By Torsten Schwanke
I see Saint Anne going out
Into the flower and vegetable garden.
She is leaning on the arm of a relative,
It seems to me, because the woman
Looks very much like her.
She is heavily pregnant
And obviously very tired.
Joachim is tending to the flower beds
And the olive trees.
He has two men around him who help him.
Even though he is old,
He is still nimble and enjoys working.
Slowly Saint Anne walks through the shady arbour,
Under which golden-yellow bees
Fly greedily for the juice of the blond berries,
Towards Joachim, who rushes towards her
As soon as he catches sight of her.
You have come this far?
The house is as hot as an oven.
And you suffer from it.
The suffering of the last hours
Of a pregnant woman.
It is the suffering of all:
Humans and animals.
Don't get too hot, Joachim!
The long awaited rain,
Which seems to have been near for three days,
Has not yet come,
And the hall is burning.
It is good for us that the spring is so near,
And so rich in water.
I have opened the canals.
A small relief for the trees
With their withered and dust-covered leaves;
But enough to keep them alive.
If only it rained!
Joachim looks up at the sky inquiringly
With the farmer's concern,
While Saint Anne fans herself wearily
With a dried palm leaf
Interwoven with multicoloured threads
That hold it stiff.
The relative says:
There, on the other side of Mount Hermon,
Fast-moving clouds are rising.
North wind; it brings freshness
And perhaps some rain.
It has been blowing like this for three days;
But then it dies down again as the moon rises.
It will be the same today,
Joachim says discouraged.
Let us return to the house.
You can't breathe here either, says Saint Anne,
Who appears more olive-coloured than usual
Because of a pallor has affected her face.
Are you in pain?
No. I feel the great peace
That I felt in the temple when I found hearing;
I felt it too when I knew I was going
To be a mother.
It is like an ecstasy.
A gentle sleep of the body,
While the spirit rejoices
And revels in a peace
There is no comparison for on a human level.
I love you, Joachim,
And when I moved into your house
And said to myself: I am the bride of a just man,
I had a feeling of peace and likewise,
As often as your active love
Cared for your Anne.
But the present peace is of a different kind.
Lo: I believe it is a peace
Like the oil-like spreading
And soothing peace that the spirit of Jacob,
Our father, felt after his dream-vision
Of the angels;
Or better still, it resembles the joyful peace
Of the two Tobias
After Rafael had revealed himself to them.
The more I immerse myself in it
And enjoy it, the more it grows.
It is as if I am rising
Into the blue spaces of heaven…
I do not know why,
But since I have this peaceful joy within me,
I hear a song in my heart:
That of the old Tobias.
I feel as if it were written for this hour,
For this joy,
For the land of Israel to which it is given,
For Jerusalem,
The sinner, who is now forgiven,
But only smiles at the insane talk of a mother,
But when I say, Thank the Lord for his benefits,
And praise the Lord, the Eternal,
That he may build his tent in you again!
I think that the one who will rebuild the tent
Of the true God in Jerusalem
Is the creature who will soon be born...
I also think that it is not so much
The holy city as my child
Tthat foreshadows destiny
When it says in the hymn:
You will shine with bright light,
All the peoples of the earth
Will bow down before you,
The nations will come to you
And bring you gifts,
They will worship the Lord in you
And call your land holy;
For in you they will call on the great Name.
You will be happy in your sons,
For all will be blessed
And will gather around the Lord.
Blessed are those who love you
And rejoice in your peace!
And the first to rejoice is I myself,
The blessed Mother…
Saint Anne becomes inflamed at these words
And changes colour several times
Like a creature carried from the moonlight
To a great fire and vice versa.
Gentle tears roll down her cheeks;
Sshe pays no attention to them in her joy.
Meanwhile she returns to the house
Between the consort and her kinswoman,
Both of whom are movingly silent and listening.
They hurry, for the clouds,
Driven by a strong wind,
Are rapidly approaching and spreading
Across the sky,
And the plain grows dark and shuddering
With the announcement of the storm.
As they arrive at the threshold of the house,
A first brightly-twitching flash of lightning
Pierces the sky,
And the rumble of thunder sounds
Like the banging of a huge kettledrum,
Mingling with the drumming
Of the first drops on the scrawny leaves.
Everyone enters and Saint Anne retreats,
While Joachim, caught up by his helpers,
Begins to talk at the door about the rain
That has been so long awaited,
A true blessing for the thirsty land.
But the joy turns to fear,
For a violent storm is coming
With lightning and hail-laden clouds.
When the cloud bursts,
The vines and the olive trees will be crushed
As if in a mortar. O we are poor!
Another fear befalls Joachim:
For his wife, the hour has come
When her child is to see the light of day.
The relative assures him
That Saint Anne is indeed not suffering.
But he remains uneasy,
And every time the relative or other women,
Among whom is the mother of Alphaeus,
Come out of Saint Anne's chamber
And return there with warm water,
blankets and linen
Warmed by the brightly flickering fire
Of the spacious kitchen,
He goes and inquires,
But is not reassured by their assurances.
The absence of cries of pain also worries him.
He says, I am a man
And have never seen childbirth;
But I remember hearing
That the absence of birth pangs is fatal.
Night falls prematurely as a result
Of the exceptionally violent thunderstorm.
Downpours of water, winds, lightning,
Everything sets in;
But not the hail that has been unleashed elsewhere.
One of the boys points out
The violence of the thunderstorm
And remarks, It seems that Satan
Has come out of hell with all his demons.
Lo, what black clouds!
Do you smell what a smell of sulphur
Is in the air and do you hear
The whistling and hissing,
The wailing voices and the curses?
If it's him, he's sure racing tonight!
The other fellow laughs and says,
He must have missed a big kill,
Or Michael hit him with a new bolt of God
And cut off his horns and tail
And burned him.
A woman comes and exclaims,
Joachim, she has just given birth!
Everything went quickly and happily!
And she disappears again
With a little jug in her hand.
The storm collapses after a loud
And so violent lightning strike
That it throws the three men against the wall
And a black, smoking hole remains
In the ground of the garden
At the front of the house as a reminder.
While a whimper becomes audible
In Saint Anne's room
That resembles the wailing of a lovebird
Who, for the first time,
Is no longer peeping but cooing,
An enormous rainbow spreads
Its semicircle across the entire width of the sky.
It rises, or at least seems to rise,
From the heights of Mount Hermon,
Which, kissed by a sunbeam,
Glows like an alabaster block
Of the most delicate pinkish white
And rises into the clear September sky.
Then the arc of colour passes
Through the celestial spaces
Cleansed of all impurity,
Flies over the hills of Galilee
And the plain that becomes visible
In the south between two fig trees,
Then another mountain
And seems to settle on the farthest horizon,
Where a grey mountain range
Blocks any further view.
A spectacle never seen before!
Look, look!
It seems as if all Israel
Were being gathered into a circle.
And now look, there appears a star,
While the sun has not yet disappeared.
What a star!
It shines like a mighty diamond!
And the moon there, a full moon,
Though still three days away.
But see how it shines!
The women approach in festive joy,
With a rosy infant in white linen.
It is Mary, the Mother!
A very small Mary,
So small that she could sleep in the arms as a child;
A Mary no longer than a forearm,
The little head as if made of ivory
Lightly dyed pink
And the tiny lips,
Now no longer crying, crimson;
They make almost imperceptible sucking movements,
But one can hardly imagine
That they will be able to suckle
At the mother's breast.
The little nose between
The two round cheeks is tiny,
And if you touch it gently,
The little eyes open
And let you see two little pieces of heaven
Through two innocent blue dots.
The little eyes under the blond eyelashes
Look without seeing.
On the round head, reddish-blond hairs
Form a delicate down,
The colour of a certain honey,
Almost white honey.
The transparent little ears
Resemble two pink little shells.
And the little hands,
What tiny things they are,
Lifting themselves into the air
And then reaching for the little mouth!
Closed as they are now,
They resemble two buds
That have stripped off the green of the calyx
And are about to burst open,
And now, opened,
They resemble two cameos
Of reddish-tinted ivory.
The little hands of shimmering pink alabaster,
With five pale garnet plates for fingernails,
How can such little hands
Dry a sea of tears?
And lo, now she is back in nappies
And in the arms of the earthly father she resembles.
Actually, not yet.
For the time being she is only the design
Of a human child.
I mean that she will resemble him as a woman.
She has nothing from her mother.
From her father she has the colour
Of her skin and eyes
And certainly also of his hair,
For even if it is white now,
Iit was certainly blond in his youth,
As the eyebrows testify.
From the father she also has
The shape of the face,
But more finely worked out,
Being a woman and exalted;
Also the smile and the look,
The way of moving, and the stature.
When I think of Jesus as I see him,
I find that Sait Anne has given her grandchild
The stature and the more ivory colour of the skin.
Mary does not have the imposing
Figure of Saint Anne,
That tall, lithe palm,
But she has the grace of the father.
The women are still talking
About the storm and the miracle
Of the moon, the star, the immense rainbow,
While they go with Joachim
To the happy mother
And bring her back the baby.
Saint Anne smiles in thought and says,
She is the star.
Her sign has appeared in the sky.
Mary, the rainbow of peace!
Mary, my star, Mary, my radiant moon!
Mary, our pearl!
Mary you call her?
Yes, Mary, star and pearl, light and peace.
But this name also means bitterness...
Aren't you afraid it might bring her harm?
God is with her.
She belonged to him
Even before she lived.
He will guide her in her ways,
And any bitterness will turn
Into paradisiacal sweetness.
Now belong to your mother...
A little while longer before
You will be all God's nymph!"
Message of the Virgin Mary, 25 August 2021
My dear!
With joy I call you all, my little one,
Who have responded to my call,
Be joy and peace!
Witness with your live the Heaven
That I bring to you.
It is time, my little one, for you
To be the reflection of my Love
For all those who do not love
Ad whose hearts have been conquered by hatred.
Do not forget:
I am with you
And I intercede for you
Before my Son Jesus
So that He may give you His peace.
Thank you for responding to my call!