SIXTEEN O'CLOCK

My tormented Jesus, my poor heart, amid fears and sufferings, follows You. And seeing You disguised as a madman and knowing who You are, infinite Wisdom, You who give wisdom to all, I fall into madness and say: How can this be? Jesus a madman? Jesus a criminal? And as if that were not enough, the greatest criminal, Barabbas, will now be put before You!

My Jesus, Holy One without equal, you find yourself once again before Pilate... Seeing you in such a miserable state, dressed as a madman, and that even Herod did not condemn you, he is even more indignant toward the Jews and even more convinced of your innocence and that you should not be condemned. But at the same time, wanting to give the Jews some kind of satisfaction and to somehow quell their hatred, fury, anger, and their burning desire for Your Blood, he presents You with Barabbas and gives them a choice. But the Jews shout: We do not want Jesus to be released, but Barabbas!

So Pilate, not knowing what to do to silence them, sentences You to flogging. My rejected Jesus, my heart breaks when I see that while the Jews are preoccupied with how to bring about Your death, You, on the other hand, closed in on Yourself, are thinking about how to give Life to everyone. I listen and hear You say: Holy Father, look at Your Son disguised as a madman. May this make up for the madness of so many creatures who have fallen into sin. May this white robe be in Your eyes as a justification for so many souls who clothe themselves in the dark robe of sin... Do you see, Father, their anger toward Me and their rage against Me, which causes them to almost lose their reason, so thirsty are they for My Blood? I want to make amends for all the hatred, vengeance, anger, and murders, and I want to implore for everyone the light of reason. My Father, look at Me again. Could there be a greater insult? They have put the greatest criminal above Me! And I want to make amends to You for all the injustice that is done... Ah, the whole world is full of injustice. Some put base self-interest above Us, others honor, still others vanity, pleasure, their own attachments, dignity, gluttony, and even sin. All creatures unanimously reject Us even in the face of a small trifle. I, however, am ready to accept Barabbas being placed above Me in order to make amends for the injustice that creatures do to Us.

My Jesus, I feel that I am dying of pain and embarrassment, seeing Your great Love amid so much suffering and the heroism of Your virtues amid so much pain and insult. Your words and reparations echo like so many wounds in my poor heart, and in my torment I repeat Your prayers and Your reparations. I do not want to be separated from You for a moment, otherwise many things You do will escape my attention... And what do I see? I see soldiers bringing You to the column to scourge You. My love, I follow You, and You cast Your loving gaze upon me and give me the strength to participate in Your painful massacre.

The Flagellation of Jesus

My purest Jesus, you are already at the column. The enraged soldiers untie you to tie you to it. But that is not all, they tear off Your garments to massacre Your Most Holy Body... My Love, my Life, I feel that I am fainting with pain at the sight of You stripped naked. You are trembling from head to toe, and Your Most Holy Face is covered with a virgin blush. You are so confused and exhausted that, unable to stand on your feet, you almost fall at the foot of the column. But the soldiers support you, not to help you, but to tie you to it. In this way, they prevent you from falling...

They reach for ropes and tie your hands so tightly that they immediately swell up, and blood flows from your fingertips. Then they pull the ropes and chains through the ring on the column and wrap them around Your Most Holy Person down to Your feet. They tie You to the column so tightly that You cannot make even the slightest movement, and they can thus freely abuse You.

My naked Jesus, let me express my feelings, otherwise I will no longer be able to bear seeing how much you are suffering. How can it be that you, who clothe all created things—the sun in light, the sky in stars, plants in leaves, birds in feathers—are yourself naked? What audacity! But my beloved Jesus, with eyes full of light, says to me: Be quiet, my daughter. It was necessary for me to be stripped bare. I had to make amends for so many who strip themselves of all sense of shame, purity, and innocence, who strip themselves of all goodness, virtue, and my grace, and clothe themselves in every kind of bestiality and live like beasts. With my virginal blush, I wanted to make amends for so much dishonesty, comfort, and animalistic pleasures. So pay close attention to what I am doing, pray, make amends with Me, and calm down.

Whipped Jesus, Your Love overflows from one excess to another... I see that the executioners take whips and beat You so mercilessly that Your Most Holy Body becomes blue. And the cruelty and anger with which they beat You are so great that they are already tired. But two others replace them. They grab thorny branches and beat You so hard that blood immediately begins to flow in streams from Your Most Holy Body. Then they whip Your Body everywhere, creating furrows and covering It with wounds. But that is not enough. Two more replace them and continue the painful massacre with iron chains studded with hooks... Already with the first blows, Your crushed and wounded Body is torn even more, and its pieces fall to the ground. Bare bones are exposed, and blood pours out so much that it forms a lake of blood around the column.

My Jesus, my naked Love, while You are under this hail of blows, I embrace Your feet to share Your pain and cover myself completely with Your precious Blood. But every blow You receive is a wound to my heart, mainly because, listening intently, I hear Your groans, which are inaudible to others because the hail of blows drowns out the space around us. Amid these groans, You say: All of you who love Me, come and learn the heroism of true love! Come and quench in my Blood the thirst of your passions, the thirst of so many ambitions, so many vanities and delights, and so many passions! In my Blood you will find the remedy for all your evil.

Your moans continue: Look at Me, O Father, I am covered with wounds from this hail of blows. But that is not enough. I want to create so many wounds on my Body that I can give all souls enough shelter in the Heaven of my Humanity and shape their salvation within myself, and then allow them to pass into the Heaven of my Divinity... My Father, may each blow of this scourging make amends to You for each and every type of sin, one after another. And as these blows fall upon Me, so may they justify those who commit these sins. May these blows conquer the hearts of creatures and tell them of My Love, and thus compel them to surrender to Me...

When you say this, even though it causes you great pain, your love is so great that you almost urge your tormentors to strike you even harder... My Jesus, stripped of your body, your love overwhelms me, I feel like I am losing my mind. Your Love is tireless, while your executioners have lost their strength and are unable to continue your painful massacre...

They are already cutting the cords, and you, almost dead, fall into your own Blood. Seeing the pieces of your Body, you feel that you are dying of pain, because in these separate pieces of flesh you see damned souls. Your pain is so great that you are suffocating in your own Blood.

My Jesus, let me take you in my arms to strengthen you a little with my love. I kiss you and with my kiss I enclose all souls in you. In this way, no one will be lost. And you, grant me your blessing.