From The Poem of the Man-God (also known as The Gospel as Revealed to Me):
[Webmaster: The word "Creature" is used below because human language has no better word for the sacred humanity of Jesus, who is One Divine Person with two natures: one divine and one human. How can human language contain the mystery of the Incarnation?]
29. The birth of Jesus. The divine maternity
of Mary: redemption of Eve’s sin.
6th June 1944.
I still see the inside of the poor stony shelter, where Mary and
Joseph have found refuge, sharing the lot of some animals.
The little fire is dozing together with its guardian. Mary lifts
Her head slowly from Her bed and looks around. She sees that
Joseph’s head is bowed over his chest, as if he were meditating,
and She thinks that his good intention to remain awake has
been overcome by tiredness. She smiles lovingly and making less
noise than a butterfly alighting on a rose, She sits up and then
goes on Her knees. She prays with a blissful smile on Her face.
She prays with Her arms stretched out, almost in the shape of a
cross, with the palms of Her hands facing up and forward, and
She never seems to tire in that position. She then prostrates Her
self with Her face on the hay, in an even more ardent prayer. A
long prayer.
Joseph stirs. He notices that the fire is almost out and the stable
almost dark. He throws a handful of very slender heath on
to the fire and the flames are revived, he then adds some thicker
twigs and finally some sticks, because the cold is really biting:
the cold of a serene winter night that comes into the ruins from
everywhere. Poor Joseph must be frozen sitting as he is near the
door, if we can call a door the hole where Joseph’s mantle serves
as a curtain, He warms his hands near the fire, then He takes his
sandals off and warms his feet. When the fire is blazing gaily
and its light is steady, he turns around. But he does not see any
thing, not even Mary’s white veil that formed a clear line on the
dark hay. He gets up and slowly moves towards Her pallet.
«Are You not sleeping, Mary? » he asks.
He asks Her three times until She turns round and replies: «I
am praying. »
«Is there anything you need? »
«No, Joseph. »
«Try and sleep a little. At least try and rest. »
«I will try. But I don’t get tired praying. »
«God be with You, Mary. »
«And with you, Joseph. »
Mary resumes Her position. Joseph to avoid falling asleep,
goes on his knees near the fire and prays. He prays with his hands
pressed against his face. He removes them now and again to feed
the fire and then he resumes his ardent prayer. Apart from the
noise of the crackling sticks and the noise made now and again
by the donkey stamping its hooves on the ground, no other sound
is heard.
A thin ray of moonlight creeps in through a crack in the vault
and it seems like a blade of unearthly silver looking for Mary. It
stretches in length as the moon climbs higher in the sky and at
last reaches Her. It is now on Her head, where it forms a halo of
pure light.
Mary lifts Her head, as if She had a celestial call, and She gets
up and goes onto Her knees again. Oh! How beautiful it is here
now! She raises Her head, and Her face shines in the white moon
light and becomes transfigured by a supernatural smile. What
does She see? What does She hear? What does She feel? She is the
only one who can tell what She saw, heard and felt in the refulgent
hour of Her Maternity. I can only see that the light around
Her is increasing more and more. It seems to come down from
Heaven, to arise from the poor things around Her, above all it
seems to originate from Herself.
Her deep blue dress now seems of a pale myosotis blue, and
Her hands and face are becoming clear blue as if they were placed
under the glare of a huge pale sapphire. This hue is spreading
more and more on the things around Her, it covers them, purifies
them and brightens everything. It reminds me, although it
is somewhat softer, of the hue I see in the vision of holy Paradise,
and also of the colour I saw in the visit of the Wise Men.
The light is given off more and more intensely from Mary’s
body, it absorbs the moonlight. She seems to be drawing to Her
self all the light that can descend from Heaven. She is now the
Depositary of the Light. She is to give this Light to the world.
And this blissful, uncontainable, immeasurable, eternal, divine
Light which is about to be given, is heralded by a dawn, a morn
ing star, a chorus of atoms of Light that increase continuously
like a tide, and rise more and more like incense, and descend like
a large stream and stretch out like veils...
The vault, full of crevices, of cobwebs, of protruding rubble
balanced by a miracle of physics, the dark, smoky repellant
vault, now seems like the ceiling of a royal hall. Each boulder is a
block of silver, each crack an opal flash, each cobweb a most precious
canopy interwoven with silver and diamonds. A huge green
lizard, hibernating between two stones, seems like an emerald
jewel forgotten there by a queen: and a bunch of hibernating bats
is like a precious onyx chandelier. The hay from the upper man
ger is no longer grass blades: it is pure silver wires quivering in
the air with the grace of loose hair.
The dark wood of the lower manger is a block of burnished
silver. The walls are covered with a brocade in which the white
silk disappears under the pearly embroidery of the relief, and the
soil... what is the soil now? It is a crystal lit up by a white light. Its
protrusions are like roses thrown in homage of the soil; the holes
are precious cups from which perfumes and scents are to arise.
And the light increases more and more. It is now unbearable
to the eye. And the Virgin disappears in so much light, as if She
had been absorbed by an incandescent curtain... and the Mother
emerges.
Yes. When the light becomes endurable once again to my eyes,
I see Mary with the new-born Son in Her arms. A little Baby, rosy
and plump, bustling with His little hands as big as rose buds and
kicking with His tiny feet that could be contained in the hollow
of the heart of a rose: and is crying with a thin trembling voice,
just like a new-born little lamb, opening His pretty little mouth
that resembles a wild strawberry, and showing a tiny tongue that
trembles against the rosy roof of His mouth. And He moves His
little head that is so blond that it seems without any hair, a little
round head that His Mummy holds in the hollow of Her hand,
while She looks at Her Baby and adores Him weeping and smiling
at the same time, and She bends down to kiss Him not on His
innocent head, but on the centre of His chest, where underneath
there is His little heart beating for us... where one day there will
be the Wound. And His Mother is doctoring that wound in advance,
with Her immaculate kiss.
The ox, woken up by the dazzling light, gets up with a great
noise of hooves and bellows, the donkey turns its head round and
brays. It is the light that rouses them but I love to think that they
wanted to greet their Creator, both for themselves and on behalf
of all the animals.
Also Joseph, who almost enraptured, was praying so ardently
as to be isolated from what was around him, now rouses and
he sees a strange light filter through the fingers of his hands
pressed against his face. He removes his hands, lifts his head and
turns round. The ox, standing as it is, hides Mary. But She calls
him: «Joseph, come. »
Joseph rushes. And when he sees, he stops, struck by reverence,
and he is about to fall on his knees where he is. But Mary
insists: «Come, Joseph» and She leans on the hay with Her left
hand and, holding the Child close to Her heart with Her right
one, She gets up and moves towards Joseph, who is walking embar-
rassed, because of a conflict in him between his desire to go
and his fear of being irreverent.
They meet at the foot of the straw bed and they look at each
other, weeping blissfully.
«Come, let us offer Jesus to the Father,» says Mary. And while
Joseph kneels down, She stands up between two trunks supporting
the vault, She lifts up Her “Creature” in Her arms and says:
«Here I am. On His behalf, O God, I speak these words to You:
here I am to do Your will. And I, Mary, and My spouse, Joseph,
with Him. Here are Your servants, O Lord. May Your will always
be done by us, in every hour, in every event, for Your glory and
Your love. »
Then Mary bends down and says: «Here, Joseph, take Him»,
and offers him the Child.
«What! I?... Me?... Oh, no! I am not worthy! » Joseph is utterly
dumbfounded at the idea of having to touch God.
But Mary insists smiling: «You are well worthy. No one is
more worthy than you are, and that is why the Most High chose
you. Take Him, Joseph, and hold Him while I look for the linen.»
Joseph, blushing almost purple, stretches his arms out and
takes the Baby, Who is screaming because of the cold and when
he has Him in his arms, he no longer persists in the intention
of holding Him far from himself, out of respect, but he presses
Him to his heart and bursts into tears exclaiming: «Oh! Lord!
My God! » And he bends down to kiss His tiny feet and feels them
cold. He then sits on the ground, and holds Him close to his chest
and with his brown tunic and his hands he tries to cover Him,
and warm Him, defending Him from the bitterly cold wind of the
night. He would like to go near the fire, but there is a cold draft
coming in from the door. It is better to stay where he is. No, it is
better to go between the two animals which serve as a protection
against the air and give out warmth. Thus, he goes between the
ox and the donkey, with his back to the door, bending over the
New-Born to form with his body a shelter, the two sides of which
are a grey head with long ears, and a huge white muzzle with a
steaming nose and two gentle soft eyes.
Mary has opened the trunk and has pulled out the linen and
swaddling clothes. She has been near the fire warming them. She
now moves towards Joseph and wraps the Baby with the warm
linen and then with Her veil to protect His little head. «Where
shall we put Him now? » She asks.
Joseph looks around, thinking... «Wait,» he says. «Let us
move the animals and their hay over here, we will then pull down
that hay up there and arrange it in here. The wood on the side
will protect Him from the air, the hay will serve as a pillow and
the ox will warm Him a little with its breath. The ox is better
than the donkey. It is more patient and quiet. » And he bustles
about, while Mary is lulling the Baby, holding Him close to Her
heart, and laying Her cheek on His tiny head to warm it.
Joseph makes the fire, without economy this time, to have a
good blaze, and he warms the hay and as it dries, he keeps it near
his chest, so that it will not get cold. Then, when he has gathered
enough to make a little mattress for the Child, he goes to
the manger and sorts it out as if it were a cradle. «It is ready, » he
says. «Now we need a blanket, because the hay stings, and also to
cover Him. »
«Take My mantle, » says Mary.
«You will be cold. »
«Oh! It does not matter! The blanket is too coarse. The mantle
is soft and warm. I am not cold at all. Don’t let Him suffer any
longer! »
Joseph takes the wide mantle of soft dark blue wool, he double
folds it and lays it on the hay, leaving a strip hanging out of the
manger. The first bed for the Saviour is ready.
And the Mother, with Her sweet, graceful gait, moves to the
manger, lays Him in it, and covers Him with the strip of Her
mantle. She arranges it also around His bare head, almost
completely covered by the hay, from which it is protected only by
Mary’s thin veil. Only His little face, the size of a man’s fist, is
left uncovered. Mary and Joseph, bending over the manger, are
blissfully happy watching Him sleep His first sleep, because the
warmth of the clothes and of the hay has appeased His crying,
and made Him sleepy.
Mary says:
«I promised you that He would come to bring you His peace.
Do you remember the peace you enjoyed at Christmas! When
you saw Me with My Child? Then it was your time of peace. Now
it is your time of pain. But you know by now. It is by means of
pain that we achieve peace and every grace for ourselves and our
neighbours. Jesus-Man became Jesus-God again, after the
tremendous suffering of His Passion. He became Peace, once more.
Peace from Heaven, from where He had come and from where He
now pours out His peace for those who love Him in the world. But
in the hours of His Passion, He, Peace of the world, was deprived
of that peace. He would not have suffered if He had had it. And
He had to suffer: and to suffer excruciatingly, to the very end.
I, Mary, redeemed woman by means of My divine Maternity.
But that was only the beginning of woman’s redemption. By
refusing a human marriage in accordance with My vow of
virginity, I had rejected all lustful satisfactions, thus deserving grace
from God. But it was not yet sufficient, because Eve’s sin was a
four branched tree: pride, avarice, gluttony and lust. And all four
were to be cut off, before making the roots of the tree sterile.
By deeply humiliating Myself, I defeated pride.
I abased Myself before everybody. I am not referring to My
humility towards God. Such humility is due to the Most High
by every creature. Even His Word had it. It was necessary for
Me, a woman, to have it. But have you ever considered what
humiliation I had to suffer from men, without defending Myself in
any way? Even Joseph, who was a just man, had accused Me in
his heart. The others, who were not just, had committed a sin
of murmuring with regards to My condition, and the rumour of
their words had come like a bitter wave to break up against My
humanity. And they were the first of the infinite humiliations I
was to suffer in My life as Mother of Jesus and of mankind.
Humiliations of poverty, of a refugee, humiliations for reproaches of
relatives and friends who, being unaware of the truth, judged Me
a weak woman with regard to My behaviour as a Mother towards
Jesus, when He was a young man, humiliations during the three
years of His public life, cruel humiliations in the hour of Calvary,
humiliation in having to admit that I could not afford to buy a
place and the perfumes for the burial of my Son.
I overcame the avarice of the First Parents renouncing My
“Creature” before the time.
A mother never renounces her creature unless she is forced to.
Whether her heart is asked to renounce her creature by her
country or by the love of a spouse or even by God Himself, she will
resent and struggle against the separation. It is natural. A son
grows in our womb and the tie that links him to us can never be
completely broken. Even if the umbilical cord is cut, there is a
nerve that always remains: it departs from the mother’s heart and
is grafted into the son’s heart: it is a spiritual nerve, more lively
and sensitive than a physical one. And a mother feels it stretching
even to exceedingly severe pangs if the love of God or of a creature
or the need of the country take her son away from her. And it
breaks, tearing her heart, if death snatches her son from her.
And I renounced My Son from the very moment I had Him.
I gave Him to God. I gave Him to you. I deprived Myself of the
Fruit of My womb to make amends for Eve’s theft of God’s fruit.
I defeated gluttony, both of knowledge and of enjoyment, by
agreeing to know only what God wanted Me to know, without
asking Myself or Him more than what I was told. I believed un
questioningly. I overcame the innate personal delight of enjoyment
because I denied Myself every sensual pleasure. I confined
flesh, the instrument of Satan, together with Satan, under My
heel and made of them a step to rise towards Heaven. Heaven!
My aim. Where God was. My only hunger. A hunger which is not
gluttony, but a necessity blessed by God, Who wants us to crave
for Him. I defeated lust, which is gluttony carried to the extreme of
greed. Because every unrestrained vice leads to a bigger vice.
And Eve’s gluttony, which was already blameworthy, led her to
lust. It was no longer enough for her to enjoy pleasure by herself.
She wanted to take her crime to a refined intensity and thus
she became acquainted with lust and was a mistress of lust for
her companion. I reversed the terms and instead of descending
I have always ascended. Instead of causing other people to de
scend, I have always attracted them towards Heaven: of My honest
companion, I made an angel.
Now that I possessed God and His infinite wealth with Him, I
hastened to denude Myself of it saying: ‘Here I am: may Your will
be done for Him and by Him’. He is chaste who not only chastises
his flesh but also his affections and his thoughts. I had to be the
Chaste One in order to annul the One who had been Unchaste
in her flesh, her heart and her mind. And I never abandoned My
reservedness, not even by saying of My Son: ‘He is Mine, I want
Him’, since He belonged only to Me on earth, as He belonged only
to God in Heaven.
And yet all this was not sufficient to achieve for woman the
peace lost by Eve. I obtained that for you at the foot of the Cross:
when I saw Him dying, Whom you saw being born. When I felt
My bowels being torn apart by the cry of My dying “Creature,” I
became void of all femininity. I was no longer flesh, but an angel.
Mary, the Virgin Spouse of the Spirit, died that moment. The
Mother of Grace remained, Who gave you the Grace She generated
from Her torture. The female reconsecrated ‘woman’ by me
on Christmas night, achieved at the foot of the Cross the means
to become a creature of Heaven.
This I did for you, depriving Myself of all satisfactions, even
of holy ones. And whereas you had been reduced by Eve to females
not superior to the mates of animals, I made of you, if you
only wish so, saints of God. I ascended for you. As I had done for
Joseph, I lifted you higher up. The rock of Calvary is My Mount
of Olives. From there I took My leap to carry to Heaven the re
sanctified soul of woman together with My flesh, now glorified
because it had borne the Word of God and had destroyed in Me
the very last trace of Eve. It had destroyed the last root of that
tree with four poisonous branches, a root stuck in the sensuality
that had dragged mankind to fall and that will go on biting at
your intestines until the end of time and to the last woman. From
there, where I now shine in the ray of Love, I call you and I show
you the Medicine to control yourselves: the Grace of My Lord and
the Blood of My Son.
And you, My voice, rest your soul in the light of this dawn
of Jesus, to gain strength for the future crucifixions which will
not be spared you, because we want you here and one comes
here through pain, because we want you here and the higher one
comes the more one has suffered to obtain Grace for the world.
Go in peace. I am with you. »