Odor of sanctity

"Dying in Odor of sanctity" means, in common language, dying with the reputation of a saint. This expression is not only an image, but a material as well as spiritual reality. It was a phenomenon that accompanied the death of Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582), and the life of the Blessed Alexandrina of Balazar (1904-1955), bedridden like Maria Valtorta. It was especially a phenomenon observed by the many pilgrims who visited Padre Pio.

On this subject Ennemond Boniface writes: "Multitudes of people have sensed these astonishing perfumes, in the most diverse circumstances, and have attested to them. Sometimes these fragrant sensations seemed to come from Padre Pio’s stigmata or his garments, or even from objects he had touched and blessed.

But it frequently happened that people in physical danger or moral difficulties sensed this mysterious perfume at enormous distances from the convent where Padre Pio was, either after invoking him mentally, or even without having thought of him, and in this case they invariably understood where these smells came from."

This is what happened several times to Maria Valtorta. She did not have, - at least as far as is known -, this charism herself, but she experienced it many times.

The perfume of Heaven

Maria Valtorta experienced it so often that she ended up detecting its composition. Perhaps a reader, practitioner of perfumery, will one day comment on it.

Notebooks 1944, July 25 :

"Yesterday there was no dictation. Rest for my weary shoulders, crushed by abundant writing in recent days. But not an absence of heavenly favors.

First of all, a lot of peace, and then the visible presence of my Heavenly Friends and their caresses and‑perceptible to others as well‑that scent of roses, which is sometimes pure, as if there were tufts of just‑cut roses in‑ the room, and sometimes seems fused to a tenuous smell of iodine and vinegar, as if the roses had withered a little on their stems. The perfume comes slowly; at the outset, it is barely a nuance; it then intensifies and grows, virtually coming in waves, at times very forceful and at times less marked. It then disperses as it has come.

It is generally the smell of roses. But sometimes it is complex, as if there were gardenias, jasmines, violets, lilies of the valley, normal lilies, and tuberoses. I never smell carnations, irises, daffodils, freesias, or other flowers. Only the ones I mentioned above.

I think it is brought by some "Friend" or comes with the blessing of Padre Pio.564 But I do not know exactly. And I greet it every time with a thanksgiving, saying, "Whoever you are, thank you for your perceptible protection." For I feel protected when I am in the midst of those fragrances, even more than usual. As if I were in the arms of someone who loves me with the perfection of a saint.

Now, before writing what I have written, I took the Bible and opened it by chance. It opened upside down. You can see it was by chance! And, after turning the book around correctly, I saw Exodus, chapter 30: the altar of the perfumes.

Jesus says to me, "Leave it open there. It is the lesson for today. First write on the perfumes I send you, and then I shall speak on the ones I want you to send Me." I have written and wait.

Jesus says:

"To every soul that loves Me I say, 'Make your heart an altar on which your love is fragrant before my holiness.' But to my beloved ones I give a more specific command. Because I want you to be perfect. I want this out of love and out of justice. Every gift demands repayment. I have given to you beyond measure. You must give to Me without measure.

"Understand the way I want you to be, under the metaphor of the biblical altar."

Then Jesus comments, metaphorically, on the dispositions of the soul's "altar." That of Padre Pio, Maria Valtorta, and so many other mystics without doubt.

Gift conferred by divine Grace for the common good.