January 7, 1946prev home
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For Sister Teresa Cherubina
Jesus says:
“In a certain place a plant with flowers appeared. Let each of you think of the flower you like most, a beautiful and precious one. But the place where it sprang up was not suitable for this flower. We know that some need intense sunlight; others, shade; others, scant soil; and others, abundant soil. Certain flowers seek the rock to sink their roots into, and for others it is a misfortune if a pebble disturbs their way of life. This flower, then, had grown up in soil that was not favorable to it, and only through the Lord’s goodness had it been able to live until that day and even prosper and flourish. The good Father, knowing it was on inappropriate terrain, had caused special dews to rain upon it and had made a bush with large leaves grow close by to temper the violence of the sun; He had made a little grass spring up around the tuft to preserve its roots from excessive heat and protect the very beautiful flower through the self-sacrifice of this humble grass.
“One day the Divine Cultivator passed by and saw. And, on seeing, He said, ‘This flower is really beautiful. But it would be more beautiful if it were nourished by other soil. One must not be imprudent, saying, “It has lived here until now and will go on living.” No, one must not do that. It would mean tempting Heaven. Now then, I will uproot it and take it to a suitable place. I want it to be more and more lovely, for the delight of God.’ And, bending over and taking his tools, he set about digging up the plant with loving care so as not to bring it suffering.
“But the plant felt a little pain and moaned, ‘Oh! Oh! You are hurting me! You are killing me! I don’t want to die!’
“‘No, plant dear to the Lord, no, you will not die, but, when freed from this arid, rocky land mortifying your roots, you will live more robustly. Do you see how these stones, mixed with the earth, more stones than earth, keep your roots from sinking in to seek better and better nourishment for your corollas? Don’t you know that, down here, the deeper the roots humbly sink into darkness and silence, the lovelier a flower is up there, on the stems? The work is here and the glory is there. But there can be no glory if there is no work. Let me go ahead, then.’
“Ah, what pain! You are taking me away from here, where I am acclimatized, where everyone knows me: the little bird making its nest in the bush, the small lizard warming itself at my feet, and a white butterfly that, like the lizard, comes every day to tell about what’s happening around here and even farther away. I will suffer and languish in unknown places.’
“ ‘Why no, my sweet flower! You are not coming into a desert. You are coming where not one, but a thousand birds fly, singing, where there is flowerbed after flowerbed. Forget about the light butterflies and the crawling lizards. What can I tell you that’s really useful? Come, come with Me. In my garden the angels of the Lord are birds and they teach holy words. And I stroll there, along with my Mother.’
“The little plant no longer knew what to say. But it stubbornly resisted with a surviving root it had introduced into the crack in a rock. The Lord’s hands bled as He attempted to expand the rock to free the root. For the Lord never refuses to suffer for his creatures, so as to make them suffer as little as possible when He imposes upon them operations of grace capable of yielding future eternal glory. But the flower said, ‘This costs me too much. I don’t feel like laying bare even this root. It’s mine, after all! No one must see it. It’s the prettiest one of all!’
“ ‘But do you see, my love? It is a presumptuous root which is precisely the one harming the plant. It has chosen its own way, which is not the right way. It is the strongest root, but also the most harmful one. Either give in or I’ll break it. And then you will truly suffer. For even Infinite Love must be just for your good. And to yield to your pride would be unjust to you, whom I have created for my garden.’
“The little plant? Obstinate, it did not yield. And Jesus? Clack! He took the shears and cut the proud, stubborn .root and carried the plant, weeping with pain over the cut and the crushed whim, to his flowerbed.
“This is the parable, daughter and spouse. Are you able to meditate on it and apply the result? I’ll help you because I am the Master. Listen.
“My spouses are the flowering plants. The flowerbed in my garden is the Mother Prioress, or the Abbess, or the Superior of the Monastery or Convent or Community, as the case may be. The plants spring up as flowering plants for Me. Their will makes them mine. But they sometimes preserve harmful forms of humanity. And, above all, ‘the humanity of humanities: pride.’ I do not want this.
“Why desire to act on one’s own? Why, if her name is ‘Mother,’ is there not absolute confidence in her among her daughters? Humility and humiliation must really be practiced in this crucial situation. Is it unpleasant to say this? Perfect! It is useful so that one will act in such a way that on another occasion there will be no need for admonishment from God or own’s conscience or anyone at all and the suffering will be avoided of having to disclose one’s state of disturbance or reveal the admonishment received to the ‘Mother’ of the Monastery, the one fulfilling the role of Mary Most Holy in your ‘little house of Nazareth.’ Joseph and I kept nothing secret from Mary....
“Do you understand, my little angel? Otherwise you will not become a great cherub! And I want you to be a ‘cherub.’ You have given Me all the roots that kept you joined to your selfhood, your past. But there remains - oh, not only in you, but in all souls, except those already powerfully renewed in Me - the little root of pride. The one that makes people say - indeed, the one that sucks up from the rock the poison of these thoughts: ‘I want to act on my own. I don’t want this admonishment to be known.’ No! Tear it out! Tear it out! Let yourself be planted in the flowerbed which is the heart of the Mother Prioress. And you will become a very lovely tuft of flowers that I will carry into Paradise after I have delighted in its scents on earth.
“My peace be with you.”
Jesus,142 on giving me this instruction on January 7, said with a smile, “It turns out that I am becoming the Novice Master and extraordinary Director of this Monastery...! But I love them very much. Even if I uncover the... hidden roots enclosed in the deep rocks of their humanity. And I love Sister Teresa Maria very much. I want to help her bear her office and keep a light lit which will illuminate even the most secret recesses. This to for the good of all.”
142 The following text is written on a small page attached to the notebook between the preceding passage and the next date.