When St. Clare repelled Muslim invaders with the Blessed Sacrament.

Maria Valtorta had the following vision of the miracle of St. Clare driving away the Islamists who were attacking her convent in Assisi:

 

Quite a poor little convent, low-lying, with a roof sharply sloping down in front, a small cloister crying out the great Franciscan word from each stone, "Poverty," and dark, short, narrow little corridors onto which the minute cell doors open. The convent resounds like a hive of voices in prayer and moans. And this little convent truly resembles a hive flabbergasted by an invasion. The din of the struggle outside also flows in, with a fusion of violent and prayerful voices.

 

I don't know if it is a lay sister who brings the news that the enemy hordes are trying to invade the convent or some resident of Assisi who warns the Poor Clares of the danger. I do know that panic is reaching its peak as they all rush into the cell of the Abbess, who is prostrate in prayer near the edge of her couch and gets up, pale and consumed, but very beautiful and solemn, to receive her terrified daughters.

 

She listens to them and tells them to go down to the choir with due order and faith, in the silence of the Rule, "for nothing," she says, "no matter how tremendous it may be, must make us forget the holy Rule." And she follows them and goes into the small, unadorned choir, beyond which is the little dark church with a barred door containing only two small candles – one in the church and the other in the choir – which peacefully shine before the tabernacle […].

 

They pray, jolting at every cry that is louder and closer. And when one, who is surely a lay sister, comes back in, yelling unabashedly, "Mother, they are at the door!" the Poor Clares double over, as if already stricken dead. Sister Clare does not. On the contrary, she stands up and proceeds right into the middle of the choir and says, "Do not be afraid. They are men and they are outside. We are here, inside, with Jesus. Remember his words, 'Not a hair will be taken from you.' We are his doves. He will not allow the sparrowhawks to profane them." Outside the wave of tumult is getting louder, giving the lie to her words. But she does not get upset. 

 

On seeing that the Poor Clares are too terrified to overcome doubt and dread, she addresses God. “My sweet Jesus, forgive your poor Clare's daring to set her hands in the place where only a priest can set them. But here there is only You and us. One of us must thus say, 'Come' to You. My hands are washed by tears. They may touch your throne.” [Prior to Vatican II only the priest could handle the Blessed Sacrament.]

 

And she resolutely goes to the tabernacle, opens it, and takes out not the monstrance, as it called, but a case resembling a pyx; it is not made of precious metal, but ivory or mother-of pearl, I think, at least on the outside, insofar as the scanty light enables me to see. She takes it out and holds it as reverently as she would hold the Child Jesus. She fearlessly walks down the few steps and proceeds towards the convent door, singing psalms, and the sisters follow her, trembling and subdued.

 

"Open the door, daughter."

 

"But they are outside! Do you hear the cries and blows?"

 

"Open the door, daughter."

 

"But they will burst in here!

 

"Open the door. For the sake of obedience! " And Clare, previously gentle and persuasive, takes on an imperious tone which will not tolerate delay. She is the former landowner accustomed to giving orders and the great Abbess calling for obedience.

 

The Poor Clare opens, with a moan and shudder slowing down the operation, and the others, behind the Abbess, are also trembling. They cross themselves, closing their eyes, ready for martyrdom, and lower their veils so as to die with their faces covered. The door is finally half open. The shouting of those attacking turns into a cry of victory, and, ceasing to use their weapons, they plunge towards the opening door on a run.

 

Clare, her face as white as the case she is holding high up as the only veil over her cloistered visage, takes two, three, five steps beyond the threshold. I do not know if she sees those in front of her […], I don't think so. Her eyes do nothing but adore the Eucharist she is carrying. Tall, very thin, and consumed as she is, as white as a lily, slow in her steps, she looks like an angel or a ghost. To me she looks like an angel; to the others she must look like a ghost.

 

Their boldness crumbles, comes to a halt, and, on seeing her take another step forward, they turn around in disorderly flight. It is then that Clare staggers and, bending over, as if about to fall, hastens to go back in beyond the threshold.

 

"They have fled. Blessed be the Lord! Now...now hold up your mother. So that I can take Him back to his altar. Sing, daughters, and hold me up. Your mother is very tired now! " Indeed, her face is that of a dying person, as if she had used up all her strength. But her smile is also very sweet, and her waxen hands are very strong in clasping the case!

 

They go back into the choir, and Clare, singing the Te Deum, places the case in the tabernacle; she then remains lying on her back on the two steps of the altar as if dead while the Poor Clares continue the hymn of thanksgiving.

 

This is what I see. And for me [...] a few words from St. Clare, in her heavenly robe, not as a Poor Clare: "With this," and she points to the Most Holy Sacrament, "everything is overcome. It will be the great strength of Paradise and the earth as long as there are earthly needs. Through the infinite merits of the Most Holy Body annihilated for your sake, we saints in Heaven obtain graces for you, and through It you obtain victory. May the Eucharistic Lamb be praised! May the Lord give you peace and blessing."

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-50. August 12, 1945, pp. 90-93.

 

Disclaimer: A brief, unsigned and undocumented ‘press release’ from a Vatican dicastery has proposed that her writings are not supernatural [Link]. However, according to the dicastery’s own published standards their press release has no canonical validity [Link para. 22]. I have 100% human faith that the revelations of Maria Valtorta are from Heaven, otherwise I would not be posting them. 

 

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