From the HERMITAGE

By Esteban de Emaús

   Monastic life in the world today is perhaps as never before, a testimony of trust in the providence of God.

   In what way can we understand the act of consecrating life to prayer and work in a world that is continually desacralized.

   The brightness of the fleeting glares with vehemence; Infiltrated in the technological revolution has come the exacerbation of consumption and the alienation that results from it. In big bands of the population the sense of the sacred is lost.

   Communicated more than at any time in history, we exchanged mere fatuities; Today that particular verse, which says Vanity of vanities, is all vanity! (Ecclesiastes 1,2).

   That is why, whoever becomes a monk or a nun today, gives special testimony of faith in the living presence of Jesus Christ. He claims to have seen something that is not in sight. That person in the midst of the multiple mirages has noticed something that escapes the majority. In the history of spirituality it has been called "Experience of the Presence".

   Those who in the second decade of the 21st century embrace the religious life, particularly the monastic, have heard the peculiar voice of the inner desert. It is a deep silence that draws them to the deep heart. They have been fascinated by God through various contingencies.

   Some were first seduced by prayer and quiet steps resounding in the cloister, others fraternal life in communion of works, to those from beyond them perhaps invited, the lectio, personal communion with the sacred writing.

   As a beloved niece said before her first profession: "... I was so refreshed by the joy of the nuns!" No mistake.

   Many still impress the joy without purpose of a life recovered in the essential.

   Be the writings that follow here for you, as an act thrown into becoming, a gesture of hope and recognition to the Spirit of God that encourages you as a soft breeze where we ignore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juan Pedropablo
• Release date: Mar 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781507190753

Book preview

From the

Hermitage

Brother Stephen of Emmaus

DEDICATION

This small work is dedicated to Lorenzo,

Brother and friend of the heart,

Enthusiastic companion of vigils.

THANKS

To the architect Andrés Peralta and to Sebastian, for the support and the company offered during many years.

This book would not have been possible without Consoles, who participated in the correction of the manuscript and with its constant encouragement and encouragement.

We remember and also greet here all the readers of Hesiquía blog for their consultations, suggestions and help.

INDEX

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PRESENTATION by Joaquín Montero

FOREWORD by the author

BUILDING THE HERMIT

Towards the Hermitage

The first days I

The first days II

ICONOGRAPHY

Moment in the workshop

Interior Iconography

Writing icons

THE PRAYER OF JESUS

Attention

Heart Decision

Surveillance

SPIRITUAL TRAINING

The Hermitages

Spiritual Training I

Spiritual Training II

Spiritual Training III

THE NON-RESISTANCE

Trust

The Death of Desire

Nativitas Cordis

ABANDON IN YOUR HANDS

Memories of the desert

Of doubt and evidence

Interpretation and trends

CONSECRATION

Pottery

To consecrate

One with the sacred

Final address

CONTEMPLATION

Amerimnia

Contemplation and redemption

BEAUTY OF THE CREATED

Perspective

Perfection

RESTING IN THE BEING

Rest in the self

CONCLUSION

Mystery of the meeting

Premises of fraternity

Note

GLOSSARY

EPILOGUE

PRESENTATION

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It is not easy for me to write an introduction to the manuscript I have in my hands. I was brought by a friend carrying the burden of the endearing. He told me that it could be brief, not to worry, to be sincere.

My difficulty begins with the nature of the text. The same, combines spiritual teachings of colloquial type in a monastic context with descriptions somewhat meticulous related with the poetic. To add insult to injury, two short annexes between the phenomenological essay and the philosophical reflection are added at the end.

But the predicament does not end there. Although some passages allow to situate the story in a precise time, the sensation that I had at the end of the reading was of uncertainty. The content reveals a certain process; Sometimes the author speaks of the past, in others he refers to the present and there are passages in which I think he imagines, not without compromising, a certain future.

I am not a person who adheres to a particular religion. Nor do I blame myself on atheism. I do not feel relativistic, or consumerist, nor among those who practice dormant hedonism. At some point the text bothers me, but I say it amicably.

I have been pestered by the optimism and hope that transpires this small volume. I come to shake the layer of nihilism with which I usually protect myself from the disappointments that the world produces. These people believe and believe it all. And it seems that he lives it and that he likes it and that they spend it better than I, no doubt.

It is that there is no affectation or crude beatería, nor encapsulation in archaisms that produce aversion. I can not deny that I like the combination of intelligence and emotion with which the text has been woven. It leaves me questions but open doors, possibilities in the future. These people simply interest me.

This paper consolidates a conclusion to which I arrived a long time ago and from the mere observation of the social movement: Religions are not disappearing.

The spirituality or religiosity in the human being is not receding despite the explosion of technological and invasive material and overwhelming. Nor are religions relegated to a mere quantitative phenomenon of popular piety, as analysts of the psycho-social background predicted in the early 1980s. It is difficult for me to associate the opium of the peoples with the simple depth that is shown here.

That friend of many years who brought me the inescapable commitment to put some words before the text itself and that gave me the freedom and confidence to write what I wanted, says that God has not died, neither in heaven nor here in The people and that not only has not died, but that will speak.

His naive freshness often irritates me, that inflexible optimism that he calls his faith, clashes with my schematic rationalism. But I can not hide that that characteristic is what I like the most about him. I acknowledge that I would like to believe as he believes. I would like to feel as they feel that they have clear things, to possess the vital force that comes to them from that inner unity.

I am going to finish these lines by quoting not the author, whom I know only by the text and who does not seem very interested in making himself known, but my cordial friend, who by mail told me a walk he had made to a mountain near the monastery where he was. The experience he describes is alien to me, but as he says because you desire it, you come closer to living it.

"As I walk along the path, shaded by numerous trees, which is narrowing as I approach the summit, I breathe deeply the heat of noon. I go in search of the Virgin, who I am told presides over the summit.

There are shady corners of vegetation, so full of life!

I did not know that it was, whether grace, physical effort or the holy Name that whispered continuously, which enabled the experience.

I began to perceive the rays of sun that penetrated the foliage, as drawn, very clear and clear. The sacred was evidenced immediately by a particular calm that flooded my heart and limbs.

All signs of haste and a deep joy and without expectations took possession of the spirit.

I crossed with the end of a subtle creeper, very green, graceful and beautiful. Just at that moment a ray of sunshine centered on her and the beauty doubled. Although I could not see it with my eyes, that beam of divine light must have touched my heart as well, because I burst into tears without any will, astonished by the uproar that grew as tears flowed.

¡You are so beautiful, Lord! So dazzling!

I noticed the innumerable gestures of God's love that surrounded me.

I covered my eyes with the emerald green of the final line that I was trying to get entangled with, and I felt the sound of the crisp