A most beautiful dawn in the wilderness, seen from the height of a mountain side. It is daybreak. A few stars are still visible and a very thin arc of a waning moon looks like a silver comma on the dark blue velvet of the sky.
The mountain is completely isolated, that is, it is not linked to any other chain of mountains. But it is a real mountain, not a hill. The top is much higher up, but even from the middle of its slope a very wide horizon can be seen, because one is well above ground level. In the fresh morning air, as the faint white-greenish dawn light becomes clearer and clearer, profiles and details slowly become visible, whereas before they were hidden in the fog that precedes daybreak, a fog that is darker than night, because the light of the stars seems to diminish and fade away in the transition from night to day. I thus see that the mountain is rocky and barren, split by gorges forming grottoes, caves and inlets in its side. It is a real wilderness: only where there is some earth capable of receiving and retaining the moisture of the rain, are there a few green tufts, mainly stiff thorny plants, with very few leaves, and low hard bushes of grass similar to thin green sticks, the name of which I do not know.
Below there is an even more barren plain, a flat stony ground that becomes more arid as it stretches out towards a dark spot, much longer than wider, at least five times longer than wider, which I think must be a thick oasis, which has sprung up in so much bleakness, because of underground waters. But when the light becomes brighter, I see that it is nothing but water. Stagnant, dark, dead water. A lake of infinite sadness. In the still feeble light it reminds me of the vision of the dead world. It seems to be drawing to itself all the darkness of the sky and all the gloominess of the surrounding area, dissolving in its still water the deep green of the thorny shrubs and stiff grass that for miles and miles around it and above it, are the only decoration of the earth. And after filtering so much gloom it seems to spread it around once again. How different it is from the sunny, smiling lake of Gennesaret!
High above, looking at the clear blue sky, which is becoming clearer and clearer, looking at the light progressing from the east in deeper and deeper brightness, one’s soul rejoices. But looking at the huge, dead lake gives one a stab in the heart. Not one bird flies over the water. Not one animal is on its shore. Nothing.
80.2
While I am watching so much desolation, I am aroused by the voice of my Jesus: «Here we are at the place I wanted.» I turn around. I see Him behind me, with John, Simon and Judas, near the rocky slope of the mountain, where there is a little path, or rather, where the long erosion of water, in the rainy months, has formed a very shallow channel throughout centuries, a drain for the water flowing from the mountain top and which is a path for wild goats rather than for men.
Jesus looks around and repeats: «Yes, this is the place that I wanted to bring you to. Here Christ prepared for His mission.»
«But there is nothing here!»
«You are quite right, there is nothing.»
«Who were You with?»
«With My soul and with the Father.»
«Ah! You stayed only for a few hours!»
«No, Judas. Not a few hours. Many days…»
«But who served You? Where did You sleep?»
«My servants were the wild asses that came to sleep in their caves, where I also had taken shelter. My maidservants were the eagles that said to Me with their harsh cries: “It’s daylight” and they flew away to attack their prey. My friends were the little hares that came up almost to My feet, gnawing at the wild herbs. My food and My drink were the same food and drink of the wild flower: the night dew and the sunshine. Nothing else.»
«But why?»
«To prepare well, as you say, for My mission. Things well prepared for are successful. You said so yourself. And My thing was not a small, a useless thing which would glorify Me, the Servant of the Lord, but it was to make men understand what the Lord is, and by means of such understanding, make Him loved in the spirit of truth. The servant that is concerned with his own triumph, and not with the Lord’s, is a miserable man! The servant who is anxious to make a profit, who dreams he will sit on a high throne built on the interests of God, which have been lowered down to the earth, whereas they are celestial interests, is also a miserable servant. He is no longer a servant, except in his external appearance. He is a merchant, a trafficker, a deceitful person, who deceives himself and men and would like to deceive God as well… a wretched man who believes he is a prince, whilst he is a slave. He belongs to the Evil One, his king of falsehood. Here, in this cave, Christ for many days lived fasting and praying to get ready for His mission.