603. John Goes to Get Mary.

10.30 a.m. Good Friday 1944 (7th April 1944). prev home next

My internal warner tells me that that was the time when John went to Mary.

I see the favourite apostle who looks even paler than when he was in Caiaphas' court-yard with Peter. Perhaps because the light of the fire there gave a reflection of heat to his cheeks, which now look hollow, as if he had suffered from a serious disease and were bloodless. His face emerges from his lilac tunic like that of a drowned man, so deathlike is it. His eyes also are dimmed, his hair is dull and ruffled, his beard, which has grown during these hours, lays a veil of a light shade on his cheeks and chin, and as it is very fair, it makes him look even paler. There is nothing left in him of the kind joyful John, or of the angry John who shortly before, his face flushed with indignation, with difficulty restrained himself from manhandling Judas.

He knocks at the door of the house and, as if from inside someone, fearing he might find Judas in front of him again, were asking who was knocking, he replies: It is I, John. The door is opened and he goes in.

He also goes into the Supper-room, without replying to the mistress who had asked him: But what is happening in town?

He locks himself in and falls on his knees against the seat in which Jesus had sat and he weeps calling Him sadly. He kisses the tablecloth on the spot where Jesus had joined His hands, he caresses the chalice that He held with His fingers... Then he says: Oh! Most High God, help me! Help me to tell the Mother! I have not got the heart!... And yet, I must tell Her. I must tell Her, because I am the only one left!

He stands up and is pensive. He touches the chalice again, as if he wished to draw strength from that object that the Master had touched. He looks around... In the corner in which Jesus had placed it, he sees the purificator used by the Master to dry His hands after washing the apostles' feet, and the other one with which He had girded His waist. He takes them, folds them, caresses them and kisses them.

He stands perplexed in the middle of the empty room. He says: Let us go! , but he does not go towards the door. On the contrary, he goes back to the table and takes the chalice and the bread, a corner of which had been broken off by Jesus to give a morsel to Judas, after dipping it in the dish. He kisses them, he takes them and with the two purificators he presses them to his heart like reliefs. He repeats: Let us go! and sighs. He walks towards the little staircase and climbs it with stooping shoulders and dragging his reluctant feet. He opens the door and goes out.

John, you have come? Mary has reappeared at the door of Her room, leaning on the door-post as if She did not have enough strength to stand up by Herself.

John raises his head and looks at Her. He would like to speak, and he opens his mouth, but he does not manage. Two large tears stream down his cheeks. He lowers his head, ashamed of his weakness.

Come here, John. Do not weep. You must not weep. You have always loved Him and made Him happy. May that comfort you.

These words open the floodgates to the tears of John, who cries so loud and noisily, that the mistress appears with Mary Magdalene, Zebedee's wife and the other women...

Come with Me, John. Mary departs from the door-post and takes the disciple by the wrist, and drags him into the room, as if he were a little boy, and She closes the door gently, to be alone with him.

John does not react. But when he feels Mary's trembling hand rest on his head, he falls on his knees laying on the floor the objects he was holding against his heart, and with his face on the floor, holding the edge of Mary's mantle pressed on his excited face, he says sobbing: Forgive me! Forgive me! Mother, forgive me!

Mary, Who is standing and is utterly distressed, with one hand pressed against Her heart and the other one hanging by Her side, says in a heart-rending voice: What must I forgive you, My poor son? What? Forgive you!

John raises his face, showing it as it is, with no longer any trace of manly pride, the face of a poor weeping child, and he shouts: For abandoning Him! For running away! For not defending Him! Oh! my Master! O Master, forgive me! I should have died, rather than abandon You! Mother, Mother, who will ever rid me of this remorse?

Peace, John. He forgives you, He has already forgiven you. He has never taken your bewilderment into consideration. He loves you. Mary speaks with pauses between the short sentences, as if She were panting, holding one hand on John's head and pressing the other to Her poor heart that is throbbing with anguish.

But even yesterday evening I was not able to understand... and I slept while He was asking us to be awake and comfort Him. I left my Jesus all alone! And then I ran away when that cursed man came with the rascals...

John, do not curse. Do not hate, John. Let the Father judge that. Listen: where is He now?

John falls again with his face on the floor, weeping louder.

Tell Me, John. Where is My Son?

Mother... I... Mother, He is... Mother...

He has been condemned, I know. I am asking you: where is He just now.

I did everything in my power so that He might see me... I tried to apply to the mighty ones to obtain compassion, to make Him... to make Him suffer less. They have not hurt Him very badly...

Do not lie, John. Not even out of pity for a mother. You would not succeed. And it would be useless. I know. Since yesterday evening I have followed Him in His sorrow. You cannot see it, but My flesh is bruised by the same scourges as His, the same thorns are piercing My forehead, I felt the blows... everything. But now... I no longer see. Now I do not know where My Son is, Who has been condemned to the cross!.. to the cross!... to the cross!... Oh! God, give Me strength! He must see Me. I must not feel My sorrow while He feels His. Then when everything... is over, then let Me die, o God, if You so wish. Not now. No, for His sake. So that He may see Me. Let us go, John. Where is Jesus?

He is leaving Pilate's house. This clamour is the crowd shouting around Him, tied as He is, on the steps of the Praetorium, awaiting the cross, or already on His way to Golgotha.

Inform your mother, John, and the other women. And let us go. Take that chalice, that bread, those linens... Put them here. We shall find solace in them... later... and let us go.

John picks up the objects left on the floor and goes out to call the women. Mary waits for him, rubbing Her face with those linens as though She wanted to find the caress of Her Son's hand in them, and She kisses the chalice and the bread, and places everything on a shelf. And She envelops Herself in Her mantle, which She lowers as far as Her eyes, over the veil that wraps Her head and is folded round Her neck. She does not weep, but She is trembling. And She seems to be short of breath, as She pants so much with her mouth open. John comes back in, followed by the weeping women.

My dear daughters! Be silent! Help me not to weep! Let us go. And She leans on John, who guides and supports Her as if She were blind.

The vision ends thus. It is 12.30, that is 11.30 solar time.

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