Gemma is a modern mystic, whose brief life bridged the beginning of the twentieth century. Hers was a hidden life in which she was in constant pain, yet also in constant communication with the Christ who had suffered so much for us. Perhaps her spinal tuberculosis was congenital. The doctors despaired of a cure, but she was instantaneously healed when St. Gabriel of the Sorrows, a Passionist saint to whom she had much devotion, appeared to her.

Gemma wanted to become a Passionist nun, but, miracle or not, the Passionist community declined to receive her because of her health record. She was therefore destined to live at home in prayer and atonement. It was her policy never to say “No” to any trial God wanted her to submit to. An added penance came in 1897 when her pharmacist father died, leaving his eight children penniless. Gemma, then 19, had to be the mother of the family for some time. Then she went to live with a married aunt. She was kindly treated there, but feeling the atmosphere in this prosperous household too worldly, she was happy to return home. She had declined two offers of marriage, wishing rather to serve God totally. Gemma’s remaining life was on two levels. In her ordinary life she kept busy about her usual tasks, which included care of the poor. She was widely known and deeply respected for her piety and sweetness of disposition. On the supernatural level, she was in frequent ecstasy, when she saw and conversed with the saints and her guardian angel, and carried on a dialogue with God in low, gentle tones. Much of what she said was copied down by her confessor and her aunt.

In June 1899, the young woman received an interior warning that she was about to receive an unusual gift. One Thursday evening after that she received the stigmata–the marks of Christ’s five wounds. Thereafter, the wounds would bleed every Thursday and Friday, and at times even up to Saturday. Then the bleeding would stop, leaving only white marks where the wounds had spurted forth. This continued until the last three years of her life. Her spiritual director then forbade her to accept the phenomenon any longer. At her prayer, therefore, it was withdrawn, although the white marks remained until her death.

Most of Gemma’s sufferings and penances were unknown to those who knew her. Only a few knew that she was the recipient of special spiritual gifts. There was in her none of the play-actor. She was simple and candid and sweet in her relationship with others. In January 1903 she was given one last cross, a galloping tuberculosis. When she died after much silent suffering on April 11, it was with a smile on her lips.

The cause of Gemma’s canonization was initiated as early as 1917, and she was canonized on May 2, 1940. This was most unusual in those days: it was only 37 years after her death. During the process that led up to her being declared a saint, the authorities raised questions about several of the more unusual spiritual phenomena that had been reported to her. In framing the declaration that she had practiced heroic virtue, the official Vatican decree carefully pointed out, as usual, that the Holy See passed no judgment on whether these phenomena of her were truly supernatural. It was her heroism that counted. St. Gemma was given to us, it seems, because in spite of her sufferings she retained a true Christian joy. As she once explained herself, “There is neither cross nor sorrow when we are tightly united to Jesus.”  --Father Robert F. McNamara

Scripture (Heb 12:1-6)

Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, who inspires and perfects our faith.  Therefore, since we for our part are surrounded by this cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every encumbrance of sin which clings to us and perserve in running the race which lies ahead; let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, who inspires and perfects our faith. For the sake of the joy which lay before him, he endured the cross, heedless of its shame. He has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Remember how he endured the opposition of sinners; hence do not grow despondent or abandon the struggle. In your fight again sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood. Moreover, you have forgotten the encouraging words addressed to you as sons: “My sons, do not disdain the disicple of the Lord nor lose heart when he reproves you; For whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he receives.”

Writings

(Year A). I am a fruit of the passion of Jesus, an offspring of his wounds. Often I seem to be alone, but really I have Jesus as a companion. I try to deprive myself of everything, but instead I find all. I shun all the pleasures of life, and I happen on one so great that I am utterly happy. I am always on fire with love, and I always want to love more. I suffer, and never have enough of it. I long to live and I long to die. I experience love, but my lover I do not under- stand. I cannot fathom him. Being thus ignorant, still I can sense that he is an immense good, a prodigious good: Jesus.

I wish that my heart could beat, that I could live and breathe only for Jesus. I wish that my tongue could utter no other name than that of Jesus; that my eye could see only Jesus; that my pen could write only about Jesus, and that my thoughts could soar to nothing but Jesus. I have often wondered where on earth there might be something on which I could center my love.

But neither on earth nor in heaven do I find any such thing but only my beloved Jesus. Paradise is waiting for us. If living for Jesus on earth makes us so happy, what must heaven be like where we shall see him in all his infinite greatness, goodness and beauty. I hope for mercy from this Jesus, mercy for me and for all poor sinners. If I could, I would atone for all their sins and mine.

Let us recall, my dear Sister, that we are disciples of this Jesus who suffered so much. It is not enough to look at the cross, or wear it, we must carry it in the depth of our heart. Together, let us visit Jesus Crucified.

Let us look at him; he is lifted up on the cross. If Jesus is nailed there, let us not complain if we must stand at his feet. My poor Jesus! I wish I had a heart composed of all the hearts that love you most, so that I might show you my sympathy and help you. However, all the powers of my poor body, and all the love of my miserable heart, I consecrate to you. May it never be said that we would fail Jesus and leave him alone on the road to Calvary. Let us stay with him, not only as far as Calvary but to the cross and death. Let us together rush to the cross, to new crosses. Let us put our arms around them and say: O holy cross, if we remember the immeasurable love with which Jesus greeted you, we will never part with you again.

I am the fruit of your passion, Jesus, born of your wounds. O Jesus, seek me in love; I no longer possess anything; you have stolen my heart. I always say to my self that to love is to be in pain; you give the cross to the one you love. Treat me as your Father treated you.

Jesus, compel me to drink the cup of your sorrows to the last drop; give me a little at a time.

So Jesus, do not leave these poor sinners to themselves. I am willing to do something. You died on the cross; make me die too. Since these sinners are your sons and daughters, do not abandon them. Jesus, I want them all to be saved. If you desert them, there is no hope. Must not I be the one to suffer for them? Then arrange it so. You have so many sinners, so few victims. (Lett. Ed. 1941, pp. 168,432, 439-440, 447; Estasi, Ed. 1943, p. 17)