Tears stream down Lazarus' face. He can but gaze ardently upon his Jesus
Who has come to him. But I do not stay here. Suddenly I have moved back
down the path to a section of the garden where Martha has come to pick
flowers. Busy at her task, she, to9o, is caught unaware by the voice that
calls her name. She looks up and the flowers in her arms tumble to the
"Master!" she cries out, with such joy and relief.
I understand that Jesus, now glorified, is also still with Lazarus at this
very same moment.
Martha rushes forward and tries to kiss His feet. Jesus will not yet
permit anyone to touch Him, but His Love is of such greatness that Martha
can but cry.
"Did you think I was unaware of your unselfish joy? You exalted to know
your sister had seen Me. You praised God for My Resurrection. Such faith
and charity have brought Me here. Martha, you are forever My selfless
servant. Great is the reward, which awaits you. I am always with you.
Peace." And He is gone.
I am now in a new place. It is a home. Not ornate, but certainly not
poor. A woman kneels against the hard wood of her bedstand and sobs
broken-heartedly. Until a voice gently asks:
"Why do you weep, woman?"
The woman turns to see who has intruded upon her grief. The room is dark,
the shutters drawn over the window. She sees the form of a man, His white
tunic visible in the gloom.
"Sir? Why are you here? I seek only privacy."
"You weep, but there is no need."
"You do not understand. I…"
And Jesus allows all His Glory to shine forth upon this woman, who I
recognize as the woman who wiped His face with her veil.
"My God! My Lord!"
Her voice is changed to joy unsurpassed.
"Weep no more. Your eyes have seen, your soul recognized its God. I
bless you for your love, and for the love, you gave My Mother. For all
time your name shall be blessed, you who offered Me comfort when no one
else dared. I am with you. Never be afraid. You have seen the Truth.
You will speak this Truth to many, and they shall believe. Peace."
Then I am in still another house. A home which truly belongs to wealth.
Again, I am told by our Heavenly Mother that all this is taking place
There is an exquisite rose garden. A woman walks among the rows of
fragrant blossoms, head bent, sorrow in her every step and breath. Coming
to the end of one row, she turns in order to pace back up another row. But
her mournful steps stop as she sees the hem of a white tunic and she is
startled. Abruptly she looks up and her eyes behold her beloved Jesus.
His glory is suppressed now, but she recognizes Him.
Her hand goes out automatically to touch Him. Jesus raises His right hand
and the nail mark is clearly visible to her.
"Johanna, know that I have heard your prayer. I have come so that in the
following days your faith may be even stronger. Your husband will be
greatly persecuted, but do not fear. No mortal harm shall befall him. It
is through you, Johanna of Chuza, that he will yet come to receive the full
light. Speak of our meeting to no one."
"Yes, My Lord. I will be silent."
He smiles at her and in that instant, all of His glory surrounds them
both. Johanna seems to dissolve into this radiance.
"Peace, Johanna. Mourn no more, but rejoice. Soon you will join the
other holy women where you will wait and pray beside My Mother. Until
then, know that I am Risen. I give you Peace, and announce to you that you
shall be for many women whose marriages are difficult, an example of joy
and peace which is rewarded in the Father's time by the conversion of her
spouse. I go now yet I remain with you. Peace!"
And Johanna falls to her knees. She cries, but out of joy, and I move on.
It is different now. I am still within the embrace of our Blessed Mother,
but the sparse cell-like room in the house of the Last Supper is gone. I
seem to be above Jerusalem, yet am able to still see details of streets,
people, shadows. It is fully daylight. It must be past noon, and this I
understand from the shadows I see below me.
I am able by God's power and mercy upon my wretchedness to 'see'
interiorly that all those who were faithful to our Dear Lord and, by God's
Providence, have been chosen to bear witness, are privileged to see Our
Lord as the Risen Christ.
He, Our Lord, appears to Nicodemus, who has obviously suffered deeply for
his own lack of faith in Jesus, the cowardliness that caused him to come to
Our Lord's defense too late and with too little fervor. It appears the
members of the temple, those that remind me of bullies and thugs have taken
their anger out on Nicodemus by maltreating him. His face is badly
bruised, his garments soiled, and he sits in the shadow of stairs that must
lead to his dwelling.
Jesus suddenly stands before him. Our Lord, dressed in a white tunic,
appears thoroughly ordinary.
"You have been maltreated," Our Lord says.
Nicodemus does not look up. He merely inclines his head and says in a
deep, sad voice, "It is not important. What is done to my body is of no
avail. It is my heart that is torn."
"I have failed. In faith. To Him, the Messiah."
Jesus speaks with authority and now Nicodemus raises his head and gazes at
the man who is no more than a foot from him.
"You know me."
"Even your heart, Nicodemus. Look at Me!"
And the full Glory of His Risen Body is revealed. The brilliance shines upon Nicodemus' swollen face
and the tears flow copiously from his eyes.
"My Lord, it is true! I did not believe the lie that your body had been
stolen. O! My Lord, forgive me," Nicodemus has fallen to his knees.
"Arise, Nicodemus, and know you are forgiven. Your heart is renewed. Be
no longer afraid. Go to your brothers at the House of the Pasch Supper.
There you will pray and learn from them."
Before Nicodemus can respond, Jesus is gone.