Maria Valtorta

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Flagellation

Jesus is led by four soldiers beyond the atrium courtyard. There, all paved with colored marbles, in the center a tall column similar to the colonnade. Ten feet from the ground, she has an iron arm projecting at least a meter, and ending in the ring.

According to the revelations of Maria Valtorta

He is left with only a few small linen pants and sandals. Hands tied by the wrists are raised to the ring, so that He who is high, can not touch the ground with his toes ... Also this position is a great torture.

He stands behind one face the executioner, by the profile, before him, another face, though. the scourge armed with seven leather straps attached to a handle ending in a lead hammer. Rhythmically, as an exercise, they started to hit. One front and one behind, so that the trunk of Jesus is in a wheel and whipping flagella. The four soldiers, to which he is subjected, indifferent, have been playing with dice, with three other newcomer soldiers.

And the voices of the players sound in time with the sound of the scourges that hiss like snakes and then sound like stones thrown on the taut skin of a drum, striking, the poor body so slender, white stripes that becomes a live red colour again, then violet, then adorned with raised areas indigo swollen with blood, then cracks and breaks away leaving blood everywhere. Given in the thorax and the abdomen, but there are not missing the blows to the legs, arms and the head, because I saw no piece of skin without pain.

And not a regret ... If he was not sustained by the strings, he would fall. But He doesn’t fall or groan. Just the head hangs, then blows and blows, chest, as from weakness. "Hey. Stop. He should be killed alive" a soldier shouts and jokes ...

What is He dead? "Is it Possible?." I think so, - says a soldier. And he puts Jesus sitting up in the column. Where He were blood clots ... Then he goes to a fountain that is under the porch, brings a container full of water and dumps it on the head and body of Jesus. Vain ... But Jesus points to the ground in an attempt to straighten ... another soldier with the tip of the halberd, it gives a stick in the face jesus, between the right cheekbone and nose, which gets to bleed.

Get dressed. It is not decent to be so. Laughs all of them in circles around Him, Jesus obeys them without any question. But while tilting, a soldier kicks the clothes and spreads, and every time that Jesus meets wobbly walk where they fall, a soldier pushes or throws them in another direction. And Jesus suffering acutely, follows them, without a word, while the soldiers obscenely denigrate Him.

Finally, He can dress again. And He gets back also the white dress, which was kept clean in a corner. He seems he wants to hide his poor red dress, yesterday just so beautiful and now filthy and stained by dirt and sweat blood in Gethsemane. Moreover, He attempts to cover with the short tunic and with it He dries his wet face and clean from dust and spitting. And poor holy face, appears clean, only marked by livid and minor injuries. And He fixes the untidy hair and the beard: by an innate need to be ordered in person.

And then curls up in the sun. For fear my Jesus ... The fever begins to rise in him with chills. And also the weakness of the blood loss, the fasting, and the long way that starts to be felt ...

Again the soldiers tie his hands. And the short rope is marked wherever is the skin flayed. And "now, what do we do. I'm bored" ... says a soldier. And runs out to a back patio, which returns with a bundle of thorn branches wild Scots, even flexible, because it remains the spring maintain the branches relatively soft, but the thorns are rather harsh and long pointed. With the dagger they get up the leaves and flowers, they bent the branches into circles and squeeze them on the poor head. But the barbarous crown rests in the neck ...

The rise and they scratch the cheeks, threatening to blind him, and tear their hair in the process. The shake. Now it is too narrow for the tamper, the spines sticking in the head, it threatens to fall. Other hair tearing away again. The change again. Now that's fine. In front of a threefold cord is thorny. Behind, where the extremes of the three branches cross, is a true knot of thorns entering the neck?.

It is not enough a crown to be king. Purple and scepter are needed ... they put the dirty red rag on his head, bowing and greeting: "Hello, King of the Jews" and they unscrew of laughter.

Extracted from "Il Uomo-Dio poem" Maria Valtorta. Ninth volume, p. 278. Valtortiano Editoriale Center..

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