A Call To Peace DAILY CATHOLIC for March 30
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no. 63

Father, into Thy hands I commend My Spirit INTRODUCTION: These Meditative Lessons on the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary which encompass the Passion and Death of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ were imparted via both interior visions and interior locutions to Cyndi Cain, the Hidden Flower of the Immaculate Heart from the Blessed Mother of God during Lent in 1993. Cyndi relates that, "while I saw many details in these interior visions, only certain details were to be written down. Therefore, these lessons are not meant to be a detailed geographical or historical account, nor are they meant to pinpoint all the intricate details one might wish to have knowledge of regarding the Passion of Our Lord...for the importance of each lesson lies not in the descriptive passage or dialogue, but in Our Lady's own meditations which follow each interior vision. These meditations are meant to strengthen us in our faith during this our exile - particularly in these end times when the Holy Catholic Church will be ripped apart by apostasy and schism...for Our Blessed Mother wants our faith to be as strong as an anchor. For our faith to be such, we must have the faith of a simple, little child." During Lent we bring these to you and ask the Holy Spirit to give all the enlightenment and discernment to learn and grow from these meditative lessons that all may persevere in the time of the Great Darkness which looms ever closer. For those who would like the complete works of "It is Consummated!, as well as the books on the Joyful Mysteries - "Come, Let us Adore Him", and the Glorious Mysteries - "My Lord and my God!", click on BOOKS.
Meditative Lesson 10:
Part Two

It is Consummated!       I look steadily toward a pillar which is set in the courtyard. It is not exactly in the center, because there is more ground between the gate from the street to the pillar, and less from the pillar to the cloister where the soldiers move about, avoiding the hot sun of Palestine.

      And I see them - demons - around the pillar, and around the Roman soldiers. Hundreds upon hundreds of grotesque beings who can best, I feel, be described as "hate with form." These demons move among the soldiers and constantly whisper to them. The soldiers grow agitated even though, as of yet, nothing is happening.

      Suddenly many of these demons rush past me and mingle with the common people and the same agitation stirs in them. I hear them hiss as they pass by me, a sound of fire sizzling with unvented energy.

      The soldiers move. There is a shout. A command. And Jesus, our Lord and God, is brought out from a small doorway into the courtyard.

      I see Him and my heart weeps for already He is barely recognizable, so much has He endured. His garments are stained, His once beautiful honey-colored hair darkened by blood, sweat and the filth people have battered Him with.

      He moves slowly, already fatigued and in pain, and His footsteps are unsteady. There are two burly Roman soldiers, one on each side who, by keeping a hand on each elbow, move Jesus to the pillar. There they remove the ropes around His wrists and waist as well as the heavy chain which is wrapped around His neck and which crisscrosses His chest.

      The soldier in charge, a youngish man a year, maybe two younger than our Lord, orders the prisoner to strip. Jesus meekly obeys, but he has difficulty pulling the long tunic over His head for the binding of His wrists has stopped proper circulation in His arms.

      Impatiently the garment is yanked over His head, and because the hundreds upon hundreds of demons still harass the soldiers, they all but rip the shorter tunic off. Jesus, the Sinless One, the Pure Lamb of God, is naked except for His undergarment which surrounds His loins.

      The captain gives another command and the two soldiers attach a chain again to Jesusí wrists and they pull Him to the pillar. There is an iron ring near the top of the pillar, and through this ring the soldiers run the length of the chain until Jesus is stretched completely. Our Lord is on tip-toe and His torso and limbs are elongated as far as possible.

      He says nothing but I can hear Him praying; to His Father the prayer of His Divine Heart and Soul rises. It is a continual prayer of forgiveness and it is united with Infinite Love, and also Infinite Sadness.

      Another order, and the men come from under the porch where they have waited in the shade. I understand they are professional torturers in the hire of the Roman government. They are brawny men, bare-chested with muscles that bulge as each flexes the scourge or whip he holds. The three men take up their position.

      The first steps forward, eyes fixed upon his victim and the whip is tested several times for accuracy and strength as it lands only inches from our Lord'í feet, sand the hard ground is cut to pieces as dirt flies. The Roman captain nods and now the whip flies forward. Now, it is not hard ground, but soft, tender flesh that it rips.

      Over and over and over again in a rhythmic motion, the whip finds our Lordís back and curves around to his torso, chest, ribs. The head, neck, shoulders, buttocks, legs, knees, and feet are not left unscathed, and the whip bites deeply. Large, horrid long welts are raised and appear scarlet against Jesusí white flesh.


March 30, 1998     volume 9, no. 63    IT IS CONSUMMATED

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