17th February 1944.
I see the supper-room where the Passover is to be consumed, I can see it distinctly. I could enumerate all the rough spots on the walls and the cracks in the floor.
It is a large room that is not perfectly square, but it is somewhat rectangular. The difference between the longer side and the shorter one is, at most, a metre or a little more. The ceiling is low. Perhaps it appears to be so, because the height of the room does not correspond to its size. It is slightly vaulted, that is, the two shorter walls do not form a right angle with the ceiling, but it is roundish.
In the two shorter walls there are two large low windows, facing each other. I cannot see what they look onto, a court-yard or a street, because the shutters are closed. I said: shutters. I do not know whether it is the right word. They are window coverings made of boards and they are firmly closed by iron bars across them.
The floor is made of large square bricks of baked clay discoloured by age. From the centre of the ceiling hangs a multi-arm oil lamp.
In one of the two longer walls there is no opening, in the other, instead, there is a small door in one corner and it is reached by means of a small staircase of six steps with no bannisters, ending on a landing of one square metre. On the landing and against the wall there is another step, at whose level the door opens. I do not know whether I have made myself clear.
The walls are just whitewashed without decorations or borders. In the centre of the room there is a long rectangular table, very long as compared to its width, it is placed parallel to the long walls and is made of very plain wood. Along the long walls there are some seats. Against the short walls, under the window, on one side there is a kind of chest with some basins and amphorae on it, and under the other window there is a long low sideboard, on top of which there is nothing at present.
And that is the description of the room in which Passover will be consumed. I have seen it distinctly all day long, in fact I have been able to count the steps and observe all the details. And now that it is getting dark, my Jesus is taking me to the rest of the contemplation.
I see that the large room leads, by means of the six-step staircase, to a dark vestibule on the left side of which, with respect to me, there is a door that opens onto the street; the door is wide, low and very solid, reinforced with metal studs and bars. Facing the little door that leads from the supper-room into the vestibule, there is another door that opens onto another room, which is not so large. I would say that the supper-room has been obtained from the difference in level between the ground and the rest of the house and the street, it is like a basement, a sort of cellar that has been cleaned up or adapted, but is still sunken for a good metre in the ground, probably to heighten it and proportion it to its vastness.
In the room that I see now, there is Mary with other women. I recognise the Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, Judas and Simon. They seem to have just arrived, led by John, as they take off their mantles and lay them folded on the stools scattered about the room, while they greet the apostle, who goes away, and a woman and a man, who have rushed there upon their arrival, and I am under the impression that they are the owners of the house and disciples or sympathisers of the Nazarene, because they are full of attention for and of respectful familiarity with Mary. She is wearing a deep blue dress, a deep indigo blue. On Her head She has a white veil that appears when She takes Her mantle off, as it covers also Her head. She looks worn out and aged. She is very sad, although She smiles kindly. She is very pale. Also Her movements are tired and hesitating, like those of a person engrossed in thought.
Through the door left ajar I can see the landlord coming and going in the vestibule and in the upper-room, which he illuminates completely lighting the remaining flames of the large oil lamp. He then goes to the main door and opens it and Jesus comes in with the apostles. I can see that it is getting dark, because the shadows of the night are already descending in the street closed between high houses.
He is with all the apostles. He greets the landlord with His usual salutation: « Peace to this house », and then, while the apostles go down into the supper-room, He enters the room where Mary is. The pious women greet Him with deep respect and then go away, closing the door and leaving Mother and Son free.
Jesus embraces His Mother and kisses Her forehead. Mary first kisses the hand of Her Son and then His right cheek. Jesus makes Mary sit down and sits beside Her, they are sitting on two stools close to each other. He makes Her sit down, taking Her to the stools, holding Her by the hand, and He continues to hold Her hand also when She has sat down.
Jesus also is engrossed in thought and sad, notwithstanding that He strives to smile. Mary studies His expression anxiously. Poor Mother, Who through grace and love realises what this hour means! Painful spasms appear across Mary's face and Her eyes dilate at an interior vision of deep grief. But She does not make a scene. She is as solemn as Her Son.
He speaks to Her. He greets Her and implores Her to pray for Him.
« Mother, I have come to get strength and comfort from You. I am like a little baby, Mother, who needs the heart of his mother for his grief, and his mother's breast for his strength. In this hour I have become Your little Jesus of a long time ago. I am not the Master, Mother. I am only Your Son, as in Nazareth when I was a little boy, as in Nazareth before departing from My private life. I have but You. Men, at the present moment, are not friendly with and loyal to Your Jesus. They are not even brave in doing good. Only the wicked are constant and strong in doing evil. But You are faithful to Me and You are My strength, Mother, in this hour. Support Me with Your love and Your prayers. Among those who more or less love Me, You are the only one who knows how to pray in this hour. You know how to pray and to understand. The others are concerned with the festivity, they are engrossed in joyful thoughts, or in criminal thoughts, while I am suffering from so many things. Many things will die after this hour, and among them their humanity, and they will be able to be worthy of Me, all of them, except him who got lost and whom no power can bring back at least to repentance. But for the time being they are unconscious men who do not perceive that I am dying, while they are rejoicing thinking that My triumph is more than ever close at hand. The hosannas of a few days ago have intoxicated them. Mother, I have come for this hour and from a supernatural point of view it is a joy to see it arrive. But My Ego is also afraid of it, because this chalice bears the name of betrayal, abjuration, ferocity, blasphemy, abandonment. Support Me, Mother. As when with Your prayers You drew the Spirit of God upon Yourself, and through it You gave the world the One Expected by peoples, draw now upon Your Son the strength that may help Me to accomplish the deed for which I came. Mother, goodbye. Bless Me, Mother; also on behalf of the Father. And forgive everybody. Let us forgive together, as from this moment, let us forgive those who torture us. »
While speaking, Jesus has slid down on His knees at the feet of His Mother and He looks at Her embracing Her by the waist.
Mary weeps silently, Her face slightly raised for an internal prayer to God. Tears stream down Her pale cheeks and fall on Her lap and on the head of Jesus, Who then rests it on Her heart. Then Mary lays Her hand on Jesus' head, as if She wished to bless Him, She then bends, kisses His hair and caresses it, She caresses His shoulders and arms, She takes His face in Her hands and turns it towards Herself, She presses it to Her heart. She kisses Him again, shedding tears, on His forehead, His cheeks, His sorrowful eyes, She cuddles that poor tired head, as if He were a baby, as I saw Her lull the divine New-born in the Grotto. But She does not sing, now. She only says: « Son! Jesus! My Jesus! » but in such a voice that breaks my heart.
Then Jesus stands up. He adjusts His mantle, remains standing in front of His Mother, Who is still weeping, and He blesses Her in His turn. Then He turns His steps towards the door. Before going out He says to Her: « Mother, I will come again before consuming My Passover. Pray while waiting for Me. » And He goes out.