In the End, it is Between you and God

"People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
                         — Mother Teresa

Adoration

Excerpt from the Book "The Adoration"

The Testimony of Catalina 

From a series of visions and messages 

from Jesus and Mary

     The  Lord  said  to  me, “Remember that in Psalm 24: 4-6, you are  warned that in order to see the things of God, you need to have a clean heart, that is, purity of vision, purity of heart,  uprightness of conscience, 

and purity of intention, to be able some day to arrive at the knowledge of My Divine secrets… 

     “Learn from other human beings who came before you and who are Saints today!  For them, the best resting place was in My hands, the best medicine and the most gentle relief was in having recourse to My Body in the Sacrament, seeking My company and conversation with Me. 

     “For that reason, they spent time in prolonged prayer, and from that period of time spent in adoration, they derived a renewed strength and greater energy to face life and all its sufferings, sorrows and humiliations, particular to their own situation, which would serve later for their crown of glory.  

     “It is essential that human beings be taught that it is not enough to confess their sins and come and receive Me, and then commit the same sins again and confess them again… They must be united to 

Me in thought, feeling, and will, that is, in body and soul… with the heart.

     “That is how your human life succeeds in sharing My Divine Life, so that I myself will be the one who guides your being, along the journey that leads 

towards Eternal Delights.  

     “Do not forget that the greater your surrender to My Will, the greater are the Graces you will receive in the course of your visit to My Eucharistic Presence.”

Source: http://loveandmercy.org/Eng-IA-Reg.pdf or go to http://www.loveandmercy.org

The Offertory

Excerpt from the Book "The Holy Mass"

The Testimony of Catalina 

From a series of visions and messages 

from Jesus and Mary

A teaching on what happens during the Holy Mass 

and how to live it with our heart

     A moment later came the Offertory, and the Holy Virgin said: “Pray like this: (and I followed) Lord, I offer all that I am, all that I have, all that I can.  I put everything into Your Hands.  Build up Lord, with the little that I am.  Transform me, God Almighty, through the merits of Your Son.  I ask for my family, for my benefactors, for each member of our Apostolate, for all the people who persecute us, for those who commend themselves to my poor prayers… Teach me to lay my heart down on the ground before them, so that their walk may be less hard...  This is how the saints prayed; this is how I want all of you to pray.” And this is how Jesus asks us to pray, that we lay our hearts on the ground so that they [for whom we intercede] may not feel its harshness, but rather that we give them relief through the pain caused by their stepping on our hearts.    Years later, I read a prayer booklet by a Saint whom I love dearly, José María Escrivá de Balaguer, and in that booklet I found a prayer similar to that which the Virgin Mary taught me. Perhaps this Saint, to whom I entrust myself, pleased the Virgin Mary with those prayers.

     Suddenly, some characters that I had not seen before began to stand up. It was as if from the side of each person present in the Cathedral another person emerged, and soon the Cathedral became full of young beautiful beings. They were dressed in very white robes and started to move into the central isle, on their way to the Altar.
     Our Mother said: “Observe.  They are the Guardian Angels of each one of the persons who are here.  This is the moment in which your guardian angel carries your offerings and petitions before the Altar of the Lord.”
     At that point I was completely astonished because these beings had such beautiful faces, so radiant as one is unable to imagine.  Their countenance was very beautiful, they had almost feminine faces; however, the structure of their body, their hands, their height were masculine.  Their naked feet did not touch the floor, but rather they went as if gliding. That procession was very beautiful.
     Some of them were carrying something like a golden bowl with something [inside] that shone a great deal with a golden white light.  The Virgin Mary said:   “Observe.  They are the Guardian Angels of the people, who are offering this Holy Mass for many intentions, those who are conscious of the significance of this celebration, those who have something to offer to the Lord… 
     “Make your offering at this moment… Offer up your sorrows, your pains, your dreams, your sadness, your joys.  Offer your petitions.  Remember that the Mass has infinite value.  Therefore, be generous in your offering and in your asking.” 
     Behind the first Angels came others who had nothing in their hands; they were going empty handed.  The Virgin Mary said:  “Those are the angels of the people who, in spite of being here, never offer anything.  They have no interest in living every liturgical moment of the Mass, and their Angels have no offerings to carry before the Altar of the Lord.” 
     At the end of the procession came other Angels who were rather sad, with their hands together in prayer, but with their eyes downcast. “These are the Guardian Angels of the people who are here, yet they are not here. That is to say, they are the people who have seen themselves forced to come, who have come here out of obligation but without any desire to participate in the Holy Mass. Their Angels go forth in sadness because  they have nothing to carry to the Altar, except for their own prayers.
     “Do not sadden your Guardian Angels… Ask for much.  Ask for the conversion of sinners, for peace in the world, for your relatives, your neighbors, for those who commend themselves to your prayers.  Ask for much, not only for yourselves, but also for all the others. 
     “Remember that the offering which most pleases the Lord, is when you offer yourselves as a holocaust so that Jesus, upon His descent may transform you by His own merits.  What do you have to offer the Father by yourselves? Nothingness and sin, but the offering of yourselves united to the merits of Jesus, is pleasing to the Father.”
     That spectacle, that procession was so beautiful, that it would be difficult to compare it to another.  All those celestial creatures were bowing before the Altar, some leaving their offering on the floor, others prostrating themselves on their knees, their foreheads almost touching the ground.  And upon reaching the Altar, they would disappear from my sight.

Source: http://loveandmercy.org/Eng-HM-Lg.pdf or go to http://www.loveandmercy.org

Biography of Saint Augustine of Hippo

To the world at large, Saint Augustine is known above all as the great thinker who peacefully influenced philosophy and theology, the thrust of the spirituality of the Latin Church, and the development of apostolic endeavors. The source from which he drew the great strength for his achievements should not be overlooked: his monastic ideal of the search for God and contemplation.

Augustine was born in Tagaste, about fifty miles from Hippo in North Africa, in 354. His father. Patricius, was a minor Roman official who became Christian only at the enImaged of his life. His mother, Monica, was deeply committed to the Catholic faith. Neither parent was a saint in the beginning; Monica became one in trying to bring her son to the Lord.

Like many middle-class parents, they were extremely interested in their son's education. If his parents appear rather ordinary and perhaps disturbingly familiar, Augustine brings them quite remarkably to life in his writings. He praises his father for going beyond his means to supply what was necessary for his son's studies. Of Monica, Augustine tells us that she wept more for his spiritual death than most mothers weep for the bodily death of their children. "For she saw that I was dead by that faith and spirit which she had from you, and you heard her, O Lord." He also relates how a local bishop once turned away Monica's plea that he have a talk with her son with this comment;" Go your way and God will bless you, for it is not possible that the son of these tears should perish." She accepted the answer, says Augustine, as though it were a voice from heaven.

More than a few mothers have been able to identify with Monica, at least with the general outlines of her concerns. She had a wayward son who not only rejected the Church in which he had been enrolled as a catechumen, but was living a life which in many ways was a dissolute and immoral one. What a supreme irony it must have been for Monica when Augustine, at his mother's behest, tore himself from his common-law wife to prepare for marriage to a "pleasing maiden," only to grow impatient with celibacy and take another concubine. Fortunately, God seemed to have given Monica a remarkable degree of persistence.

From the ages of eighteen to twenty-seven, Augustine lived a live of which, he says, caused him much shame. "For in this lay my sin, that not in him but in his creatures, I myself and the rest sought for pleasures, honors, and truths, falling thereby into sorrows, troubles, and errors." Augustine did earn a living, opening a school of rhetoric. In those days rhetoric was the study of philosophy as well as skill in speaking, and this required Augustine to be familiar with the intellectual currents of his day and the writings of earlier times. He also became involved with the Manichees, a sect to which he gave decreasing allegiance over a period of nine years, as it became apparent to him that its leaders were unable to provide satisfactory answers to his probing questions. Still, Manicheism was a religion and, in its own way, a step closer to the faith.

Equally important was his deepening interest in Latin literature. This led him to Rome and eventually to Milan, where he had won the post of professor of rhetoric. He was by now a professional success and a personal wreck. Unhappy with his lifestyle, dissatisfied with Manicheeism, "gnawed within." As he put it, by a hunger he could not explain, Augustine was a disturbed young man. But in choosing Milan he had gone to precisely the right place. Milan was a city of a great bishop of the Catholic Church, Saint Ambrose. He was known throughout the world as a courageous leader and brilliant exponent of Catholic dogma. Augustine, with Monica at his side, went to hear Ambrose preach, at first only to listen to his eloquence. Yet he was led to a new understanding of the Bible and of the Christian faith by the bishop's explanations. The scriptures, which has seemed to him to be "old wives' tales," now seemed to come alive. It was the beginning of the end of Augustine's former self. Something was happening. This is his account of what happened when he and his friend Alypius went to pray in a garden in Milan:

I was suddenly asking myself these questions, weeping all the while with the most bitter sorrow in my heart, when all at once I heard a sing-song voice of a child in a nearby house. Whether it as the voice of a boy or a girl I cannot say, but again and again it repeated the refrain "Take and read, take and read." At this I looked up, thinking hard whether there was any kind of game in which children used to chant words like these, but I could not remember ever hearing them before. I stemmed the flood of tears and stood up, telling myself that this could only be a divine command to open my book of scripture and read the first passage on which my eyes should fall. So I hurried back to the place where Alypius was sitting, for when I stood up to move away I had put down the book containing Paul's epistles. I seized it and opened it, and in silence I read the first passage on which my eyes fell: "Not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual excess and lust, not in quarrelling and jealousy. Rather, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh (Romans 13:13-14)." I had no wish to read more and no need to do so. For in an instant, as I came to the end of the sentence, it was as though the light of confidence flooded into my heart and all the darkness of doubt was dispelled.

During the fall of the year 386, Augustine, having turned away totally from a life of sin, resigned his teaching position and began his preparation for baptism. Bishop Ambrose baptized him during the Easter vigil in 387, along with Augustine's son Adeodatus, then fifteen. On the way back to Africa, Augustine and his mother were delayed in Ostia, where Monica fell ill and died, happy and at peace.

Having found the truth at last, Augustine, in characteristic fashion, sought to embrace it fully. Back in Tagaste, he shared a house with companions who, like himself, had turned away from the world. They observed rules of discipline and personal poverty, did manual work, and spent much of their time in dialogue debating questions of the faith.

Here was the nucleus of the fellowship perpetuated today in Augustinian communities throughout the world. It seemed to Augustine that his days of working and traveling were over. But God had other plans for his servant.

In the time of Augustine, talented persons were pressed into the service of the Church, frequently despite their heated or tearful objections. It happened in this way to Augustine while he was on a visit to Hippo. The aged bishop of Hippo, Valerius, was looking for an assistant, and both he and his people decided that they wanted Augustine. He at first declined the honor but finally accepted it for the good of the Church. When the bishop died five years late, Augustine took his place. His life and those of many others would never be the same again.

From 396 to 430, the man who now desire above all else, "complete detachment from the tumult of transient things" was one of the busiest and most productive men in the world. Like any priest or bishop, he ministered to the spiritual needs of his people. He functioned as a civil magistrate at a time when this was a part of the job of being bishop. He traveled to meetings and councils, some forty to fifty journeys in thirty-five years as a bishop. He went to the metropolitan see in Carthage, a trip which took nine days, some twenty or thirty times. He was often gone from Hippo for four or five months at a time. He defended the Church, The record of his debate with Felix the Manichean in the church at Hippo tells us that when the debate was over, Felix was converted. Above all, he kept up extensive writing, which was his principal output, his main means for expounding the faith. In all, he produced over two hundred books and nearly a thousand sermons, letters, and treatises.

ImageAmong these many writings was the Confessions, an immensely popular book which has been read, meditated upon, and imitated by many generations. One of his greatest literary works, The City of God, was occasioned by the sacking of Rome by armies in the year 410. This was a devastating blow to the ancient world. Many asserted that the great city had been destroyed because so many Romans abandoned the pagan gods in favor of Christianity, which was powerless to protect them. Augustine set forth to demolish that argument in a monumental book that appeared in installments over thirteen years. Its fundamental thesis is that the ultimate importance of a "city" is not measured by its temporal significance, for in fact there are only two cities that really matter.

Augustine had expressed the most profound existential choice that can confront a human being. It is as valid now as ever. One must either place one's trust in God, or place it elsewhere. On this issue, there is no middle ground.

Augustine's demanding responsibilities never induced him to abandon his monastic ideal. Until his last hour he remained inflexibly a monk. As a priest, he founded a monastery on a portion of the church grounds given to him for this purpose by Bishop Valerius. As a bishop, he turned his Episcopal residence into a monastery in which the members of his household lived the common life. The monastic ideal of Saint Augustine came to full fruition centuries later when numerous religious communities which adopted his Rule sprang up. They became a powerful force in evangelization, preaching the gospel to the poor in the cities, bringing the Good News to the New World, defending the faith in the pulpits and in universities, taking the initiative in founding schools, orphanages, and hospitals, and doing other works of charity.

In the year 430, four years after The City of God had been completed, Augustine fell ill, while a Vandal horde laid siege to the gate of Hippo. He placed the penitential psalms of David near his bed and spent his final days in prayer, urging his brethren to preserve his library and his other works. The monastic foundations he established were eventually destroyed, but his spiritual heritage has become the world's common property.

Saint Augustine died on 28 August 430. His feast is celebrated throughout the Church on 28 August.

Source: http://www.osa-west.org/saintaugustine.html

St. Isidore of Seville on Confession

Confession heals, confession justifies, confession grants pardon of sin. All hope consists in confession. In confession there is a chance for mercy. Believe it firmly. Do not doubt, do not hesitate, never despair of the mercy of God. Hope and have confidence in confession."


– St. Isidore of Seville


Source: http://catholicwideweb.wordpress.com/2011/02/19/st-isidore-of-seville-on-confession/

Holy Rosary --- Heaven's Most Powerful Prayer

The Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Dominic

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArMS_V8CqUQ

Prayer When Unable to Assist at Daily Mass

Go, my Angel Guardian dear, 
To church for me------the Mass to hear. 
Go, kneel devoutly at my place 
And treasure for me every grace. 
At the Offertory time 
Please offer me to God Divine. 
All I have and all I am, 
Present it with the Precious Lamb. 
Adore for me the great Oblation. 
Pray for all I hold most dear 
Be they far or be they near. 
Remember, too, my own dear dead 
For whom Christ's Precious Blood was shed. 
At Communion bring spiritually to me 
Christ's flesh and blood my food to be, 
To give me strength and holy grace; 
A pledge to see Him face to face, 
And when the Holy Mass is done 
Then with His blessing, come back home.

Source: http://www.catholictradition.org/Angels/angels13b.htm

Humility, Trust and Love

Excerpt from the Book "The Way of Divine Love" by Servant of God Sister Josefa Menendez

Let consecrated souls therefore re-animate their trust in the Heart of Jesus. "I easily condone their weakness; what I want them to know is that if after their faults and falls they humbly cast themselves into My Heart, I love them always, and pardon them all." He adds: "Do you not know that the more wretched a soul is, the more I love her?" "The fact that I have chosen a soul does not mean that her faults and miseries are wiped out. But if in all humility that soul acknowledges her failings and atones by little acts of generosity and love, above all, if she trusts Me, if she throws herself into My Heart, she gives Me more glory and does more good to souls than if she had not fallen. What does her wretchedness matter to Me, if she gives Me the love that I want?" (20th October 1922).


Source: http://www.appraisercentral.com/research/Sister-Menendez-description-of-hell.htm

Boy Raised from the Dead by St. John Bosco

A fifteen year old boy in Turin was about to die. He called for Don Bosco, but the saint was not able to make it in time. Another priest heard the boy's confession and the boy died. When Don Bosco returned to Turin, he set out at once to see the boy. When told that the boy was dead, he insisted that it was "just a misunderstanding." After a moment of prayer in the room of the dead child, Don Bosco suddenly cried out: "Charles! Rise!" To the utter amazement of all present, the boy stirred, opened his eyes, and sat up. Seeing Don Bosco, his eyes lit up.

"Father, I should now be in Hell!" gasped the boy. "Two weeks ago I was with a bad companion who led me into sin and at my last confession, I was afraid to tell everything . . . Oh, I've just come out of a horrible dream! I dreamt I was standing on the edge of a huge furnace surrounded by a horde of devils. They were about to throw me into the flames when a beautiful Lady appeared and stopped them. 'There's still hope for you, Charles,' she told me. 'You have not yet been judged!' At that moment I heard you calling me. Oh, Don Bosco! What a joy to see you again! Will you please hear my confession?"

After hearing the boy's confession, Don Bosco said to the boy, "Charles, now that the gates of Heaven lie wide open for you, would you rather go there or stay here with us?" The boy looked away for a moment and his eyes grew moist with tears. An expectant hush fell over the room. "Don Bosco", he said at last, "I'd rather go to Heaven." The mourners watched in amazement as Charles leaned back on the pillows, closed his eyes, and settled once more into the stillness of death.

Source: http://www.tldm.org/News8/realityofhell.htm
Here's the source for the complete story: http://www.saintmichaelusa.org/st.bosco5.php

St. John Bosco's Dream (VISION) Of Hell

On Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of Saint Joseph's patronage, Don Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:
I have another dream to tell you, a sort of aftermath of those I told you last Thursday and Friday which totally exhausted me. Call them dreams or whatever you like. Always, as you know, on the night of April 17 a frightful toad seemed bent on devouring me. When it finally vanished, a voice said to me: "Why don't you tell them?" I turned in that direction and saw a distinguished person standing by my bed. Feeling guilty about my silence, I asked: "What should I tell my boys?"
"What you have seen and heard in your last dreams and what you have wanted to know and shall have revealed to you tomorrow night!" He then vanished.
I spent the whole next day worrying about the miserable night in store for me, and when evening came, loath to go to bed, I sat at my desk browsing through books until midnight. The mere thought of having more nightmares thoroughly scare me. However, with great effort, I finally went to bed.
"Get up and follow me!" he said.
"For Heaven's sake," I protested, "leave me alone. I am exhausted! I've been tormented by a toothache for several days now and need rest. Besides, nightmares have completely worn me out." I said this because this man's apparition always means trouble, fatigue, and terror for me.
"Get up," he repeated. "You have no time to lose."
I complied and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Never mind. You'll see." He led me to a vast, boundless plain, veritably a lifeless desert, with not a soul in sight or a tree or brook. Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added to the desolation I had no idea where I was or what was I to do. For a moment I even lost sight of my guide and feared that I was lost, utterly alone. Father Rua, Father Francesia, nowhere to be seen. When I finally saw my friend coming toward me, I sighed in relief.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Come with me and you will find out!"
"All right. I'll go with you."
He led the way and I followed in silence, but after a long, dismal trudge, I began worrying whether I would ever be able to cross that vast expanse, what with my toothache and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw a road ahead.
"Where to now?" I asked my guide.
"This way," he replied.
We took the road. It was beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. "The way of sinners is made plain with stones, and in their end is hell, and darkness, and pains. " (Ecclesiasticus 21: 11, stones: broad and easy.) Both sides were lined with magnificent verdant hedges dotted with gorgeous flowers. Roses, especially, peeped everywhere through the leaves. At first glance, the road was level and comfortable, and so I ventured upon it without the least suspicion, but soon I noticed that it insensibly kept sloping downward. Though it did not look steep at all, I found myself moving so swiftly that I felt I was effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I was gliding and hardly using my feet. Then the thought struck me that the return trip would be very long and arduous.
"How shall we get back to the Oratory?" I asked worriedly.
"Do not worry," he answered. "The Almighty wants you to go. He who leads you on will also know how to lead you back."
The road is sloping downward. As we were continuing on our way, flanked by banks of roses and other flowers, I became aware that the Oratory boys and very many others whom I did not know were following me. Somehow I found myself in their midst. As I was looking at them, I noticed now one, now another fall to the ground and instantly be dragged by an unseen force toward a frightful drop, distantly visible, which sloped into a furnace. "What makes these boys fall?" I asked my companion. "The proud have hidden a net for me. And they have stretched out cords for a snare: they have laid for me a stumbling-block by the wayside." (Psalms 139: 6)
"Take a closer look," he replied.
I did. Traps were everywhere, some close to the ground, others at eye level, but all well concealed. Unaware of their danger, many boys got caught, and they tripped, they would sprawl to the ground, legs in the air. Then, when they managed to get back on their feet, they would run headlong down the road toward the abyss. Some got trapped by the head, others by the neck, hand, arms, legs, or sides, and were pulled down instantly. The ground traps, fine as spiders' webs and hardly visible, seemed very flimsy and harmless; yet, to my surprise, every boy they snared fell to the ground.
Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked, "Do you know what this is?"
"Just some filmy fiber," I answered.
"A mere nothing," he said, "just plain human respect.",
Seeing that many boys were being caught in those straps. I asked, "Why do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?"
"Go nearer and you will see!" he told me.
I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.
"Look closer," he insisted.
I picked up one of the traps and tugged. I immediately felt some resistance. I pulled harder, only to feel that, instead of drawing the thread closer, I was being pulled down myself. I did not resist and soon found myself at the mouth of a frightful cave. I halted, unwilling to venture into that deep cavern, and again started pulling the thread toward me. It gave a little, but only through great effort on my part. I kept tugging, and after a long while a huge, hideous monster emerged, clutching a rope to which all those traps were tied together. He was the one who instantly dragged down anyone who got caught in them. It won't do to match my strength with his, I said to myself. I'll certainly lose. I'd better fight him with the Sign of the Cross and with short invocations.
Then I went back to my guide. "Now you know who he is," he said to me.
"I surely do! It is the devil himself!"
Carefully examining many of the traps, I saw that each bore an inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy, Sixth Commandment, Theft, Gluttony, Sloth, Anger and so on. Stepping back a bit to see which ones trapped the greater number of boys, I discovered that the most dangerous were those of impurity, disobedience, and pride. In fact, these three were linked to together. Many other traps also did great harm, but not as much as the first two. Still watching, I noticed many boys running faster than others. "Why such haste?" I asked.
"Because they are dragged by the snare of human respect."
Looking even more closely, I spotted knives among the traps. A providential hand had put them there for cutting oneself free. The bigger ones, symbolizing meditation, were for use against the trap of pride; others, not quite as big, symbolized spiritual reading well made. There were also two swords representing devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, especially through frequent Holy Communion, and to the Blessed Virgin. There was also a hammer symbolizing confession, and other knives signifying devotion to Saint Joseph, to Saint Aloysius, and to other Saints. By these means quite a few boys were able to free themselves or evade capture.
Indeed I saw some lads walking safely through all those traps, either by good timing before the trap sprung on them or by making it slip off them if they got caught.
When my guide was satisfied that I had observed everything, he made me continue along that rose-hedged road, but the farther we went the scarcer the roses became. Long thorns began to show up, and soon the roses were no more. The hedges became sun-scorched, leafless, and thorn-studded. Withered branches torn from the bushes lay criss-crossed along the roadbed, littering it with thorns and making it impassable. We had come now to a gulch whose steep sides hid what lay beyond. The road, still sloping downward, was becoming ever more horrid, rutted, guttered, and bristling with rocks and boulders. I lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this treacherous road for other paths.
I kept going, but the farther I advanced, the more arduous and steep became the descent, so that I tumbled and fell several times, lying prostrate until I could catch my breath. Now and then my guide supported me or helped me to rise. At every step my joints seemed to give way, and I thought my shinbones would snap. Panting, I said to my guide, "My good fellow, my legs won't carry me another step. I just can't go any farther." He did not answer but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed until, seeing me soaked in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he led me to a little clearing alongside the road. I sat down, took a deep breath, and felt a little better. From my resting place, the road I had already traveled looked very steep, jagged, and strewn with loose stones, but what lay ahead seemed so much worse that I closed my eyes in horror.
"Let's go back," I pleaded. "If we go any farther, how shall we ever get back to the Oratory? I will never make it up this slope."
"Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you here?" my guide sternly asked.
At this threat, I wailed, "How can I survive without your help?"
"Then follow me."
We continued our descent, the road now becoming so frightfully steep that it was almost impossible to stand erect. And then, at the bottom of this precipice, at the entrance of a dark valley, an enormous building loomed into sight, its towering portal, tightly locked, facing our road. When I finally got to the bottom, I became smothered by a suffocating heat, while a greasy, green-tinted smoke lit by flashes of scarlet flames rose from behind those enormous walls which loomed higher than mountains.
"Where are we? What is this?" I asked my guide.
"Read the inscription on that portal and you will know."
I looked up and read these words: "The place of no reprieve." I realized that we were at the gates of Hell. The guide led me all around this horrible place. At regular distance bronze portals like the first overlooked precipitous descents; on each was an inscription, such as: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels." (Matthew 25: 41) "Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the the fire." (Matthew 7: 19)
I tried to copy them into my notebook, but my guide restrained me: "There is no need. You have them all in Holy Scripture. You even have some of them inscribed in your porticoes."
At such a sight I wanted to turn back and return to the Oratory. As a matter of fact, I did start back, but my guide ignored my attempt. After trudging through a steep, never-ending ravine, we again came to the foot of the precipice facing the first portal. Suddenly the guide turned to me. Upset and startled, he motioned to me to step aside. "Look!" he said.
I looked up in terror and saw in the distance someone racing down the path at an uncontrollable speed. I kept my eyes on him, trying to identify him, and as he got closer, I recognized him as one of my boys. His disheveled hair was partly standing upright on his head and partly tossed back by the wind. His arms were outstretched as though he were thrashing the water in an attempt to stay afloat. He wanted to stop, but could not. Tripping on the protruding stones, he kept falling even faster. "Let's help him, let's stop him," I shouted, holding out my hands in a vain effort to restrain him.
"Leave him alone," the guide replied.
"Why?"
"Don't you know how terrible God's vengeance is? Do you think you can restrain one who is fleeing from His just wrath?"
Meanwhile the youth had turned his fiery gaze backward in an attempt to see if God's wrath were still pursuing him. The next moment he fell tumbling to the bottom of the ravine and crashed against the bronze portal as though he could find no better refuge in his flight.
"Why was he looking backward in terror?" I asked.
"Because God's wrath will pierce Hell's gates to reach and torment him even in the midst of fire!"
As the boy crashed into the portal, it sprang open with a roar, and instantly a thousand inner portals opened with a deafening clamor as if struck by a body that had been propelled by an invisible, most violent, irresistible gale. As these bronze doors -- one behind the other, though at a considerable distance from each other -- remained momentarily open, I saw far into the distance something like furnace jaws sprouting fiery balls the moment the youth hurtled into it. As swiftly as they had opened, the portals then clanged shut again. For a third time I tried to jot down the name of that unfortunate lad, but the guide again restrained me. "Wait," he ordered.
"Watch!"
Three other boys of ours, screaming in terror and with arms outstretched, were rolling down one behind the other like massive rocks, I recognized them as they too crashed against the portal. In that split second, it sprang open and so did the other thousand. The three lads were sucked into that endless corridor amid a long-drawn, fading, infernal echo, and then the portals clanged shut again. At intervals, many other lads came tumbling down after them. I saw one unlucky boy being pushed down the slope by an evil companion. Others fell singly or with others, arm in arm or side by side. Each of them bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept calling to them as they hurtled down, but they did not hear me. Again the portals would open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then, dead silence!
"Bad companions, bad books, and bad habits," my guide exclaimed, "are mainly responsible for so many eternally lost."
The traps I had seen earlier were indeed dragging the boys to ruin. Seeing so many going to perdition, I cried out disconsolately, "If so many of our boys end up this way, we are working in vain. How can we prevent such tragedies?"
"This is their present state," my guide replied, "and that is where they would go if they were to die now."
"Then let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put them back on the path to Heaven."
"Do you really believe that some of them would reform if you were to warn them? Then and there your warning might impress them, but soon they will forget it, saying, 'It was just a dream,' and they will do worse than before. Others, realizing they have been unmasked, receive the sacraments, but this will be neither spontaneous nor meritorious; others will go to confession because of a momentary fear of Hell but will still be attached to sin."
"Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, tell me what I can do for them."
"They have superiors; let them obey them. They have rules; let them observe them. They have the sacraments; let them receive them."
Just then a new group of boys came hurtling down and the portals momentarily opened. "Let's go in," the guide said to me.
I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to rush back to the Oratory to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.
"Come," my guide insisted. "You'll learn much. But first tell me: Do you wish to go alone or with me?" He asked this to make me realize that I was not brave enough and therefore needed his friendly assistance.
"Alone inside that horrible place?" I replied. "How will I ever be able to find my way out without your help?" Then a thought came to my mind and aroused my courage. Before one is condemned to Hell, I said to myself, he must be judged. And I haven't been judged yet!
"Let's go," I exclaimed resolutely. We entered that narrow, horrible corridor and whizzed through it with lightning speed. Threatening inscriptions shone eerily over all the inner gateways. The last one opened into a vast, grim courtyard with a large, unbelievably forbidding entrance at the far end. Above it stood this inscription:
"These shall go into everlasting punishment." (Matthew 25: 46) The walls all about were similarly inscribed. I asked my guide if I could read them, and he consented. These were the inscriptions:
"He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
"The pool of fire where both the beast and the false prophet shall be tormented day and night forever and ever." (Apocalypse 20: 9-10)
"And the smoke of their torments shall ascend up forever and ever." (Apocalypse 14: 11)
"A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no order, but everlasting horror dwelleth." (Job 10: 22)
"There is no peace to the wicked." (Isaias 47: 22)
"There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12)
While I moved from one inscription to another, my guide, who had stood in the center of the courtyard, came up to me.
"From here on," he said, "no one may have a helpful companion, a comforting friend, a loving heart, a compassionate glance, or a benevolent word. All this is gone forever. Do you just want to see or would you rather experience these things yourself?"
"I only want to see!" I answered.
"Then come with me," my friend added, and, taking me in tow, he stepped through that gate into a corridor at whose far end stood an observation platform, closed by a huge, single crystal pane reaching from the pavement to the ceiling. As soon as I crossed its threshold, I felt an indescribable terror and dared not take another step. Ahead of me I could see something like an immense cave which gradually disappeared into recesses sunk far into the bowels of the mountains. They were all ablaze, but theirs was not an earthly fire with leaping tongues of flames. The entire cave --walls, ceiling, floor, iron, stones, wood, and coal -- everything was a glowing white at temperatures of thousands of degrees. Yet the fire did not incinerate, did not consume. I simply can't find words to describe the cavern's horror. "The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood: the breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it." (Isaias 30: 33)
I was staring in bewilderment about me when a lad dashed out of a gate. Seemingly unaware of anything else, he emitted a most shrilling scream, like one who is about to fall into a cauldron of liquid bronze, and plummeted into the center of the cave. Instantly he too became incandescent and perfectly motionless, while the echo of his dying wail lingered for an instant more.
Terribly frightened, I stared briefly at him for a while. He seemed to be one of my Oratory boys. "Isn't he so and so?" I asked my guide.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Why is he so still, so incandescent?"
"You chose to see," he replied. "Be satisfied with that. Just keep looking. Besides, "Everyone shall be salted with fire." (Mark 9: 48)
As I looked again, another boy came hurtling down into the cave at breakneck speed. He too was from the Oratory. As he fell, so he remained. He too emitted one single heart-rending shriek that blended with the last echo of the scream that came from the youth who had preceded him. Other boys kept hurtling in the same way in increasing numbers, all screaming the same way and then all becoming equally motionless and incandescent. I noticed that the first seemed frozen to the spot, one hand and one foot raised into the air; the second boy seemed bent almost double to the floor. Others stood or hung in various other positions, balancing themselves on one foot or hand, sitting or lying on their backs or on their sides, standing or kneeling, hands clutching their hair. Briefly, the scene resembled a large statuary group of youngsters cast into ever more painful postures. Other lads hurtled into that same furnace. Some I knew; others were strangers to me. I then recalled what is written in the Bible to the effect that as one falls into Hell, so he shall forever remain. ". . . in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be." (Ecclesiastes 11:3)
More frightened than ever, I asked my guide, "When these boys come dashing into this cave, don't they know where they are going?"
"They surely do. They have been warned a thousand times, but they still choose to rush into the fire because they do not detest sin and are loath to forsake it. Furthermore, they despise and reject God's incessant, merciful invitations to do penance. Thus provoked, Divine Justice harries them, hounds them, and goads them on so that they cannot halt until they reach this place."
"Oh, how miserable these unfortunate boys must feel in knowing they no longer have any hope," I exclaimed. "If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury, go a little closer," my guide remarked.
I took a few steps forward and saw that many of those poor wretches were savagely striking at each other like mad dogs. Others were clawing their own faces and hands, tearing their own flesh and spitefully throwing it about. Just then the entire ceiling of the cave became as transparent as crystal and revealed a patch of Heaven and their radiant companions safe for all eternity.
The poor wretches, fuming and panting with envy, burned with rage because they had once ridiculed the just. "The wicked shall see, and be angry, he shall gnash with his teeth, and pine away. . . " (Psalms 111: 10) "Why do hear no sound?" I asked my guide,
"Go closer!" he advised.
Pressing my ear to the crystal window, I heard screams and sobs, blasphemies and imprecations against the Saints. It was a tumult of voices and cries, shrill and confused.
"When they recall the happy lot of their good companions," he replied, "they are obliged to admit: "We fools esteemed their life madness, and their end without honour. Behold, how they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot is among the saints. Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the light of justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding hath not risen upon us." (Wisdom 5:4-6) "We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and destruction, and have walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we have not known. What hath pride profited us ? or what advantage hath the boasting of riches brought us ? All those things are passed away like a shadow." (Wisdom 5: 7-9)
"Here time is no more. Here is only eternity."
While I viewed the condition of many of my boys in utter terror, a thought suddenly struck me. "How can these boys be damned?" I asked. "Last night they were still alive at the Oratory!"
"The boys you see here," he answered, "are all dead to God's grace. Were they to die now or persist in their evil ways, they would be damned. But we are wasting time. Let us go on."
He led me away and we went down through a corridor into a lower cavern, at whose entrance I read: "Their worm shall not die, and their fire shall not be quenched." (Isaias 66: 24) "He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
Here one could see how atrocious was the remorse of those who had been pupils in our schools. What a torment was their, to remember each unforgiven sin and its just punishment, the countless, even extraordinary means they had had to mend their ways, persevere in virtue, and earn paradise, and their lack of response to the many favors promised and bestowed by the Virgin Mary. What a torture to think that they couId have been saved so easily, yet now are irredeemably lost, and to remember the many good resolutions made and never kept. Hell is indeed paved with good intentions!
In this lower cavern I again saw those Oratory boys who had fallen into the fiery furnace. Some are listening to me right now; others are former pupils or even strangers to me. I drew closer to them and noticed that they were all covered with worms and vermin which gnawed at their vitals, hearts, eyes, hands, legs, and entire bodies so ferociously as to defy description. Helpless and motionless, they were a prey to every kind of torment. Hoping I might be able to speak with them or to hear something from them, I drew even closer but no one spoke or even looked at me. I then asked my guide why, and he explained that the damned are totally deprived of freedom. Each must fully endure his own punishment, with absolutely no reprieve whatever. "And now," he added, "you too must enter that cavern."
"Oh, no!" I objected in terror. "Before going to Hell, one has to be judged. I have not been judged yet, and so I will not go to Hell!"
"Listen," he said, "what would you rather do: visit Hell and save your boys, or stay outside and leave them in agony?"
For a moment I was struck speechless. "Of course I love my boys and wish to save them all," I replied, "but isn't there some other way out?"
"Yes, there is a way," he went on, "provided you do all you can."
I breathed more easily and instantly said to myself, I don't mind slaving if I can rescue these beloved sons of mine from such torments.
"Come inside then," my friend went on, "and see how our good, almighty God lovingly provides a thousand means for guiding your boys to penance and saving them from everlasting death."
Taking my hand, he led me into the cave. As I stepped in, I found myself suddenly transported into a magnificent hall whose curtained glass doors concealed more entrances.
Above one of them I read this inscription: The Sixth Commandment. Pointing to it, my guide exclaimed, "Transgressions of this commandment caused the eternal ruin of many boys."
"Didn't they go to confession?"
"They did, but they either omitted or insufficiently confessed the sins against the beautiful virtue of purity, saying for instance that they had committed such sins two or three times when it was four or five. Other boys may have fallen into that sin but once in their childhood, and, through shame, never confessed it or did so insufficiently. Others were not truly sorry or sincere in their resolve to avoid it in the future. There were even some who, rather than examine their conscience, spent their time trying to figure out how best to deceive their confessor. Anyone dying in this frame of mind chooses to be among the damned, and so he is doomed for all eternity. Only those who die truly repentant shall be eternally happy. Now do you want to see why our merciful God brought you here?" He lifted the curtain and I saw a group of Oratory boys -- all known to me -- who were there because of this sin. Among them were some whose conduct seems to be good.
"Now you will surely let me take down their names so that I may warn them individually," I exclaimed. "Then what do you suggest I tell them?"
"Always preach against immodesty. A generic warning will suffice. Bear in mind that even if you did admonish them individually, they would promise, but not always in earnest. For a firm resolution, one needs God's grace which will not be denied to your boys if they pray. God manifests His power especially by being merciful and forgiving. On your part, pray and make sacrifices. As for the boys, let them listen to your admonitions and consult their conscience. It will tell them what to do."
We spent the next half hour discussing the requisites of a good confession. Afterward, my guide several times exclaimed in a loud voice, "Avertere! Avertere!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Change life! "
Perplexed, I bowed my head and made as if to withdraw, but he held me back.
"You haven't seen everything yet," he explained.
He turned and lifted another curtain bearing this inscription: "They who would become rich, fall into temptation, and to the snare of the devil." (1 Timothy 6: 9) (Note: would become rich: wish to become rich, seek riches, set their heart and affections toward riches.)
"This does not apply to my boys! I countered, "because they are as poor as I am. We are not rich and do not want to be. We give it no thought."
As the curtain was lifted, however, I saw a group of boys, all known to me. They were in pain, like those I had seen before. Pointing to them, my guide remarked, "As you see, the inscription does apply to your boys."
"But how?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "some boys are so attached to material possessions that their love of God is lessened. Thus they sin against charity, piety, and meekness. Even the mere desire of riches can corrupt the heart, especially if such a desire leads to injustice. Your boys are poor, but remember that greed and idleness are bad counselors. One of your boys committed substantial thefts in his native town, and though he could make restitution, he gives it not a thought. There are others who try to break into the pantry or the prefect's or economer's office; those who rummage in their companions' trunks for food, money, or possessions; those who steal stationery and books...."
After naming these boys and others as well, he continued, "Some are here for having stolen clothes, linen, blankets, and coats from the Oratory wardrobe in order to send them home to their families; others for willful, serious damage; others, yet, for not having given back what they had borrowed or for having kept sums of money they were supposed to hand over to the superior. Now that you know who these boys are," he concluded, "admonish them. Tell them to curb all vain, harmful desires, to obey God's law and to safeguard their reputation jealously lest greed lead them to greater excesses and plunge them into sorrow, death, and damnation."
I couldn't understand why such dreadful punishments should be meted out for infractions that boys thought so little of, but my guide shook me out of my thoughts by saying: "Recall what you were told when you saw those spoiled grapes on the wine." With these words he lifted another curtain which hid many of our Oratory boys, all of whom I recognized instantly. The inscription on the curtain read: The root of all evils.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked me immediately.
"What sin does that refer to?"
"Pride?"
"No!"
"And yet I have always heard that pride is the root of all evil."
"It is, generally speaking, but, specifically, do you know what led Adam and Eve to commit the first sin for which they were driven away from their earthly paradise?"
"Disobedience?"
"Exactly! Disobedience is the root of all evil."
"What shall I tell my boys about it?"
"Listen carefully: the boys you see here are those who prepare such a tragic end for themselves by being disobedient. So-and-so and so-and-so, who you think went to bed, leave the dormitory later in the night to roam about the playground, and, contrary to orders, they stray into dangerous areas and up scaffolds, endangering even their lives. Others go to church, but, ignoring recommendations, they misbehave; instead of praying, they daydream or cause a disturbance. There are also those who make themselves comfortable so as to doze off during church services, and those who only make believe they are going to church. Woe to those who neglect prayer! He who does not pray dooms himself to perdition. Some are here because, instead of singing hymns or saying the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, they read frivolous or -- worse yet -- forbidden books." He then went on mentioning other serious breaches of discipline.
When he was done, I was deeply moved.
"May I mention all these things to my boys?" I asked, looking at him straight in the eye.
"Yes, you may tell them whatever you remember."
"What advice shall I give them to safeguard them from such a tragedy?"
"Keep telling them that by obeying God, the Church, their parents, and their superiors, even in little things, they will be saved."
"Anything else?"
"Warn them against idleness. Because of idleness David fell into sin. Tell them to keep busy at all times, because the devil will not then have a chance to tempt them."
I bowed my head and promised. Faint with dismay, I could only mutter, "Thanks for having been so good to me. Now, please lead me out of here."
"All right, then, come with me." Encouragingly he took my hand and held me up because I could hardly stand on my feet. Leaving that hall, in no time at all we retraced our steps through that horrible courtyard and the long corridor. But as soon as we stepped across the last bronze portal, he turned to me and said, "Now that you have seen what others suffer, you too must experience a touch of Hell."
"No, no!" I cried in terror.
He insisted, but I kept refusing.
"Do not be afraid," he told me; "just try it. Touch this wall."
I could not muster enough courage and tried to get away, but he held me back. "Try it," he insisted. Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me to the wall. "Only one touch," he cornmanded, "so that you may say you have both seen and touched the walls of eternal suffering and that you may understand what the last wall must be like if the first is so unendurable. Look at this wall!" I did intently. It seemed incredibly thick. "There are a thousand walls between this and the real fire of Hell," my guide continued. "A thousand walls encompass it, each a thousand measures thick and equally distant from the next one. Each measure is a thousand miles. This wall therefore is millions and millions of miles from Hell's real fire. It is just a remote rim of Hell itself."
When he said this, I instinctively pulled back, but he seized my hand, forced it open, and pressed it against the first of the thousand walls. The sensation was so utterly excruciating that I leaped back with a scream and found myself sitting up in bed. My hand was stinging and I kept rubbing it to ease the pain. When I got up this morning I noticed that it was swollen. Having my hand pressed against the wall, though only in a dream, felt so real that, later, the skin of my palm peeled off.
Bear in mind that I have tried not to frighten you very much, and so I have not described these things in all their horror as I saw them and as they impressed me. We know that Our Lord always portrayed Hell in symbols because, had He described it as it really is, we would not have understood Him. No mortal can comprehend these things. The Lord knows them and He reveals them to whomever He wills. [END]

Source: http://www.todayscatholicworld.com/bosco_hell.htm

The Rosary, A Powerful Weapon Against the Devil

The first “Hail Mary” was brought from Heaven by Gabriel the Archangel, the messenger of Holy Trinity

The following text of Father Gabriel Amorth, chief exorcist of the Vatican, is taken from the March-April, 2003 issue of “Echo of Mary, Queen of Peace”:

The recent Apostolic Letter of John Paul II, "Rosarium Virginis Mariae" (released last October 16) encourages all Christians to turn back to the prayer strongly recommended both by the latest Pontiffs and recent Marian apparitions. Paul VI called the Rosary a compendium of the Gospel. To make it more complete, John Paul II added the 'mysteries of light' to cover Jesus' public life. Padre Pio called the Rosary beads a weapon of extraordinary power against Satan.

One day a colleague of mine heard the devil say during an exorcism: "Every Hail Mary is like a blow on my head. If Christians knew how powerful the Rosary was, it would be my end." The secret that makes this prayer so effective is that the Rosary is both prayer and meditation. It is addressed to the Father, to the Blessed Virgin, and to the Holy Trinity, and is a meditation centred on Christ.

Today more than ever, the world is in need of prayer and meditation. It is in need of prayer because people have forgotten God, and without God the world has put itself on the edge of a precipice. This is why in Her messages, Our Lady insists so much on prayer. Without God's help, Satan wins. The world is also in need of meditation because if the great Christian truths are forgotten, souls become void. This void is grabbed up by the enemy, and he fills it with his lies. And today we see the results with widespread belief in superstition and occultism.

The most obvious danger for our society today is the downfall of the family. The rhythm of today's world has broken the family unity. Little time is spent together, and even when the family is together, its members don't speak because the television speaks. Where are the families which recite the Rosary together in the evenings? Pope Pius XII insisted in his own time: “If you pray the Rosary together, you will experience peace in your families; you will get on together.” “The family that prays together, stays together,” would say Father Peyton, the untiring apostle of the family Rosary. “Satan wants war,” Mary said one day in Medjugorje. Well, the Rosary is the weapon which is able to guarantee peace for the world, because it is a prayer and a form of meditation able to transform hearts and defeat the enemy.

Source: http://www.michaeljournal.org/rosarypower.htm

Persevering Prayer

Across the operating table from the nun stood a surgeon. They had worked together for years. As they operated, the doctor would often look up at her quizzically and say, "Funny, Sister, but in all our operations we've never yet found a soul, have we?"
   The nun always replied simply, "We'll find yours before you die, doctor. You can't get away. I'm praying for you."
To which he had a stock answer,"You'd better save your prayers for someone that's a possibility. I'm not."
He left for a holiday, and after the lapse of a few days the word came back to his hospital that he had suddenly been taken violently ill and had died. The nun went to the chapel and made her great act of faith.
   "I'm sure, dear Lord, that you saved his soul. At the end you gave him the faith." and she added, "But could you let me know for certain?"
   God did. After a few hours the word came. He had been taken to a hospital run by nuns; he himself had sent for the priest. He had been baptized, had received the last sacraments, and died.

- Daniel Lord

Source: from the Book 1000 Stories you can use (Volume Two) by Frank Mihalic, SVD *775

Powerful Intercession of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints at the Hour of Death

"You do well to pray to St. Michael and to urge others to do so. One is indeed happy at the hour of death when he has had confidence in some of the saints. They will be his protectors before God in that terrible moment."

------------------------------------

"Those souls who have loved the Blessed Virgin and invoked her all their lives will receive from her many graces in their last struggles. It is the same for those who have been really devout to St. Joseph, to St. Michael, or to any of the saints."

Source: taken from the "Unpublished Manuscript on Purgatory" at http://my.homewithgod.com/gertrude/purgatory
http://my.homewithgod.com/gertrude/purgatory1

Prayer to your Guardian Angel

Angel of God,
my guardian dear,
To whom God's love
commits me here,
Ever this day,
be at my side,
To light and guard,
Rule and guide. Amen.

Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel

***

Saint Michael the Archangel,

defend us in battle.

Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;

and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host -

by the Divine Power of God -

cast into hell, satan and all the evil spirits,

who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

***