tract 011

 

The Hidden Seed

 

When Jan Hus was burned at the stake in 1415, his followers, who later became the Unitas Fratrum or Moravians, went underground, with many ostensibly worshipping as Catholics while meeting secretly to share their true beliefs.

Today, modern Moravians are mainstream Protestants homogenized into a comfortable, non-threatening church. What happened to that spark so many centuries ago? It is the facing into the unknown that throws one into a desperate longing to place one’s fingers into the bloody side hole of infinite possibility and enlightenment. The Quakers, for example, have remained true to sitting in silence and opening themselves to the voice of the spirit speaking and moving through them.

Here at the Hermitage, we stand with our hand in the bloody side hole, the gateway to the infinite where earth and spirit merge. We stand alone yet together, as hermits. We stand a breath away from annihilation’s hurricane which we hold back against terror, violence and apathy towards our fragile works on a lonely hillside in the Mahantongo Valley.

The hidden seed grows within us and guides us as a lamp, reaching from our unconsciousness towards something we do not fully grasp, treasures just beyond reach. Our spirituality is living and pulses through us, using us to create a New Eden and a New Jerusalem. The end of the trail is not known. We are not satisfied with complacency but hunger and thirst to live at the end of time. The hidden seed thrives in silence and darkness, seeking solitary growth in the face of the inexpressible and the unknown. It is the spark of the  spirit, the life energy that guides and creates the world though it may appear only momentarily as an apparent illusion, passed by unnoticed as though it never existed.

The hidden seed remains in us, a connection with the unseen world of potential which comes to life through us. As we wither and fall, the hidden seed’s desire to be known only increases. And even if all is destroyed and blows away in the wind, a memory remains like a shard in the ground, waiting, waiting, for the moment when it is again revealed, waiting for the moment of rebirth and new life as the seed comes to know itself in a new incarnation, letting go of convention, gaining the awareness of the unexplainable unknown, which guides the world even if appearing as a momentary event that passes unnoticed and forgotten as though it never existed.

The hidden seed grows here at the Hermitage and will remain after we are gone. Even if the Hermitage is destroyed and all appears lost, the hidden seed will remain, waiting someone to call it forth so it can grow and bloom again.