The Words Given To Maria Valtorta Written in English


    A Vision of the Father, Jesus, St. Joseph, St. John and the Heavenly Church

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    A Vision of the Father, Jesus, St. Joseph, St. John and the Heavenly Church

    Post by Poem on Sat Oct 30, 2010 11:18 am


    Notebook: 1944
    Page: 49
    Chp: A Vision of the Father, Jesus, St. Joseph, St. John and the Heavenly Church

    January 10

    How beautiful! How beautiful! How beautiful what I see is! I shall try to be very precise and clear in describing for you what Communion brought me.

    You already know that I was happy. But you don't know what blessedness and what a joyful vision was granted to me from the moment of Eucharistic union on. It was like a picture being shown to me by degrees. But it was not a picture--it was contemplation. I was recollected therein for a good hour with no other prayer but this contemplation, which enraptured me beyond the earth.

    It began right after receiving the consecrated Host and I think it did not escape you that I was slow to respond and greet you--I was already enveloped. In spite of that I expressed the whole act of thanksgiving out loud as the vision came upon me more and more intensely. And then I became still with my eyes closed as if I were sleeping. But I have never been so awake in my entire self as in that hour.

    In its final stage the vision is still continuing as I write. I am writing under the gaze of so many heavenly beings who see that I am saying only what I see without adding details or making modifications. And here is the vision.

    As soon as I received Jesus I felt the Mother, Mary on the left-hand side of the bed, who was embracing me with her right arm drawing me to herself. She was wearing her dress and white veil as in the visions of the Grotto in December. At the same time I felt enveloped by a golden light and by a soft indescribable soft color and the eyes of my spirit sought its source which I sensed was raining down on me from above. It seemed to me that my room though remaining in my room it is in its floor and four walls and furnishings, no longer had a ceiling and that I was seeing the boundless blue skies of God.

    Suspended in these blue skies the Divine Dove of fire remained perpendicularly over Mary's head and of course over my head since I was leaning cheek-to-cheek against Mary. The Holy Spirit's wings were open and He remained in an upright vertical position. He did not move and yet He vibrated and with each vibration there were waves rays and sparks of splendor which issued forth. From Him there emerged a cone of golden light whose summit started from the Dove's breast and whose base enwrapped Mary and me. We were gathered into this cone this cloak this embrace of joyful light. A most intense light and yet not glaring for it communicated new strength to one's eyes which increased with every flash flowing from the the Dove ever augmenting the flash already existing with every vibration of the Dove. I felt my eyes expanding into a supernatural power, almost as if they were no longer the eyes of a creature but of an already glorified spirit.

    When I attained the capacity to see beyond thanks to the inflamed Love suspended over me my spirit was called to look higher. And against the brighter blue of Paradise I saw the Father. Distinctly although his figure was in lines of immaterial light. A beauty which I shall not attempt to describe because it is superior to human capacities. He appeared to me as if on a throne. I speak this way because He appeared to me seated with infinite majesty. But I saw no throne, chair or baldachin. Nothing resembling the earthly shape of a seat. He appeared to me from my left-hand side (in the direction of my Jesus on the Cross, just to give you an idea and therefore to the right of his Son) but at an incalculable height. And yet I saw Him in the most minute of his extremely luminous features. He was looking towards the window (also to give you an idea of the different positions). He was looking with a gaze of infinite love.

    I followed his gaze and saw Jesus. Not the Jesus as Teacher I usually see. Jesus as King. White clothing but with a luminous extremely white robe like Mary's. A robe that seems to be made of light. Most beautiful. Stalwart. Imposing. Perfect. Blazing. In his right hand--He was standing--He held his scepter, which is also standard. A long rod, almost a crosier but even taller than my very tall Jesus which doesn't end in the curl of a crosier but in a transverse rod which thus forms a cross made in this way from which there hangs supported by the shorter rod a banner of most luminous white silk made like this and marked on both sides by a purple cross; on the banner written in words of light almost as if written with liquid diamonds is the name, "Jesus Christ."

    I very clearly see the wounds on his hands because his right hand is holding the rod aloft towards the banner and his left hand is indicating the wound in his side which I do not however see as anything but a luminous point from which there are emanating rays descending to the ground. The wound on the right hand is precisely in the area of the wrist and looks like a glittering ruby the size of a ten-centesimo coin. The one on the left hand is more centrally located and larger but it further extends like this towards the thumb. They shine like vivid rubies. I see no other wounds. On the contrary the Body of my Lord is most beautiful and intact in all parts.

    The Father is looking at the Son on his left. The Son is looking at his Mother and me. But I assure you that if He were not looking with love I could not bear the gleaming of his gaze and of his appearance. He is really the King of tremendous majesty who is spoken of.

    The longer the vision lasts the more the capacity to perceive the smallest details increases in me and to see further and further all around.

    Indeed after a while I see St. Joseph (in the corner where the Nativity Scene is). He is not so tall more or less like Mary. Sturdy built. With grizzly hair curly and short and a squarely cut beard. A long thin aquiline nose. Two wrinkles cut across his cheeks starting from the corners of his nose and moving down until fading at the sides of his mouth in his beard. Dark, very good eyes. In them I rediscover the lovingly good look of my father. The whole face is good. He is wearing a dark blue-purple tunic like the petals of certain periwinkles and his cloak is the color of camel's skin. Jesus points him out to me saying, Here is the patron of all the just."

    The Light then calls my spirit from the other side of the room--that is towards Marta's bed--and I see my angel. He is kneeling, facing towards Mary whom he seems to venerate. Dressed in white. His arms are crossed over his chest and his hands are touching his shoulders. His head is bending very low and I thus see little of his face. His gesture reflects profound devotion. I see his beautiful long extremely white pointed wings real wings made to fly swiftly and surely from Earth to Heaven now gathered in behind his back. By his attitude he is teaching me how to say, "Hail Mary."

    As I continue to observe him I sense that someone is close to me on my right and is resting his hand on my right shoulder. It is my St. John with his face shining with cheerful love.

    I feel blessed. And I recollect myself in the midst of such blessedness thinking I have touched the peak. But a brighter gleaming of the Spirit of God and of the wounds of Jesus my Lord further increases my ability to see. And I see the heavenly Church the triumphant Church! I shall attempt to describe it for you.

    Above there remain the Father the Son and now the Spirit as well high above the Two half way between the Two whom He links with his splendors.

    Further down as if between two skyblue slopes--a blue which is not of this earth--gathered together is a blessed valley is the multitude of those glorified in Christ the army of those marked with the name of the Lamb a multitude which is light a light which is song a song which is adoration an adoration which is blessedness.

    On the left are the ranks of the confessors. On the right are those of the virgins. I did not see the ranks of martyrs and the Spirit has me understand that the martyrs are added to the virgins for martyrdom renders the soul virginal once more as if just created. All of them seem to be dressed in white both the confessors and the virgins. That luminous white of the robes of Jesus and Mary.

    Light emanates from the skyblue floor and the skyblue walls of the holy valley almost as if they were made of burning sapphire. The robes of diamonds cloth emit light as do above all the spiritualized bodies and faces. And here I shall make an effort to describe for you what I have observed in the different bodies.

    Only the bodies of Jesus and Mary are bodies of flesh and spirit--alive pulsating perfect sensitive to touch and contact: two glorious bodies which are however really "bodies." The Eternal Father the Holy Spirit and my angel are light in the shape of a body just so it can be perceptible to this poor servant of God. St. Joseph and St. John are light which is now more compact certainly because I must perceive their presence and words. All the blessed forming the host of the Heavens are white flames which are spiritualized bodies.

    None of the confessors turns around. They are all looking at the Most Holy Trinity. Some of the virgins turn about. I distinguish the Apostle Peter and Paul, for though luminous and dressed in white like everyone else their faces are indeed more distinguishable than the others--a characteristic Jewish face. They are looking at me benignly (it's good thing they are!)

    Then there are three blessed spirits who I grasp are women who observe me gesture and smile. You could say they are inviting me. They are young. But it in fact seems to me that all the blessed are of the same age: youthful perfect and equally beautiful. They are lesser copies of Jesus and Mary. I cannot say who these three heavenly creatures are but since two are carrying palms and one only flowers--the palms are the only sign distinguishing the martyrs from the virgins--I think I am not mistaken in saying they are Agnes, Cecilia, and Therese of Lisieux.

    In spite of my desire to do so what I cannot convey to you is the Hallelujah of this multitude. A Hallelujah which is both powerful and soft as a caress. And everything laughs and shines more intensely with each hosanna of the multitude for its God.

    The vision ceases and in its intensity crystallizes in this form. Mary leaves me and with Her John and Joseph; the former takes her place in front of the Son and the other two theirs in the ranks of the virgins.

    Praise be to Jesus Christ.


    Peace be with you always

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    Re: A Vision of the Father, Jesus, St. Joseph, St. John and the Heavenly Church

    Post by Poem on Fri Jan 28, 2011 8:48 pm

    My personal experience: Poem

    Maria describes her vision of Heaven: --Which the next day after I read this, I sat down to pray with a candle lit, I had a similar experience, the Peace There is incredible, nothing on this Earth. Not only My heart, but my inward parts as well, was filled with so much Peace, this Peace is the Atmosphere, very powerful, like refreshing cool air that I cannot explain; it fills you without asking. I cannot forget the experience, yet I will because, I still live here.

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