Padre Pio's Great Easter Miracle

Paolina was gravely ill, with relatives and friends preparing for her death, but Padre Pio promised that during his Easter Mass she would rise with Christ.

In the early months of 1925, Paolina Preziosi, a holy woman and a good mother to her five children, fell ill with bronchitis. She was a Third Order Franciscan and well-liked by the people of San Giovanni Rotondo, where she lived. It was said of her that “she had a delicacy of conscience as rare and precious as her surname.”

As Holy Week approached, her condition became grave, and developed into pneumonia, but there was little the attending doctor could do. Difficult days lie ahead for Paolina. Her husband Lorenzo and the children became more and more upset as she grew visibly worse. Some of her friends approached Padre Pio to ask his help. But he replied: “What can I do, I am just a poor sinner”. He added that they must pray and keep on praying, so that the Lord does not take her. Her family, relatives, friends and neighbors did pray, but it seemed that their pleas were not reaching heaven. As her condition became increasingly desperate, the doctor began to fear for her life. Medicines had no effect, and she had almost stopped eating.

On Palm Sunday, her friends once more entreated Padre Pio. They recounted their fears for the fate of her five children if she were taken away from them. But he appeared preoccupied, as if he were not sure that Divine Providence would intervene. It seemed he felt that her destiny was already decided and could not be changed. The friends continued to persist: “Padre, the doctor says there is no hope.” Finally he came back to himself, and looked at them serenely, almost as if he had found a solution. Then he said to them decisively, “Paolina will rise with Jesus. She is such good person that the Lord wants her with Him in heaven, but her children need her. She must keep on praying and not be afraid. Tell her that she will rise again with the Lord.”

The words of Padre Pio assumed a prophetic significance, since he was announcing a miracle to occur at a specific time. “Padre Pio said Paolina will rise with the Lord,” the people repeated all during Holy Week. The news circulated throughout San Giovanni and even to neighboring towns in the province of Puglia, igniting disputes and discussions. The enemies of Padre Pio laughed, and awaited the day when the stupidity of those who believed in him would be confirmed. But others were certain that she would be cured; however, they wondered if the cure would occur at the Vigil Mass on Holy Saturday, or on Sunday.

The evening of Good Friday, the hapless woman continued to beg God to permit her to live for the sake of her children. Then Padre Pio, who was aware of her intense appeals, and was deeply moved, appeared to her in bilocation. “Do not fear,” he told her. “Do not fear, child of God, have faith and hope; at Mass tomorrow, when the church bells sound for Christ's Resurrection, you will be cured.”

The poor woman prayed all night, along with her friends, neighbors and relatives. They had already prepared the coffin, as was the custom in the area, since only a miracle could save her life. There was nothing doctors could do for her, because science was powerless to restore health to someone who was more dead than alive. Padre Pio, however, insisted they must continue praying to the Lord for her cure. But later that night she became comatose, and the Third Order members readied their Franciscan burial shroud, to clad her as soon as she passed.

Early in the morning on Holy Saturday, one of her relatives, with two of Paolina's children, went to the monastery in order to once again plead with Padre Pio, who was their last hope. In the face of their unbridled tears, especially of the little ones, he could not resist their request and he redoubled his prayers. “Heavenly Father, please grant that the Sacrifice of the Mass will renew the life and health of your worthy daughter. In her goodness she is ready to be with You, but permit her to remain here upon the earth for the sake of her five young children.” He embraced the two children who were present, pressing them close to himself. He was heartbroken by their innocent suffering.

In the meantime a note was passed to him, indicating that the parish priest had arrived at the Preziosi home to administer the last rites of the Church. As the morning progressed, he received further updates: she doesn't recognize anybody; she is practically dead.

After hearing confessions, Padre Pio donned his priestly vestments. He approached the altar and began the Easter Mass for Saturday in the monastery church of Our Lady of Grace. All eyes were on him. “He is sorrowful,” some said. “He has been crying,” said others. “I have never seen him so downcast.” But at the Gloria, everyone saw him transfigured, as large tears fell from his eyes. At the same time, the church bells, which had been silent all week, announced the Resurrection of Christ, ringing out their hosannas to the Lord!  Glory to God who has risen!

At the sound of the bells, Paolina Preziosi, as if impelled by a superhuman force, rose up from her bed. She lifted up to God and to Padre Pio prayers of praise and thanksgiving and gratitude. Her fever had disappeared, and her body had returned to life, with a vitality that neither medicine nor science were capable of returning to her. To the astonishment of everyone she was completely well.

People ran outside, shouting “Miracle! Paolina is cured!” The news reverberated everywhere, even reaching those who were at Mass. “The miracle has happened,” they whispered one to another, while tears streamed down their faces. At the termination of the ceremony, so many people pushed into the sacristy to see Padre Pio that the carabinieri had to intervene to curb the enthusiasm of the crowd.

Afterwards, someone remarked to him that perhaps God had wanted this woman to be with Him, but now she has come back to earth. Padre Pio replied: “It is also beautiful to be exiled from Paradise because of love!”

This mother of many children had obtained grace from the Mother of God. Padre Pio had prayed to Jesus and Saint Joseph, but in a special way to the Blessed Virgin. Certainly the phrase written over the entrance to one of the cells of his monastery must have come to his mind: “Mary is the entire reason for my hope.” (Maria e' tutta la ragione della mia speranza.)

This article is based on the original account researched by Alberto Del Fante for his book Per La Storia, with additional information from Padre Pio Il Santo dei Miracoli by Renzo Allegri.

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“Mother, Behold thy Son.” Meditation by St. Alphonsus

“I behold thee my innocent Mother, enduring also for me so great sufferings; and I see that I, a miserable being, who deserves hell on account of my sins, have not suffered anything for love of thee – I wish to suffer something for thee before I die.”

Jesus, by mouth of the prophet, made lamentation that, when dying on the cross, he went in search of someone to console him, but found none: And I looked for one that would comfort me, and I found none [Ps. 68:21]. The Jews and the Romans, even while he was dying, uttered against him their execrations and blasphemies. The Most Holy Mary – yes she stood beneath the cross, in order to afford him some relief, had it been in her power to do so; but this afflicted and loving Mother, by the sorrow which she suffered through sympathy with his pains, only added to the affliction of this her Son, who loved her so dearly. 

Bartolome Murillo

St. Bernard says that the pains of Mary all went towards increasing the torments of the Heart of Jesus: “The Mother, being filled with it, the ocean of her sorrow poured itself back upon the Son.” So that the Redeemer, in beholding Mary sorrowing thus, felt his soul pierced more by the sorrows of Mary than by his own; as was revealed to St. Bridget by the Blessed Virgin herself: “He, on beholding me, grieved more for me than for himself.” Whence St. Bernard says, “O good Jesus, great as are Thy bodily sufferings, much more dost Thou suffer in Thy Heart through compassion for Thy Mother.”

What pangs, too, must not those loving Hearts of Jesus and Mary have felt when the moment arrived in which the Son, before breathing his last, had to take his leave of the Mother! Behold what the last words were with which Jesus took leave in this world of Mary: “Mother, behold thy son,” assigning to her John, whom, in his own place, he left her for a son. O Queen of Sorrows, things given as memorials by a beloved son at the hour of his death, how very dear they are, and never do they slip away from the memory of a mother! Oh, bear it in mind that thy Son, who loved thee so dearly, has, in the person of John, left me, a sinner, to thee for a son.

Annibale Carracci

For the love which thou didst bear to Jesus, have compassion on me. I ask thee not the good things of earth; I behold thy Son dying in so great pains for me; I behold thee, my innocent Mother, enduring also for me so great sufferings; and I see that I, a miserable being, who deserves hell on account of my sins, have not suffered anything for love of thee – I wish to suffer something for thee before I die. This is the grace that I ask of thee; and with St. Bonaventure, I say to thee, that if I have offended thee, justice requires that I should have suffering as a chastisement; and if I have been serving thee, it is but reasonable that I should have suffering as a reward: “O Lady, if I have offended thee, wound my heart for justice' sake; if I have served thee, I ask thee for wounds as my recompense.”

Obtain for me, O Mary, a great devotion and a continual remembrance of the Passion of thy Son; and, by that pang which thou didst suffer on beholding him breathe his last upon the cross, obtain for me a good death. Come to my assistance, O my Queen, in that last moment; make me die, loving and pronouncing the sacred names of Jesus and Mary. 

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Discourses for Times of Calamities: St. Alphonsus de Liguori

Excerpts from “God Chastises us in this life for our Good, not for our Destruction.”

Let us then be joyful, my brethren; it is true that God appears to be in wrath, but he is still our Father.  “For Thou art not delighted in our being lost.” [Tob, 3:22.]

Let us feel persuaded, my brethren, that there is no one who loves us more than God. St. Teresa says that God loves us more than we love ourselves. He has loved us from eternity. Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love [Jer. 31:3]. Hence, when God chastises us upon the earth, it is not because he wishes to injure us, but because he wishes us well, and loves us. But of this every one is sure that worshippeth Thee, that his life, if it be under trial, shall be crowned: and if it be under tribulation, shall be delivered [Tob. 3:21]. So spoke Sara the wife of Tobias: Lord, he who serves thee is sure that after the trial shall have passed he shall be crowned, and that after tribulation he shall be spared the punishment which he deserved: For Thou art not delighted in our being lost: because after a storm Thou makest a calm, and after tears and weeping Thou pourest in joyfullness [Tob. 3:22]. After the tempest of chastisement he gives us peace, and after mourning, joy and gladness.

My brethren, let us convince ourselves of what I have undertaken to show you to-day, namely, that God does not afflict us in this life for our injury but for our good, in order that we may cease from sin, and by recovering his grace escape eternal punishment.

And I will give My fear in their heart, that they may not revolt from Me [Jer. 32:40]. The Lord says that he infuses his fear into our hearts, in order that he may enable us to triumph over our passion for earthly pleasures, for which, ungrateful that we are, we have left him. And when sinners have left him, how does he make them look into themselves, and recover his grace? By putting on the appearance of anger, and chastising them in this life: In Thy anger Thou shalt break the people in pieces [Ps. 55:8]. Another version, according to St. Augustine, has: “In thy wrath thou shalt conduct the people.” The saint inquiring, What is the meaning of his conducting the people in his wrath? he then replies: “Thou, O Lord, fillest us with tribulations, in order that, being thus afflicted, we may abandon our sins and return to Thee.”

In their affliction they will rise early to Me [Hos. 6:1]. God says within himself, If I allow those sinners to enjoy their pleasures undisturbed, they will remain in the sleep of sin: they must be afflicted, in order that, recovering from their lethargy, they may return to me. When they shall be in tribulation they will say: Come, let us return to the Lord, for He hath taken us, and He will heal us; He will strike and He will cure us [Hos. 6:2]. What shall become of us, say those sinners, as they enter into themselves, if we do not turn from our evil courses? God will not be appeased, and will with justice continue to punish us: come on, let us retrace our steps; for he will cure us, and if he has afflicted us just now, he will upon our return think of consoling us with his mercy.

Tribulation is for the sinner at once a punishment and a grace, says St. Augustine. It is a punishment inasmuch as it has been drawn down upon him by his sins; but it is a grace, and an important grace, inasmuch as it may ward eternal destruction from him, and is an assurance that God means to deal mercifully with him if he look into himself, and receive with thankfulness that tribulation which has opened his eyes to his miserable condition, and invites him to return to God. Let us then be converted, my brethren, and we shall escape from our several chastisements: “Why should he who accepts chastisement as a grace be afraid after receiving it?” says St. Augustine. He who turns to God, smarting from the scourge, has no longer anything to fear, because God scourges only in order that we may return to him; and this end once obtained, the Lord will scourge us no more.

Be glad, therefore, O sinners! and thank God when he punishes you in this life, and takes vengeance of your sins; because you may know thereby that he means to treat you with mercy in the next. Thou wast a merciful God to them, and taking vengeance on their inventions [Ps. 98:8]. The Lord when he chastises us has not chastisement so much in view as our conversion.

Jonas slept in the ship when he was flying from the Lord; but God seeing that the wretched man was on the brink of temporal and eternal death, caused him to be warned of the tempest: Why art thou fast asleep; rise up, call upon thy God [Jon. 1:6]. God my brethren, now warns ye in like manner. You have been in the state of sin, deprived of sanctifying grace, the chastisement has come, and that chastisement is the voice of God, saying to you, “Why are you fast asleep? rise and call upon your God.” Awake, sinner! do not live on forgetful of your soul and of God. Open your eyes, and see how you stand upon the verge of hell, where so many wretches are now bewailing sins less grievous than yours, and are you asleep? have you no thought of confession? no thought of rescuing yourself from eternal death? 

Rise, call upon your God. Up from that infernal pit into which you have fallen; pray to God to pardon you, beg of him this at least, if you are not at once resolved to change your life, that he will give you light, and make you see the wretched state in which you stand. Learn how to profit by the warning which the Lord vouchsafes you. Jeremias first sees a rod. I see a rod watching [Jer. 1:11]; he next sees a boiling cauldron: I see a boiling cauldron [Jer. 1:13]. St. Ambrose, in speaking of this passage, explains it thus: He who is not corrected by the rod, shall be thrown into the cauldron, there to burn. He whom the temporal chastisement fails to convert, shall be sent to burn eternally in hell-fire. Sinful brother, listen to God, who addresses himself to your heart, by this chastisement, and calls on you to do penance. Tell me what answer do you make him? 

Take courage, say with the prodigal: I will arise and go to my father [Luke 15:18]. I will arise from this sleep of death—this state of damnation, and return to God. It is true that I have sufficiently outraged him by leaving him so much against his desire, but he is still my Father. I will arise and go to my Father. And when you shall go to that Father, what shall you say to him? Say what the prodigal said to his father: Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee; I am not now worthy to be called thy son [Luke 15:21]. Father, I acknowledge my error, I have done ill to leave Thee, who have so much loved me; I see now’ that I am no longer worthy to be called Thy son; receive me at least as Thy servant; restore me at least to Thy grace, and then chastise me as Thou pleasest.

Oh, happy you, if you say and do thus! the same will happen you which befell the prodigal son. The father, when he saw his son retracing his steps, and perceived that he had humbled himself for his fault, not only did not drive him off—not only received him into his house, but embraced and kissed him as his son. And running to him, fell upon his neck and kissed him. He then clothed him with a precious garment, which represents the robe of grace: Bring forth quickly the first robe, and put it on him. And he, moreover, makes a great feast in the house, to commemorate the recovery of his son, whom he looked upon as lost and dead: Let us eat and make merry, because this my son was dead, and is come to life again; was lost, and is found [Luke 15:20-23].

Let us then be joyful, my brethren; it is true that God appears to be in wrath, but he is still our Father; let us retrace our steps in penance, and he will be appeased and spare us. Behold Mary our Mother praying for us on the one hand, and on the other turned towards us, saying, In me is all hope of life and of virtue; . . . come over to me all [Ecclus. 24:25]. My children, that Mother of Mercy says to us, my poor afflicted children, have recourse to me, and in me you shall find all hope; my son denies me nothing. You were dead by sin; come to me, find me, and you shall find life—the life of divine grace, which I shall recover for you by my intercession.

St. Alphonsus de Liguori: Nine Discourses for Times of Calamities.

Above are excerpts from the sixth discourse. 

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The Dramatic Conversion of Alphonsus de Liguori

He had just come from an argument with his father, who wished his son to appear with him at a function of the Neopolitan Court. It was to be a reception attended by the high nobility of Naples, of which the esteemed de Liguori family was a part. His father begged his son to accompany him, and after repeated requests, the young Alphonsus replied, “What would you have me to do at the Court? All that is only vanity.” Finally his father left in indignation. He had been in vain trying to persuade this, his oldest son, to resume his successful career as a lawyer. The events of the remainder of that day, August 28, 1723, are chronicled in the words of the saint's most eminent biographer, Austin Berthe:

After this incident Alphonsus became a prey to the most distressing perplexity. With grace on the one hand drawing him from the world, and his father on the other endeavoring with might and main to lead him back to it, how was he to act without doing violence to his conscience? “If I resist my father's authority, I am doing wrong,” he argued. “But if I follow my father against the will of God, shall I not be doing worse? Who will show me the road I ought to take.” In great agitation he set out for the Hospital of the Incurables, where he was to hear God's answer.

He had begun his usual visit to the patients when suddenly he found himself surrounded by a mysterious light. At the same time the house seemed to him to rock as if under the shock of an earthquake. Then he heard an interior voice distinctly pronounce these words: “Leave the world and give thyself to Me.” Though he was moved to the very depths of his soul, Alphonsus still preserved sufficient calmness to go on with his work of charity. The visit ended, he was going down the hospital stairs when the dazzling light suddenly reappeared; again the house seemed to rock, and the same voice repeated with even greater force: “Leave the world and give thyself to Me.” He stood still in amazement and cried out: “Lord, too long have I resisted Thy grace; do with me what Thou wilt.”

With the impression of this strange occurrence still upon him he wended his way, not to the Liguori palace, but towards a building he had much frequented during those last fifteen days. This was the church of the Redemption of Captives, dedicated to Our Lady of Ransom. A novena had lately been celebrated there in preparation for the feast of the Assumption, and Alphonsus had attended the devotions with great fervor. The celebrated statue of the Madonna was still adorned for the feast.

Maria de Mercede, fresco by Ghirlandaio

Instinctively he went and threw himself at his Mother's feet to ask, through her, for grace to know and do the will of God. That same moment he found himself, for the third time, filled with a heavenly light, and rapt as it were out of himself. The hour had come for the great holocaust. Drawn by divine grace Alphonsus consecrated himself to the service of God, and bound himself irrevocably to enter the ecclesiastical state. Furthermore he took the resolution to join the Congregation of the Oratory as soon as possible, and as a pledge of his promise he ungirded his sword, and laid it on Our Lady's altar.

Thus did God complete in this church of the Redemption of Captives the conquest of him who was himself to help to redeem so many souls from the slavery of Satan. Alphonsus never forgot that memorable day, nor this sanctuary of Mary, nor did he ever in later days return to Naples without visiting his heavenly benefactress. “She it was,” he said one day, pointing to the picture of Our Lady of Ransom, “who drew me from the world and made me enter the service of the Church.”

Within two months, on October 23 in the year 1723, at the age of twenty-seven, Alphonsus laid aside his secular dress to put on the livery of his heavenly Master. It was a Saturday. Our Lady of Ransom, who had called him, wished herself on her own day to offer him to her Divine Son.

Chiesa di Santa Maria della Mercede e Sant'Alfonso Maria de' Liguori, Naples

We have this history of the Saint's call to leave the world from his own lips. Being one day, in after years, in recreation with his students at Ciorani, on a certain 27^th of August, he said to them: “To-morrow is the anniversary of my conversion.” Then at their earnest request, and by the wish of Father Villani his director, he told them the story of what happened in the Hospital of the Incurables, as related above.

Life of Alphonsus De Liguori, Austin Berthe, J. Duffy & Co. Dublin, 1905, from Chapter IV.

 

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St. Alphonsus on the Scourging of Jesus Christ.

Let us enter into the praetorium of Pilate, one day made the horrible scene of the ignominies and pains of Jesus; let us see how unjust, how shameful, how cruel was the punishment there inflicted on the Savior of the world. Pilate, seeing that the Jews continued to make a tumult against Jesus, as a most unjust judge condemned him to be scourged: Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged Him [John 19:1]. The iniquitous judge thought by means of this barbarity to win for him the compassion of his enemies, and thus to deliver him from death: I will chastise Him (he said) and let Him go [Luke 23:22].

Scourging was the chastisement inflicted on slaves only. Therefore, says St. Bernard, our loving Redeemer willed to take the form, not only of a slave, in order to subject himself to the will of others, but even of a bad slave in order to be chastised with scourges, and so to pay the penalty due from man, who had made himself the slave of sin: “Taking not only the form of a slave, that he might submit, but even of a bad slave, that he might be beaten and suffer the punishment of the slave of sin.”

As soon as he had arrived at the praetorium (as was revealed to St. Bridget), our loving Savior, at the command of the servants, stripped himself of his garments, embraced the column, and then laid on it his hands to have them bound. O God, already is begun the cruel torture. O angels of heaven, come and look on this sorrowful spectacle; and if it not be permitted you to deliver your king from this barbarous slaughter which men have prepared for him, at least come and weep for compassion. And thou, my soul, imagine thyself to be present at this horrible tearing of the flesh of Thy beloved Redeemer. Look on him, how he stands, thy afflicted Jesus, with his head bowed, looking on the ground, blushing all over for shame, he awaits this great torture.

Flagellation of Christ, by Michael Pacher, c. 1495-98. Austrian Gallery Belvedere, Vienna, Austria.

Behold these barbarians, like so many ravening dogs, are already with the scourges, attacking this innocent lamb. See how one beats him on the breast, another strikes his shoulders, another smites his loins and his legs; even his sacred head and his beautiful face cannot escape the blows. Ah me! Already flows that divine blood from every part; already with that blood are saturated the scourges, the hands of the executioners, the column, and the ground. “He is wounded,” mourns St. Peter Damian, “over his whole body, torn with the scourges; now they twine round his shoulders, now round his legs – streaks upon streaks, wounds added to fresh wounds.” Ah, cruel men, with whom are you dealing thus? Stay – stay; know that you are mistaken. This man whom you are torturing is innocent and holy; it is myself who am the culprit; to me, to me, who have sinned, are these stripes and torments due. But you regard not what I say.

And how canst Thou, O Eternal Father, bear with this great injustice? How canst Thou behold Thy beloved Son suffering thus, and not interfere in his behalf? What is the crime that he has ever committed, to deserve so shameful and so severe a punishment? For the wickedness of My people have I struck Him [Isaias 53:8]. I well know, says the Eternal Father, that this my Son is innocent; but inasmuch as he has offered himself as a satisfaction to my justice for all the sins of mankind, it is fitting that I should so abandon him to the rage of his enemies. 

Hast Thou, then, my adorable Savior, in compensation for our sins, and especially for those of impurity – that most prevalent vice of mankind, – been willing to have Thy most pure flesh torn to pieces? And who, then, will not exclaim with St. Bernard, “How unspeakable is the love of God towards sinners!”

Ah, my Lord, smitten with the scourge, I return Thee thanks for so great love, and I grieve that I am myself, by reason of my sins, one of those who scourge Thee. O my Jesus! I detest all those wicked pleasures which have cost thee so much pain. Oh how many years ought I not already to have been in the flames of hell! And why hast Thou so patiently awaited me until now? Thou hast borne with me, in order that at length, overcome by so many wiles of love, I might give myself up to love thee, abandoning sin. O my beloved Redeemer!

St. Bonaventure sorrowfully exclaims, “The royal blood is flowing; bruise is superadded to bruise, and gash to gash. That divine blood was already issuing from every pore; that sacred body was already become but one perfect wound; yet those infuriated brutes did not forebear to add blow to blow, as the Prophet had foretold: And they have added to the grief of my wounds [Ps. 68: 27]. So that the thongs not only made the whole body one wound, but even bore away pieces of it into the air, until at length the gashes in that sacred flesh were such that the bones might have been counted. “The flesh was torn away, that the bones could be numbered.” Cornelius a' Lapide says that in this torment Jesus Christ ought, naturally speaking, to have died; but he willed, by his divine power, to keep himself in life, in order to suffer yet greater pains for love of us. And St. Laurence Justinian had observed the same thing before: “He evidently ought to have died. Yet he reserved himself unto life, it being his will to endure heavier sufferings.”

Column of the Flagellation in the Church of St. Praxedes in Rome (Wikipedia)

 Cruel in excess to our Redeemer was this torture of his scourging in the first place, because of the great number of those by whom it was inflicted; who, as was revealed to St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi, were not fewer than sixty. And these, at the instigation of the devils, and even more so of the priests, who were afraid lest Pilate should, after this punishment, be minded to release the Lord, as he had already protested to them, saying, I will therefore scourge him, and let him go [Luke 23:22], aimed at taking away his life by means of this scourging. Again, all theologians agree with St. Bonaventure that, for this purpose, the sharpest implements were selected, so that, as St. Anselm declares, every stroke produced a wound; and that the number of strokes amounted to several thousand, the flagellation being administered, as Father Crasset says, not after the manner of the Jews, for whom the Lord had forbidden that the number of strokes should never exceed forty; Yet so, that they exceed not the number of forty, lest thy brother depart shamefully torn [Deut. 25:3], but after the manner of the Romans, with whom there was not measure.

And so it is related by Josephus, the Jew, who lived shortly after our Lord, that Jesus was torn in his scourging to such a degree that the bones in his ribs were laid bare; as it was also revealed by the most Holy Virgin to St. Bridget, in these words: “I, who was standing by, saw his body scourged to the very ribs, so that his ribs themselves might be seen. And what was even yet more bitter still, when the scourges were drawn back, his flesh was furrowed by them.” To St. Teresa, Jesus revealed himself in his scourging, so that the saint wished to have him painted exactly as she had seen him, and told the painter to represent a large piece of flesh torn off, and handing down from the left elbow; but when the painter inquired as to the shape in which he ought to paint it, he found, on turning round again to his picture, the piece of flesh already drawn.

Ah, my beloved and adored Jesus, how much hast Thou suffered for love of me! Oh, let not so many pangs, and so much blood be lost for me!

But from the scriptures alone it clearly appears how barbarous and inhuman was the scourging of Jesus Christ. For why was it that Pilate should, after the scourging, have shown him to the people, saying, Behold the man! [John 19;5], were it not that our Savior was reduced to so pitiable a condition that Pilate believed the very sight of him would have moved his enemies themselves to compassion, and hindered them from any longer demanding his death?

Why was it that in the journey that Jesus, after this, made to Calvary, the Jewish women followed him with tears and lamentations? But there followed Him a great multitude of people, and women, who bewailed and lamented Him [Luke 23:27]. Was it, perhaps, because those women loved him and believed him to be innocent? No, the women, for the most part, agree with their husbands in opinion; so that they, too, esteemed him guilty. But the appearance of Jesus after his scourging, was so shocking and pitiable, as to move to tears even those who hated him; and therefore it was that the women gave vent to their tears and sighs.

The prophet Isaias has described more clearly than all the pitiable state to which he foresaw our Redeemer reduced. He said that his most holy flesh would have to be not merely wounded, but altogether bruised and crushed to pieces: But He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our transgressions [Isaias 53:5]. For, as the prophet goes on to say, the Eternal Father, the more perfectly to satisfy his justice, and to make mankind understand the deformity of sin, was not contented without beholding his Son pounded piecemeal, as it were, and torn to shreds by the scourges: And the Lord willed to bruise Him in infirmity [Isaias 53:10]. So that the blessed body of Jesus had to become like the body of a leper, all wounds from head to foot: And we esteemed Him as a leper, and one smitten of God [Isaias 53:4].

I love Thee my Jesus, thus wounded and torn to pieces for me; and would that I could see myself too torn to pieces for Thee, like so many martyrs whose portion this had been! But if I cannot offer Thee wounds and blood, I offer Thee at least all the pains which it will be my lot to suffer. I offer Thee my heart; with this I desire to love Thee more tenderly even than I am able. And who is there that my soul should love more tenderly than a God, who had endured scourging and been drained of his blood for me? I love Thee, O God of Love! I love Thee O infinite goodness! I love Thee, O my love, my all!

Excerpts from The Passion and Death of Jesus Christ, by St. Alphonsus de Liguori.  

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Does God Hear the Prayers of Sinners?

In St. John's Gospel, the man born blind said, “Now we know that God doth not hear sinners: but if a man be a server of God, and doth his will, him he heareth.” So is it true that the Bible teaches that God does not hear sinners? No, this is not true, according to St. Alphonsus Liguori:

But a person might say, I am a sinner, and God does not hear sinners, as we read in St. John's Gospel: God does not hear sinners [Jn, 9:31]. I answer, that these words were not spoken by our Lord, but by the man who had been born blind. And the proposition, if taken absolutely, is false; there is only one case in which it is true, as St. Thomas says, and that is when sinners pray as sinners, that is, ask something that they require to assist them in their sin. As, for instance, if a man asked God to help him to take vengeance on his enemy; in such cases God certainly will not hear.

But when a man prays and asks for those things that are requisite for his salvation, what matters it whether he is a sinner or not? Suppose he were the greatest criminal in the world, let him only pray, he will surely obtain all that he asks. The promise is general for all men, everyone that seeks, obtains: Everyone that asketh receiveth [Luke:11;10]. “It is not necessary,” says St. Thomas, “that the man who prays should merit the grace for which he asks. By prayer we obtain even those things which we do not deserve.”

In order to receive, it is enough to pray. The reason is (in the words of the same holy Doctor), “merit is grounded on justice, but the power of prayer is grounded on grace.” The power of prayer to obtain what we ask does not depend on the merit of the person who prays, but on the mercy and faithfulness of God, who has gratuitously, and of his own mere goodness, promised to hear the man who prays to him. When we pray it is not necessary that we should be friends of God in order to obtain grace; indeed, the act of prayer, as St. Thomas says, makes us friends” “Prayer itself makes us of the family of God.”

And Jesus Christ, to give us more encouragement to pray, and to assure us of obtaining grace when we pray, has made us that great and special promise: Amen, amen I say to you, if you ask the Father anything in My name, He will give it to you [John 16:23]. As though he had said, come sinners you have no merits of your own for which My Father should listen to you. But this is what you must do, when you want grace, ask for it in My name, and through My merits, and I promise you (“Amen, amen I say to you,” amounts to a kind of oath) you may depend on it, that whatever you ask you shall obtain from My Father: Whatever you ask He will give it to you.

Oh what a sweet consolation for a poor sinner, to know that his sins are no hindrance to his obtaining every grace he asks for, since Jesus Christ has promised that whatever we ask of God, through his merits, he will grant it all!

Ask for temporal goods profitable to our souls.

It is, however, necessary to understand that Our Lord's promise to hear our prayers does not apply to our petitions for temporal goods, but only to those for spiritual graces necessary, or at any rate, useful, for the salvation of the soul; so that we can only expect to obtain the [profitable] graces which we ask in the name and through the merits of Jesus Christ, as we said just now. “But,” as St. Augustine says, “if we ask anything prejudicial to our salvation, it cannot be said to be asked in the name of the Savior.” That which is injurious to salvation cannot be expected from the Savior; God does not and cannot grant it. And why? Because he loves us.

Many people ask for health or riches, but God does not give them, because he sees they would be an occasion of sin, or at least of growing lukewarm in his service. So when we ask these temporal gifts, we ought always to add this condition, if they are profitable to our souls. And when we see that God does not give them, let us rest assured that he refuses them because he loves us, and because he sees that the things which we ask would only damage our spiritual well-being.

So, I repeat, all temporal gifts which are not necessary for salvation ought to be asked conditionally; and if we see that God does not give them, we must feel sure that he refuses them for our greater good. But with regard to spiritual graces, we must be certain that God gives them to us when we ask him. St. Teresa says that God loves us more than we love ourselves. And St. Augustine has declared that God has a greater desire to give us his grace, than we have to receive it. And after him, St. Mary Magdalene of Pazzi said that God feels a kind of obligation to the soul that prays, and, as it were, says to it, “Soul, I thank thee that thou askest me for grace.” For then the soul gives him an opportunity of doing good to it, and of thus satisfying his desire of giving his grace to all.

Perseverance in Prayer.

Let us pray then, and let us always be asking for grace, if we wish to be saved. Let prayer be our most delightful occupation; let prayer be the exercise of our whole life. And when we are asking for particular graces, let us always pray for the grace to continue to pray in the future, because if we leave off praying we shall be lost. Let us pray, then, and let us always shelter ourselves behind the intercession of Mary: “Let us seek for grace, and let us seek it through Mary, “ says St. Bernard. And when we recommend ourselves to Mary, we can be sure she hears us and obtains for us whatever we want. Let us then in our prayers always invoke Jesus and Mary, let us never neglect to pray. If you pray you will be certainly saved.

Eternal Father, I humbly adore thee, and thank thee for having created me, and for having redeemed me through Jesus Christ. If Thou does not constantly guard and succor me with thy aid, I, a miserable creature, shall return to sin, and shall certainly lose thy grace. I beseech Thee, for the love of Jesus Christ, to grant me holy perseverance until death. Through the merits, then, of Jesus Christ, I beg for myself and for all the just, the grace never again to be separated from Thy love, but to love thee forever, in time and eternity. Mary, Mother of God, pray to Jesus for me.

Excerpts from “A short treatise on Prayer”, pp. 440-447, in the book by St. Alphonsus de Liguori, The Way of Salvation and Perfection.

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Time is a Treasure. St. Alphonsus on the Value of Time.

If God calls you today to do good, do it; for tomorrow it may happen that for you time will be no more, or that God will call you no more. Selections from two of the saint's meditations on the value of time:

 

Time is a treasure of inestimable value, because in every moment of time we may gain an increase of grace and eternal glory. In hell the lost souls are tormented with the thought, and bitterly lament, that now there is no more time for them in which to rescue themselves by repentance from eternal misery. What would they give but for one hour of time to save themselves by an act of true sorrow from destruction! In heaven there is no grief, but if the blessed could grieve, they would do so for having lost so much time during life, in which they might have acquired greater glory, and because time is now no longer theirs.

A deceased Benedictine nun appeared in glory to a certain person, and said that she was perfectly happy, but that if she could desire anything, it would be to return to life, and to suffer pains and privations in order to merit an increase of glory. She added, that, for the glory which corresponds to a single Ave Maria, she would be content to endure till the day of judgment the painful illness which caused her death.

Time is a treasure which is found only in this life; it is not found in the next, either in hell or in heaven. The very pagans knew the value of time. Seneca said that no price is an equivalent for it. But the saints have understood its value still better. According to St. Bernadine of Siena, a moment of time is of as much value as God; because in each moment a man can, by acts of contrition or of love, acquire the grace of God and eternal glory.

I give thee thanks O God for giving me time to bewail my sins! And to make amends by my love for the offenses I have committed against thee.

Nothing is so precious as time; and yet how comes it that nothing is so little valued? Men will spend hours in jesting, or standing at a window or in the middle of the road, to see what passes; and if you ask them what they are doing, they will tell you they are passing away the time. O time, now so much despised! Thou will be of all things else the most valued by such persons when death shall have surprised them. What will they then be willing to give for one hour of so much lost time. But time will remain no longer for them when it is said to each of them, “Go forth, Christian soul, out of this world.”

My brother, how do you spend your time? Why do you always defer till tomorrow what you can do today? Remember that the time which is past is no longer yours; the future is not under your control; you have only the present for the performance of good works. “Why, O miserable man,” says St. Bernard, “do you presume on the future, as if the Father had placed time in your power?” St. Augustine asks: “How can you, who are not sure of an hour, promise yourself tomorrow?” “If then,” says St. Teresa, “you are not prepared for death today, tremble lest you die an unhappy death.”

Salvadore Dali: The Persistence of Memory

Walk whilst you have the light [John 12: 35]. The time of death is the time of night when nothing can any longer be seen, nor anything be accomplished. The night cometh in which no man can work [John 9:4]. Hence the holy spirit admonishes us to walk in the way of the Lord, whilst we have the light and the day before us. Can we reflect that the time is near approaching in which the cause of our eternal salvation is to be decided, and still squander away time? Let us not delay, but immediately put our accounts in order, because when we least think of it, Jesus Christ will come to judge us. At what hour ye think not, the Son of man will come [Luke 12:40].

On the day of judgment, Jesus Christ will demand an account of every idle word. All the time that is not spent for God is lost time. “Believe,” says St. Bernard, “that you have lost all the time in which you have not thought of God.” Hence, the Holy Ghost says, “Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly, for neither work nor reason shall be in hell, whither thou art hastening” [Eccles. 9:10]. The Venerable Sister Jane of the Most Holy Trinity, of the Order of St. Teresa, used to say that, in the lives of the saints, there is no tomorrow. Tomorrow is found in the lives of sinners, who always say: hereafter, hereafter; and in this state they continue till death. Behold, now is the acceptable time [2 Cor. 6:2]. If today you should hear His voice, harden not your hearts [Ps. 4:8]. If God calls you today to do good, do it; for tomorrow it may happen that for you time will be no more, or that God will call you no more.

Hasten then, my Jesus, hasten to pardon me. And shall I delay? Shall I delay until I am cast into that eternal prison, where with the rest of the condemned souls, I must forever lament, saying “The summer is past, and we are not saved [Jer. 8:20]. No my Lord, I will no longer resist thy loving invitations. I desire never more to offend thee, but to forever love thee. I ask two graces: give me perseverance in Thy grace, give my Thy love; and then do with me what Thou pleasest. O Mary refuge of sinners, in thee do I place my confidence. Most Holy Mary my mother, obtain for me the grace always to recommend myself to God, and to ask him for perseverance and for his holy love.

Selections from The Way of Salvation and of Perfection, pp. 53-55; and from Preparation for Death, pp. 122.125.

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