The three Archangels appear to Maria Valtorta.

She is writing to her spiritual director Fr. Romualdo Migliorini, a Servite priest, who had arrived at her bedside to give her Communion:

Oh, Father! I don't know if you realized that at the moment of Holy Communion I was finding it hard to follow you because I was already elsewhere, intent on looking towards heaven, from which a joyful call was coming to me, with that joy which cannot be described by human comparisons and words. I had to make an effort to pull myself away from there in order to respond to you. Afterwards, trembling with joy, waves of vaster and vaster joy, the heavenly domain became progressively illuminated for me, and I saw.

I saw the most radiant azures of the meadows of Paradise. This vision of the heavenly regions flooded with the light which no comparison can convey, the light of Paradise, indeed leads to blessedness, even if it were to remain on its own. […].

From a northeastern point three most radiant figures, like common mortals, are coming to meet me, walking over the sapphire fields, with a royal, very dignified gait. And yet they show no haughtiness. Quite the contrary. They walk nimbly, without losing solemnity. They smile, observing me, and smile at one another, drawing each other's attention towards me with the language of their gazes. As they approach, I see the movements of their beautiful eyes – the first one's are sapphire blue, the second's very black, and the third's golden chestnut – shining in the smile and light of Paradise.

They come up to the limit of the heavenly field, beyond which there is an empty space as far as the lower terrace, where I am, venerating and enraptured. And they halt there, looking at me, smiling as only an angel can smile, clasping each other around the waist, like three brothers who love one another and are taking a stroll together.

They are the three archangels: Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael. And I shall attempt to provide a picture of them. They are three very handsome young men. They strike me as young men aged twenty, or between eighteen and thirty. The youngest is Raphael, and the oldest (in appearance) is Michael, with a tremendous comeliness.

The first on the right was Gabriel, apparently aged twenty four or twenty-five. Tall, slender, and very spiritualized in his enraptured features as a perpetual worshiper. Blond – a pure gold blond – with wavy hair barely touching his shoulders – or, rather, the base of his neck – clasped by a slender diamond-studded ring – it resembled a band of incandescent light rather than metal and jewels. Dressed in that robe of woven light – diamonds and pearls – which I have often seen in glorious bodies. A long, loose, very pure tunic which completely concealed his feet and barely left uncovered his right hand, quite beautiful in appearance, hanging down at his side. He was looking at me with his sapphire eyes, with such a supernatural smile that, though a smile, it frightened me.

The other one [Michael], in the middle, also very tall, like his companion, was, as I said, awesome in his austere handsomeness. With brown hair shorter than his companion's and curlier, a sturdier build, and a forehead free of all diadems, but with a kind of medal on his chest made of gold and stones […], held up by two little golden chains. The stones set in place formed characters, perhaps a name, but I was unable to read those words, those letters which are not like our own.

He was dressed in inflamed gold, a robe which was so bright that it blinded you. It looked like a light colored flame (not reddish, but golden) enveloping his nimble, robust members. His black eyes were severe and cast-forth beams of light. He did not make me afraid, for I felt he was not angry with me, but, rather, that he loved me. But it was a gaze with an awesomeness which must be distressing for sinners and Satan. Michael had neither a sword nor a lance, quite the opposite of the way he is portrayed, but his weapons were his eyes. Even his smile was severe, very austere.

The third one [Raphael], wearing a robe, with a jewel-covered belt, a robe of a delicate emerald, seemed to be dressed exactly in the color you see when looking at an emerald against the light. He was tall, with long dark hair, like Gabriel's. A precious color of hair which is chestnut with a little sprinkling of dark gold, He looked like the youngest of all and reminded me a bit of St. John the Apostle because of his gentle, youthful smile. Raphael's eyes, though, were a very soft chestnut color, with a placid, patient gaze which is a caress. He was smiling in a more human way than the others. Everything in him was more like the way we are. He was really the "good Young man" of the Book of Tobias. You feel like putting your hand in his, trustingly, and saying to him, "Guide me! In everything! "

They looked at me, smiled, and smiled at each other. Then they greeted me.

Gabriel sang, with his voice like a very spiritual harp (and every note takes you into ecstasy): "Hail, Mary," and on saying "Mary" he gathered his hands over his chest and bent his head, raising it afterwards with a smile increasing the glowing of his entire self towards the heights of Paradise. I understood that, rather than greet me, he had wished to show himself clearly. He is the Archangel who announces the great mystery, and seems able only to say those words and venerate the Virgin.

Michael touched the jewel on his chest. He took it in the fingers of his right hand and lifted it up to show it to me and, with a voice resounding like bronze, said, "Whoever is with God can do all. And Satan can do nothing against whoever is with God. For who is like God?" And these last words seemed to make his heavenly aura vibrate as if from harmonious thunder. He rested his medal on his chest and knelt down, adoring the Eternal whom I did not see, but who I would say, judging from the Archangel's gaze, was perpendicular to or right behind my back, far up, high above.

Raphael, with his golden voice, opened his arms as if to embrace me and at the same time uplifted his shining face in contemplation of God and said, "May joy always be with you." He somewhat resembled the angel I have seen in two visions. But he was less spiritualized than the other. At the root of his hair was a light like a star, a gentle light which brought comfort, as did his robe of shining light emerald.

They continued to look at me. They then clasped each other more tightly around the waist and […] opened their wings of pearl, flame, and pale green light and swiftly rose into the sky, singing an unrepeatable song, just like the one I heard [...] when I saw the angelic cohorts flying over Bethlehem, singing.

And I remained here. Rather, I descended from the spheres where I had been and came back to myself, to my agonies, to my bed. The joy remained, though, and I also realized that – how stupid of me – I had been incapable of saying a word to the three archangels. But my soul spoke with them. I felt that it venerated them, even if I could not translate its beats into material words.

After having received everything mentioned above, I took up the Bible to seek out every angelic apparition in it.

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-50, December 21, 1945; pp. 129-133.

Disclaimer: A brief ‘press release’ from a Vatican dicastery has proposed, without offering proof, that her writings are not supernatural [Link]. However, according to the dicastery’s own published standards their press release has no canonical validity [Link, no. 22]. Therefore I am not being disobedient by publicly asserting my 100% human faith that the revelations of Maria Valtorta are from Heaven.

 

View my books Link.

 

God's vengeance is forgiveness.

Jesus’ message to Maria Valtorta:

"On the Cross I could have struck down the blameworthy with a lightning bolt. Lightning furrowed the sky, and I could have directed it against those assembling to insult Me. I could have committed other acts of vengeance, too.

‘I remained God. But I was never God so much as when using forgiveness as the only form of revenge. By punishing those offending Me, I would have been a powerful man, remaining a man who, with God's favor, can use even cosmic forces to terrify his enemies. The history of my people is full of episodes of this kind brought about by patriarchs and prophets – always by just men. But in taking revenge with forgiveness I was God – that is, a superhuman Being, so far above men that I was able to use the revenge which man does not use: forgiveness.

"And I taught it to you, my followers, for the followers of Christ, the true followers of Christ – that is, the saints – become what is called 'children of the Most High, gods, heirs of the Kingdom of God.'

"Maria, forgive. Those bringing you pain do not know what they are doing. They do not know. Forgive to be a daughter of the Most High, a mirror of Me, my sister. My peace is your balm."

Maria then adds a personal note, writing that this message was the Lord’s comforting her for bad behavior by her relatives: ‘Comfort for bad behavior by relatives.’

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, August 29, 1947, p. 412.

 

View my Catholic books HERE: 

 

Disclaimer: A brief ‘press release’ from a Vatican dicastery has proposed, without offering proof, that her writings are not supernatural [Link]. However, according to the dicastery’s own published standards their press release has no canonical validity [Link, no. 22]. Therefore I am not being disobedient by publicly asserting my 100% human faith that the revelations of Maria Valtorta are from Heaven.

 

 

 

A personal visit from the Little Flower.

Maria Valtorta was contemplating the ‘little way’ of St. Therese of Lisieux:

 

While reading a text on St. Therese, I reflected that I had never wished for extraordinary things, either, convinced as I was that they were more of a danger than anything else for our weakness, and I bewailed the fact that my mission had placed me precisely on this extraordinary way [the revelations Jesus had her write about]. I moaned, "Why, my God? Why such a big thing for me, so small? Why such a dangerous thing for me, so weak? Why this thing so proper to adults for me, who could be saved only through spiritual childhood?"

 

I was in the midst of these thoughts when St. Therese herself appeared to me in the full Carmelite habit – that is, with the ample white mantle, but without roses or the Crucifix adorned with flowers. No, just the way she must have looked a thousand times in her Carmel when she went to the Chapel. She approached me and passed her arms over my shoulders in such a way that her lovely left hand was on my left shoulder, and her right hand, on my right shoulder, and she thus had me feel her embrace and spoke:

 

"Do not fear, my little sister. It was a simpler way [the ‘little way’ of St. Therese]. But you did not ask for this other one. It is Love who gave it to you – indeed, who placed you thereupon. And you are walking along it with your heart of a child who wants to remain a child. And your way thus becomes doubly heroic. Because of childhood and extra-ordinariness. To be faithful to both is a great thing. 

 

“But you will always be a child because you want to. A child on whose lips the Spirit will place the words which are more than an adult's because they are not human words. Maria will always be the little child on the way of spiritual childhood.

 

“The spokesman, moreover, in the hours of his office [of reporting the visions and revelations], will follow the extraordinary way, and, so that he will not experience fear or harm on that account, he will follow it in the arms of God. [Note: St. Theresa uses the masculine form here because Jesus often called Maria Valtorta ‘Little John,’ referring to St. John the Evangelist].

 

“Simply to do the will of God, whatever its grandiosity may be, is to conserve oneself always as a child. For only children act without measuring the greatness of what they do – they act only because they are told to act. Do not fear, little sister. Jesus, who placed you there, protects your heart and will not allow what is extraordinary to harm your heart as a spiritual child.”

 

And she had me feel the pressure of her beautiful hands, and I felt the mantle extended over my shoulders like a protecting, isolating, defending veil. I felt her face bending over my head, so fraternally that I was completely comforted by it. I felt protected, loved. Fears ceased. 

 

I raised my head and encountered her smile, the gaze of her most beautiful eyes. How lovely she was! Heaven shone from every part of her. She had me feel all her love and then disappeared in an intense golden light. And peace and the memory of her embrace remained.

 

(This heavenly visitation took place in 1946; St. Theresa of Lisieux, the Little Flower, passed away in 1897.)

 

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks 1945-1950, August 20, 1946 pp. 286-287.

 

Disclaimer: A brief ‘press release’ from a Vatican dicastery has proposed, without offering proof, that her writings are not supernatural [Link]. However, according to the dicastery’s own published standards their press release has no canonical validity [Link, no. 22]. Therefore I am not being disobedient by publicly asserting my 100% human faith that the revelations of Maria Valtorta are from Heaven.

 

My web page [Link]. 

 

 

 

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. 

 

View my books here [Link]. 

 

 

 

 

 

When Pope St. Pius X appeared to Maria Valtorta.

Pope St. Pius X was pope from 1903-1914, he appeared to Maria Valtorta on February 8, 1946. 

 

Valtorta writes: 

 

Kindly, candid and good-natured, the figure of holy Pope Pius X appeared to me at the time of Holy Communion. He came forward just as he surely looked in his final days. Slightly obese, burdened by ailments, with his silent gait somewhat shuffling, his shoulders somewhat bent, rounded, supporting a head covered with silvery hair - already haloed with splendor - above his short neck, with a youthfulness in the flesh of his elderly face, and a virginal sweetness in the gaze of his limpid, serene eyes. He was wearing the white clothing of the Pontiffs, but without a red mantle or camauro. Oh, not at all! He was a priest dressed in white rather than black - that's all. But he was so much ‘himself’ that he was more venerable than if he had been in the magnificence of pontifical apotheoses, amid banners and flabella [ceremonial fans], shining guards, the red of cardinals, and so on. He was the holy Pope. 

 

He uplifted his short, chubby hand to bless me. He spoke: 

 

“Woman blessed by the Lord and the Immaculate Virgin, may the Lord and Mary always be with you. Do not take offense, blessed one! Continue, continue on your way. The Lord is pleased. Be simple, increasingly simple, like a child. One of those children whom our blessed Lord so loved. Feed on the Eucharist because you are the little host that is consecrated only when Our Lord Jesus Christ is transubstantiated in the large Host. The more you feed on the Holy Eucharist, then, the more you become a host with Him. 

 

“O blessed one! If I were on the throne of Peter and they told me that there was a creature who had become a “voice” after having been a “voluntary cross”, I would not leave you in this anguish. But I would have comforted you with my blessing, reading the blessed pages [the writings of her revelations] on my knees. 

 

“Remain a girl, won't you? Always a girl [...] with your eyes free from all malice and your heart free from all pride, to understand the Most Blessed Master at all times, who provides instruction for the good of many. The Eucharist and simplicity. The way of the children of love. St. Therese's way, and also mine as a poor servant of the Lord who is still amazed at having become a Pontiff after being a priest”. 

 

And he wept gently, humble and holy in his weeping as he was holy in his smile. He lifted up his head and looked at me again - he, too, a big ‘child’; his expression was so pure. He again smiled at me and said: 

 

“I give you my blessing. Are you happy? I bless you, soul of the Lord and of Mary Most Holy. Continue in patience and faith. In Paradise nothing is remembered except having always done the Most Holy Will of God, and in this, one is blessed. Paradise is so beautiful that none of the lovely things you see can equal it. You could not see Paradise as it is because your heart would burst. 

 

“When you get the chance, send my blessing to that blessed soul, Sister Giuseppina. [Sister Giuseppina of Jesus Crucified, a nun whom Valtorta knew personally.] Tell her that her Patriarch always remembers the Institutes of the Most Holy Child Mary, and especially those very dear ones of his Venetian region. Peace, peace to those places and those who live there! And peace to you, little child of my Jesus. Good-bye. Always remember the Pontiff of children and the Eucharist.”

 

He again raised his hand in blessing, and the whiteness of the woolen robe turned into an incandescence in which St. Pius X was transfigured and disappeared. And now I can say that I, too, have seen a Pontiff! And what a Pontiff! 

 

[...] I was very happy that he spoke to me so informally, like a good pastor, as when he was one in his Venetian region - and he was already holy and great in the sight of God - as when, acting as the Patriarch and later as the Pontiff, he would linger informally with his friends, with the simple folk, with whom the very humble and holy Pope Pius X must have felt quite at ease.

 

Maria Valtorta, The Notebooks, 1945-1950, Feb. 8, 1946, p. 185.  

 

My books: https://frankrega.com/AllBooks.htm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The man who plotted to murder Pope Pius XII.

Bruno Cornacchiola was a hater of the Catholic Church and had plotted to murder Pope Pius XII in 1947. However, Our Lady intervened in his life at a place adjacent to the site of the martyrdom of St. Paul the Apostle. Known as Tre Fontane, an important shrine has been established there in honor of the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin to Bruno. His conversion was complete, and he even presented the weapon he was going to use against the pope to Pius XII himself.

Prior to the apparitions, the site of the shrine was a place of sinful behavior for men and women, I need not say more. But after the appearance of Mary, she revealed that she had sanctified that ground. She said “With his soil of sin I shall perform powerful miracles for the conversion of non-believers.” When I was there on pilgrimage in the late 1990’s I was able to obtain a sample of this sacred soil. At that time it was possible, but now I believe that the growth of the shrine has covered much of that earth with paving.

At any rate, there is a new article on the Rorate Caeli website about the apparitions of Mary to Bruno. He had kept a diary of her revelations to him, which occurred throughout the rest of his life until his death in 2001. These have been recently published in Italian, and the Rorate Caeli report has some excerpts.  I urge you to read this timely article since it pertains to the situation of the Church and the world today. 

Here is the title of their article and the link to it. “Rome: The Virgin of Revelation at Tre Fontane, prophecies for the present time, crisis of the Church, advanced atheism and Islam.”

 

Link: https://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2025/08/rome-virgin-of-revelation-at-tre.html

 

Frank Rega

https://frankrega.com/index.html

Pope Leo is reportedly working on his first encyclical.

As reported in America magazine (Link), Pope Leo XIV is not sitting idle while on his Castel Gandalfo vacation. According to Augustinian Father Alejandro Moral Antón, a longtime friend, Pope Leo plans to draft the framework of his first encyclical during his vacation break, possibly touching on peace, unity or artificial intelligence. “I know he will begin work on his first encyclical.” 

 

Asked whether the title is known yet, the cleric replied: “I don’t think so, the other day he just told me that he will use these two weeks to develop the main structure of the text. Obviously, he is already working on it, but he is forced to do it in the evening or in spare moments and would need more time, which will happen during the vacation.”

Regarding the encyclical’s topic, Father MoraI said: “I can imagine it will be something related to the concepts evoked since the first hours of his election. The theme of peace, social doctrine, unity, artificial intelligence. But these are just my deductions.”

 

I hope that the primary authorship of his first encyclical will be his, and that he will not continue Pope Francis’ heavy reliance on the input of Cardinal Victor Manual Fernandez, a Modernist. Fernandez has so far been retained by Pope Leo as head of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith.

The Cardinal was a key figure in shaping Francis’ writings, particularly the two encyclicals Laudato Si’ and Fratelli Tutti, and in writing the apostolic exhortation Amoris Laetitia. In the latter, we have the “heresy in a footnote” novelty (no. 351), proposing that it should be possible in particular cases for divorced and remarried Catholics living in sin to receive the sacraments. This is pure Modernism, asserting that doctrine can change with the times. 

 

In addition, Fiducia Supplicans, the very divisive same-sex blessing declaration, was issued by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, with primary authorship attributed to the Modernist Fernandez, its prefect.

Not surprisingly, Fernandez’ Dicastery issued a feeble statement in February (Link) contending that there is nothing supernatural about the anti-Modernist writings of the mystic Maria Valtorta. No grounds for the decision were given. In fact, in an egregious insult to the 13,000 page opus of Maria Valtorta, commonly known as the Poem of the Man-God, the allegation of non-supernaturality was not presented within an exhortation, or a declaration, or a document, but in a three paragraph press release! The fact that the actions of two popes had indicated otherwise was completely ignored. (Pope Pius XII and the future Pope Paul VI while he was still an Archbishop.) 

 

Regarding other mystics who had analogous revelations, Mary of Agreda and Anne Katherine Emmerich, the Church has refrained from either affirming or denying their supernatural character, so why the exception for the writings of Valtorta – is it because they affirm traditional Catholic Doctrine and the truth of Christ’s miracles? Yes Pope Leo, the breaking of the bread was a miracle of multiplication, not sharing as you recently implied (Link).

 

I pray that you will avoid the advice of Modernist theologians such as Fernandez, and will not become known as Pope Francis Lite.