Angels of Purgatory.

Saint Azariah says: "The mission of the Guardian Angel is believed by people to end with the death of the one being guarded. This is not always the case. It ceases, as a consequence, at the death of the unrepentant sinner, and to the great sorrow of the Guardian Angel of the unrepentant. And it is transfigured into joyful and eternal glory at the death of a saint who passes from Earth to Heaven without pauses in purgative service.

But it continues as it was, as a protection that intercedes and loves its charge, for those who pass from Earth to Purgatory to atone and be purified. So we, the Guardian Angels, pray with charity for you before the throne of God, and united with our prayers of love, we offer the suffrages that your relatives and friends offer you on Earth. Oh! I cannot express fully how alive, active, and sweet is the bond that still unites us to you in Purgatory.

Like mothers watching for the return of health in a child who was ill and is convalescing, like wives counting the days that separate them from the reunion with their imprisoned husband, so do we. We, not even for a moment, cease to observe divine, loving Justice and your souls being purified in the fires of love. And we rejoice as we see Love increasingly appeased toward you, and you ever more worthy of His Kingdom.

And when the Light commands us: "Go and bring him out here," more swiftly than lightning, we rush to bring a moment of Paradise—which is faith, which is hope, which is comfort—to those who still remain to atone, there in Purgatory. And we embrace the beloved soul for whom we labored and suffered, and we ascend with her, teaching her the heavenly hosanna.

The two sweetest moments in the Guardians' mission, the two sweetest moments, are when Charity says to us: "Come down, for a new man is born and you must guard him as a gem that belongs to me," and when we can ascend with you to Heaven. But the first is less than the second.

The other moments of joy are your victories over the world, the flesh, and the devil. But just as we tremble at your fragility from the moment you are taken into custody, so we always tremble after each of your victories, for the Enemy of Good is vigilant, trying to destroy what the spirit builds. Therefore, joyful, perfect in its joy, is the moment when we enter Heaven with you. For nothing can destroy what is already accomplished.

And now, my soul, I respond to your inner question: is God pleased that there is another Guardian in your house? [A mother with her newborn child is staying at Maria Valtorta’s home.] O you, who never ask us questions but keep your spirit open [...], know that it is sweet to answer those like you, and to give you comfort, a soul dear to God and tormented by men. Yes. God is pleased. Pleased because in your house there is an angel happy to watch over a newly created soul, a gem of God, and pleased because Jesus is the One who loved little ones.

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, July 16, 1947, pp. 403-404.

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Azariah: Maria’s Guardian Angel tells her his name.

  

I [Maria Valtorta] took the Holy Relic and began to say the usual prayer against Satan, who I feel is very intent on prowling around my house, me, and her [Maria’s housekeeper Marta]. Then I said the Act of Contrition, made a Spiritual Communion, the prayer: "Here I am, beloved and good Jesus… I am considering your five Wounds, etc., etc." and the prayer of the Cross, plus the Act of Offering, as I do every evening. I conclude with the "Glory Be" to the Holy Archangels and Angels, and finally to my Guardian.

 

As I say these last words to my Guardian Angel, I pause to ask, "But what's your name? You must have a name! I call you 'internal advisor.' But I'd like to call you by a name." He appears to me, next to the bed, to the right, toward the back, and says promptly, all smiles: "Azariah."

 

"Azariah? Really?" He smiles even more and says, "Are you not sure? Let's say together the 'Veni Sancte Spiritus' and seven 'Glorias,' as I have taught you for years in order to find answers and guidance from the Holy Spirit in every need, and then open the Bible at random. The first name you see is mine." 

 

I say the prayers with him and then open the Bible. It opens to 2 Chronicles 15:1. "Azariah, son of Obed, etc., etc.". The angel, still smiling, says: "And you can find the meaning of the name in the Book of Tobit, in the notes at the bottom of the page." I run to the Book of Tobit. I find at the bottom of the 5th chapter: "Azariah means 'help of the Lord,' therefore Azariah son of Ananias means: 'Help of the Lord, son of the goodness of the Lord.'" The angel says: "So it is," and smiles, looking at me sweetly. 

 

I observe him: tall, handsome, with dark brown hair, a round face, perfect in line and color, dark brown eyes, large, sweet, beautiful. I observe him in his loose robe: a straight tunic, very chaste, very beautiful, without a belt or cloak, with wide sleeves and a square neckline. The robe is white and silver. The bottom is a silver color, slightly burnished; The relief of this dress, which looks like precious brocade, is a luminous white, whiter than any snow or petal ever formed. And the relief is a succession of lily stems with open calyxes […] so that the angel seems wrapped in an enveloping bundle of blooming lilies. At the neck, sleeves, and hem, silver stripes. 

 

I say: "The same dress as on January 4, 1932, and the same appearance!" [When she saw her angel who had helped her at home after an illness, as she recounts in her Autobiography] "Yes. It is I. And if on other occasions I appeared to you with the three holy colors [red, blue, and green], it is to remind you that the Guardian watches over above all the life of the three theological virtues in the spirit of his ward."

I contemplate him, contemplate, contemplate, saying and savoring his name throughout the night of bitter suffering and without a shadow of sleep. From now on, "the internal advisor" will therefore be referred to by the name of Azariah, because, as he told me in greeting me before vanishing from my spiritual gaze, "every guardian angel is an Azariah: a helper of the Lord who in special cases makes himself more manifest by his order and for his glory." 

  

While I work with my needle, I mentally contemplate the moral figure of Jesus Christ. I think that if I could have a picture of Him painted according to my instructions and therefore as close as possible to His Holy Human Face, I would like to have a phrase written underneath that would be "all" that Jesus of Nazareth was. I think of "Come to Me," "I am the Way, Truth, and Life," "It is I, do not fear." But I feel that this is not yet what my soul desires to represent "the Christ." 

 

St. Azariah speaks to me: "Jesus is the Compendium of the love of the Three. Jesus is the Compendium of what the Holy Trinity and Unity of God are. He is the Perfection of the Three summarized in One. It is the infinite, multifaceted Perfection epitomized in Jesus. An abyss of Perfection before which the celestial armies and the blessed multitudes of Paradise prostrate themselves in adoration. An abyss of Love that could be, and can be, understood and accepted only by those who possess love.

“Observe, my soul, that both in the time of Christ and in this era there were always two points on which the arrogant intellect of man, who cannot believe unless he is humble and loving, was most obstinate: that Christ was God and Man and performed solely spiritual actions, for which he was hated even by his closest friends and therefore betrayed, and that he created the Sacrament of Love. Then, now, always, the "loveless" heretically said and will say that God cannot be in Jesus and that Jesus cannot be in the Most Holy, adorable Eucharist. Therefore, my soul, if you had to have a word written under the effigy of the Man-God, you should have it written: "I am the Compendium of Love." And St. Azariah is silent, adoring.

St. Azariah tells me: "Angels are superior to men. I say 'men' to refer to the beings so called, composed of matter and spirit. Then we are superior, all spirit. But remember that when Grace lives in man and the Blood of the Mystical Body whose head is Christ circulates, while the seven Sacraments strengthen him from birth to death, for every state and every phase of life, then in you, 'living temples of the Lord,' we see the Lord and adore Him in you, and then you are superior to us, you are 'other Christs,' and you have what is called the 'Bread of Angels,' but it is Bread only for men. Mystical, insatiable hunger for the Eucharist that is within you and that makes us cling to you, when you nourish yourselves with It, to smell the divine fragrance of this perfect Food!”

Based on Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, entries for January 15, 1946 and January 20, 1946, pp. 170-176.

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Baby Jesus visits Maria Valtorta.

January 2, 1946.

 

A monastery cloister, with a portico, paved with black and white square tiles. The long cloister fades into the darkness at the end […]. There is a small statue of Baby Jesus, about 28-30 months old. Blond, handsome, wearing a pale blue robe with golden stars, his right hand raised in blessing, his left holding a globe. An oil lamp illuminates the statue.

As I look at it, it comes to life and becomes real flesh. It smiles at me and gestures with its little hand, saying, "Come here! Come here!" And it becomes luminous, beautiful. The corner of the cloister glows as if with starlight. I move a little closer, smiling reverently. But I still stop too far away, and the Child insists with his voice and his little hand: "Come here! Here, close!" I approach him. He laughs happily and says: "Will you warm my little feet with a kiss? I'm so cold!" and he offers me his bare feet in turn, on which to warm them I place not only my lips but my feverish cheek.

He laughs. A clear, childish laugh, and says: "I am the Child of little Thérèse of Lisieux. This is Carmel. Do you understand? I am the Child Jesus of Sister Thérèse […]. " I contemplate him in ecstasy, now that I am so close to him. He is so beautiful! Then the light grows, grows, it is so violent, it obliterates the power of seeing, and everything disappears. Only the memory and the peace remain.

January 4, 1946.

And as the other day, the Child of the cloister of Lisieux appears to me again. He calls me close again. He consoles me, with his smiling beauty, for my sorrows, which are so many. He once again gives me his icy little feet to warm, saying again: 'I am so cold!', and I dare take them in my hands to warm them more. This makes him very happy.

But he seems tired of holding the globe in his left hand and takes it with both hands, holding it to his chest. I watch him as I warm his little feet in my hands. Perhaps he notices my surprise at his gesture and says, "It's heavy, you know? And this globe of the world is so cold. Hold it. Feel how cold and heavy it is. Hold it a little. I'm tired of holding it and always feeling it like this."

And he offers me the little globe, which at first glance seems to be made of golden glass, smooth and light. Instead, it is heavier than lead, rough, covered in prickles that dig into my skin, causing pain. I hold it with difficulty and anguish, because of the prickles and the chill it transmits. I look at the holy Child with pity.

"It's heavy, isn't it? And it's cold, isn't it! It even chills my heart. Yet I have to carry it. If I abandon it, who can hold it anymore?"

 

"But how can you, poor little Jesus, resist this torture? Because it's real torture..."

"Yes. Look. My little hands are bleeding. Kiss them to heal them." And he offers me his tender hands covered with tiny droplets of blood. I kiss them in the soft hollows of his palms. But they are cold, cold.

"Thank you, Maria. Give me back the globe. You can't hold it anymore. Only I can. But just finding someone to hold it for a few minutes is enough to give me relief. Do you know how you help me hold it, you who love me? With your sacrificial love. Victim souls hold up the world together with Jesus."

He glows as brightly as the other night and withdraws his little foot, saying, "Now they're both warm. And I feel better. Goodbye, Maria. Thank you also for Mom. She's happy when there's someone who loves and comforts me." And she fades into a blinding light.

 

January 6, 1946.

While I'm working on a piece for an altar, "Mom" comes with her Baby in her arms.

She says, "Here. Hold Him for me a little. I'll entrust Him to you," and she sits Him down on the bed, beside me.

Jesus is truly the Baby of Egypt […], because He is about two years old. Dressed in pale blue wool, a rather short tunic, even at the sleeves, so that His forearms and legs are exposed, plump, beautiful. He plays with His little hands and His little dress, and chirps or watches me work with His innocent, sapphire eyes. He spends the whole morning with me, and I am so happy about it.

Based on Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, pp. 156-158.

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SSPX says they are the Catholic Church.

  

The SSPX Daily Newsletter for February 7, 2026 features a quote from their founder Archbishop Marcel Levebvre.  He clearly asserts his view that the SSPX is the Catholic Church. 

 

 "We must maintain absolutely our firm opposition and not doubt for an instant the legitimacy of our position. We cannot remain indifferent before the degradation of faith, morals, and the liturgy. That is out of the question! We do not want to separate ourselves from the Church; on the contrary, we want the Church to continue! A Church that breaks with its past is no longer the Catholic Church. There is only one Catholic Church; it is the one that continues Tradition. That is why I do not hesitate to say that you are the Catholic Church! Why? Because you continue what the Church has always done." 

 

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Praying the Rosary with Our Lady of Fatima.

 

May 5, 1947. Maria Valtorta prays with Our Lady of Fatima:

 

The morning rosary, and then the three rosaries in the afternoon and the golden roses. Each Hail Mary is a rose that falls from the crown of 15 mysteries of Our Lady, because each bead has been transformed into a golden rose, and the Virgin detaches one with each Hail Mary I say, and lets it fall upon the world, in the places I have recognized and on the nations that are deserving of it. 

 

How beautiful it was to say the rosary with Her! I never tired of it. Now I still have in my eyes the luminous cascade of golden roses and in my heart the bliss of having been with the Mother of God for so many hours.

May 8, 1947. Our Lady of Fatima, appearing to me as she usually appears, says: 

 

“On the 5th, I gave you the intellectual vision of what a well-recited Rosary is: a shower of roses upon the world. With every Hail Mary that a loving soul says with love and faith, I let a grace fall. Where? Everywhere: on the righteous to make them more righteous, on sinners to bring them to repentance. How many! How many graces rain down because of the Hail Marys of the Rosary! White, red, and golden roses. White roses of the joyful mysteries, red roses of the sorrowful mysteries, golden roses of the glorious mysteries.  

 

“All powerful roses of grace through the merits of my Jesus. Because it is His infinite merits that give value to every prayer. Everything that is good and holy is and happens because of Him. I distribute, but He gives the value. Oh! Blessed be my Child and Lord!

 

“I give you the pure white roses of the great merits of the perfect divine Innocence of My Son, perfect because voluntarily chosen to be preserved as such by the Man. I give you the crimson roses of the infinite merits of the Suffering of my Son, so willingly endured for you. I give you the golden roses of His most perfect Charity. I give you everything of my Son, and everything of my Son sanctifies and saves you.  

 

“Oh! I am nothing, I disappear in His splendor, I only perform the act of giving, but He, He alone is the inexhaustible source of all graces! And you, my beloved souls, listen to these words of mine: Do the will of the Lord with a cheerful spirit. Doing His Most Holy Will with sadness is to halve the great merit of doing it. Resignation is already something that God rewards. But the joy of doing God's Will multiplies the merit a hundredfold, and therefore the reward, of doing this divine Will, always, always, always just, even if perhaps it does not seem so to man. Therefore, do with a cheerful spirit whatever God wills. And you will be pleasing to Him and most beloved to me, your Mother. Remain in peace under my watchful gaze, which will never abandon you.”

Maria Valtorta’s note:

 

Also today, the 8th, I said the Holy Rosary with Our Lady of Fatima! But today Our Lady didn't pick the roses [… as in] the symbolic gesture on the 5th. Now I know the value of a well-said Hail Mary! The rosary of 15 decades consisted of 5 white roses like pearls, 5 red roses like rubies, and 5 golden ones like the other day. And Mary, as she went through it, saying the Gloria and the first part of the Our Father, from "Our Father" to "on earth," and of the Hail Marys only "Blessed (she didn't say 'the fruit of your womb') Jesus," looked down at the world with her indescribable gaze of peace, love, and pity, and smiled a slightly sorrowful smile in its sweetness.

 

I understood why Our Lady of Fatima attracts me so much, even more than Our Lady of Lourdes, whom I also love so much. Because she is more ours, more of a Mother. Our Lady of Lourdes looks at Heaven; she seems eager to return there, to lose herself in God: she is the Immaculate Conception, the Woman of Heaven. But Our Lady of Fatima looks at us, looks at this poor Earth where she was a woman like every creature and whose sorrows and needs she knows, this poor Earth that needs her so much, and she is all pity for us: she is our Mother, she is the Heart of Mary that loves and watches over us. The first is for the Lord and for the Angels. But this Our Lady of Fatima is for us sinners. She prays for us. She is truly "the Mother," the purest and most compassionate.

Based on Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, pp. 390-392.

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A visit from the Little Flower.

 

"Do not be afraid. God is pleased with you.” 

 

Maria Valtorta has been feeling very ill because of her heart problems. Unexpectedly, she hears the voice of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus saying to her: “Yes, it is I who come to spend this hour of agony with you, and to spend it remembering Jesus, whose face is altered by the bloody sweat and begins to assume the painful expression that makes us, His little victims and brides, delirious with compassionate love. It is I. I too come to caress you. It is my hour. Because when the ‘great silences’ are about to begin, which are the touches of perfection of the divine Artisan on our soul, it is necessary to have a friend nearby who knows them.

“Do not be afraid. Our Jesus also died of thirst [for souls]. Oh! divine thirst! Yet, even though He could hardly speak anymore because of His dry mouth, He spoke the words that save. And He said the prayer that saves: ‘Father, forgive them,’ ‘Today you will be with me,’ ‘Into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Almost mute from thirst and agony, almost blind from the crust of blood on His eyelids and from approaching death, He was able to say the prayers that save, and still see the will of the Father and adore it.

“It is not necessary to do much when you are close to immolation, little sister. It is enough to remain faithful. And to see God beyond the crust of pain that wounds our heart, and to tell God that you still love Him, always. Do not be afraid. God is pleased with you. He sends me to tell you. Do you think you are not a ‘child in spiritual infancy’? You are. Because you do everything with simplicity. Even your imperfections. And you do not try to veil them with adult cunning to clothe them in a false garment of righteousness. You are a ‘little one’ in the way that I have taught, because Jesus likes ‘little ones’ and He said that the kingdom of Heaven belongs to them.

“And you are a ‘victim.’ An adult, therefore. Because the spirit that voluntarily chooses to be sacrificed, even if it is the spirit of a child, is an adult spirit. Yesterday you were wondering what the ‘double love’ is that I asked for myself. For you, little sister, it is this: to be a child and love Jesus with the simplicity of a child, and to be a victim and love Him with the heroism of a martyr. With Him in the poor straw cradle, with Him on the rough cross. Always with Him. So as never to leave Him alone. To make Him smile. To drink His tears and die with Him. How He loves you! He has given you His two holiest beds: the cradle on which the Mother watches, and the cross on which all of Heaven is bowed. These are the places where His love calls you to a divine appointment of love. From there you will take flight to Heaven.

“Now rest, little sister. I am here praying with you. But believe that it is enough to love, to love very much, and it is enough to say only: ‘Jesus, I love you!’, and to say it with true love, to be not only justified but loved by God with a love of predilection. Happy are those who at every beat of their heart can say: ‘I love you.’ They will breathe their last with this profession of love in their mind, in their heart, and on their lips. And it will open Paradise for them. Because God loves those who love Him and gives Himself to those who love Him.”

Maria Valtorta: I was uncertain, feeling these new caresses from a gentle hand [...]. I could only see the hand covered almost to the back by a wide brown sleeve. A beautiful, slender hand. I felt it touching my head from time to time. I was happy about it. My physical suffering, which is very intense, was comforted by that touch. But I didn't dare say to myself, "It's Saint Thérèse." But when it wasn't just a caress but also a sight of the hand, I had no more doubts. However, I didn't see anything else. The hands and the voice, very beautiful and sweet, and a great peace, a certainty, a warm sense of friendship. I can't explain it well. Her words, then, made me even happier. I've been feeling so ill since yesterday afternoon, because of my heart […]. But it doesn't matter. I am very happy to have had a visit from my beloved little saint, so happy that the physical pain seems like nothing to me.

Based on Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1944; 07/13/44; pp. 430-432.

 

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Padre Pio’s encounters WWII GIs, and more.

 

After you click on the link below, please page down until you come to a photo of actor Gary Sinise reading from the book Padre Pio and America. Just below that picture is a video produced by the St. Pio Foundation and EWTN about Padre Pio and the American troops, featuring vintage photos and clips from that era.

Included is a brief movie of Padre Pio offering the Mass. Viewing this you can get a glimpse of why the Traditional Latin Mass was the crowning glory of Catholic religious practices until the changes after Vatican II.

https://tanbooks.com/products/books/padre-pio-and-america/