After a night of physical agony such as to provoke trembling in those able to preach (who knows how many of them or how much trembling) resignation and cheerfulness so well - when, however, they are not in the situation of those upon whom they lavish such preaching - I hear Mary’s voice. I do not see Her. I hear Her. But the honey of paradise at once descends into me.
Mary says:
“Among brothers there may still occur moments of sternness, incomprehension, and the resulting tears. The older brother avails himself of his primogeniture in order to be demanding towards the younger ones. But a good mother is never rigid, uncomprehending, or deaf to the suffering of those born to her. Her heart as a mother breaks as much over the crying of her firstborn as over that of the last son born. Her breast is a pillow for the flesh of her flesh - whether of the firstborn or the last to be born. Her hands join in entreaty on behalf of the son suffering from his brother’s severity, nor does she resign herself if she does not see the older one calmed down and the younger one consoled.
“This happens in someone who is a mother of flesh and blood. But I am the Mother. You were not born to Me of flesh and blood, but of my spirit, joined to God in an eternal marriage, and of my pain.
“My child, you heard Me say, ‘I will be a wolf in order to defend the doctrine of my Son.’318 But just as I, the Lord’s Ewe Lamb, would become a wolf in regard to my Jesus’ legacy, so, as a mother who defends her children, I am able to rise up in defense of them against anything which may carry out an assault to slay a child of mine.
“I defend you, Maria. Do not weep. You are under my mantle. Close your eyes so as not to see either God’s severity or men’s ferocity. Do not speak. Do not move. You could not, poor child of mine, without increasing your pain, without increasing your resistance.
“You have been told to offer at least a little arid prayer, arid in accepting sacrifice. No. It would be useless hypocrisy and would poison your soul more than events already have. I want even less. I only want you to abandon yourself to Me.
“Sleep on my breast. You will be healed. Be silent. I will speak for you. Love Me. I am your comfort. I am the Mother. The Mother of Sorrow. And you are not very different from my Jesus when He was laid, dead, on my lap. But you will rise again, my child. Because I want you to.”
318 This statement is to be found in The Poem of the Man-God, vol. V, p. 697.