Regardless of who you are or what you have done, the sun shines on us all, continually and unreservedly pouring its life-giving rays out on every living thing.

Each and every human spirit is also connected to a sun, the inner spiritual sun. Like the sun in the sky, the spiritual sun is also constantly giving warmth and light to our spirits. No matter how much or little success you have had in this world, or how much you have earned, this life-filled spiritual light is continually bestowed on us all.

And yet, almost every adult spends most of our time earning things. We must earn a living in this world. We strive to earn respect from our peers, trust from our partners. Even when it comes to the spiritual life, we often approach it as something we must achieve by ourselves, win for ourselves, earn. The law of this world calls us to earn our keep!

But there is another law connected to the Altar. This is why communion is so nourishing for our souls because it reminds us that there is another world, here in this world of earning, that is not based on our personal merits and efforts, a reality where we are all equally loved by God. The Act of Consecration is meant to open us up to a this life sustaining love that, like the outer sun’s rays, we can never earn. The spiritual touch of peace that we receive at communion is this shining love, Christ’s love, that everyone who opens up to, receives.

Can we open ourselves to Christ’s unconditional love for us? Can we bear it?

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by the experience of unconditional love and acceptance of the Etheric Christ.

In this week’s Gospel we hear about Jesus coming as a guest to the house of Mary and Martha. Mary is sitting quietly, contemplatively at his feet, listening to his word. Martha is busying herself, serving, not wanting to neglect the guest.

Mary – so we hear – has chosen the best part.

Depending on how our own dispositions are we might be glad to see Christ applaud Mary’s quiet
introspection – something that is so often undervalued in today’s world where it is considered a virtue to be extroverted and active at all times. Or we might ask ourselves: But what about Martha’s work?

Martha is serving the people around her. Is that not valuable? Is it not her work that sees to that her guest is fed – that he can spend the night in clean sheets?

While we all know how important the spiritual is, we also know that we have to attend to the physical needs and not undervalue them.

As with so many things in life also this, of course, depends on the right balance. We all know those moments when we wear ourselves out in a flurry of activity or those when we are procrastinating, not wanting to get on our feet. We can be both too active and too passive at times. And we have each, both Mary and Martha in our own soul.

Needless to say how important Martha’s work is. But what we can ask ourselves when we attend to our own work in the material world is this:
Do we really do this work out of necessity? Do we do it with love? Maybe we have completely other motives? Are we maybe, by staying busy, trying to drown out a quiet inner voice that wants to lead us to ourselves and to the spark of something higher that is waiting deep inside of us?

On the other side, when we sit quietly, thinking, contemplating – what, really, are we contemplating?

Are we listening to Christ’s word in our own souls or are our thoughts more worldly?

Maybe the most important thing about this week’s Gospel is not that it tempts us to judge either activity or, seeming, inactivity – maybe it is the simple fact that what Mary is doing, is listening to Christ – listening to his word. She is listening to the one being whose mighty impulse in earth’s evolution opens up the heavens for us and leads us into a bright future.

Mary has indeed chosen well – there can be nothing more important than that.

If we can fill some of our own quiet moments with the presence of Christ then he grows in us – and he will from there permeate with his presence and love all the time we spend on being active in the outside world – doing Martha’s work.

This contemplation by Rev. Inken Contreras is inspired by the Gospel of Luke chapter 10.

These quotes speak to the essential mood of our upcoming Michaelmas festival, a time where we celebrate the individuals connection to Christ and his spiritual ‘kingdom’.

“To seek God and the original divine being, not in the sheath of the soul, but in the actual ‘I’ – that was the contribution of Christianity, of the Christ-impulse to human development…The entry of the divine consciousness that speaks through the ‘I’, is the essence of the Christ-impulse.” Rudolf Steiner, Christ and the Twentieth Century, Jan 25, 1912

“The kingdom of Christ Jesus is not of this world, but it must be active in this world, and human souls must be the tools of the kingdom which is not of this world.”
Rudolf Steiner, GA 175, Feb 6, 1917

The contemplation is inspired by the gospel reading for this week, Luke 18, the healing of the blind man from Jericho.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a pilgrim who was traveling to a Holy Mountain in Greece and he came across an old hermit and asked him, “Father, how can I learn to see truth, to see God?” The venerated holy man replied, “Every day at dusk go to the cemetery and for an hour hurl insults to the dead. Do that for a month and pay attention to everything that happens around you. Then come and report to me.” After a month the pilgrim returned. “Father, I have done what you told me but nothing happened!” The hermit then said, “Go to the cemetery again for another month and sing praises to the dead. Then come and tell me what happened.” After a month the pilgrim returned. “Father, I did what you told me but nothing happened!” The holy father then said, “My son, if you wish to behold truth, be like those who have crossed the threshold, indifferent to insults and indifferent to praise”

Like this pilgrim, each one of us is also on a holy journey. We are all called to learn to truly see. For like the blind man from Jericho in our gospel reading today, we are all blind and in need of new eyes.

May we follow the wisdom of this holy saint and the blind man from Jericho by practicing letting go again and again of what others think about us, letting go again and again of what we think about others, of what we think about ourselves, and cry out to Him who streams out from the altar, Oh Christ, have compassion on me!

For it is only by overcoming egotism that we truly see, only in His selfless love are our eyes made new.

The contemplation is inspired by the gospel reading for this week, Luke 9, the feeding of the 5000 and the mystery of how we can be spiritually fed.

It is amazing how receptive young children are. Everything they encounter effects them. For at every moment, the child’s spirit wants to be filled with life, sorrow and joy, receiving whatever is poured into their soul, like an empty chalice.

Within each one of us, deep within every heart there is also a chalice. This chalice in us is our spirit. Because when our spirit is active, we become empty of distractions and intimately filled with whatever life pours into us in the moment; like children. When the chalice of our spirit is active we allow ourselves to be filled, engaged, touched by what is here, now!

And yet, to become adult and to learn to cope with the sorrow and pain of this world, we learn to cover this chalice, protect our hearts from having to feel everything, learn to detach. The adult separates from the world and for good reason.

But when we practice Christian meditation, or go to the First Class or the Act of Consecration with this adult detachment, with this inner separation from what is trying to fill our souls, we will not be able to receive what wants totransform us. In order to receive Christ at the altar, we can no longer be mere spectators as if what is happening in front of us is a movie. We can no longer remain distant adults.

For the secret of receiving the spiritual nourishment that is pouring out from the altar, is to become like children again, to uncover the chalice of our spirit and allow the Word in! This means to practice feeling deeply what we are praying, trusting that what is happening now is of utmost importance, really believing that the touch we receive at communion is Christ Himself…HIS love filling our hearts, filling our spirit.

Contemplation inspired by the gospel reading for this week, Luke 15.

We all know what its like. Were on a summer vacation, and we are out looking for a place we have never been before! And then the street names start not to make sense, and with each step there is the funny feeling that something isn’t right. And finally it hits. I am lost; I must find the way back.

Within every human soul, within each one of us, there is a seeker- one who longs to find the way back. This seeker in us is our spiritual heart which knows of our true home.

And yet, so often our connection to this seeker in us is dampened, threatened. For the biggest danger to our spiritual heart is not that we loose our way, but that the temptations and distractions in us would have us believe that what we see now is our true home, or that the journey back is illusion because we are already perfect just the way we are.

But in our gospel today, Christ proclaims a radical truth. He proclaims that in order to stay connected and in touch with this true seeker in us, we must first realize that we are actually lost. He proclaims that becoming a true human being means first knowing that we are in the dark, accepting that we are the lost sheep- thatwe are the prodigal son who must loose his way, if he is to find his true home.

These powerful imaginations of the gospel show that our true humanity does not arise by being someone who is already home in this world or already spiritually perfect, but our true humanity is a living process of being lost and found. We awaken when we quietly, inwardly, again and again pray; I am lost. Oh, Lord, find me!

Its amazing how much children need our attention. They crave it. And sometimes they cry out for it. For somehow children know that human attention gives them something very important.  Children know deep down that being seen, being recognized, gives them life, makes them more real.

Each one of us, every human Self, like children also longs to be truly seen. Anyone who has ever heard someone important to them say “I believe in you” knows this. For really seeing someone, believing in someone gives them life, helps them find their task in the world.

But we also know how dangerous it is to be in need of the recognition and approval of others. This is because human judgment, human recognition so often only sees itself, projects its own shadow onto us, hates its own weakness; leaving us unseen, unheard and sapped of life. And so the child in us must grow up, thicken its skin, become adult.

And yet, the Christ path is to become like children again. But not children desperate for human attention, but children of God, children who long to see and be seen by God. Because the only true medicine for the desperate search for recognition that lives in every human Self, is to practice being seen by HIM – learning to feel HIS compassionate presence.

And this is why we practice at the Altar. This is why the Act of Consecration is so nourishing to human souls. For becoming like children again means awakening more and more to Christ’s loving presence in our hearts, which consecrates us; makes us truly human.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by the gospel reading for this week, Matthew 7.