 Isidro Labrador, St. Farmers May 1915 Author: Jesús Martí Ballester Farmers | |
| Forty years before it happened, Cicero had written: "In a shop or workshop can get anything noble." A few years later, in the first year of the Christian era, came from a carpenter's Son of God. The same hands that created the sun and the stars and drew the mountains and the seas brave, ran the saw, the chisel, the planer, hammer and nails and wood working. Since then neither the hoe and the plow or the task of watering and weeding would be ashamed to pen or to the management of modern media, or to the crowns of kings. The pattern of that town recently conquered from the Muslims, Madrid, Spain's capital today, not a king, or a cardinal or a powerful king or a poet or a scholar nor a lawyer, not a famous politician. The pattern is a humble worker, dressed in coarse cloth, with mud-stained breeches, brown coated chapel, with sandals and socks and callused hands. Is a farmer, San Isidro. As the Father of Jesus, whose words we spread the gospel of St. John 15.1: "I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener." will bow REYES
To her it-neat fell kings, architects, they built temples and poets have dedicated his verses. Lope de Vega, Calderón de la Barca, Burguillos, Espinel, Guillén de Castro, Madrid honored this worker. The historian Gregory of Argaiz devoted a great book: "The solitude and the country, winners of San Isidro. It was his mission, winner of the field, cold, hard, thankless, burned by the suns of summer and moved by the ice of winter. The field was illuminated and fertilized by his patience, his innocence and his work. He did nothing extraordinary, but was a hero.was a hero who turned the "Ora et labora" Benedictine. Prayer was the rest of the rude tasks, and chores were a prayer. Tilling the soil and soul sweating lit; the blows of the spade, the creaking of the wagon and the rain of wheat in the era, were accompanied by the murmur of prayer of praise and gratitude as she pondered the words heard in the church. Stroking the cross, he learned to grasp the handlebar. That is the mystery of his life simple and joyful, as the song of the lark, fluttering on the oxen and the flight of blackbirds bold. TAN POBREAlegre and yet so poor. Isidro not cultivate his field, nor his vineyard, cultivated the fields of Juan de Vargas, who every night before was discovered and asked: "Lord love you, where do you have to go tomorrow?" Juan de Vargas was pointing the plan for each day: Planting, plowing, pruning the vines, clean the crops, harvest, harvesting. And the next day at dawn, Isidro yoked their oxen and marched to the rolling hills of Carabanchel, to the plains of Getafe, on the banks of the Manzanares and Jarama shady. When he passed near the Almudena facing the shrine of Atocha, her heart pounding, her face lit up and murmured words of love. And the hours of the pit, without impatience or burdens, but without weakness, waiting for the fruits of the harvest "Be patient, brethren, as the farmer patient enduring precious fruit of the land, while receiving the early and latter rain" Santiago 5, 7. Thus, all the hard work and constant, ennobled with the clarity of faith, his forehead bathed in the gold of heaven, her soul wrapped in the caresses of mother earth. DID NOT READ Heaven and earth were the books of that cheerful worker who could not read. The land, with its pure breeze, the murmur of its clear waters, the chirping of birds, the fanning of their groves and the murmur of its source, the earth, fertilized by the sweat of the farmer, and blessed by God, is renewed year after year in the green leaves of the trees in the wild beauty of its flowers, bursts of spring, in the twilight of your afternoon autumn, with the aroma of freshly cut grass. Isidro stood still, silent, ecstatic, his eyes filled with tears, because in those beauties could see the beloved face. Sure did not know to express what I felt, but his cry was the cry of a contemplative in action, with the aspiration of the mystic poet Ramon Llull: "Oh goodness! Oh munificentísima friendly and lovable goodness!". Or the minimum and sweet Francis of Assisi, the Poor Man, "My God, my everything." "Praised be my Lord for all creatures, the sun, moon and earth and water, which is chaste, humble and pure." Or the sublime Castilian poet like him: "You mountains and thickets - planted by the hands of the Beloved - oh meadow vegetables, flowers enamelled - say if you passed!. "Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit" John 15.5. Thus, the day he was short and light work. Down the shadows of the hills. Hung the plow in the Danube line, wrapped in his cloak and entered the village, following the march phlegmatic partner of oxen. HOLY family life was beginning. At the door his wife was waiting with his smile and his love and peace. Mary Toribia was also a saint, Santa María de la Cabeza. A boy went to help his father unyoke and lead to the horse to water. It was his son, who was both, because after birth, Isidro delivered him from death by prayer. Then arrange the dishes, hang the goad, tie the animals, called by name, they check the pet and feed in the manger, because according to the English song: "As a friend and laborer - animal graze on vetch, - first to his master - that peasant's house - who served, eat first. " Until the arrival of Mary, rubbing his hands with her apron: "But what you do, Isidro, not you hungry?" He says fondly. Already in the table, the pot of vegetable beef stumbling. Poor but tasty meal, spiced with and encouraged compliance with the joy, peace and love. And that every day, days colorless but rich in the eyes of God. Somehow, Isidro has increasingly become a saint. "It will be like a tree planted near the canal: it bears fruit in season and not the leaves wither, and we undertake has a good purpose" Psalm 1.1. "I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me and I in him, bears much fruit" John 15.6 his goad already has the virtue of opening springs in the rock, because: "Much can be done intense prayer of the righteous ... Elijah came to pray, and the sky poured rain and the earth produced its fruit "Santiago 5, 17. "If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask what you want and be held" John 15, 7. You can now Isidro pray quietly among the trees while you watch your master, because the angels wielding the plow. Oh plow esteva oh, oh goad San Isidro, you are immortal as the Cid's Tizona, the crozier of San Isidro and San Fernando king's crown! ", Exclaims the poet. With the boom of Santa Teresa have gone to the altar. This is how the town and court, central Spain, is a farmer pattern uneducated, without speeches or writings, or milestones, only hidden, and vulgar life of a villager, a man of that small town named Madrid, recently reconconquistada Islam. In 1083 Alfonso VI had entered the Cuesta de la Vega. The contrast is instructive and proclaims God's ways when it gives us saints. "Hid these secrets to the wise, and revealed them to ordinary people." San Isidro Labrador was a simple, admit to admire God's plans. ST ANDREW DEACON What we know of his life is due to the deacon of St. Andrew, who met his countryman and occupies only half a dozen pages. Who is able to extend the description of a very simple peasant cruising through life without any external adventure and without further complication that the very personal to be a saint in the eyes of God? It was a simple man, his village was small. Madrid was rich in water and forests, with its dozens of small parishes, its narrow streets and costs, his palace by the river, the Moors and their walls. A handful of Christian families, including that of Vargas, who was the richest, around the parish of San Andrés, whose service was Isidro. San Isidro offers an entire program simple life of honest hard work, but mature infant piety, fraternal love, an example for this complex society, and full of the world, street life, greed and selfishness, he regrets today blow atrocious terrorist and is awaiting the birth of the new Crown Prince. Both events, as diverse, blue heart beat in San Isidro, in his capacity as Patron of Madrid that is, to some extent, Spain. 
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