Details on the final resurrection

    360
    0
    SHARE
    ON FEB. 26, 1948, then Pope Pius XII made a statement that was to boost faith in an incredible, modern-day God’s gift to mankind. He said: “Publish this work just as it is. There is no need to give an opinion as to whether it is of supernatural origin. Those who read it will understand.”

    Pius XII was referring to the Poem of the Man-God, the stupendous writings of Maria Valtorta (14 March 1897 – 12 October 1961), a bed-ridden mystic whom God brought back in time to witness — at times physically, at times in visions — the life of Jesus, even further back to the days of the Blessed Mother’s parents, and beyond her time into the future as far as the Last Judgement, or at least, some episodes of it. She lived most of her life in Florence, Italy.

    Between being transported in time or having visions, Jesus Himself would ask her to write down His words explaining her mystical witnessing of the past and the future, and even more.

    The book, initially hand-written by Maria on 15,000 pages in 122 notebooks, was later to be included in the forbidden books of the Church, but its adherents, including the most scholarly and pious members of the Church herself, kept faith in it. It was such a great gift that, understandably, only Satan would battle against it.

    Over and above the controversies that was later to hound Valtorta’s writings, Pius XII’s recommendation continues to be quoted to boost confidence in the credibility of the Poem of the Man-God. To quote him again: “Those who read it will understand.”

    I had read the book, at least some portions of it as the entire book does not seem to be available in local bookstores nor in the internet. Years ago, I providentially stumbled upon four volumes containing some chapters of the book piled up for bargain in an unknown bookstore. I read. And I understood. And I remain dumbfounded by its grandeur and greatness.

    In a series in this space, I am sharing with you some excerpts that I find very relevant and most interesting in Valtorta’s writings, including direct quotes from Jesus Christ.

    Readers, I am sure, would be interested in her witnessing of episodes in the final resurrection before the Last Judgement. Here I quote her writings verbatim:

    “An immense expanse of land. A sea, so great it is without limits. I say ‘land’ because there is some land as in fields and in roads. But there is not one tree, not one stalk, not a blade of grass. Dust, dust and more dust.

    “I see this in a light that is not light. A brightness barely outlined, livid, of a violetgreen shade like one notices at the time of a very violent storm or of total eclipses. A light, causing fear, of extinguished stars. Lo: the sky is deprived of astral lights. There are no stars, no moon, no sun. The sky is empty, as also the earth. The former stripped of its flowers of light, the latter of its vegetal and animal life. They are two immense remnants of what [once] was.

    “I have all the leisure [I need] to see this desolate vision of the death of the universe, which I think would have [had] the same appearance at its first moment; when there was already a sky and earth, but the former unpopulated with stars and the latter naked of life: a globe already solidified but still uninhabited, flying through space while awaiting the Finger of the Creator to give it grasses and animals.

    “Why do I understand that this is a vision of the death of the universe? Through one of those ‘second voices’ which I know not from whom they come, but which within me do what the chorus does in the ancient tragedies: [play] the part of guides about special aspects which the protagonists do not illuminate. This is just what I mean and which I will tell you about later

    “While I swing my gaze around on this desolate scene, the necessity of which I do not understand, I see, erect in the middle of a limitless plain – and emerged from where I do not know I see Death. A skeleton which laughs with Its bared teeth and Its empty eye-sockets, Queen of that dead world, and wrapped in Its shroud as in a mantle. It has no scythe. It has already scythed. It swings Its empty gaze over Its harvest and smirks.

    “It has its arms folded on Its breast. Then It unfolds them, those skeleton arms, and opens Its hands of nothing more than naked bones and, since It is a giant and omnipresent figure – or better said, a very near figure – It rests a finger on me, the index finger of the right hand, on my forehead. I feel the iciness of the pointed bone which seems to perforate my forehead and enter like a needle of ice into my head. But I understand that this has no other significance than that of wanting to recall my attention to what is about to happen.

    “In fact, with Its left arm It makes a gesture indicating to me the wide expanse on which we stand there: It, Death, the Queen, and I, the only one alive. At Its mute command, given with the skeleton fingers of Its left hand and with a rhythmical turning to the right and to the left of Its head, the earth is cleft into thousands and thousands of fissures. And in the bottom of these dark furrows are scattered white things, but I don’t understand what they are.5

    “While I try to think of what they are, Death continues with Its gaze and command to plow the sod as with a plowshare, and the land is opened up always more, as far as the distant horizon; and Death furrows the waves of the seas – which are deprived of any sails – and the waters are opened up in liquid chasms.

    “And then from the furrows of the land and from the furrows of the sea those white things that I saw scattered and dislocated rise up, recomposing themselves. There are millions and millions and millions of skeletons which surface from the oceans, which straighten up on the ground. Skeletons of all heights. From the tiny ones of infants with small hands like little dusty spiders, to those of adult men, and even giants whose bulk make one think of certain antediluvian beings.6 And they stand [there] astonished and as if trembling, like those awakened suddenly from a deep sleep and who are disoriented as to where they are.

    “The sight of all those skeleton bodies, growing white in that ‘non-light’ of the Apocalypse, is dreadful.

    “And then, around [each of ] those skeletons, there slowly condenses a mist like a fog rising from the opened ground, from the opened seas. It takes on form and density, it becomes flesh, a body like ours, like us who are living. The eyes – or rather the eye-sockets – f ll in with irises; the cheek-bones become covered with cheeks and over the naked jaw-bones the gums spread out, the lips reform themselves, the hair returns on the skulls, the arms shape themselves, the fingers become nimble, and the whole body comes alive again, just as ours is. The same [as ours], but different in appearance.

    “There are very beautiful bodies, of a perfection of forms and colors which make them like masterpieces of art. There are others of them that are hideous, not from lameness or deformities true and proper, but in their general appearance which is more that of a brute beast than of a man. Grim eyes, a contorted face, a beastly appearance and, what strikes me more, a gloom that emanates from the body increasing the lividness of the air that surrounds them. While the most beautiful ones have laughing eyes, a serene face, a gentle appearance, and they emanate a luminosity that forms a halo around their being from head to feet, and radiates around them.

    “If all were like the former [bodies], the darkness would have become total, to the point of concealing everything. But by virtue of the latter [bodies], the luminosity not only perdures but increases, so much so that I can notice all quite well.

    “As for the ugly ones, about whose destiny as the accursed I have no doubts, since they bear this curse marked on their forehead, they are silent, casting frightened and grim looks around, below and above them, and they group themselves on one side at some intimate command which I don’t hear, but which must be given by someone and perceived by these risen ones. The very beautiful ones also join themselves together smiling and looking with pity mixed with horror at the ugly ones. And they sing, these very beautiful ones, they sing a slow and soft chorus of blessing to God.

    “I forgot to say that the bodies were all naked but that it didn’t make sense, as if malice were dead too: in them and in me. And then, for the bodies of the damned, their darkness made a screen, and for that of the blessed, their very light made a garment. Therefore what is animality in us disappeared under the emanation of the internal spirit, a master [who is] quite cheerful or quite despaired of the flesh.7

    “I see nothing else. I understand that I have seen the final resurrection….”

    LEAVE A REPLY

    Please enter your comment!
    Please enter your name here