The Book of Heaven
—Unofficial Version—

May 18, 1923

How difficult it is to find a soul who wants to suffer. The executioners of souls present in the Church.

I was feeling all afflicted and almost without my sweet Jesus - what hard martyrdom is His privation!  A martyrdom without the hope of storming Heaven like the martyrs do, which renders their every suffering sweet.  His privation, instead, is martyrdom which disunites, burns, cuts, and opens an abyss of separation between the soul and God; a martyrdom which, instead of sweetening suffering, embitters it, intoxicates it, in such a way that while the soul feels herself dying, death itself runs away from her.  Oh, God, what pain!

Now, while I was in the immense abyss of the privation of my Jesus, as He just barely moved in my interior, I said to Him:  ‘Ah! my Jesus, You don’t love me any more.’  And He, not paying attention to me, made Himself seen all afflicted, as though holding a black thing in His hand, which He was about to throw upon the creatures.  Then He took my heart in His hands, squeezed it tightly, pierced it through, and my heart anxiously awaited His pains as refreshment and balm for the pains suffered because of His privation.  Oh! how I feared that He might cease to make me suffer, plunging me once again into the abyss of His separation. 

Then, after this, He said to me:  “My daughter, I do not pay attention to words, but to facts.  Do you think it is easy to find a soul who really wants to suffer?  Oh, how hard it is!  With words, there are many who want to suffer, but, with facts, they run away when one pain oppresses them or other sufferings surround them.  Oh! how they would rather free themselves.  And I remain always the isolated Jesus in pains.  This is why, when I find a soul who does not shun suffering and who wants to keep Me company in my pains – even more, she waits and waits for Me to bring her the bread of suffering – this gives Me the delirium of love, and makes Me reach the point of doing follies and of abounding so much with this soul as to astonish Heaven and earth.  Do you think it was something indifferent over my Heart, which loves so much, that while you were without Me, you were waiting for Me, for nothing else but to receive from Me my bitter pains?”

But while He was saying this, He made me feel that the Most Holy Sacrament was passing by, in the street, and He gave a stronger squeeze to my heart.  And I:  ‘My Jesus, what is going on?  Where are You going, and who is carrying You?’  And He, all sad:  “I am going to a sick person, and I am carried by an executioner of souls.”  And I, frightened:  ‘Jesus, what are You saying?  What? Your ministers, executioners of souls?’  And He:  “And how many executioners of souls there are in my Church!  There are executioners attached to interests, who make a slaughter of souls, and who, with their example, instead of rendering souls detached from all that is earth, engulf them even more.  There are the immodest ones, who, instead of purifying souls, disfigure them.  There are executioners of pastimes, dedicated to pleasures, to strolls and other things, who, instead of rendering souls recollected and infusing in them love for prayer and retreat, distract them.  These are all slaughters of souls.  How much pain does my Heart not feel, in seeing that the very ones who were to help and sanctify souls, are the cause of their ruin.”