Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
Foreword
Introduction
Maha
Amsterdam
The Secret Seal
Vienna
Lisbon
Madrid
Interlude
The Great Vigil at Lisbon
Conclusion
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Messages from the Cathedral of
the Soul
A Secret Meeting in Rome
Secret Houses of the Rose-Croix
Strange Encounter
Forward
Introduction - I
12
Alice Ouzounian
To Readers who are not members of the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC
This book, originally published in installments, was written for members of the Rosicrucian Order,
AMORC. It has now been revised for wider circulation and, although the text has been neither
modified nor adapted, some specific changes had to be made for readers not belonging to our
organization. If they have no valid information on our Order, they may ask for literature, especially the
free booklet entitled The Mastery of Life. That will help them to avoid hasty conclusions, and to
understand better the terminology sometimes used by the author.
The Rosicrucian Order, AMORC, is neither a sect nor a religious organization. It teaches no dogma. It
proposes instead, solutions and bases for reflection. Its members always and in every regard retain
their freedom, especially in thought and action, according to their own conceptions. Truth is one under
many and diverse aspects. This book offers one of these aspects, and for some, it will be a step
toward the truth buried in the depth of each being. For others, it will be the road toward the
Rosicrucian Order, AMORC. For all, it is the simple attempt of an author to be obedient to the
fundamental rule of the organization of which he is one of the highest officers, this rule being to
serve.
Raymond Bernard served as Grand Master of the Rosicrucian Order for France and French-speaking
countries during the writing of this work. In his references to the Grand Lodge, he is speaking of the
headquarters for that area. In later years he advanced to the office of Supreme Legate of AMORC for
Europe.
Top
Maha
of his clear eyes a different expression, in such a way that according to circumstances he appears
either more or less aged. This, it seems to me is the explanation of the impression he gives as to his
age. Moreover, how do such notions as physical aspect or exterior carriage apply to such beings! To
them, would they require any other unalterable memory than to have been in their presence, in their
magnetic vicinity, and to have heard THE message!
I think it would be useful here to mention something which was implicit in the" Strange Encounters" ...
There was, round about the time of the last world war andafterwards until the year 1950, a bizarre
person who called himself "Maha Choan". He was spoken of in the United States and in France,
where the press devoted some ironical articles to him. This pseudo "King of the World" claimed
nothing less than to lay his hands upon authentic traditional organisations for reasons difficult to
understand. He was quickly unmasked, and sent back to his futile imaginings, but strange though it
may seem, he kept certain deluded disciples. Of him, in any case, we need say no more. There is
naturally no kind of common communication between the pseudo Maha Choan and the true Maha.
The "King of the World" certainly seeks no publicity and he would not expose himself before fools on a
platform to the backing of articles and communiqus. Few people have met Maha knowing him to be
Maha. The head of the High Council hides his identity and his true function. He does not advertise his
holy office as that adventurer in the occult did, pretending to magical powers and receiving from
others as reward for his audacity nothing but reprobation ridicule.
I have met Maha again . . . Maha alone and suddenly, I shall renew again the contact of Amsterdam,
then that of Vienna and await soon Lisbon, Madrid, and Athens . . .
.
Top
Amsterdam
1234
conclude that our meeting is not to follow the same plan as previous meetings where certain
explanations were given me on the work of the High Council of A ... Therefore I hope for some new
revelation. The domain is so vast that only an enlightened guide can define the contours. But I do not
show any particular, curiosity for the STATE transcends our miserable intellect.
"The place is not convenient for the object of our meeting" said Maha after a few moments. "Come."
Without a word I followed him. He walked to where, at the edge of the pavement, a car waited a few
steps away, and hardly were we seated than it departed silently towards its destination. I recognize
certain canals, then the Leidersplein; we passed the theatre on the right and the imposing American
Hotel, then we crossed the bridge, bore to the left and ... I knew nothing more than that I was
completely lost. I know Amsterdam well, but very much less its suburbs. Anyway I remember the
splendid house at which we arrived. Some dwellings are too rare to be forgotten.
This one is not very big. It is situated at the heart
of a green park, to which, colored shrubs gave
brightness and its structure OF CLEAR brick give
it a likeness to certain buildings on the outskirts
of London. We walk several steps from the car to
a small flight of steps leading to a large vestibule
almost unfurnished. No pictures are on the wall,
in a corner a Chinese cabinet finely engraved, in
the centre a low table and two elegant armchairs,
nothing else which could particularly attract
attention. On the left is a large glass door and a
small living room, as bare as the vestibule. Maha
leads me in and we sat down face to face on
each side of the elegant rectangular table. Maha
seems to be waiting for me to speak. I am
surprised but I make up my mind and say:
"A relatively short time has passed since you afforded me the inestimable privilege of permitting me to
make your acquaintance and to learn of the existence of the High Council. According to your
instructions I have given out a part of the revelations which were given to me, to those whom my own
responsibilities give me the right. I have made no distinction between them, but have given to all of
them the message I received. I would even say that some were waiting for it and for others it was the
awakening of an indefinable knowledge that they sensed within themselves. Of the reaction of some,
very rare, you had warned me implicitly during the course of our meetings that..."
Maha interrupted me with a smile; "It is well that men should demand WHY, before certain
phenomena and before events which do not fit into their normal comprehension. A judicious WHY can
open for him the way towards transcendent knowledge and that which is beyond the limitations of
his intellect and register at the level of the permanence of the actual. But such a WHY, even though
expressed to another, is really put to himself, and the reply of another, is never satisfying. Therefore
this reply often must be avoided. As you well know, the "WHY" can be raised by egotism or favored by
a clever suggestion, of which, the true motives are always very clear to one who knows how to
analyze them. Everyone must therefore determine the real nature of his WHY before asking it. It will
draw out a decisive knowledge of self and of others."
I admire the absolute wisdom of my teacher. Every word of his struck my consciousness with piercing
light. The simplest things become a lesson on the value of a word such as WHY, so harmless in
appearance. Words are without life until they are brought to life by the one who pronounces them.
They are nothing in themselves, but spoken they are charged with the personality of him who speaks
http://www.mystical-tradition.net/secret_houses/Maisons02_Amsterd1.html (2 of 4)06/03/2005 00:52:58
Top
Vienna
123456
Lisbon
12345
IN THEMSELVES A REVELATION?
The four annual reunions could be, if my reasoning is right, those of ACTION AND DECISIONS, the
others, those of EVALUATION. As to Lisbon, this could be the town of the ANNUAL STOCKTAKING
before the GREAT MEETING of the winter. What of the other towns, Amsterdam and Vienna? I think
that I can guess: Athens is close to Istanbul, less than an hour by airplane. So another town would be
Istanbul, that of the last great meeting. The listing is incomplete. I know of ALL the meetings, general
and private, of Amsterdam, Vienna, Lisbon, Athens and Istanbul. I remember Copenhagen where I
UNDERSTOOD a reunion had taken place. Of London, I was not so sure, except that members of the
High Council certainly never travel uselessly. SEVEN towns in total, and not only am I ignorant of the
eighth, but it would also be conjecture to say where the important meetings take place and where the
secondary ones meet. A part from Istanbul, Vienna and perhaps Copenhagen . . . What does it matter
after all? Is not the essential thing that such meetings take place? I reproach myself for my human
curiosity. I get up and unpack my luggage. This evening I will go to bed very early. Decidedly I have to
admit that time counts and that age flies away: my old friend the airplane, it also tires me...
In the car which drives me this morning to a new "secret house of the Rose-Croix", I review over the
events that have happened during the last hour, and the similarity to those which happened at Vienna
strikes me. Firstly, the messenger who brings me a few minutes before ten o'clock, when I am waiting
by the telephone in my room for a ring from the concierge, a sealed envelope containing a minute
card with only the words, in a beautiful slanting handwriting "I am here J.C." Next, my arrival in the
immense hall with a look at the place which, previously, stood Maha, but his place is empty, silent,
then someone is coming towards me. He is tall, slim, and splendidly upright in an old age which he
carries with a youthfulness that radiates from his grey eyes, in the luminous silver of his abundant
hair. Pale? Yes, but the pallor is due to the contrast of his fine face with his extremely dark blue suit
on which rests a white tie lost on a shirt of the same color. "Come" and again confident with absolute
certainty, I am a stranger going to a new discovery. Perhaps, I ought to say something about the car
which awaits us, of the chauffeur who without a word, takes the road which he must know well? It
seems that I have nothing more to add to this story. There are many cars and drivers in all my
meetings without my knowing if one or the other had been in service of those whom they carried with
me, or whether they were "lent" by some unknown supporter. Anyway, of what good is it to think of
this kind of problem? The anonymous role of these devoted helpers honors them in the perfection of
their accomplished mission..
The car drives rapidly and I dare not break the silence. My companion seems withdrawn in a profound
meditation, I close my eyes and force myself to join his vibratory level, but quite quickly, I sense that
HE IS LEADING MY MEDITATION TOWARDS AN INDESCRIBABLE STATE OF COMMUNION to
which I abandon myself entirely. When I recover consciousness again the car has left the sea on the
left and is following a wide and well tended road. This is leading towards a large building of which
nothing can hide the view, and most probably neither the natives nor the tourists, following the road
which we had taken, COULD FAIL TO SEE. Thus far, this building resembled a monastery and it must
certainly intrigue the curious, unless the idea that it is a convent, that one could not visit, puts an end
to all desire to know more . . .
Madrid
12345
as the proud, the saint and the sinner, the pure and the degenerate, all have something to give, an
experience to share, a warning to give, all have something to receive, some council to solicit, a smile
to collect. That is humanity, it is THE CITY, and Madrid is a city and why shut our eyes on the world
which is OUR world, a world of which we are the replica, the microcosm? Everywhere it is sufficient to
be ONESELF, to teach oneself, to share, to SERVE . . .
So, I shall not say anything of Madrid, but if, one
day, your steps lead you there; do not neglect
certain narrow and secret streets. They are filled
with a rich history, for behind the misery, you will
recognize mankind and you will discover YOUR
SELVES. On a table weathered by the years, a
horrible rusty iron box, from which sprouts a
bright rose, whose stem is lost in fetid water:
what a simple picture, what a wonderful picture!
I have never understood the reproaches that
certain people have raised against the Hilton
Hotels. What can there be in common between a
technical way of running a hotel technique and
the buildings where it operates? If the same hotel
was called Durand or Dupont would it offer more
appeal? Of course, in all the "Hiltons" of the
world, one discovers a monotonous uniformity,
but precisely, this uniformity, is the certainty of a
satisfying comfort, of an efficient service and a
discrete tranquility. Can one wish for more? The
Painting by Martine Jacobs
hotel is a shelter after the fatigue of a day of
persevering labor or of urgent visits. Hilton, until
now, has offered me its guarantee and I have never regretted it. This is why in Madrid; I reside at the
Castilian Hilton.
I have arrived there at the appointed hour, and after a moment, I make acquaintance with my
apartment. I also make acquaintance with the thoughts which assail me. Where can a secret house of
the Rose-Croix be found in Spain? "Sancti Spiritus"? It is a city in Cuba but it is also one in Spain. But
it is in Madrid where I am expected. After all, "Spiritus ubi vult spirat" as well as "Spiritus flat ubi vult"
means the "spirit breathes where it wishes". Then it is Madrid... or perhaps elsewhere?...
The rendezvous is fixed for Saturday, the18th of November at an hour later than customary: 13
o'clock. It is true that in Spain, one gets up later, but I do not think that this may be the reason for the
time chosen for this meeting. I have learned never again to ask any precise questions in relation to
these exceptional experiences to which I have been privileged to be invited. The answers which I
might be able to imagine would have little chance of being proved correct. I have better things to do. I
must get ready. It is only after tomorrow when the new hour will strike. Therefore, I only have this
evening and a full day. I decide on a relative fast: vegetables, fruits, no meats, no coffee but plenty of
water. In short, it is a preparation for a high mystical experience. I add to it the "spiritual shower"
known to advanced adepts. Further, I suggest to myself to commune with the Celestial Sanctum every
three hours during the day until midnight. I will also go for one hour in the morning and in the evening
to my little chapel in Madrid always so forgotten and yet so powerful in its vibratory note. Why a
chapel? In Istanbul it was a mosque, elsewhere it was a temple, in other places a synagogue,
sometimes a tree near a babbling river. In Madrid, in the very Catholic Spain, is it not natural that it
may be a chapel that welcomes me? I meet my solitude while I commune with my soul. I shall
rigorously observe this program and during the time of waiting, my being little by little, will free itself
from the corporeal chains in order to live on "its" plane, taking with it, in order to annihilate it in the
sublime abandonment, all notion of time and every impression of space . . . The evening comes, then
the day and once again the night. . . The Sabbath approaches . . . my brother, it is the hour! A few
moments more and the nothing which I am will unite its nothingness to the greatness of all. This
sacred Saturday sanctifies each gesture, each step towards the One who now awaits me and towards
which I approach at last I in this pretentious hall which its presence fades...
Top
Madrid
12345
You are at this moment consulting the book: The Secret Houses of the Rose-Croix by Raymond
BERNARD
interlude
Top
interlude
You are at this moment consulting the book: The Secret Houses of the Rose-Croix by Raymond
BERNARD
123456
The thirteen cell ... l think of the thirteenth figure of the Tarot: DEATH, and l
remember the interpretation given to this arcanum by Oswald Wirth . . . the
SILENT arcanum of the painters of the middle ages. . . The profane must die to
be reborn to a higher existence which, initiation confers. If he does not die to his
state of imperfection, he blocks all initiatic progress, so to know, how to die is
the great secret of the initiate, for in dying, he frees himself from that which is
inferior, by raising himself through sublimation . . .
The true sage constantly forces
himself to die in order to live better.
That does not imply on his part a
practice of sterile asceticism, but if
he wants to really conquer his
intellectual autonomy, must he not
first break with his preconceived
ideas which are dear to him, so that
he is born to the freedom of
thinking? Indeed, in order to be
born to the freedom of thought, one
must find freedom in dying, of all
that which is opposed to the strict
impartiality of judgment. Thirteenth
cell, arcanum thirteen The Holy
Spirit of the Gnostics and I am in a "House of the Holy Spirit"! Arcanum thirteen, the consolatory
Paraclete which frees the spirit from the bondage of matter. Liberation, spiritualization,
DEMATERIALISATION and perception of the reality, stripped of every tangible ornament, initiatic
death, then complete initiation...
Because THEY are twelve, my meditation stops at the twelfth TAROT CARD, which is THE HANGED
MAN. In the tarot deck there are fourteen picture cards and in the House of the Holy Spirit there are
fourteen cells and the fourteenth picture card is TEMPERANCEAh Then UNDERSTANDING
dawns, and all is clear to me. LIVING, I KNOW why I am here, I KNOW why, alone in this thirteenth
cell. I am here for several days, face to face with myself in an introspection which only the communal
meetings and the meals shared in common will break.
A chair, a table, a bed, a tiny cupboard and a wash basin,
there, that is MY cell. My heart furnishes it with the most
precious riches; my waiting fills it with HOPE. I have FAITH
and they grant me CHARITY. On my knees on the uneven
floor, my head resting on the edge of the table, I fold my
hands and I pray . . .
The great moments of my life - the good and those which
are not so good thoughts, words, acts, omissions, those
which were just and those which were not, all that came to
my lips in a Kyrie Eleison that occasionally my hand beat
my breast to the rhythm of a torturing "mea culpa". In these moments, the good accomplished, even
though others have judged it great, is swallowed up by the enormous whirlwind of the error, perhaps
serious or only slight, for which the conscience laments, until warned by the spiritual sadness and the
"mortal" regret' of the soul, the angel of pardon makes amends and touches with its dazzling wing, the
heart which repents. Oh! intense purification, the SUM TOTAL of these blessed hours, thou leavest
me dying of inward exhaustion, empty, naked, suddenly penetrated by an unknown irradiating force.
Thou art the time of the passion of the annunciation of celestial Easters. The golden dawn has
followed the dark night, for if thou crucify us, immediately afterwards thou make us rise again.....
The Great Vigil! I was waiting for an exceptional evening, within a few hours of the unique events of
which I would be filled with wonder and I had prepared myself to the best of my ability before my
arrival, because that was the order received and ACCEPTED. Yet, my preparation had for its real
motive, to prepare a far greater one, a prelude to something else of which I MUST NOT THINK. I have
by an IMPERATIVE ORDER, TO CONCENTRATE MY ATTENTION ON THAT WHICH I DO EACH
MOMENT, whether it is to meditate on the THREE words which had been communicated to me and to
use them while moving, rising myself, sitting or while eating. In the BEGINNING it was extraordinarily
difficult, but perfection was not demanded. It sufficed to get as near to it as possible. THE EFFORT
BEING MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE SUCCESS as Father Rosencreutz insistently repeated to me
while easily leading me to my cell when I first arrived.
Top
123456
You are at this moment consulting the book: The Secret Houses of the Rose-Croix by Raymond
BERNARD
Conclusion
fruitful conclusions.
My role is finished; I was going to write "my mission". Yours now commences. "The Secret Houses of
the Rose-Croix" no longer belong to me BUT TO YOU. I transmit them to you as a great truth which
has been precious to me and which my memory will ever cherish. If this truth meets with YOURS, if it
goes to the heart of your inner self, it will then have attained its objective and, who knows,
rediscovered in you, its dwelling place, its "secret house", from which springs the flux of "your"
universe, of "your" world, of "your" reality. This trust which I have received, I now entrust to you. It was
a privilege for me, what shall it be for you? It is up to you to decide - although egoistically, I dream, I
hope, I would wish that your heart beats in harmony with mine on the PATH which together we travel
with our invisible guides who SO CLOSELY work for us in the SECRET HOUSES OF THE ROSECROIX.
Top