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Rudolf Steiner once wrote that he could say nothing more esoteric or significant than: Christ is seeing us. Christ is lovingly perceiving us at every moment.

This means that for every human soul no matter where you are on the face of the earth, Christ is giving us his undivided attention- Muslims, Buddhists, new agers, atheists, everyone. Christ is walking with us, beholding us with compassion, and light. This is also a deeper meaning of our gospel this week (Jn1) where we hear John speak “Behold, the lamb of God who takes the sin of the world upon himself”. Taking our sins upon Himself is what His compassionate seeing also means.

And yet, at the very same time, we know that ‘big brother” is also seeing us. Right now. Most likely our phone is on right now and Facebook, google, etc. are listening. We know that with the ever expanding advances in technology and artificial intelligence that we are constantly being monitored, constantly being heard and perceived, data of our behaviors is being recorded in order to manipulate and leverage our desires.

This is the factual condition of mankind. We are being witnessed, perceived, constantly by the being of love and the being of materialism and worldly power. And we cannot change this. But we can choose which being to strengthen. We can choose to strengthen the seeing of Christ.

In as much as we allow and open ourselves to feel loved by Christ, to feel loved by His beholding me, no matter how weak we have been, no matter how many horrible mistakes we have made, feeling His love strengthens Him, weakens the adversary. In as much as we believe that Christ’s seeing is ultimately stronger than the forces of big brother, this strengthens Christ’s seeing. In as much as we value what is truly human over the forces of power, manipulation and convenience, we strengthen Christ’s seeing.

Dear friends, at the root there is one antidote, one medicine for our condition today: that within the dark monitoring manipulation of the adversary, we strive to feel seen, loved and strengthened by the living presence of Christ.

 

There is something unsettling about this story from the Gospel of John (Jn 4, the woman at the well). If we picture the scene to ourselves, we see Christ alone, weary, sitting by himself on the edge of the well. He is tired and thirsty, and asks a woman coming to the well for something to drink. Christ was tired?! Is this part of Christ experiencing what it is to be human, or is there something more? The unfolding of the conversation between this woman and Christ reveals this is not a random meeting.

In other places in the Gospel the word “tired” or “weary” comes up as a condition where Man comes to an end of his human strength. It opens the longing for rest—and then may follow an invitation for rest and renewal– in the Lord. To John the Baptist, asking from prison, “are you the one, or should we look for another?” Christ answers: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest… I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’ (Matthew 11)

We know the experience of being weary and then finding new strength in our own determination or enthusiasm for the goal or through the encouragement of others. What we may overlook is that these sources of the renewal of strength may actually be sent from Christ sending these impulses to us.

But Christ also shows the surprising means by which He himself overcomes his own weariness: and that is through thirst! Thirst leads him further, it opens the conversation with the Samaritan woman. Their conversation opens to the thirst of the spirit…

If we look in the Bible, we find some contexts which would have been familiar to contemporaries of Christ and to us, and in some contexts thirst is actually positive, the source for deepening the relationship to the divine: (Psalm 42) “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” and (Psalm 63) “O God, you are my God; I shall seek you earnestly; my soul thirsts for you…”  Moses, leading the Israelites out of Egypt, had to create a new source to quench their thirst. (Isaiah 48) “They did not thirst when he led them through the deserts. He made the water flow out of the rock for them. He split rock and the water gushed forth.” And most clearly, Christ’s own words, (John 7) “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.”

The final unification of Christ with his human body is through thirst on the cross at the Crucifixion: “Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished, to fulfill the Scripture, said: ‘I am thirsty.’” (John 19) The scripture referred to was the prophecy in psalm 64: “…for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”

Christ speaks of a thirst that is not desperation, it is the opening of a deep creative source from which he can unite– creating with our will. The ultimate purpose of thirst is to drive us to the source that quenches thirst. And in the mystery language of the meeting with the woman at the well, where so much more is understood than the face value of the words, Christ and the Samaritan woman speak of the deepest thirst of worship. It is a thirst for communion beyond the forms of religious practice, beyond custom and place. Thirst persists until the soul opens a spring of water of life, unites with truth.

And then the spirit can drink in truth. Just as water is necessary for the life of a plant—and all life– so our inner life needs to be fed by spirit-water from the one who says: “he who believes in me will never thirst.” (John 6) The soul can unfold in the power of the spirit like plants unfold leaves—and our language even knows this secret: the word “be-lief” is more than faith; belief is literally the “leafing-out” of the soul nurtured by the water of life. Belief washes our eyes so we can recognize when “He will show us all things” (John 4) Belief taps into the water welling up to eternal life. It is the source we recognise as love.

In ancient times worship of the sun was common. Humanity still felt that in the light of the sun streamed the activity of spiritual beings to earth. And what such gave life and form to everything in nature was the substance of love, clad in the outward light of the sun as in a garment.

Today we can once again come to the insight that the light of the sun is much more than just an outward, physical process. Everything takes its life from the sun. We take our life from the sun. Even our souls are lifted by it. And what we can experience in the light is the creative power of the word, streaming to earth – we can experience the love of Christ to all earthly being.

Yet, we are not depended on the sun to experience the love of Christ. He is involved in our lives in much deeper and intimate ways. The sun may hide its face, darkness may fall, but Christ’s love will persist.

Thousands of years ago Moses experienced the power of his God in thunder and in lightening, in smoke and fire and in the shaking of the mountain.

A long time after that, when the prophet Elijah came to the same place where Moses had had his experience, God revealed Himself in a very different way:

“He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.” (1 Kings 19:11-13)

Ultimately, we cannot find God on the outside. He is in us. His voice speaks to us in the voice of silence as it spoke to Elijah. We may hear that voice, wherever we go or however we find ourselves – in the light of the sun or in darkness. In sadness or in joy. It speaks to our heart, carrying with it the power of the word, the substance of Christ’s love.

Contemplation by Rev. Inken Contreras

Whitsun is a very special day.  It is the end of a process, that began with the birth of the innocent and vulnerable child, who was born in Bethlehem and who later offered Himself to receive the Spirit of the Sun, at the baptism in the Jordan.  Then He chose, in free will, the path of suffering and death on the cross.  Christ Jesus rose from the dead and began the process of expansion; the process of re-enlivening and shining through all the kingdoms of the earth, wind, water, plants and animals, even the starry heavens and even into the human being.  At Easter time, then even more strongly through Ascension, He permeated the whole cosmos with seeds of new life.  And at the center, in the middle point of this expanding new life, is the divine “I.”  The Risen One spoke the Word of Truth to overcome death: “become!”   The God of Truth rose from the dead and spoke a become” into the cosmic memory of the earth. This was the dawning of a new age of development.

We can look through the birth in Bethlehem to the birth of the whole of Creation; to the innocence—and vulnerability—of the first human beings, which led to the sacrifice of innocence for the sake of experience. This has been called the Fall.  Experience leads to consciousness, and consciousness leads to self-consciousness.  The human being, becoming aware of the fall from innocence experiences not wisdom but shock—then turns around and blames God.  The human “I” compares itself to the divine “I” and finds it is not divine, not even in the image of God.  In this shock, the weaknesses, strayings, infirmities of mankind take over and lead to the denial of spirit, the denial of transformative power, the denial of morality…

This could have led to the end of the heavenly forces on earth; to a separation of heaven and earth but, the response of the God of Man came out of love, to die even into human denial.  He created the way for the human being to overcome denial by means of thinking.  Christ sends the Spirit of Truth to human beings, so that they can recognize and meet truth in thinking.  Truth itself is weightless, and leads the human spirit and soul to unite with its’ Spirit, the Spirit of Truth.

Before the resurrection Christ created the foundation for human beings to experience the transforming power of his presence.  It is woven into sacraments that were created not by human effort; they stem from Christ’s ordaining.

In the Act of Consecration, we can recognize the steps of Christ’s love for the human being in (1) the enlivened Word from realms of truth, (2) the moral impulse to offer, (3) transformation of matter in uniting with spirit, and (4) an intimation of Christ’s will to unite with human destiny.  We can recognize in these, the structure of the Act of Consecration in the Gospel Reading, the Offertory, the Transubstantiation and Communion.  The image of God in Man is created anew—not restored back to the original creation.

Whitsun is the end of the rainbow that began with Christmas, then Epiphany, Passion, Easter and Ascension.  But it is also the beginning of the new bow of spiritual activity into the rest of the year, the rest of our life, and also the re-enlivening of the earth.  Through the love of truth we find the love of Christ.

Contemplation by Rev. Susan Locey

 

Below is a contemplation by our dear Jeana, Seminary Intern.

In cultures like the First Nations, it is traditional to give people names that are descriptive, like Running Bull or Quiet River, which tell us something about the activity of the person.  Someone who is quick, strong, and fierce would have a very different name from someone who is dreamy, and patient.  Thename is like a metaphor for the characteristic gesture of the person.

In today’s Gospel reading, we hear about praying in Christ’s name.  What is meant here is Christ’s way of being, his activity.  Christ acts in the world in a particular way, and we can recognize him by his deeds.  He brings light and warmth.  His love is unconditional.  He does the will of the Father.  The name Christ, signifies all the activity of this being.

We also hear that when we pray to the Father in Christ’s name, in Christ’s way, we will receive what we ask for.

Nearly ten years ago when I was in graduate school, I found myself at the school’s medical center undergoing a barrage of blood tests, then at my parents’ house where I could hardly get out of bed.  I did not know what was wrong or what would happen to me. Would I ever recover, hold a job and support myself, or do the things I had loved?

In order to move forward, I had to let go of my former identity, as a star student and a hard worker, and surrender to the unknown future.  I was full of fear and grief.  And in that place I entered into the activity of Christ.  From that place of surrender, I prayed whole-heartedly, “Your will be done.”

Whenever we relinquish our own desires, we can surrender to the will of God, and pray in thename of Christ.  Every new moment is full of the unknown, and it gives us an opportunity to let go of our personal wishes, and place our trust in God.  In Christ’s name we pray, and we receive His grace.

Richard Wurmbrand was a pastor in the mid nineteen sixties in Romania, famous for his profound experiences while in prison. He was put in prison by the communist police, tortured, and 14 years later set free.

One night, after being released, he was about to go to sleep when he was moved to go to the local pub, even though he didn’t drink. When he walked in, he saw a Russian communist officer standing at the bar waving his gun, threatening death to everyone if he did not get something to drink. In that time, Russian officers could kill anyone they wanted without consequence. Richard asked the bar tender to bring a bottle of wine and a glass. He sat with the officer and quieted him down, speaking Russian. As the officer drank, Richard told him the story of Christ, how Christ had come down from heaven and suffered many things, all because he loved us. The officer listened. And at the end, the officer said “You don’t have to tell me who you are, I know. But you don’t know me; I am an orthodox priest”.  The officer continued, “During the great purging of religion, they gathered up thousands of priests and pastors and threatened to kill us all if we did not denounce our faith and join the communist party. I feared for my life. Because of my weakness, I was made to go and convince those whom I had baptized, that Christ did not exist. Because of my weakness, I was made to destroy the faith of those to whom I had proclaimed the gospel. And to those whom I had given the body and blood of Christ to, with my hand, I was forced to shoot and kill them with the same hand. And I drink and drink and drink to forget. But I cannot forget. And I cannot be forgiven.”

In the next moments, with tears running down the officer’s face, Richard was able to speak directly to his heart helping him to feel that Christ still loved him, still walks with him, forgives even him. Richard was able to see that behind the veil of the violent communist officer was actually a lost shepherd, a beloved being who still loved God.

Dear friends, like Richard, may we too learn to see Christ in everyone that we meet, no matter the veil. And in this way, the way of seeing truth through the veil, we will gradually learn to see that in and through Christ, the Father is revealed.

Last Friday at the Toronto Waldorf School, we celebrated The Holy Spirit working in community. The Holy Spirit is the spirit that unites us in our diversity. The Holy Spirit inspires us to understand and love more everything truly human.

And yet, at the same time, our gospel this week (Jn 16) tells us perhaps surprisingly that the Holy Spirit is also the spirit that judges and condemns. But the condemnation that the Holy Spirit brings is never directed toward other human beings; the condemnation that the Holy Spirit inspires is always on the ‘prince of this world’. The Holy Spirit judges and condemns the adversary working in us and around us. For we must always remember that our battle is never with other human beings, our battle is with spiritual powers of darkness, that tempt us to condemn and dismiss each other.

I have an annoying neighbor. He is always telling the townhouse board were we live what we are doing wrong. And I kept noticing that I had the feeling that I wished he would sell his house and move.

Then a few days ago, as we were getting out of the car with the girls, he was standing there like he always is, working in his garage. We said, ‘Hi Ron’…and he said out of the blue ‘whenever I see your daughters, it always makes me want to cry’. And I said, ‘oh, why’s that?’ He said, ‘My daughter died of leukemia, and my wife died of cancer shortly after that’…he went on…’sometimes I wonder why God gives us these things…I don’t know why…but we just have to keep goin…’

In this moment the Holy Spirit filled my heart with love and compassion for Ron. And at the very same time, the Holy Spirit awoke me to the fact that I had dismissed Him, that I had condemned a human being.

Dear Friends, may the Holy Spirit awaken love for human beings in us. And may this Spirit also teach us to judge and condemn the impulse of the adversary hiding in our hearts.

 

“Through  conscience awakened to the spirit, man will  be able to cultivate a lasting relationship with the angel of Easter morning and through him with the Risen One himself.

The Risen Christ will manifest himself as the true Lord of human destiny, and the ‘other’ who walks beside man and guides him, will be felt as the hand of Christ. Thus man will acquire the strength and security to bear, and to win through, even the hardest fate.

The permanent relationship to the fact of Easter is the real source of consolation. The Risen One is near to us as ‘the Comforter of our earth existence’.”

The Three Years
Emil Bock

Recent psychological research shows that people with the most fulfilled lives are not focused on happiness. The studies show that those individuals who focus on being happy are not as fulfilled, while those individuals who focus on doing meaningful work in the world and let happiness come and go, feel more fulfilled. For the fulfilled, happiness is only a bi-product. For the unfulfilled, happiness is the aim. From this we can see clearly; what you aim for, the mark you set, is vitally important.

The Greek work for sin is ‘hamartia’. ‘Hamartia’ means ‘to miss the mark’. However, these studies  just mentioned show us that most sin is not missing the mark because we aren’t good at finding the goal, finding happiness. Most of our sin is missing the mark because we have the wrong mark in mind in the first place. In this light, orienting our hearts to the true mark, the right aim, is the most important capacity for overcoming sin.

And this is why Thomas is so remarkable in our gospel this week (Jn 20). Thomas set his aim right. He said if I am to know that you are the Christ, you must have wounds! Thomas’ aim and expectations were right on; if it is the Christ, he must have Holy Wounds.

Dear Friends, if we too are to find the Christ in our hearts, find the Christ in others, let us be like Thomas and not miss the mark. Let us not miss the mark because our expectations of who God is are off.

Let us aim correctly; peace-filled pain, joy-filled sorrow- these are the marks by which we find God.

These rainy days we can find ourselves longing for the sun again, longing for the sun’s presence, warmth and light.

And yet, we can also know that feeling the sun’s presence, warmth and light is only possible because it is dying. Any astronomer can tell you the sun is dying and its light, warmth and presence manifest because of this dying.

On Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday, we celebrate the dying process of the Son of God, the Son of Man. We celebrate this because we hope that just like the outer sun so too, the dying of the Son of God will make it possible that we can all feel His Easter warmth, His Easter light, His presence.

Dear friends, may we awaken in our innermost selves, the trust that the Son of God must go through death in order to be present in our hearts.