On an early summer’s eve in the year 1140, an Irish bishop and his attendant monks climbed the Janiculum Hill on the western edge of Rome. They ascended the vista to pray in thanksgiving for the safe completion of their 16-month pilgrimage. Afterward they sat upon the hill’s ancient brow to marvel at the many churches and magnificent pagan ruins that stood high enough among the tired, tiled, and stucco urban jumble below to catch the final blush of the setting sun.
Bishop Malachy, reclining on the Janiculum with his flock of Irish monks, relaxed against the sensation of the earth exhaling the heat of the day. The wrinkles around his pale eyes softened as the glare of sun-reflected stone surrendered to the cool colors of the approaching night. As he watched the great city slip behind the bed sheets of its lengthening shadows, his attendants saw him begin to cry.
Just as Jesus once wept before Jerusalem, a future saint now washed his vision of Rome. But unlike the Messiah who had been the Irish bishop’s reason for dedicating his life to monastic discipline and the mortification of the flesh, Malachy’s tears were the overflow of an inner ecstasy.
The bishop cried himself to sleep. His monks stood watch in the darkness over their master, not daring to disturb his motionless form, which seemed cast in a palpable silent presence. Not long after the stars defined the shadow spires of Rome and the trees of the Janiculum hill vibrated with the rhythmic mantras of cicadas, a voice called out within their midst. It was as though a loving finger carefully and softly tapped each man on the shoulder of their contemplation, making then startle.
The bishop’s scribe drew close to his master’s face.
“Rome…” whispered Malachy again.
The scribe could barely make out the movement of his master’s lips. The white crescent moons of the bishop’s eyes caught the starlight just as his eyelids closed to a trance. For a time his dream gaze moved rapidly, dancing over the topography of some fantastic inner sight. Then they relaxed, and an unknown presence within the man descended to work his lips, letting pass a Latin phrase. Normal sleep seemed to return for a time before the eyes of the bishop would rove across the inner screen of a new vision and the lips would deposit another phrase.
By daybreak the weary scribe smothered the last of several candles and witnessed the ascension of the rising sun casting its first blush on the drying quill strokes of 111 Latin phrases on yellow parchment.
The bishop, now awake from his dream, explained that God had given him a vision of every pope to reign after the current pontiff (Innocent II) until the end of time when God would judge the world.
Some will say the facts of this medieval story come to us clothed in the fantasy weave of an apocryphal Renaissance gown. Critics agree that St. Malachy and his monks mounted the Janiculum hill, but claim that no prophecy was uttered there. They say that the scribe who wrote down his ecstatic outpourings did so with fresh Renaissance ink on old medieval parchment four and a half centuries later. But as we will see, the truth of these prophetic assertions can still cause the whispering cloth of fable to rustle as she strides into our time. And if we can investigate the naked essence of these prophecies without being distracted by the covering of potential myth, we could find before us an authentic and powerful list of predictions chronicling the decline and fall of the Church of Rome.
Whether these Latin phrases were composed in 1140 or by someone in the 1590s under the pseudonym of a medieval saint, their author is a prophet. If his assertion is true, the papal succession is finite. We who live in these first years of the third millennium after Christ, and mark 19 April 2010 as the five year anniversary of Cardinal Ratzinger papacy as Pope Benedict XVI, are but one passing of a pope away from the era of the last pope in the St. Malachy list unto the Catholic Apocalypse.
This week begins with ash clouds from an Icelandic eruption causing the greatest disruption of global air transportation in history with 63,000 flights cancelled across Europe and 7 million people stranded. Today also heralds a cloud of another kind overshadowing the Vatican. This is year five in a papacy foretold 800 years ago in a vision of apostasy for the Roman Catholic Church.
The spiritual crisis in faith is ongoing. April’s shocking revelations of rampant child abuse by priests only indicate how accurate was the vision locked in the Latin motto describing the future crisis of the current pontiff.
This is the Cardinal under Pope John Paul II who sheltered child-abusing priests from justice as his predecessor’s Grand Inquisitor (called more euphemistically today, the Prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine and the Faith). Ratzinger was specifically empowered to oversee and weed out such predators in the priesthood.
This is the same Cardinal Ratzinger who issued a version of the long suppressed yet much anticipated revealing of the third and final Prophecy of Fatima. The document uncealed in 2000 did not match key and well known elements revealed by its author, Sister Lucia dos Santos.
Apostacy is here in the highest office of the Roman Catholic Church. Read the future waiting ahead for Pope Benedict foreseen in The Last Pope.
(19 April 2010)
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It’s going to be busy seven days. Watch current events interact with prophecy. Along with comments about the Icelandic eruption in prophecy, the earthquakes in China and other mounting natural disasters, comes a review of my year-2000 exposé of the plot to foist a Fatima Prophecy fraud. Look out for articles this week about Fatima-Gate.