by shouts and whistles, you now come before Caiaphas. You are all meek, modest, humble; your sweetness and patience is such as to terrorize even your enemies; and Caiphas, full of rage, would want to devour You. O how easily sin and innocence are distinguished!

My Love, You stand before Caiphas to be condemned as the guiltiest of criminals. Caiaphas now asks the witnesses what your crimes are. Oh, he would have done better to ask about your love! Someone accuses you of one thing and another accuses you of something else, blundering and contradicting each other. While they are accusing you, the soldiers at your side pull your hair. They slap your most sacred face so hard that it echoes in all the room. They twist your lips. They beat you. You remain silent and suffer. When you look at them, the light of your eyes descends into their hearts, and unable to resist, they go away from you. But others take their place to torture you more.

Peter's three denials

In the midst of so many accusations and outrages, I see You become more attentive. Your Heart pounds violently as if it were going to burst for the pain. Tell me, my afflicted Good, what is it? I see that your love is so great that You anxiously await that which your enemies are doing to You, and You offer it for our salvation. With perfect calmness, your heart makes reparation for slander, hatred, false testimony, the wrong done to the innocent with premeditation, for those who offend you by instigation of their leaders, and for the offenses of the clergy.

United to You, I join in your reparations, and I feel a new sorrow grieving your most tender Heart—one never felt before. Tell me, tell me, what is it? Share everything with me, O Jesus.

“My child, do you want to know what it is? I hear Peter's voice saying that he does not know me. Then he swears again and again that he does not know me; and finally, vehemently cursing, he affirms he does not know me.

O Peter, how is it that you do not know me? Don't you remember how many goods I have showered on you? If the others make me die of pain, you make me die of sorrow! Oh, what a mistake it was to follow me from a distance, and then expose yourself to the occasions of sin!”

My denied Good, how quickly the offenses of your dearest ones can be recognized! O Jesus, I want to make my heartbeat flow within Yours to soothe the harrowing spasm that You suffer. And my heartbeat in Yours swears loyalty and love to You, and repeats and swears thousands and thousands of times that I know You. But your love still has not calmed down, and you are seeking out Peter with your eyes. Before your loving gazes, your eyes swollen with tears for his denial, Peter is moved, and he weeps as he goes away. Having saved him, you calm down again, and you make reparation for the sins of the popes and of the leaders of the Church, especially for those who expose themselves to the occasions of sin.

Meanwhile, your enemies continue to accuse you. Seeing that you do not answer their accusations, Caiaphas says to you:

“I solemnly order you under oath to the living God, tell me: Are you really the true Son of God?”

My Love, you always have the word of truth on your lips. And so, assuming an attitude of supreme majesty, with a resonant but gentle voice that strikes everyone and makes the demons themselves plunge into the abyss, you respond:

“You have said it. Yes, I am the true Son of God. And one day I will descend on the clouds of heaven to judge all nations.”

At your creative words, everyone becomes silent. They are shuddering and frightened. But Caiphas, after a fearful moment, recovers. More furious than a wild beast, he says to everyone:

“What need have we of more witnesses? He has uttered a grave blasphemy. Why should we wait to condemn Him? He is already deserving of death!”

To give greater force to his sacrilegious words, he rends his garments with such rage and fury that all scream together, as one man, “He is guilty and must die! He is guilty and must die!” They attack You, my good Jesus. One hits You and slaps You, while another spits in your face. Still others trample You under their feet. They torment You in so many ways that the earth trembles and the heavens are shaken.

My Love and my Life, how they torment You! My heart breaks for sorrow... Oh, permit me to come out of your sorrowful heart to face all these outrages in your place. Yes, if it were possible, I would snatch you from the hands of your enemies, but you do not want me to because the salvation of everyone demands this. So I am compelled to resign myself.

My sweet love, permit me to clean you, arrange your hair, remove the spit and wipe away the blood, to then enclose myself in your heart, because I see that Caiaphas is tired and wants to retire, and that he is turning you over to the soldiers.

So, I bless you. And I ask your blessing on me, and that you give me the kiss of love. I enclose myself in the furnace of your divine heart to go to sleep. I place my mouth on your heart so that as I breathe I may kiss you. And by the difference of your heartbeats—more or less suffering—I will notice whether you suffer or rest. And now, forming wings with my arms to defend you, I embrace you, press myself close to your heart, and fall asleep.

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus is brought before Caiphas and unjustly accused. He is subjected to unprecedented torture and when He is interrogated, He speaks only the truth. When the Lord permits others to calumniate and unjustly accuse me, do I seek God alone who knows my innocence, or do I beg for the esteem and honor of other creatures? Do my lips always speak the truth? Am I the enemy of all deception and lies? Do I patiently endure the mockery and humiliations that others cause me? Am I ready to offer my life for the sake of their salvation?

My sweet Jesus, how different I am from You! I humbly ask You, grant that my lips always speak the truth, to wound the hearts of those who hear me and to guide all souls to You!

Prayer of Thanksgiving

 

The Twelvth Hour: From 4 A.M. to 5 A.M.
Jesus in the midst of the soldiers.

Prayer of Preparation

My most sweet Life, Jesus, while sleeping, clinging to your Heart, I often felt the pricks of the thorns which pierce your Most Holy Heart. Wanting to wake up together with You, that You may have at least one who notices all of your pains and feels compassion for You, I cling more tightly to your Heart; and feeling your prickings more vividly, I wake up. What do I see? What do I hear? I would like to hide you in my heart to offer myself in your place and to receive upon myself such terrible pains, such incredible insults and humiliations. Only your love could endure such outrages. My most patient Jesus, what can you expect from such inhuman people!

Now I see that they are making fun of you. They cover your face with thick spit, and the light of your beautiful eyes is obscured by it. Then, shedding streams of tears for our salvation, you clear your eyes of that spit. But in the wickedness of their heart they cannot bear to see the light of your eyes, and so they cover them with spit again.

Others, becoming more daring in evil, open your most sweet mouth and fill it with disgusting spit, to the point that they themselves feel nausea. And since some of that spit flows away, revealing, in part, the majesty of your Face and your superhuman sweetness, they shudder and feel ashamed of themselves. In order to feel more free, they blindfold You with a miserable rag, to be able to hurl themselves, unrestrained, at your adorable Person. And so they beat You up without pity; they drag You; they trample You under their feet; they repeat blows and slaps to your Face and over your head, scratching You, tearing your hair, and pushing You from one point to another.

Jesus, my love, my heart cannot bear to see you in such pains. You want me to witness everything, while I would rather cover my eyes to avoid seeing such sorrowful scenes, capable of tearing the heart from every breast. But your love compels me to observe what is happening to you. I see that You utter not a breath, that You say not a word to defend Yourself; that You are in the hands of these soldiers like a rag, and they can do with You whatever they want. And in seeing them jumping on You, I fear You may die under their feet.

My Good and my All, the sorrow I feel for your pains is so great, that I would like to shout so loudly as to be heard up there in Heaven, and call the Father, the Holy Spirit and all the Angels; and here on earth, from one point to another, call sweet Mama first, and all the souls who love You, so that, forming a circle around You, we may prevent these insolent soldiers from drawing near You to insult You and torment You more. Together with you, we will make reparation for all the various kinds of sins committed during the night, especially for those committed during the night hours on your sacramental person, by those belonging to sects, as well as for all the sins of those souls that do not remain faithful in the night of the test.

My insulted Jesus, I see that the soldiers, drunk and tired, want to rest. My poor heart, oppressed and lacerated by all these pains of yours, does not want to remain alone with you, and feels the need for another companion.

Yes, my gentle mother, you be my inseparable companion. I clasp your maternal hand tightly and kiss it, while I ask you to strengthen me with your blessing. While together we embrace Jesus, let us rest our head on his sorrowful heart to console it. O Jesus, together with Mother Mary I kiss you and bless you. And now she and I will sleep the sleep of love on your adorable heart.

Reflections and Practices.

In this hour, Jesus stands in the midst of soldiers with composure and undaunted determination. Being the God that He is, He suffers all the abuses given by the soldiers and looks at them with so much Love that He seems to invite them to inflict even more pain.

Am I constant in the face of persistent suffering, or do I complain, become troubled, and lose peace—that peace of heart that is necessary for Jesus to dwell happily in me?

Steadfastness is the virtue that enables one to know whether God truly reigns in him. If our virtue is genuine, we will be steadfast in trials, with a constancy that is not subject to change. Only this kind of steadfastness can communicate peace to us. The more we remain steadfast in doing good, in suffering, and in working, the more we increase the space around us, wherein Jesus communicates his graces. So, if we fail to be constant, our space will be restricted and Jesus will have little or no room in which to move. But if we remain steadfast and constant, Jesus will find abundant space and will find his support and assistance in us—He will find a place to increase his grace.

If we want beloved Jesus to rest in us, let us surround Him with the same steadfastness with which He won the salvation of our souls. Defended in this manner, He will remain in our hearts to take his sweet rest.

Jesus lovingly gazed at those who mistreated Him. Do I gaze with the same love at those who offend me? Is the love that I show them so intense that, like a powerful voice penetrating their hearts, it converts them to Jesus?

My Jesus, boundless Love, grant me this love and let every pain I suffer lead souls to You.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

 

Come now, I posted an honest response to your numbered questions in good faith - which you posted during Holy Week- and there is no response for me because it is Holy Week? A bit disappointed.

If you must post these, can't they be posted on the thread already dedicated to the erroneous interpretation of her writings? I try my very best to stay out of there most of the time (again no promises). Why do we need multiple posts here for such a controversial topic?

Plus it isn't me who is the one posting the controversial works that were sanctioned on the Index, here's yet another summary of the situation:

Many in the Church find Luisa's writing troubling (Including respected theologian Fr. Most: https://www.catholicculture.org/culture/library/view.cfm?recnum=5981

Servant of God Father Hardon finds her writing to be bordering heretical and not consistent with the magesterium of the Church: http://www.transporter.com/Apologia/cuf_ltr.htm

EWTN - an orthodox voice in Catholic Media - documents the issues https://www.ewtn.com/expert/answers/luisa_piccarreta.htm

The Bishop of Trani - who owns the rights - has asked for the halt of publication of her writings due to the erroneous interpretations given to them. That is why we need the official translation with notes explaining how they might be understood which puts them in line with the Church.



For anyone who may be searching for a good meditation on the Passion that has none of these issues; I'd recommend the one by Anne Catherine Emmerich:

https://www.amazon.com/Dolorous-Pas...coding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=SVGQFRWE0TTBGVTJWHFN

This is one of the sources Mel Gibson used for The Passion of the Christ.

She also has written on the Life of Christ and the life of Mary. All are excellent.

 

I didn't post this thread to argue at all. It would have been 24 simple meditations for each of the Holy Hours in Our Lord's last day. But it has become an unnecessary argument now. The fact is this is from a book that Pope St. Pius X said should be read while kneeling. No, it is not like St. Bernard making a mistake, St. Bernard was not Pope, and said he would correct himself if the Pope said differently. Here, the Pope is the Judge, and he tells you it should be read kneeling. Sacred Scripture says everything can be proven by the word of two or three witnesses, and there were several to the Holy Father saying this. Just like Pope Pius XII saying "the time for doubting Fatima is past" means that no one can declare Fatima false later on, so also Pope St. Pius X's approval means that no one can declare the Hours of the Passion false later on. The Hours of the Passion are very powerful, Popes and Saints assure us of this. Many know it by experience also.

Here is a great article from the Mystics of the Church website that gives the true and authentic history of this Saintly Mystic of the Church, Luisa Piccarreta, a victim soul, a lover of Christ Crucified, ardently devoted to His Will, to His Kingship, to His Eucharist, and who lived and died in the odor of sanctity. She is surely a Saint; recall that St. Jeanne D'Arc, St. Faustina, St. Padre Pio etc faced so much and unthinkable opposition but now are universally venerated. That wouldn't have happened if good people had not defended these good Saints, which good Catholics have every right - and those conscientiously convinced of it the duty - to do. God vindicates His own always in His own good time, sometimes after much human opposition

The Superior Authority of a Pope overrules the lesser authority of Priests and even Bishops. I go with the Pope. If those Priests and Bishops knew the Pope said otherwise, and were in good faith, they would change their opinion and after retracting it accept what the Pope said. That's what St. Bernard would do also.

http://www.mysticsofthechurch.com/2010/08/servant-of-god-luisa-piccarreta-little.html

"
Servant of God Luisa Piccarreta -The little daughter of the Divine Will


Luisa Piccarreta of Corato, "The Little Daughter of the Divine Will" (1865-1947)

Early years
Luisa was born in Corato, province of Bari, Italy, on the morning of April 23, 1865. Her parents, Vito Nicola Piccarreta and Rosa Tarantino had four daughters: Maria, Rachele, Luisa and Angela. Luisa was born on Sunday morning, the first Sunday after Easter. Both her parents were practicing Catholics and she was baptised in the local parish Church that same evening.

During her early years, Luisa experienced her first visions (Luisa calls them dreams) of the evil spirit, who terrorized her frequently, making her very frightened. She tried to conquer her fears by hiding behind her bed, or in seeking refuge in the arms of her mother, in which she felt safe. She soon learned to turn to God in prayer, and beseeched the Blessed Virgin Mary for protection. And our Blessed Mother soon responded to the prayers of little Luisa. One day, being once again assailed and terrorized by the evil spirit, Luisa turned to her Celestial Mother, who lovingly spoke to her:

"Why do you fear? Your Angel is by your side, Jesus is in your heart, and your Celestial Mother keeps you under Her mantle. Why do you fear then? Who is stronger; your guardian Angel, your Jesus, your Celestial Mom, or the infernal enemy? Therefore, do not run away, but stay, pray, and do not fear."

At that instant all the evil manifestations disappeared and a deep peace overcame her.

With her heart filled with the love for her God she received Jesus in Eucharist for the first time at age nine, and she often remained in prayer and adoration for hours before the Most Blessed Sacrament in her parish Church of Santa Maria Greca. At age eleven she consecrated herself to the Blessed Virgin and thus became a "daughter of Mary", and with great fervor she spread devotion to the heavenly Mother among the girls of her neighborhood. Devotion to Mary became one of the fundamental characteristics of her spirituality in fact, and later in life she wrote a book of meditation on Our Lady entitled “The Virgin Mary in the Kingdom of the Divine Will”.

Her call to become a victim soul –suffering in union with Christ
While at home at age thirteen, Luisa heard a uproar coming from the street, and she went out to the balcony to see what was happening. There a terrible vision appeared before her eyes: the street was crowded with shouting people and with armed soldiers who were leading three prisoners. Among these, Luisa recognized Jesus, carrying the cross on His shoulders. With deep sorrow and terror, Luisa contemplated this sad procession, but when the Divine Convict was under her balcony, He raised His head and said to her: "Anima, aiutami!" ("Soul, help me!").

At this scene, Luisa cried out and immediately lost her senses. This extraordinary event marked for Luisa a decisive turning point in her life, because on that day she accepted the call to become a victim of expiation for the sins of humanity. The sufferings which she accepted upon herself lessened the pains of others, including souls in purgatory, and helped bring about conversions. In addition, Luisa’s state of victimhood provided an outlet for the Justice of the Lord, thus reducing the chastisements that should have rained down upon humanity. St. Annibale Di Francia wrote that the prayers, sufferings and tears of Luisa had mitigated a good many of the divine chastisements described or foretold in her Diary.

As she grew older, the communications with Jesus became full-blown supernatural phenomena, which included her Mystical Marriage with the Lord, the Invisible Stigmata, and the Indwelling of the Holy Trinity.

State of unconsciousness and accompanying humiliations

After she accepted her state of victim, Luisa was often drawn into a state of complete unconsciousness: her body would stiffen, becoming hard like stone, to the point that no one, even when joined together, was able to move her. Each morning Luisa would be found stiff and in a unmovable position. This phenomena was completely strange and misunderstood by her family and those who knew her, which often caused them to rail against her and humiliate her. However her family was immensely worried, especially her parents, who subjected her to visits by doctors, who were dumbfounded before such an extraordinary clinical case, unable to make any diagnosis. All of this was for Luisa a trial of unheard-of suffering, which the Lord would make her go through to increase her humility and trust in Him.

Receiving no help from the doctors, her family turned in desperation to the local priests. Father Lojodice, a devout Passionist Priest was called to her home. Father Lojodice drew near the bed of Luisa and blessed her, and to the surprise of all, she immediately regained her normal faculties and lucid state. This fact, so extraordinary, produced the conviction in Luisa and her relatives that Father Lojodice was a Saint. From that day, Father Lojodice went to Luisa every time he was called by her family; and every time, without fail, his blessing freed Luisa from her state of immobility. After a short time, Father Lojodice left Corato, being called by his Superiors to another place. This event caused great sorrow to both Luisa and her family. Luisa lamented with her Jesus:
"Why do you cause all these things when you come into me? Can we not love each other without others knowing anything? Have pity on me! Free me from this terrible humiliation."
And Jesus responded: "Have you not promised to suffer for me? So now let yourself be led by Me along the ways of suffering."

The power of the Priesthood
After the departure of Father Lojodice, another priest was called, who blessed her, and to the stupefaction of the priest himself and of all who were present, Luisa once again regained consciousness. This fact produced in Luisa the conviction that all priests were saints. However, one day the Lord said to her:
"Not because all of them are saints – if only they were so! They all have this power because they are priests, and all the faithful are submitted to their priestly authority, created and wanted by Me. You must always be submitted to their priestly authority, you must obey always, and never go against their will, because they are the continuation of my priesthood in the world. The unworthiness of some does not annul their priesthood."

The humiliations and the sufferings which Luisa had to bear during this period were unspeakable. She was misunderstood by most and was considered proud, false, a cheater, and a person who wanted to draw attention upon herself. Most painfully for Luisa, these accusations were also shared by her parents at times. But the most terrible humiliations she received were from the priests, who completely misjudged the frequent ecstatic state of Luisa. When they were called by her family in order to free her from her usual state of immobility, they would refuse to go; and if they did go, they would often overwhelm her with the most bitter reproaches. Once they left her in that state for as long as twenty-five days.

 

Her desire to become a Nun
During this time, Luisa expressed to her parents her desire to become a cloistered nun. Her parents were absolutely opposed to the idea. Luisa kept insisting, so one day her mother took her for a visit to the cloistered nuns at Trani, where they met with the Mother Superior. But her mother, not wanting her little Luisa to cloister herself in a monastery, revealed to the Mother Superior in detail all the defects and the strange phenomena surrounding her daughter, adding that she was a sickly girl of weak constitution. Obviously, these details provoked a definitive refusal on the part of the Superior, who immediately dismissed her, saying that life in the monastery was very hard, and that her frail health would not allow her to enter the religious life.
Luisa returned to Corato with her heart full of sadness and she immediately poured out her sorrow to Jesus:
"Had You not promised me that I would become a nun?"

And the Lord answered:
"You will be a nun, but the true little nun of my Heart. You will remain cloistered in a room, without ever moving, in which you will pray, suffer, and be always with Me."

And so it happened as Jesus promised. Luisa remained in her room nailed to her bed of suffering for almost seventy years.

She no longer desires to eat
Beginning at age sixteen she one day awoke from an ecstasy and felt a great repugnance for any food; so she began to refuse to eat. She was soon forced to eat by her parents, and she did so out of obedience, but as soon as she ate she would bring it up immediately. Her family attributed this to a new act of capriciousness or desire for attention on her part, and therefore she had to suffer new and bitter reproaches. However, this was the Will of God, Who was preparing Luisa to live only from the Eucharist and His Divine Will. In fact, this extraordinary phenomenon lasted until her death.

Luisa ate only once a day and then very little, out obedience to her confessor; but immediately after eating she would bring up the food, whole, fresh and to the surprise of all--sweetly fragrant. In his prudence, her confessor was opposed to this new prodigy, and ordered her to eat, even if she brought up everything after a little while. Her Confessor is reported to have said that “ . . . she must eat every day and every one must know that she eats, or they will set the police at her door as they did with Teresa Newman, and with all the publicity of the newspapers."

Luisa becomes completely bedridden
Near the end of 1888, at the age of twenty-three, Luisa asked her confessor, Father Michele De Benedictis permission to suffer in bed for a certain time, about forty days. "If this is the Will of God, stay", Don Michele said; but the bed was never again abandoned by Luisa, who was then, in 1888, twenty-three years old, and remained, always sitting, nailed to the bed, for the fifty-nine years until her death, which occurred on March 4, 1947. From then on Luisa becomes completely bedridden in a state of suffering.

Luisa is ordered to write her diary
Ten years later, in 1898, Father Gennaro Di Gennaro became her new confessor delegated by the bishop, and thus he remained for 24 years. Father Gennaro, an enlightened and prudent priest, realizing the wonders that the Lord was working in this soul, ordered her to put into writing all that the Grace of God operated in her. Luisa did not expect or welcome this order, to which she had to submit with docility, even though it strongly clashed with her humility.

Luisa was to write everything going back to the very beginning, without neglecting anything; and she was to give everything to him, day by day. The excuse of being an illiterate woman, for she had attended school only up to the second elementary grade, had no success: her new confessor was immovable. Though weeping from what was to her a great humiliation, Luisa humbly submitted herself to the request and thus she began to write her volumes (36 in all) in the form of a diary. It was February 28, 1899. She wrote the last chapter of Volume 36 on December 28, 1938. On the day that she was ordered to stop, she immediately stopped and no longer wrote.

Luisa is given the GIFT OF THE DIVINE WILL
On November 22, 1900, the Lord makes known to Luisa that He wants to give her an extraordinary gift: THE GIFT OF THE DIVINE WILL. This particular grace which God gives to the creature from Himself constitutes a special and free gift. Except for the Blessed Virgin Mary, Luisa is to be the first to receive this grace, but God desires that it must be extended to all of humanity who desire to accept this new event of grace. But it was to begin in the most complete silence and in the greatest hiddenness of this Soul. Beginning with Luisa, God desired to send the message of the Divine Will, this grace in which the Holy Spirit wants to renew the face of the earth: the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in Heaven. So beginning with Luisa a new event of grace is to begin in souls, through which God wants to enrich humanity.

As the years progressed, the Lord revealed to Luisa profound and ever deeper insights into the Divine Will. His purpose was to seek perfect fulfillment in Luisa of the Fiat petition of the Our Father, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” (Fiat Voluntas Tua sicut in Coelo et in terra.) He taught her that the three great phases or Fiats of God’s Work are the Creation, Redemption, and Sanctification. The Sanctification will be completed when the Divine Will is done on earth as it is in heaven. Luisa is to live the life of the Divine Will within her own soul, and her writings will inspire and teach others how to do so. This will help fulfill the Sanctification, which will bring about a new era of love, the era of the Third Fiat.

Her daily life
Luisa lived in the strictest poverty, on a small income derived from lace making, which she carried out while sitting up in her bed during the day. Although she wished to live in obscurity, people of all ranks, from the humblest peasants to high-ranking prelates of the church visited her, seeking spiritual advice or consolation.

Luisa never left her bed of suffering and remained sitting in the same position for 64 consecutive years, not counting the first six years when she was often bedridden. Remarkably, she never contracted any bedsores which are normally inevitable for those bedridden.

In the morning Luisa would be found immobile and immovable, huddled in her bed, stiff as though petrified, to the extent that no one could manage to move her, until her confessor or any other priest would come in prayer to bless her; only then would Luisa be able to move and be released. So her sister Angelina and faithful Rosaria would place her again in her usual sitting position, while the priest would begin Holy Mass on a movable altar which was in her room. With the permission of Pope Leo XIII, renewed later by Pope St. Pius X, Mass was allowed to be offered in her bedroom daily.

Luisa participated in the Mass with great devotion; she received Communion every day, and then remained in meditation for about two hours. Afterwards, she would begin her work of “tombolo” (Italian lace sewing).

Each morning before starting her day, out of obedience Luisa was to read to her confessor all that she had written in her diary the night before, and give it to him. This lasted until 1938. These writings formed 36 volumes, many of which have now been published.

Around one o’clock Luisa ate a small amount of food, which she would normally bring up afterwards. In the afternoon she would remain in prayer for a few hours and would recite the Rosary, and then begin her ordinary work. Later in the evening Luisa would begin to write in her diary all that the Lord had worked in her during that day. In this way her day would end. This way of life lasted until her death.

Her Bishop receives a miracle

In 1917 a new Archbishop of Trani, with jurisdiction over Corato, was appointed. His name was Archbishop Regime. Unfortunately he was influenced by some jealous local clergy who were hostile to Luisa, and therefore he was skeptical of Luisa’s reputation for sanctity. Thus he determined to sign a decree preventing priests from visiting her room and saying Mass there. As his hand approached the paper to sign it, his arm and part of his body were at once paralyzed.

Thankfully, he immediately realized the significance of his poor judgement and he asked to be taken immediately to Luisa’s home. Even before he arrived, Luisa asked a companion who was present to open the door, because God enlightened her that the bishop was coming. Supported by two priests, he entered her house for the first time. As soon as she saw him, Luisa asked Archbishop Regime for his blessing. At that moment he was able to raise his arm and bless her as if nothing had happened. He was instantly cured!

 

He remained with her for two hours that day, and from then on he often visited Luisa’s home, where the two would engage in edifying spiritual conversations. This miraculous episode struck a holy fear in the clergy, which allowed her Confessor henceforth to minister to her under peaceful circumstances. Also, after this event, St. Annibale Di Francia began to visit Luisa more often. St. Annibale would eventually become one of Luisa’s Extraordinary Confessors.

In 1922, her confessor, Fr. Gennaro died, and by order of the bishop Fr. Francesco De Benedictis took his place. Fr. Francesco died in January, 1926. The Bishop, then, appointed a young priest, Fr, Benedetto Calvi, parish priest of Santa Maria Greca, who assisted her until her death. In 1928 she went to live in the convent of the orphanage of the Institute of St. Anthony, founded by St. Annibale. He had already established other orphanages, but had this one specifically erected in Corato so that Luisa could reside there in the company of the nuns of his Institute

As a victim soul for the salvation of sinners, Luisa was struck by deep trials and sufferings, which would certainly have crushed most other persons, but which through the grace of God were surpassed through her prayer and by her profound humility, obedience and faith. Her confessor and the persons who were close to her, especially her faithful friend Rosaria, suffered tremendously along with her, and while some of weaker spirit abandoned her, they remained at her side with humility and faith, until the triumph of the Work of God.

Her holy death
Luisa died in Corato at 6:00 am on March 4, 1947. She had been ill for two weeks with pneumonia . She was 81 years, ten months and nine days old. She died of pneumonia after fifteen days, which was the only clinical illness that she was ever diagnosed with.

The remarkable phenomena after her death
As she appears in the pictures taken at that time, the dead body of Luisa is sitting on the little bed, just as when she was alive; nor was it possible to stretch it out through the strength of various people. She remained in that position; so a special casket had to be built. Her body was not subject to the "rigor mortis" typical of all human bodies after death. This was noticed each day she was exposed to the eyes of the people of Corato, and to those of many foreigners who came to Corato for the purpose of seeing and touching with their own hands this unique and marvelous case: all were able, with no effort, to move the head to all sides, raise her arms and bend them, bend her hands and all the fingers. Even the eyelids could be lifted and her bright eyes, which were not veiled, could be observed. Luisa seemed to be alive, as though sleeping, while a group of doctors, convened for the purpose, after a careful examination of her body, declared that Luisa was actually dead, and therefore it was to be considered a true death and not an apparent death, as many had imagined.

Because of the unending crowd that thronged around “the saint” as she was then often called, the Civil Authority was forced to keep her on her little deathbed for 4 full days. To the surprise of Physicians and also the city Health Officer there was no sign of corruption even to the end of the fourth day.

Notably, in death Luisa remained seated, as she had always lived, and sitting she was to go to the cemetery in a casket which was built for the purpose, with the sides and the front of glass, so that all might see her, just as a queen on her throne, clothed in white, with the "FIAT" on her breast – the little daughter of the Divine Will, whom the Lord wanted to remove from her silence and humility only at her death.

More than forty priests, the Capitolo [the Ecclesiastical authorities] and the local Clergy, were present; many religious sisters, who brought her on their shoulders in turns, and an immense crowd of citizens. The streets along which the procession was to pass, were packed - incredibly; even the balconies and the roofs of the houses were crammed with people, and the procession proceeded with great difficulty. The funeral was celebrated in the Matrice Church by the many religious present. Father Benedetto described the funeral as a “veritable triumph”.

After the funeral Mass, all the people of Corato followed the body of Luisa to the cemetery, and everyone tried to bring home a souvenir of the flowers which had accompanied and touched the body. A few years later, the body of Luisa was transferred to her Parish Church of Santa Maria Greca, and placed in a special niche to the right of the central nave, where she lies today, humbly waiting for the glorification of the Church.

Persecution and the Cause for Beatification/Canonization
Luisa suffered a persecution from the Vatican during the Pontificate of Pius XI. The Holy Office placed three devotional works of Luisa on the Index, because it seems that they had been highly edited by her perhaps over-zealous Confessor, Canon Don Benedetto Calvi, and apparently some of the doctrine contained therein was judged questionable. However, the Index did not apply to any of her Diaries. In fact, the first nineteen volumes of her Diary had already been published and given the Nihil Obstat by her Extraordinary Confessor, St. Annibale, and were granted the Imprimatur by the local Archbishop.

In May of 1938 a priest representing the Holy Office arrived at Luisa’s residence. He asked her for the three works that had been edited by her Confessor, and then required Luisa to turn over thirty-four original notebooks, which contained the writings which comprised her Diary up to that time. This, in spite of the fact that the local ordinary had officially approved the first nineteen volumes for publication.

 

These original handwritten manuscripts remained in the exclusive possession of the Vatican until 1996, when they were allowed to be photocopied by the Diocesan Tribunal of her Cause. The only volumes that had ever been in print were the first nineteen books, and volumes thirty-five and thirty-six. For a period of almost sixty years, volumes twenty thru thirty-four had never been read except by her Confessors and perhaps some few privileged acquaintances of Luisa, although some parts of volume twenty had made it to print.

When the totally unexpected news of this suppression by the Vatican arrived in July of 1938, Luisa responded as a true saint, immediately sending her Archbishop a letter professing her complete submission to the judgment of the Church.

When her Cause for Beatification and Canonization was officially proposed, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, at that time the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, nullified the previous condemnations of the Index, thereby removing the impediment to her Cause. Thus on the Feast of Christ the King, Sunday November 20, 1994, the process for the Cause of the Servant of God, Luisa Piccarreta, was finally opened.

And most recently, the second theologian assigned to evaluate the writings of Luisa Piccarreta by the Vatican Congregation for the Causes of the Saints has given a positive, that is, a favorable judgement. This means that both of the official censors librorum for the cause of Luisa have found nothing contrary to the faith in her writings, and her cause can now go forward.
-Source: Padre Bernadino Bucci

~Servant of God Luisa Piccarreta, pray for us!

__________________________________

Primary sources for this article are the book "The Life of the Mystic Luisa Piccarreta, Journeys in the Divine Will - the Early Years" by Frank M. Rega and also "Luisa Piccarreta -The Little Daughter of the Divine Will" written by Father Bernardino Giuseppe Bucci, Parish Priest Cappuccino

That should be more than good enough for any reasonable and sincere inquirer. And beside it, Frodo, there are also many letters from prior Archbishops of Trani all approving and endorsing, and exhorting Catholics to work for the promotion of pious associations like the Little Children of the Divine Will. Please see: https://luisapiccarreta.com/biographical-notes/letters-from-trani-archdiocese/

"As laid down by cann. law 299, §§ 2 and 3; 300 etc.;

WE RECOGNIZE AS ESTABLISHED, WE PRAISE AND RECOMMEND, AND WE GIVE OUR CONSENT THAT IT BE HONORED WITH THE NAME of “Pious or Catholic”

The PIOUS ASSOCIATION “Luisa Piccarreta” LITTLE CHILDREN OF THE DIVINE WILL with center in Corato (Archdioceses of Trani-Barletta-Bisceglie) in via Nazario Sauro n.25.

The established Association will be ruled by the general norms of CJC (cann. 321-326) and by the above mentioned Statute which We approved.

In full uniformity and submission to the Divine Volition, which appears to Us clear in this, through the signs of the times, through the fervor of the supporters and their beneficial fruits in the apostolic field, We encourage and exhort all to continue in their good intentions of sanctity and ministry for the Church, sustained by copious celestial blessings.

Given in Trani, from Our Archbishop’s Palace, on the 4th of March of 1987, on the fortieth anniversary of the pious transit of Luisa Piccarreta.



For more information, please write to:

Pious Association Luisa Piccarreta, Little Children of the Divine Will

Via Nazario Sauro, 25

70033 Corato (BA) Italy

***

DECLARATION

The Congregation for the Causes of Saints

February 25, AD 1994

The Congregation for the Causes of Saints, answering to the request which has been proposed to It, declares on the part of the Holy See the NON OBSTARE for the opening of the Cause of Beatification of the Servant of God Luisa Piccarreta, Laywoman, Tertiary Dominican; everything, however, according to the instructions which are established in the enclosed letters of March 25, AD 1994, written to the Most Excellent and Reverend Msgr. Carmelo Cassati, Missionary of the Sacred Heart, Archbishop of Trani-Barletta-Bisceglia, after having observed all things which must be observed by law.

Given in Trani, from the place of the same Congregation, on February 25, AD 1994"

So, I hope now, with all that documentation, the matter will be considered as settled, and the meditation can proceed. Please feel free to post saintly Sr. Catherine Emmerich's meditations on another thread; I agree that those, from the little I know about them, and which I'm always eager to know more of, are excellent.

 

The Thirteenth Hour: From 5 A.M. to 6 A.M.
Jesus in prison.

Prayer of Preparation

My prisoner Jesus, I have woken up, but you are not here. My heart pounds, longing for your love. Tell me, where are you? My angel, take me to Caiaphas' house. I look all around, I search everywhere but don't find you. My love, hurry: With your hands move the chains with which you have my heart bound to yours, and draw me to yourself so that I may fly to you and throw myself into your arms. Now, my love, wounded by my voice and desirous of my company, you draw me to yourself; and I see that they have put you in prison. While my heart leaps for joy to find you, I feel it wounded by the sorrow of seeing how they have reduced you.

I see you with your hands tied behind you to a column, your feet tied together, your most sacred face bruised, swollen and bleeding for the horrible slaps received. Your most holy eyes are bruised, your gaze is weary and suffering for the sleeplessness, your hair is all disheveled, your most holy person is all beaten. And what is more, you can neither help nor clean yourself because you are tied. O my Jesus, while sobbing and embracing your feet, I say to you: Oh! What have they done to you, Jesus?

Looking at me, Jesus answers:

“Come, my child, and pay attention to what you see me doing, to do it together with me, so that I can continue my life in you.”

To my amazement, I see that instead of occupying yourself with your pains, with indescribable love you concern yourself with glorifying the Father, to compensate him for our obligations toward him. And you call all souls around you, to take all their evils upon yourself and to give them every good of yours. And since we are at the dawn of the new day, I hear your gentle voice that says:

“Holy Father, I thank you for all I have suffered and for that which remains for me to suffer. As this dawn calls the day, and the day makes the sun rise, so too, let the dawn of grace appear in all hearts. And forming the day, may I, divine sun, rise in all hearts and reign over all. O Father, do you see these souls? I want to answer to you for everyone: for their thoughts, words, deeds and steps, at the cost of my blood and death.”

My Jesus, boundless love, I join with you. I too thank you for all that you have made me suffer and for what remains for me to suffer. I pray you to make the dawn of grace rise in all hearts, so that you, divine sun, may rise again in all hearts and reign over everyone.

But I also see, my sweet Jesus, that You repair for all the very first thoughts, affections and words, which, at the rising of the day, are not offered to You to honor You; and that You call to Yourself, as though in custody, the thoughts, the affections and the words of the creatures, in order to repair for them and give to the Father the glory they owe Him.

My Jesus, Divine Master, since we have one hour free in this prison and we are alone, not only do I want to do what You are doing, but I want to clean You, fix your hair, and fuse myself completely in You. So, I begin with your most holy head; and arranging your hair, I want to make reparation to you for so many minds twisted and full of earth that do not have even one thought for you. Then, fusing myself in your mind, I want to gather up all the thoughts of creatures and fuse them in your thoughts, in order to find sufficient reparation for all evil thoughts, and for so many suffocated lights and inspirations. I would make all thoughts one alone with yours, to give you true reparation and perfect glory.

My suffering Jesus, I kiss your sad and tearful eyes. With your hands tied to the column you cannot dry them or clean away the spit with which they have dirtied you. And since the position in which they have tied you is excruciating, you cannot close your weary eyes to rest. My love, how willingly I would make a bed for you with my arms, to give you rest. I want to dry your tears, ask your forgiveness and make reparation for all the times we have not had the intention of pleasing you and of looking to you to see where you wanted us to go.

And I want to fuse my eyes and the eyes of all creatures in yours, to be able to make reparation with your own eyes for all the wrong we have done with our sight. My pitiful Jesus, I kiss your most holy ears, wearied by the insults of the whole night, and much more by the echo of all the offenses of creatures, which resounds in your ears. I ask your forgiveness and I make reparation for all the times you have called us and we were deaf or we pretended not to hear you. And you, my weary Jesus, repeated the calls, but in vain. I want to fuse my ears and those of all creatures in yours to make continual, complete reparation.

My loving Jesus, I kiss your most holy face which is all bruised from the blows. I ask you pardon, and I make reparation for all the times you have called us to be victims of reparation, and we, united with your enemies, gave you slaps and spit. My Jesus, I want to fuse my face in yours to return your natural beauty to you and to make complete reparation for all the ridicule which your most holy majesty receives.

My embittered, good Jesus, I kiss your most sweet mouth bruised by the blows and parched by love. I want to fuse my tongue and that of all creatures in yours to make reparation with your own tongue for all the sins and evil discourses committed. My thirsty Jesus, I want to make all voices one with yours, so that when they are about to offend you, your voice, flowing in the voices of creatures will suffocate the voices of sin and change them into voices of praise and love.

Enchained Jesus, I kiss your neck weighed down by heavy chains and ropes which, running from your breast behind your back and passing around your arms, keep you tightly bound to the column. Your hands are tied so tightly that they are already swollen and darkened, and blood is dripping from various parts of them. My bound Jesus, permit me to free you. And if you love to be bound, I will bind you with the chains of love which, being sweet, will soothe you instead of making you suffer. And while I loose you I want to fuse myself in your neck, to be able to make reparation together with you for all attachments, and to give the chains of your love to everyone.

I fuse myself in your breast to make reparation for all the coldness of creatures and to fill the breast of all creatures with your fire, because I see you have so much that you cannot contain it. I fuse myself in your back to make reparation for all illicit pleasures and love of comfort, to give the spirit of sacrifice and the love of suffering to everyone. I fuse myself in your hands to make reparation for all evil works and for the good that is done in a bad manner or with presumption, to give the perfume of your works to everyone. Fusing myself in your feet, I enclose the steps of all creatures there, to make reparation for them. And I give your steps to everyone to make them walk with holy steps.

Now, my dear life, as I fuse myself in your heart, permit me to enclose all affections, heartbeats and desires there, to make reparation for them together with you, and to give everyone your affections, heartbeats and desires so that no one may offend you again.

But now I hear the squeaking of the key echoing in my ears. It's your enemies who have come to take you from the prison. Jesus, I am trembling, I feel myself freezing. You will be in the hands of your enemies again. What will happen to you?

I seem to hear the squeaking of the tabernacle keys as well. How many profaning hands come to open them and perhaps to make you descend into sacrilegious hearts! How many unworthy hands you are forced to be in! My prisoner Jesus, I want to be in all your prisons of love to be the spectator when your ministers take you out, and to keep you company and make reparation for the offenses you may receive.

I see that your enemies are coming, and you are greeting the rising sun—the last of your days. Loosing you, and seeing how majestic you appear, and that you look at them with so much love, in exchange they slap your face so hard that it turns red with your most precious blood.

My love, in my sorrow I ask you to bless me before you leave the prison, to give me the strength to follow you in the rest of your passion.

 

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus is placed in prison, bound to a column, immobilized, and smeared with spittle and mud. He searches for my soul to cleanse Him and keep Him company. Am I happy to be alone with Jesus, or do I seek the company of others? Is Jesus my only breath and my only heartbeat?

If I hold everything that is inside of me—sorrows, irritations—as if they were my own, I will never be alone with Jesus. must hold what surrounds me and even the creatures, as if they belonged to Jesus, that they may surround Him like a retinue; on the other hand, if I hold them as if they concerned me, I will never be alone with Jesus.

That is why I must lay everything, both interior and exterior, that concerns me around Jesus to keep Him company, and I shall be satisfied only with Jesus. May Jesus be my only breath, my only heartbeat. Am I careful to change all the offenses that creatures do to me into love? With Jesus in prison, do I have the strength, the promptness to jail myself in Jesus, for love of Him? To make us like Him, loving Jesus binds our souls, but how? With hardship, oppression, sorrow, and every other kind of mortification. Are we happy to be bound by Jesus in the prison where his Love places us—that is, in darkness, oppression, and even worse?

Jesus is in prison. Do I think that my prison ought to be similar to that of Jesus? Do I feel the strength and readiness to imprison myself in Jesus for his love? My afflicted Jesus yearns for my soul to untie Him and sustain Him in the sorrowful situation that confronts Him. Do I yearn only for the company of Jesus to free me from the chains of every passion and bind me to his Heart with even stronger chains? Do I place my pains around suffering Jesus to remove the spittle and mud that sinners hurl at Him?

Jesus prays in prison. Is my prayer with Jesus constant?

My enchained Jesus, You became a prisoner out of Love for me. I beg You, then, to imprison in You all that I am— my mind, my tongue, my heart—so that I will no longer be free and You will have absolute dominion over me.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

 

The Fourteenth Hour: From 6 A.M. to 7 A.M.
Jesus is brought before Caiaphas again, and then sent to Pilate.

Prayer of Preparation

My suffering Jesus, you are now out of prison, but are so exhausted that you waver at every step. I want to be by your side to hold you up when I see you are about to fall.

I see that the soldiers bring you before Caiaphas. O my Jesus, you reappear in their midst like a sun, and though disfigured, you radiate light everywhere. Now I observe that Caiaphas is overjoyed to see you reduced to such a pitiful state. The rays of your light blind him even more, and in his fury he questions you again:

“So, you are really the true Son of God?”

And you, my love, your voice full of grace, with supreme majesty and your usual sweet and moving words that captivate hearts, answer:

“Yes, I am the true Son of God.”

Then, although they feel all the force of your words in themselves, suffocating everything and not wanting to know more, they cry out with one voice:

“He deserves to die! He deserves to die!”

Caiaphas confirms the death sentence and sends you to Pilate. My condemned Jesus, you accept this sentence with such love and resignation that you almost snatch it from the wicked pontiff. And you make reparation for all the sins committed deliberately and with sheer malice, and for those who instead of being sorry for the wrong they have done, rejoice and are glad for the sin itself—which blinds them and brings them to suffocate all light and grace. My life, your reparations and prayers echo in my heart, and I make reparation and pray together with you.

My tender love, having lost what little esteem they had of you, now that you have been sentenced to death, I see that the soldiers grab you. They add more ropes and chains, and tie you so tightly that your divine person can hardly move. Then, pushing and dragging you, they remove you from Caiaphas' palace.

Throngs of people are waiting for you, but not one of them to defend you. My divine sun, you go out into their midst, wanting to envelop them all in your light.

As you take your first steps, with the intention of enclosing all the steps of creatures in yours, you pray and make reparation for those who take their first steps to do wrong: In one instance to take revenge; in another to kill, to betray, to rob, or to do even worse. Oh, how all these sins wound your heart! To prevent so much evil you pray, make reparation, and offer up your whole self.

As I follow you, my sun, Jesus, I see that as you begin to descend from Caiaphas' palace you meet with Mary, our beautiful and gentle mother. Your eyes meet, wounding both of you. And although you are comforted by seeing each other, this encounter causes still new pains. For you it is a new pain to see our beautiful mother pierced, pale, and clothed in mourning. For your dear mother it is also a new suffering to see you, the divine sun, eclipsed and covered with so many outrages, weeping and shrouded in blood. But you are not able to enjoy your exchange of glances for long. With the pain of not being able to exchange even one word, your hearts say everything. You fuse yourselves in each other, but stop looking at each other because the soldiers press you on. And so, trampled and dragged you come before Pilate.

My Jesus, I join our pierced mother in following you, and I want to fuse myself together with her in you. And giving me a look of love, you bless me.

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus is brought at dawn before Caiphas and He courageously declares that He is the Son of God. When I go somewhere, do I allow Jesus to direct me? Is my conduct an example for others, and do my steps, like magnets, attract other souls to Jesus? Jesus’ entire life is a continuous calling to souls. If we conform ourselves to his Will—that is, if our feet call souls as we walk, if our heartbeats, echoing the divine heartbeats, harmonize together and call souls, and so on with all the rest—by doing this, we will form the same humanity of Jesus in ourselves. So, each time we call souls, it is another imprint that we receive from our Jesus. Is our life always the same, or do we change for the worse according to the encounters we have?

My Jesus, holiness beyond compare, guide me and make even my outward demeanor manifest all your divine life..

Prayer of Thanksgiving

 

The Fifteenth Hour: From 7 A.M. to 8 A.M.
Jesus is brought before Pilate, who then sends him to Herod.

Prayer of Preparation

My bound Jesus, together with the priests, your enemies present you to Pilate. In view of celebrating the Passover, they remain outside in the courtyard, giving the false impression of holiness and scrupulosity. And you, my love, seeing to the heart of their malice, make reparation for all the hypocrisies of those consecrated to you. I too make reparation together with you.

Now, while you are doing this for their good, they instead, begin to accuse you to Pilate, vomiting all the poison they have in themselves against you.

Showing himself unsatisfied with their accusations, in order to be able to condemn you on good grounds, Pilate calls you aside to examine you alone, and asks you:

“Are you the king of the Jews?”

And you, my true king, Jesus, respond:

“My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, thousands of legions of angels would defend me.”

Pilate is surprised; and moved by the gentleness and dignity of your words, he says to you:

“What? You are king?”

And you:

“I am as you say; and I have come into the world to teach the truth.”

Not wanting to know more, and convinced of your innocence, Pilate goes out on the terrace and says:

“I find no fault at all in this man.”

The Jews are enraged, and they accuse you of many other things, but you remain silent and do not defend yourself. You make reparation for the weaknesses of judges when they find themselves before the domineering, and for their injustices; and you pray for the innocent, the oppressed and the abandoned. Then Pilate, seeing the fury of your enemies, and wanting to rid himself of you, sends you to Herod.

Jesus before Herod

My divine king, I want to repeat your prayers and reparations, and go with you to Herod. I see that your infuriated enemies would like to devour you. While they are taking you, they heap insults, taunting and ridicule on you, and so they bring you before Herod. Swelling up with pride, Herod asks you many questions, but you don't answer. You don't even look at him. Then, irritated because he doesn't see his curiosity satisfied, and humiliated by your long silence, he declares publicly that you are crazy and out of your mind; and he orders you to be treated accordingly. To mock you, he has you dressed in a white garment; and he turns you over to the soldiers so that they will abuse you as much as they can.

My innocent Jesus, no one finds any fault in you. Only the Jews do, because their false religiosity does not merit that the light of the truth shine in their minds.

My Jesus, infinite Wisdom, how dearly it costs you to have been declared crazy. The soldiers, taking advantage of you, throw you to the ground, trample you, cover you with spit, ridicule you and beat you with sticks. Being struck like this, you feel yourself dying. The pains, the abuses and the humiliations are so numerous that the angels weep, and they cover their faces with their wings so they won't have to see them.

My peculiar Jesus, I too want to call you crazy—but crazy with love. Your loving madness is such, that, instead of taking offense, you pray and make reparation for the ambition of kings aspiring to kingdoms, who thus cause the ruin of peoples; for so many massacres that they cause; for all the blood they spill to satisfy their whims; for all the sins of curiosity; and for the sins committed in courts and in armies.

My Jesus, how moving it is to see you praying and making reparation in the midst of so many outrages. Your words echo in my heart, and I follow what you do. Now, let me come by your side to share in your pains, console you with my love, send your enemies away, take you in my arms to restore you, and kiss your forehead.

I kiss your Forehead, my Jesus, and I beg You to purify my thoughts for the sake of these sufferings. I kiss your beautiful eyes, shining with light. And this light surrounds me everywhere. It penetrates my thoughts, eyes, words, and heart in such a way as to make me swim in this light. I kiss your ears—sanctify mine. I kiss your Face—enchant me and all souls as well with your beauty to recover from all the insults and taunts that You receive in Herod’s palace. I kiss your mouth. Give me the grace never to say any words that could offend You. And I want to make up for all the ways that others offend You. I want to stretch out my arms to You and hold You close to my heart, praying that You impress your image in my mind, my heart, my steps, my works, and in all that I do.

I kiss your right hand. Grant efficacious graces for the conversion of all sinners and give me and everyone the good fruits of your most holy works. I kiss your left hand. Impress me with your virtues, especially Charity. I kiss your left foot—give me self-knowledge. I kiss your right foot—give me the grace to obey with promptness. Finally, I kiss your most pure Heart—consume me in the ardent flames of your Love.

My gentle love, I see that they won't leave you alone. Herod is sending you back to Pilate. If your coming was painful, your return will be more tragic because I see that the Jews are more enraged than before, and at any cost are determined to put you to death.

So, before you leave Herod's palace, I want to kiss you as a sign of my love for you in the midst of so many pains. Strengthen me with your kiss and your blessing, and I will follow you to Pilate.

 

Reflections and Practices.

Even as Jesus is presented to Pilate in the midst of many insults and much contempt, He remains ever gentle and has no contempt toward anyone, trying to make the light of truth shine in everyone. Do I feel the same toward everyone? If someone does not like me, do I try to overcome my natural opposition? When dealing with others, do I always strive to make Jesus known and to make the light of truth shine in them?

Jesus, my sweet life, place your words on my lips and Grant that I may always speak with your tongue.

Presented before Herod, Jesus remains silent. He is dressed as a madman and subjected to incredible torture. When I am slandered, mocked, insulted, and jeered at, do I realize that Our Lord wants to give us his divine likeness? In my sorrow, derision, and all that my poor heart experiences, do I consider that it is Jesus who initiates our sorrow with his touch, transforming us into Himself and producing his likeness in us? And when suffering revisits us, do I consider that Jesus, looking at me, is still not content with me and, holding me closely, seeks to make me completely like Himself? Following Jesus’ example, can I say that I have mastered myself, that instead of responding when angry, I prefer to remain silent? Do I ever allow myself to be overcome by curiosity?

In every affliction I encounter, I should make the intention to offer it as a life for Jesus, to pray for and obtain souls. When we place souls in the Will of God, our sorrows make a circle, and within that circle we enclose both God and the souls, and join the souls to Jesus.

My Love and my all, may You alone take total possession of this heart of mine. Keep it in your hands so that in my encounters with others I reproduce within me your surpassing patience."

Prayer of Thanksgiving

That concludes the meditation. May God bless us all as we pray and pray again, with ever deeper love and ever renewed devotion for Christ Crucified, these Hours.

Some benefits and promises to meditating on the Hours: "
"These Hours are the order of the universe, they provide harmony between Heaven and earth, and force me to not destroy the world.”

When meditating on the Hours of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, His blood, wounds, love and everything that He went through is to put in circulation of His own reparation for the salvation of all. It is as if the very life of Jesus was repeated again.

Vol. 12, May 16, 1917

Then I found myself outside of myself. I was in the midst of many souls who were saying to me - they seemed to be purging souls and Saints, and were mentioning one person known to me, who died not too long ago - and they were saying to me:

"He (Jesus) feels as though happy in seeing that there is not one soul who enters Purgatory without carrying the mark of the Hours of the Passion; and surrounded by the cortege of these Hours and helped by them, souls take a safe place. And there is not one soul who flies into Heaven without being accompanied by these Hours of the Passion. These Hours make a continuous dew rain down from Heaven to earth, into Purgatory, and even into Heaven."

On hearing this, I said to myself: "Maybe my beloved Jesus, in order to keep the word He had given - that for each word of the Hours of the Passion He would give a soul - there is not one soul whom He saves who does not benefit from these Hours."

Afterwards, I returned into myself, and as I found my sweet Jesus, I asked Him whether that was true. And He:

"These Hours are the order of the universe; they put Heaven and earth in harmony, and hold Me back from sending the world to ruin. I feel my Blood, my wounds, my love, and everything I did, being placed in circulation; and they flow over all in order to save all. And as souls do these Hours of the Passion, I feel my Blood, my wounds, my yearnings to save souls, being put on the way, and I feel my Life being repeated. How could creatures obtain any good if not by means of these Hours? Why do you doubt? This thing is not yours, but mine. You have been the strained and weak instrument."

For every word that the soul meditates of the Hours of the Passion, countless channels of communication are opened between the soul and God.

Vol. 12, July 12, 1918

I was praying for a dying soul with a certain fear and anxiety, and my lovable Jesus, on coming, told me:
"My daughter, why do you fear? Don’t you know that for each word on my Passion, for each thought, compassion, reparation, memory of my pains, as many ways of electricity of communication open between Me and the soul, and therefore the soul keeps adorning herself with as many varieties of beauties?"

Saint Father Hannibal Di Francia, speaks of the Hours of the Passion (or Clock of the Passion).

Vol. 22, June 17, 1927

After this, I found myself outside of myself, and while looking for my sweet Jesus I encountered Father Di Francia. He was all cheerful, and he told me:

"Do you know how many beautiful surprises I found? I did not think it would be so when I was on earth, though I thought I had done good by publishing the Hours of the Passion. But the surprises I found are marvelous, enchanting, of a rarity never before seen: all the words regarding the Passion of Our Lord changed into light, one more beautiful than the other – all braided together; and these lights grow more and more as creatures do the Hours of the Passion, so more lights add to the first. But what surprised me the most were the few sayings published by me about the Divine Will: each saying changed into a sun, and these suns, investing all the lights with their rays, form such a surprise of beauty that one remains enraptured, enchanted. You cannot imagine how surprised I was at seeing myself in the midst of these lights and these suns – how content I was; and I thanked our Highest Good, Jesus, who had given me the occasion and the grace to do it. You too, thank Him on my behalf."

 

Please don't move the goal posts, that wasn't the purpose of me bringing up St. Bernard. Here's the question you posed to me:

"Can you show me an example of a Church opening Canonization process for someone who was misguided" - my answer St. Bernard.

That means point 4 of your argument is faulty.

You also did not provide any answer for the other numbered points, instead opting to use article from other sites.

You seem to not fully understand the authority of the pope. Do you really think that every utterance of the pope is made with papal authority? To follow such logic you would have to think that the pope approved birth control to combat Zika. Is that really what you think happened?

No, the pope's opinions are just that outside of certain conditions. See here if you still have questions:

https://www.ewtn.com/faith/teachings/papac2.htm

The "great" article from Mystic of the Chruch did not address any of the points I was making. Having an article on that site does not mean approval as there have been persons covered by that website who either have been misguided (Charlie Johnston: http://www.mysticsofthechurch.com/2014/12/charlie-johnston-alleged-prophet-with.html) or ended up flat out condemned: (Marie-Paule Giguere and The Army of Mary http://www.mysticsofthechurch.com/2015/04/a-closer-look-at-marie-paule-giguere.html).


Perhaps you can address the point made next time instead of posting articles from sites that do not answer the objections?

1) Do you acknowledge Servant of God Father Hardon as a church expert in doctrine? Is he part of the free mason infiltration that you claimed in a prior post?

2) Is EWTN part of the infiltration? Do you dispute their take even though they personally met with representatives of Luisa's cause and have had clarification from the Bishop of Trani?

3) Do you acknowledge that the Bishop in charge has asked that unauthorized translations not to be published? Can you please provide the documentation that Luisa's writings are approved for publication at this time?

******************************************************************************************************

It amazes me the amount of coordinated effort to push this devotion on this site - it seems yet another post was created yet again today in the Marian section of the forum.

It also amazes me that with so much documentation from respectable people in authority, and corroborated by EWTN with all the necessary documentation, that these translations and passages are still allowed to be posted on this forum - in multiple places at that.

Our Lady has promised that it is by her means - the rosary and the scapular - that we will be saved. The answer is there, anything to the contrary comes from the one who is opposed to her.

Let us renew our devotion to them - as asked for by the Mother of God herself (with full approval I might add)- that will be the means for our salvation.

 

From 8 a.m. to 9 a.m.
Jesus is brought before Pilate again.
Barabbas is preferred to Jesus.

Prayer of Preparation

My tormented Jesus, among anxieties and pains my poor heart follows you. Seeing you clothed as a madman, knowing who you are—infinite Wisdom, who gives judgment to all—I go into a frenzy, and say: What! Jesus is mad? Jesus is a criminal? And now the greatest criminal, Barabbas, will be preferred to you. My Jesus, holiness that has no equal, now you are before Pilate again.

Seeing you so pitifully reduced and clothed as if insane, and that Herod didn't condemn you either, he is more angered with the Jews, more firmly convinced of your innocence, and decided not to condemn you. But at the same time, wanting to give some satisfaction to the Jews, and, as it were, extinguish the hate, the fury, the rage and the burning thirst which they have for your blood, he presents you together with Barabbas. But the Jews cry: “We want Barabbas freed, not Jesus!”

So, Pilate, not knowing what to do to calm them down, condemns you to the scouring. My rejected Jesus, my heart breaks to see that while the Jews are all busy about putting you to death, absorbed in yourself, you are intent on giving life to everyone. Straining my ears, I can hear you say:

“Holy Father, look at your Son clothed as a madman. This makes reparation to you for the madness of so many creatures fallen into sin. Let this white garment be before you as forgiveness for so many souls that clothe themselves in the gloomy garment of sin. O Father, see the hatred, the fury, the rage they have against me, and their thirst for my blood, which makes them almost lose the light of reason. I want to make reparation to you for all hatred, vengeance, anger and homicides, and obtain the light of reason for everyone.”

“My Father, look at me again. Could there be a greater insult than to prefer the worst criminal to me? I want to make reparation to you for all the preferences committed. Yes, the whole world is full of preferences. Some people prefer a miserable selfinterest to us; others honors, vanities, pleasures, attachments, dignities, immoderate eating and drinking, and even sin itself. All creatures unanimously reject us, even putting us after every foolish little thing. I am ready to accept Barabbas' being preferred to me, to make reparation for the preferences of creatures.”

My Jesus, seeing your great love in the midst of so many sufferings, and the heroism of your virtues in the midst of so many pains and insults, I feel myself die of pain and confusion. Your words and reparations, like so many wounds, echo in my poor heart; and in my grief I repeat your prayers and your reparations. I cannot separate from you even for an instant, otherwise many things that you do would escape me.

Now, what do I see? The soldiers are leading you to a column to scourge you. My love, I follow you. I ask you to look at me with your look of love, and to give me the strength to assist at your painful butchery. My most pure Jesus, now you are by the column. The furious soldiers loose you to tie you to it. But this is not enough. They strip you of your garments so they can cruelly butcher your most holy body. My love, my life, I feel myself faint for the pain of seeing you nude. You are trembling from head to foot, and your most holy face reddens with a virginal blush. You are so confused and exhausted, that, unable to stand on your feet, you are about to fall at the foot of this column, but the soldiers don't let you. They hold you up, not to help you, but to be able to tie you.

Now they take the ropes and tie your arms so tightly that they swell up right away, and blood spurts from the tips of your fingers. Then, from the iron ring on the column they pass the ropes and chains around your most holy person to your feet. And in order to freely unleash themselves on you they tie you to the column so tightly that you can't make a move. My stripped Jesus, let me pour out my feelings, otherwise I won't be able to continue to see you suffer so. How is it that you who dress all created things—the sun with light, the sky with stars, the plants with leaves, the birds with feathers—are stripped? What boldness! With the light that comes forth from his eyes, my loving Jesus says to me:

“Be silent, my child. It was necessary for me to be stripped, to make reparation for so many who strip themselves of every modesty, purity and innocence; who strip themselves of every good and virtue, of my grace, and dress themselves with every bestiality, living after the manner of beasts. With my virginal blush, I want to make reparation for all the indecencies, loose lifestyles and bestial pleasures. So, be attentive to what I am doing, pray and make reparation together with me, and calm down.”

Scourged Jesus, your love goes from excess to excess. I see that the torturers take up the whips and beat you so mercilessly that all your most holy body turns black and blue. They have beaten you so furiously that they are already tired, but two others take their place. These take up thorny rods and beat you so much that the blood immediately begins to flow in streams from your most sacred body. Then they pound it all over, forming furrows, and turning it into one big wound.

But this is still not enough. Two others take their place and with chains of hooked iron continue the painful butchery. At the first blows, that beaten and wounded flesh is shredded even more and falls to the ground, leaving the bones bare. The blood is streaming so profusely that it forms a pool around the column. My Jesus, my naked love, while you are under this storm of blows, I embrace your feet so that I may share in your pains and be entirely covered with your most precious blood. O Jesus, scourge my mind and drive out every thought that could distance me from You. Scourge my eyes, and if they want to look at earthly things, strike them with your scourges and make them look only at You. O Jesus, the sound of your whips reaches my ears! When You see me listening to things that distract me from You, my Jesus, strike me with your whips and entice me to listen only to your voice.

O Jesus, scourge my face—and if some act of complacency or selfimportance should make an impression upon me, let the blows of your whips detach me from the earth and spur me to look only at Heaven. O Jesus, scourge my tongue and my lips—and if they should dare to pronounce a word that is not for your love and glory, may your scourges strike me and cast fire and flames upon me to ignite with love not only me, but all those who listen to me as well. O Jesus, scourge my hands. May every movement I make and every work that I do be signed with the seal of your love. O Jesus, may your whips strike my feet. I beg You to bind them tightly to your feet to keep me from taking a single step that is not for You—and so that I might lead others to love You. O Jesus, scourge my heart with your dispositions, affections, and desires so that every blow I receive leaves a wound in my heart.

And may these blows give birth to a living love in me. My Jesus, as I stretch my ears, I hear your moans, unheard by the others, because the storm of blows deafens the air around You. In those moans you say:

“All you who love me, come to learn the heroism of true love. Come to extinguish in my blood the thirst of your passions, the thirst of so many ambitions, of so many vanities and pleasures, of so many sensualities! In this blood of mine you will find the remedy for all your evils.”

Your moans continue to say:

“Look at me, O Father, all wounded under this storm of the lashes. But this is not everything. I want to form so many wounds in my body to make enough dwellings for all souls in the heaven of my humanity so as to form their salvation in myself, and then make them pass into the heaven of my divinity. My Father, let every lash of these scourgings make reparation before you, one by one, for every kind of sin. And as they strike me, let them excuse those who commit them. Let these lashes strike the hearts of creatures, speaking to them of my love, and so compel them to surrender to me.”

As you say this, your love is so intense that you almost encourage the torturers to beat you more. My torn and lacerated Jesus, your love overwhelms me and makes me feel like I am going crazy. Although your love is not tired, the executioners don't have the strength to continue the painful butchery. Now they cut the ropes; and almost dead, you fall in your own blood. Seeing the shreds of your flesh, you feel yourself die for the pain of seeing the condemned souls torn from you in those bits of flesh. The pain is so intense that you are gasping in your own blood, and seeing your flesh being lacerated you feels like dying of sorrow and in those pieces of flesh you see the souls who tear themselves away from your humanity. This suffering is so deep that you seem to drown in your own blood.

My Jesus, let me take you in my arms to restore you some with my love. I kiss you, and with my kiss I enclose all souls in you so that no others will be lost. Meanwhile, you bless me.

Reflections and Practices.

At this time, Jesus is stripped naked and subjected to cruel beating. But am I stripped of everything? Jesus is bound to a column. Do I allow myself to be bound by Love? Jesus is bound to a column, while I, with my sins and attachments—sometimes even in matters that are indifferent or good in themselves—add my own ropes as though I were unsatisfied with the ropes the Jews used to bind Him. Meanwhile, with his merciful gaze, Jesus calls me to remove his bonds.

 

Do I not see in that gaze another reproach intended for me for having helped to bind Him? If I am to relieve afflicted Jesus, I must remove my own chains before removing the chains of others. These little chains are frequently seen in my small attachments to my own will, to my self¬love that is often offended, to my small vanities that weave a subtle web, sorrowfully binding my beloved Jesus. Overwhelmed by Love for my soul, Jesus Himself sometimes wishes to remove my chains so that I will not make Him endure this sorrowful enchainment once more.

Ah, I complain because I do not want to be bound alone with Jesus, I want to keep something that is not His, and so I force Him mournfully to withdraw from me. As my tormented Jesus suffers, He offers reparation for all sins against modesty.

Am I pure in my thoughts, glances, words, and affections, so that I do not inflict more blows on that innocent Body? Am I always bound to Jesus, in such a way that I find myself ready to defend Him whenever others strike Him with their offenses?

My enchained Jesus, may your chains be mine—so that I always feel You in me and You always feel me in You.

Prayer of Thanksgiving


From 9 a.m. to 10 a.m.
Jesus is crowned with thorns.

Prayer of Preparation

My Jesus, infinite love, the more I look at you the more I realize how much you suffer. You are lacerated all over; there is no sound part left in you. You torturers are enraged to see that despite all your pains you look at them with so much love. Your loving gaze forms a sweet enchantment, almost like so many voices that are praying and begging for more pains and new pains. So, these torturers—not only because they are inhuman, but forced as well by your love—get you to your feet. But, being unable to stand, you fall again in your own blood. Angered by this, with kicks and shoves, they make you reach the place where they will crown you with thorns. My love, if you don't sustain me with your look of love, I won't be able to continue to see you suffer.

I can already feel my bones shuddering. My heart is pounding. I feel I am dying. Jesus, Jesus, help me! My gentle Jesus says to me:

“My child, take courage. Do not lose anything of all that I have suffered. Be attentive to my teachings. I must completely make man over. Sin has taken away his crown, and has crowned him with such disgrace and confusion that he cannot come before my majesty. Sin has dishonored him, making him lose every right to honor and glory. So, in order to put the crown back on the forehead of man and give back to him all rights to every honor and glory, I want to be crowned with thorns. Before my Father, my thorns will be reparations and voices of forgiveness for so many sins of thought, especially those of pride, and voices of light to every created mind and of entreaty that they not offend me. So, join with me, and pray and make reparation together with me.”

Crowned Jesus, your pitiless enemies make you sit down, and they put a purple rag on you. They take the crown of thorns and with infernal fury put on your adorable head. Then, beating it with a stick they make it penetrate into your forehead; and part of the thorns go into your eyes, your ears, your head and even the back of your neck. My love, what agony! What unspeakable pains! How many cruel deaths you suffer! So much blood is already running down your face that nothing but blood can be seen. But under those thorns and blood I can see your most holy face radiant with gentleness, peace and love.

Wanting to complete the tragedy, your torturers blindfold you, put a reed in your hand as a scepter and begin their jests. They greet you, saying, “King of the Jews!” They hit the crown, they slap you and say, “Guess who struck you!” Your response is to remain silent, and to make reparation for the ambition of those who aspire to kingdoms, dignities and honors; for those who, finding themselves in such positions, by their wrongdoing cause the ruin of the peoples and of the souls entrusted to them; and for those whose bad example lead others into evil and cause the loss of souls.

With this reed you are holding in your hand, you make reparation for so many good works which are empty of interior spirit and are even done with evil intentions. In the insults you receive, you make reparation for those who ridicule the most sacred things, discrediting them and profaning them.

With the blindfold you have on, you make reparation for those who blindfold the eyes of their intelligence so they won't see the light of the truth. At the same time, you obtain for us the grace to remove the blindfolds of passions, riches and pleasures. My king, Jesus, your enemies continue to insult you. There is so much blood flowing from your most holy head that, entering even into your mouth, it keeps you from letting me hear your gentle voice clearly, and so I can't do what you are doing. Therefore, I come into your arms. I want to support your pierced and suffering head; and I want to put my head under those thorns to feel their punctures. As I am saying this, my Jesus calls me with his look of love—and I run. I cling to his heart, and do my best to support his head.

Oh! How wonderful it is to be with Jesus, even in the midst of a thousand torments! He says to me:

“My child, these thorns say that I want to be made king of every heart. All dominion is mine by right. Take these thorns, pierce your heart and make everything go out of it that does not belong to me. Leave a thorn in your heart as the seal to show I am your king and to keep anything else from entering into you. Then, go around to all hearts, piercing them to drive out all the smoke of pride and rottenness which they contain, and make me king of everyone.”

My love, it makes my heart ache to leave you. So, I pray you to deafen my ears with your thorns so that I may only hear your voice. Cover my eyes with your thorns so that I can look at you alone. Fill my mouth with your thorns so that my tongue may be mute to all that could offend you, and free to praise and bless you in everything. O my king, Jesus, surround me with thorns; and may these thorns keep me, defend me and make me all intent on you.

Now I want to dry the blood on you and kiss you, because I see that your enemies are taking you to Pilate who will condemn you to death. My love, help me to continue along your sorrowful way, and bless me. My crowned Jesus, my poor heart, wounded by your love and pierced by your pains, cannot live without you. So I search for you, and I find you again before Pilate. What a moving spectacle I see! The heavens are horrified and hell trembles with fear and rage! Life of my heart, I cannot bear to see you like this without feeling myself die, but the driving force of your love compels me to look at you, to make me thoroughly understand your pains. Among tears and sighs I contemplate you. My Jesus, you are nude. Instead of clothes, I see you dressed in blood. Your flesh is torn, your bones are laid bare, your most holy face is unrecognizable. The thorns are fixed in your most holy head, and even reach into your eyes and your face. I see nothing but blood which runs to the ground, forming a pool around your feet.

My Jesus, I can't recognize you anymore! Oh, how you are reduced! Your state has reached the most profound excesses of humiliations and torments! No, I can't bear such a painful sight any longer! I feel myself dying! I would like to snatch you away from Pilate's presence and enclose you in my heart to give you rest. I would like to heal your wounds with my love. With your blood I would like to flood the world to enclose all souls in it and bring them to you as the conquest of your pains.

O patient Jesus, it seems as though you are trying to look at me through the thorns; and you say to me:

“My child, come into these tied arms of mine. Rest your head on my breast and you will see more intense and bitter pains, because those you see on the outside of my humanity are but the overflowing of my interior pains. Pay attention to the heartbeats of my heart and you will hear that I am making reparation for the injustices of those who command; for the oppression of the poor; for the putting of the innocent after the guilty; for the pride of those who, to keep high offices, positions and riches, do not hesitate to break any law and to wrong their neighbor, closing their eyes to the light of the truth.”

“With these thorns I want to shatter the haughty spirit of their domination. With the openings they form in my head, I want to make my way into their minds to reorder all things in them according to the light of the truth. By being humiliated like this, before this unjust judge, I want to make everyone understand that virtue alone is what makes man king of himself. And I teach those who are in command that virtue, together with right knowledge, is alone worthy and capable of governing and ruling others, while all other dignities, without virtue, are dangerous and should be rejected. My child, repeat my reparations, and continue to pay attention to my pains.”

My love, I see that Pilate shudders to see you so pitifully reduced; and deeply impressed, he exclaims:

“Is such cruelty possible in human hearts? No, this was not my intention when I condemned him to the scourging.”

Overwhelmed, Pilate turns his eyes away because he can't bear to see such a painful sight. Then, wanting to free you from the hands of your enemies, in order to find more solid grounds he questions you again:

 

“Tell me: What have you done? Your people have turned you over to me. Tell me: Are you king? What is your kingdom?”

O my Jesus, you give no answer to Pilate's storm of questions; and, enclosed in yourself, you turn your thoughts to saving my poor soul at the cost of so many pains. Seeing that you don't answer him, Pilate adds:

“Don't you realize that it is in my power to free you or to condemn you?”

O my love, wanting to make the light of the truth shine in Pilate's mind, you answer:

“You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above. But those who have turned me over to you have committed a sin graver than yours .”

Then, moved by the gentleness of your voice, irresolute as he is, with his heart in a turmoil, Pilate decides to show you from the terrace, thinking that the hearts of the Jews are more compassionate, hoping that they will be moved to compassion to see you so lacerated. My suffering Jesus, my heart aches as I watch you following Pilate. You can hardly walk, curved under that horrible crown of thorns. Blood marks your steps. As you go outside you hear the riotous crown that is anxiously waiting for you to be condemned. Pilate imposes silence to get everyone's attention so he can be heard. With repugnance he takes the two edges of the purple rag that is covering your chest and your back, lifts them up to show everyone how you are reduced, and in a loud voice, says:

“Ecce homo!” Look at him: he no longer has the appearance of a man. Observe his wounds: he is unrecognizable. If he has done wrong, he has already suffered enough, even too much. I already regret having made him suffer like this. So, let us free him!”

Jesus, my love, let me hold you up, because I see that you are wavering, unable to stand under the weight of so many pains.

Now, in this solemn moment, your fate is decided. At Pilate's words a profound silence is heard in heaven, on earth and in hell. And then, as if they had a single voice, I hear everyone shout:

“Crucify him! Crucify him! At any cost we want him dead!”

Jesus, my life, I see you tremble. The cry of death descends into your heart. And in these voices you perceive the voice of your dear Father, who says:

“My Son, I want you dead, and dead by crucifixion!”

Yes, you hear the voice of your dear mother as well, who, though transfixed and desolate, echoes the voice of your dear Father:

“Son, I want you dead!”

The angels, the saints, hell, everyone in a unanimous voice shouts:

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

So, there is no one who wants you alive. And oh, oh, to my greatest shame, pain and horror, I too feel compelled by a supreme force to cry:

“Crucify him!”

My Jesus, forgive me if I too, a miserable sinful soul, want you dead. But I pray you to make me die together with you. Meanwhile, O my anguished Jesus, moved by my pain, you seem to say to me:

“My child, press yourself to my heart and share in my pains and reparations. The moment is solemn. It must be decided: either my death, or the death of all creatures. In this moment two currents are poured into my heart. In one there are the souls, who, if they want me dead, it is because they want to find life in me. And so, by accepting death for them, they are absolved from eternal condemnation; and the gates of heaven are opened to receive them.

In the other current are those who want me dead out of hatred, and in confirmation of their condemnation. My heart is lacerated and feels the death of each of them, and the very pains of hell! My heart cannot bear these bitter pains. I feel death at every heartbeat and at every breath. And I repeat: Why will so much blood be shed in vain? Why will my pains be useless for many? Please help me, my child, because I can't take it any longer. Share my pains, and let your life be a continuous offering to save souls, to make such excruciating pains less painful for me.”

My heart, Jesus, your pains are mine, and I repeat your reparations. I see that Pilate is astonished, and he hurries to say:

“What? Must I crucify your king? I don't find any fault in him to condemn him!”

But the Jews shout, deafening the air:

“We have no king but Caesar; and if you don't condemn him you are no friend of Caesar. Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Not knowing what else to do, for fear of being removed from power, Pilate has a wash basin brought to him, washes his hands, and says:

“I am innocent of the blood of this just man.”

And he condemns you to death.

But the Jews cry out:

“His blood be upon us and upon our children!”

Then, seeing you condemned to death, they make merry, clap their hands, whistle and shout. Meanwhile, O Jesus, you make reparation for those who, finding themselves in high positions, for vain fear and to avoid losing their positions, break the most sacred laws, not caring about the ruin of entire peoples, favoring the wrongdoer and condemning the innocent. You also make reparation for those who, after sinning, instigate the divine wrath to punish them.

But as you are making reparation for these things, your heart bleeds for the pain of seeing the people chosen by you struck by the curse of heaven, which they themselves with full will have wanted, sealing it with your blood which they have called down upon themselves. Yes, your heart is fainting! Let me sustain it in my hands by making your reparations and pains mine. Now your love drives you still higher, and you are already impatiently seeking the cross!

My Life, I will follow You, but for now rest in my arms; then, we will reach Mount Calvary together. Therefore, remain in me, and bless me.

Reflections and Practices.

Crowning Him with thorns, they treat Jesus like a buffoon king, hurling insults and inflicting untold pains upon Him. He makes reparation especially for sins of pride. Do I allow feelings of pride to seep into me? Do I take credit for the good that I do? Do I believe that I am better than others? Is my mind always empty of other thoughts, so that grace may form in me? Often we do not allow grace to form because our mind is chock¬full of other thoughts, and when our mind is not wholly filled with God, we are ourselves the cause of the devil’s harassment, as if indeed we encouraged his temptations. But a mind filled with God he leaves befuddled, because holy thoughts form a strong bulwark against the devil. When he makes his approach, it’s as if many swords wounded him, and so the devil is afraid of drawing near, wanting to avoid sharp pains.

I am wrong, therefore, to complain when my mind is troubled and tempted by the enemy, for it is my weak guard (because I am not occupied with Jesus) that drives the enemy to attack me, as if he spied on my mind to find small empty spaces where he could attack me. And yet, instead of succoring Jesus with holy thoughts and almost wanting to break his thorns, I, ungrateful that I am, drive them even further into his head and make him feel their sharp stings even more, so that grace is frustrated because it cannot accomplish in my mind the work of holy inspiration. Sometimes, I do even worse: when I feel the weight of temptations, instead of bringing them to Jesus, making a bundle out of them and burning them at the feet of his love, I grow worried, I become sad, and even calculate my temptations.

Therefore, not only is my poor mind filled with bad thoughts, but all my wretched being is as it were, soaked in them, and I almost need a miracle from Jesus to extricate myself. And Jesus, looking through those thorns, glances at me and, calling to me, says: Ah, my daughter, you yourself refuse to stay close to Me. Had you come to Me right away, I would have helped you free yourself from the troubles that the enemy brought into your mind. Instead, you left Me pining for your return; and since I wanted your help to free Me from these sharp thorns, in vain did I wait, while you were busy in the work that your enemy had prepared for you.

O you would have been tempted much less had you come right away into my arms, so that fearing Me, not you, the enemy would have left immediately! My Jesus, may your thorns be like a seal to my thoughts, which, sealing them in your mind, prevent anything to enter unless it breaks up your thorns. When Jesus makes Himself felt in my mind and my heart, do I answer his inspiration, or do I let it fall into oblivion? Jesus is treated like a buffoon king: do I respect all that is holy? Do I use all the reverence that is appropriate, as if I were touching Jesus Christ Himself?

My crowned Jesus, may I feel your thorns so that from your wounds I may understand how much You suffer, and may You become king of all of me. Displayed on the terrace, Jesus is sentenced to death by the people that He most loved and assisted.

To give me my life, my loving Jesus accepted death on my behalf; am I ready to accept any pain to keep pain and insults away from my Jesus? For Jesus not to suffer, we must accept our sentence; and because Jesus in his Humanity suffered sufficiently, we ought to continue his life on earth, and compensate with our suffering for the Humanity of Jesus Christ.

What compassion do I have for the affliction Jesus suffered on seeing so many souls torn from his Heart? Do I make his pains my own to refresh Him in all that He suffers? The Jews want Jesus crucified so that He will die disgracefully and so as to erase his Name from the face of the earth. Do I strive to make Jesus live on earth? With my acts, with my example, with my steps, I ought to leave a divine impression on the world to make Jesus recognized by everyone. With my works, I ought to produce a divine echo of his life from one end of the earth to the other. Am I ready to give up my life so that beloved Jesus may be refreshed from all the offenses He receives? Or do I imitate the Jews—the people so favored by God who almost resemble my poor soul so loved by God—who cried out, “Let Him be crucified!”?

 

My condemned Jesus, may your condemnation, which I accept for love of You, be mine. I do through my soul what I cannot do through nature: I continually pour myself into You, to carry You into the hearts of all creatures, to make You known to everyone, and to give your Life to all.

Prayer of Thanksgiving


From 10 a.m. to 11 a.m.
Jesus takes up the Cross and walks toward Calvary,
where He is stripped.

Prayer of Preparation

My Jesus, unquenchable love, I see you take no rest. I hear your ravings of love and your pains. Your heart is pounding; and in every beat I hear bursts, tortures and violences of love. Unable to contain the fire that is devouring you, you become anxious, you groan, you sigh. And in every groan I hear you say, Cross! Each drop of your blood repeats, Cross! You are swimming in the endless sea of all your pains which repeat among themselves, Cross! And you exclaim:

“O beloved and longed¬for cross, you alone will save my children; and in you I concentrate all my love.”

Meanwhile, your enemies make you enter the praetorium again. Wanting to put your garments back on you, they remove the purple mantle. But, oh, what pain! It would be sweeter for me to die than to see you suffer so! The garment snags on the crown and they can't remove it. So, with cruelty never before seen, they tear off together both the clothing and the crown. At the cruel pull many thorns break and remain fixed in your most holy head. Blood runs down in little streams, and the pain is so intense that you groan. But not caring about your torments, your enemies put your garment back on you. Again they put the crown on you; and pressing it deep into your head, the thorns enter your eyes and your ears, such that there is no part of your most holy head which does not feel their punctures. The pain is so intense that you stagger under those cruel hands, and you tremble from head to foot. Among atrocious spasm you are about to die. Your eyes being weak and filled with blood, you can hardly look at me to ask my help in so much pain.

My Jesus, king of sorrows, let me hold you up and press you to my heart. I would like to take the fire that is devouring you to reduce your enemies to ashes and so free you. But you don't want this, because your longings for the cross are increasing, and you want to immolate yourself on it at once, even for your very enemies! As I press you to my heart, you press me to your, and say to me:

“My child, let me vent my love. Together with me, make reparation for those who dishonor me in the good they do. These Jews dress me in my garments in order to further discredit me before the people and to convince them that I am a criminal. The act of dressing me apparently was good, but in itself it was evil. Yes, how many do good works, administer sacraments and receive them with human and even evil purposes. But to do good in a malicious way hardens the person. And I want to be crowned a second time, with pains more biting than the first, to break this hardness, and so with my thorns, draw them to me. Yes, my child, this second crowning is much more painful for me. I feel my head, as it were, swimming in thorns; and at every movement I make or shove they give me, I suffer so many cruel deaths. With this, I make reparation for the malice of sins; I make reparation for those who, regardless of the state of soul they are in, instead of occupying themselves with their own sanctification, dissipate themselves and reject my grace, thus giving me thorns all over again, which are even more biting. Meanwhile, I am forced to groan, to weep with tears of blood and to long for their salvation. O I do everything to love them and creatures do everything to offend Me! Yes, I do everything to love them, and creatures do everything to offend me! At least you be one who does not leave me alone, to suffer and make reparations by myself.”

My tortured Jesus, I make reparation and suffer with you. I see that your enemies push you down the steps, while the mob is waiting for you with fury and eagerness. They have you find the cross already prepared, which you are seeking with great longing. You look at it with love, and go straight to it, to embrace it. But first you kiss it; and as a shiver of joy surges through your most holy humanity, you look at it with the utmost contentment, measuring its length and width. You now establish the portion in it for each creature. You endow them with sufficient cross in order to bind them to the divinity with a nuptial bond and make them heirs of the kingdom of heaven. Then, unable to contain the love with which you love them, you kiss the cross again, and say to it:

“Adorable cross, I embrace you at last! You were the longing of my heart, the martyrdom of my love. You, O cross, lingered until now, while my steps were always directed toward you. Holy cross, you were the goal of my desires, the purpose of my existence here below. In you I concentrate my whole being; in you I place all my children. You will be their life and their light, their defense, their guard and their strength. You will come to their assistance in everything and will bring them to me glorious, in heaven. O cross, seat of wisdom, you alone will teach true holiness; you alone will form heroes, athletes, martyrs and saints. Beautiful cross, you are my throne; and having to depart from the earth myself, you will remain in my place. I give all souls to you as your dowry. Keep them for me, save them for me; I entrust them to you.”

With this, you anxiously receive the cross on your most holy shoulders. Yes, my Jesus, for your love it is too light; but to the weight of the cross there is added that of our sins, enormous and immense as the expanse of the heavens. My overwhelmed Jesus, you feel crushed under the weight of so many sins. Your soul is horrified by their sight, and you feel the pain of each sin. In the face of so much ugliness, your holiness is shaken. Therefore, as you take the cross on your shoulders, you stagger, you gasp; and a mortal sweat trickles from your most sacred humanity. No, my love, I don't have the heart to leave you alone. I want to share the weight of the cross with you. To relieve you of the weight of sins, I embrace your feet. In the name of all creatures I want to give you love for those who do not love you; praise for those who despise you; blessings, thanksgiving and obedience for everyone. I promise that in any offense you receive, I intend to offer you my whole being to make reparation to you, to do the act contrary to the offense creatures commit against you and to console you with my kisses and continual acts of love.

But I see I am too miserable. I need you in order to truly make reparation to you. So, I unite myself to your most holy humanity. Together with you, I join my thoughts to yours to make reparation for my evil thoughts and those of everyone. I join my eyes to yours to make reparation for evil glances. I join my mouth to yours to make reparation for blasphemies and evil discourses. I join my heart to yours to make reparation for evil tendencies, desires and affections. In a word, I want to make reparation for all that your most holy humanity does, by uniting myself to the immensity of your love for everyone and to the immense good that you do to everyone.

But I am not yet content. I want to unite myself to your Divinity, and I dissolve my nothingness in It, and in this way I give You everything. I give You your Love to quench your bitternesses; I give You your Heart to relieve You from our coldness, lack of correspondence, ingratitude, and the little love of the creatures. I give You your Harmonies to cheer your hearing from the deafening blasphemies it receives. I give You your Beauty to relieve You from the ugliness of our souls, when we muddy ourselves in sin. I give You your Purity to relieve You from the lack of righteous intention, and from the mud and rot You see in many souls. I give You your Immensity to relieve You from the voluntary constraints into which souls put themselves. I give You your Ardor to burn all sins and all hearts, so that all may love You, and no one may offend You, ever again. In sum, I give You all that You are, to give You infinite satisfaction, eternal, immense and infinite love.

 

The Painful Way to Calvary

My most patient Jesus, I see you are taking your first steps under the enormous weight of the cross. I join my steps to yours. When you are weak, bleeding, staggering and about to fall, I will be by your side to raise you up. I will put my shoulders under the cross to share its weight with you. Do not turn me away, but accept me for your faithful companion. O Jesus, you look at me; and I see that you are making reparation for those who do not carry their own cross with resignation, who instead curse, become angry, commit homicides and suicide. And with your entreaties you obtain love and resignation for everyone, for their own cross. The pain is so intense that you feel as if your were being crushed under the cross. You have taken but the first steps, and already you fall under it. As you fall you hit against the rocks. The thorns are driven deeper into your head, while your pains are sharpened and all your wounds let more blood. And since you don't have the strength to get up, your enemies become angry and try to get you to your feet with kicks and shoves.

My fallen love, let me help you to your feet, kiss you, wipe away the blood, and together with you make reparation for those who sin out of ignorance, frailty and weakness. And I pray you to give help to these souls. My life, Jesus, with unspeakable torments, your enemies manage to bring you to your feet. As you stagger on, I hear your labored breath. Your heart pounds harder, and new intense pains transfix it. Now you shake your head to free your eyes of the blood that fills them, and anxiously look. Yes, my Jesus, now I understand perfectly: It is your mother, who, like a mournful dove is searching for you. She wants to say a last word to you and receive one last look from you. You feel her pains, and her heart lacerated in yours and moved to compassion and wounded by her love and yours. Now you see her making her way through the mob. At any cost she wants to see you, embrace you and give you her last goodbye.

But you are more transfixed to see her deathly paleness and all your pains reproduced in her by force of love. If she lives it is only by a miracle of your almighty power. Now you are directing your steps toward her, but you can hardly look at each other. Oh, what a rent to the heart of both! The soldiers become aware, and with knocks and shoves keep mother and son from saying goodbye. The anguish of both is so immense that your mother is petrified by the sorrow, and is about to faint, while you again fall under the cross. Faithful John and the pious women hold her up. Then, what your sorrowful mother does not do bodily because she can't, she does with her soul. She enters into you, making the Will of the Eternal One her own; and associating herself with all your pains, she mothers you, kisses you, makes reparation, soothes you, and pours the ointment of her sorrowful love on all your wounds.

My suffering Jesus, I too join with your transfixed mother. I make all your pains mine. I want to mother you in every drop of your blood and in every wound. Together with you and with her I want to make reparation for all the dangerous encounters and for those who expose themselves to the occasions of sin, or being constrained by the necessity to expose themselves, become entangled in sin. Meanwhile, fallen under the cross, you moan.

The soldiers are afraid you may die under the weight of so many martyrdoms and for the shedding of so much blood. So, by means of lashes and kicks they manage to get you to your feet. With this, you make reparation for the repeated falls into sin and for the grave sins committed by every class of person; and you pray for obstinate sinners, weeping tears of blood for their conversion. My exhausted love, while I am following you in your reparations, I see you cannot bear the enormous weight of the cross any longer. You are now trembling from head to foot. With the continual knocks you receive, the thorns penetrate ever deeper into your most sacred head. The heavy weight of the cross makes it sink deeper into your shoulder, forming a wound so deep that the bones are laid bare. It seems to me that you die at each step, and so it is impossible for you to go on.

But your love, which can do everything, gives you strength. As you feel the cross sinking into your shoulder you make reparation for hidden sins, which, not having been satisfied for, increase the bitterness of your torments. My Jesus, let me put my shoulder under the cross to relieve you and to make reparation with you for all hidden sins. Fearing that you may die under the cross, your enemies force the Cyrenian to help you carry it. Unwilling and grumbling, he helps you, not out of love but by force. Then, in your heart there echo all the complaints of those who suffer, the lack of resignation, the rebellions, the anger and the contempt in suffering. But you are transfixed much more to see that the souls consecrated to you, whom you call as companions and help in your suffering, escape from you. If you draw them to yourself through suffering, unfortunately they free themselves from your arms to go in search of pleasures, leaving you like this, to suffer alone. My Jesus, while I am making reparation with you, I pray you to clasp me so tightly in your arms that there won't be any pain you suffer which I do not share with you, to transform myself into them, and to compensate you for the abandonment of all creatures.

My exhausted Jesus, you can hardly walk, and you are bent low. I see that you stop, and try to look. My heart, what is it? What do you want? Yes, it is Veronica, who, fearing nothing, courageously wipes your blood-covered face with a cloth, while you leave your impression on it as a sign of gratitude. My generous Jesus, I too want to dry you, not with a cloth, but by offering my whole being to relieve you. O Jesus, I want to enter into your interior and give you heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath, affection for affection, desire for desire. I intend to cast myself into your most holy intelligence. And making all these heartbeats, breaths, affections and desires flow in the immensity of your Will, I intend to multiply them to the infinite. O my Jesus, I want to form waves of heartbeats so that no evil heartbeat will echo in your heart, and in this way soothe all your interior bitternesses. I intend to form waves of affections and of desires to drive away all the evil affections and desires that could sadden your heart in the least. Furthermore, I intend to form waves of breaths and of thoughts to drive away any breath or thought that could displease you in the least. I will be on guard, O Jesus, so that nothing else may afflict You, adding more bitterness to your interior pains.

O my Jesus, please, let all of my interior swim in the immensity of yours; in this way I will be able to find enough love and will, so that no evil love may enter your interior, nor a will which may displease You. O my Jesus, to be more certain, I pray You to seal my thoughts with Yours, my will with Yours, my desires with Yours, my affections and heartbeats with Yours; so that, being sealed, they may take no life but from You. I ask You, again, O my Jesus, to accept my poor body which I would want to tear to shreds for love of You, and reduce it to tiny little pieces, to place over each one of your wounds. On that wound, O Jesus, which gives You pain from so many blasphemies, I place a little piece of my body, wanting it to say to You constantly: “I bless You”. On that wound that gives You so much pain from the many ingratitudes, I intend, O Jesus, to place a portion of my body, to prove my gratitude to You. On that wound, O Jesus, which makes You suffer so much from coldness and lack of love, I intend to place many little bits of my flesh, to say to You constantly: “I love You, I love You, I love You!” On that wound which gives You so much pain from the so many irreverences to your Most Holy Person, I intend to place a piece of myself, to tell You always: “I adore You, I adore You, I adore You!” O my Jesus, I want to diffuse myself in everything, and in those wounds embittered by the many misbelieves, I desire that the shreds of my body tell You, always: “I believe I believe in You, O my Jesus, my God, and in your Holy Church, and I intend to give my life to prove my Faith to You!” O my Jesus, I plunge myself into the immensity of your Will, and making It my own, I want to compensate for all, and enclose the souls of all in the power of your Most Holy Will.

O Jesus, I still have my blood left, which I want to pour over your wounds as balm and soothing liniment, in order to relieve You and heal You completely. Again, I intend, O Jesus, to make my thoughts flow in the heart of every sinner, to reprimand him continuously, that he may not dare to offend You. And I pray to You with the voice of your Blood, so that all may surrender to my poor prayers. In this way I will be able to bring them into your Heart! Another grace, O my Jesus, I ask of You: that in everything I see, touch and hear, I may see, touch and hear always You; and that your Most Holy Image and your Most Holy Name, always be impressed in every particle of my poor being.

Meanwhile, your enemies look with contempt at Veronica's deed, and they whip you, shove you and make you move on. A few more steps, and you stop again. your love does not stop under the weight of so many pains. seeing the pious women weeping over your pains, you forget yourself and console them with these words:

“Daughters, do not weep over my pains, but over your sins and over your children.”

 

What a sublime lesson! How gentle is your word! O Jesus, I make reparation with you for the lacks of charity, and I ask you for the grace of making me forget myself so that I will remember nothing but you alone. Hearing you speak, your enemies go into a rage. They jerk you with the ropes and angrily shove you, so you fall. As you fall you strike against the rocks. The weight of the cross torments you, and you feel yourself dying. Let me hold you up and protect your most holy face with my hands. I see you on the ground, gasping in your blood. Your enemies want to get you on your feet: They pull you with the ropes, they raise you up by the hair, they kick you—but all in vain. You are dying, my Jesus. What grief! My heart breaks for the sorrow.

Practically dragging you, they bring you to Mount Calvary. While they are dragging you I perceive that you are making reparation for all the sins of the souls consecrated to you, who weigh you down so heavily, that, in spite of all your efforts to get up, you can't. And so, dragged and trampled, you reach Calvary, leaving red traces of your precious blood wherever you pass. New sufferings are waiting for you here. They strip you again, tearing off your garments and the crown of thorns. Yes, you groan as you feel the thorns being torn from your head. As they tear off your clothes they rip off the lacerated flesh stuck to them as well. The wounds are torn open; blood flows in little streams to the ground, and the pain is so intense that, almost dead, you fall. But no one is moved to compassion for you, my Jesus. On the contrary, with the fury of wild beasts, they again put the crown of thorns on you and drive it onto your head. You are so tormented by the lacerations and by the tearing of your hair, all stuck together in the dried blood, that only the angels could say what you suffer, while horrified, they turn away their heavenly gazes and weep. My stripped Jesus, let me press you to my heart to warm you, for I see you are trembling, and that a cold mortal sweat spreads over your most holy humanity. How I would like to give my life and my blood to substitute yours, which you have lost to give me life!

Meanwhile, looking at me with his fading and dying eyes, Jesus seems to say to me:

“My child, how much souls cost me! Here is the place where I am waiting for everyone in order to save them. This is the place where I want to make reparation for the sins of those who go so far as to degrade themselves below the beasts, and who persist so much in offending me that they even reach the point of not being able to live without committing sins. Their reason is blinded and they sin madly. This is why they crown me with thorns for the third time. And by being stripped, I am making reparation for those who wear luxurious or indecent dress; for the sins committed against modesty; and for those who are so bound to riches, honors and pleasure that they make a god of them for their hearts. Oh, yes, each of these offenses is a death I feel, and if I do not die it is because the Will of my eternal Father has not yet decreed the moment of my death.”

My stripped Jesus, while I am making reparation with you, I pray you to strip me of everything with your most holy hands, and not to permit any evil affections to enter my heart. Keep watch over it for me, surround it with your pains and fill it with your love. May my life be none other than the repetition of your life; and confirm my dispossession with your blessing. Bless me from the heart, and give me the strength to assist at your sorrowful crucifixion, to remain crucified together with you.

Reflections and Practices.

Jesus’ love for the Cross and his eager desire to die on it to save souls were immense! But do I love suffering like Jesus? Can I say that my heartbeats form the echo of his divine heartbeats and that I too ask for the Cross? When I suffer, do I have the intention of keeping Jesus company and of lightening the burden of his Cross? How do I accompany Him? With respect to the insults He receives, am I ready to offer Him a hand to lift Him up, and give Him my small sufferings to ease his pain? Are my eyes always fixed on Jesus, that I may wipe his mortal sweat and the Blood pouring from his Wounds, like an inseparable companion who never leaves Him? As I work, pray, and experience the weight of the intense pain and adversity of my suffering, do I allow my suffering to soar to Jesus to refresh Him like a veil wiping away his sweat? Do I make his difficulties my own?

O my Jesus, always call me to be at your side, and grant that You may always remain by me, walking with me through the whole sad pilgrimage of this life. Soar with me up the holy mountain of your Will—for You want me to reach it— and there we shall rest together. Grant that my pains and Yours may always merge—so that we hold each other—as I continuously wipe the Blood that pours from your most holy Wounds.

Prayer of Thanksgiving