The daylight is changing because the sun is lower in the sky. The light approaches us at a sharper angle, from the side rather than straight above. And we quickly notice that with this angled light the shadows we cast get bigger. At this time of year, our shadow grows.

Like our outer shadow, our inner shadow also intensifies so often at this time. For Michaelmas is a time for struggles to heat up, a time for the dragon’s fire to burn hot. At Michaelmas, we are challenged every year to acknowledge the dark in us, to try and understand why and how it came to be, to bravely fight the flames of our inner demons. We are challenged to do battle with the beast.

And yet, every human heart is destined to be free, free of battle. For our highest human aim is not war, it is not to be fighters of beasts and shadow, our deepest longing is not wielding weapons of war, our deepest longing is an embrace, a union, a communion with god.

This is why sometimes the true trial, the true testing of our souls is in our capacity to let go of the fight- letting go of our battling the inner beast, letting go of obsessing over why and how we came into this shame, letting go of the problem. This is because so often the dragon’s tactics are simply to get us stuck in not being able to think about anything else but ourselves.

Let us practice then, dear friends, here and now, dropping our weapons, forgetting our beasts, and remembering our destiny. For our truest humanity is not born in a battle stance ready to fight, we become truly human by falling to our knees in the presence of His light.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by our true destiny.

Light casts out darkness. Everyone knows this. The candle pushes away the shadows and the daylight leaves no place for the night. We even say, ‘the lights just turned on’ when we have a new idea, that casts away the dark confusion.

Each and every human soul, each one of us is also meant for light. Our true selves are actually being fashioned of light substance, for Christ’s light longs to penetrate every dark corner of our being. And at this time of year, we can be inspired by the trees who are also fashioning a garment of light by letting go of their leaves, allowing the sun’s light to fill their branches. For our highest destiny is to become like the woman clothed with the sun – clothed with the Christ-Sun, entering through our hearts, streaming out over our bodies, filling the world.

And yet, the darkness within us is deep. Let us not be fooled by those who would tell us that darkness has no reality, for we are in a battle with the dragon for kingdom of our hearts. And the dragons dark flames burn in us. The darkness burns us when we feel insulted or dismissed by the words of another. The darkness burns us when we defend our egotism instead of truth. The darkness burns the more we blame and dismiss the world for our sufferings- the more we only see the dragon in the other person’s eye.

Dear friends, Michaelmas is a time of battle, a testing of our souls. Can we become like the trees and let go of that in us which blocks the light? Can our branches bear the weight of His light? Do we love the Son more than our darkness? Answering yes to this in every moment, is the Michaelmas sword.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by Rev. 12 and the Autumn trees.

In pictures we often see the Archangel Michael depicted with a sword, held high, as if ready to strike, holding the dragon under his feet. A sword always comes with a choice. It is always, in a sense, “double-edged”. In retellings of the ancient myth of King Arthur his legendary sword Excalibur has two engravings, one on each side. The one says: Take me up. The other: Cast me away. Whoever comes into possession of the
sword has to make the choice – to let it rest or to wield it. And if wielding it, what cause to wield it for. This choice is an essential part of our humanity. No deed is done without making that choice. And wielding the sword of our mind we make choices every moment of every day.

In the gospel reading about the heavenly marriage feast that is always read at Michaelmas (Matthew 22, 1-14), we are called upon to attend the marriage between the earthly and the heavenly world. Do we let ourselves be distracted by earthly matters? Do we mistreat the heavenly messengers? Or do we choose differently and follow their call? Do we sneak into the feast hall as we are, unprepared – or do we choose to put on the festive garment and prepare ourselves in honour of the occasion?

What we make of our earth, how we connect it and our lives to the heavens is made up of our choices. And guarding over these choices, holding the sword, stand Michael, the countenance of Christ. He is willing to support us and work with us in our choices and deeds on earth. He will look with us toward the future that we make.

Contemplation by Rev. Inken Contreras

So much of our lives is about having things. We buy things, sell things, accumulate things and then must organize and de-clutter our things. One of the most popular books being sold right now is called “The Life-changing magic of tidying up’ – a wonderfully helpful book on how to de-clutter the things in our lives. In it, we are told that we should take each thing that we own and ask: Does this thing bring me Joy? If it does, we keep it. If not, throw it out!

This gem of a book is special because it shows that orientating ourselves to joy is vital for the human spirit. For every human heart, each one of us is meant to be bearers of joy, related to joy in our essential being.

And yet, at the same time, if we only ask the question of what gives me joy, we will never overcome the problems of consumerism and egotism that plague our humanity. The question, does this give me joy? still only address our lower being, the consumer in us, the one in us who always wants more.

But within every human soul there is not only a taker but a hidden giver, an inner radiant light, like the sun, that longs to shine and give life to the world. This giver is our higher being and it is only activated not when we ask what can give me joy and pleasure, what can this person, this nature, this stuff give to me – no, our higher being comes alive when we ask – how can I bring joy to this person, this thing, this work, how can bring joy to nature herself.

Dear friends, becoming Christian means becoming like little suns, the light of the world. We are not lights because everything around us is just the way we want to be, we are not lights because we have selected only people and things for our lives that bring us joy. We become the light of the world by our capacity to give, to give joy, love and peace to everything around us, no matter how painful, how dark.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by Michaelmas

“No one can serve to masters,” this week’s gospel tells us. “You cannot serve the world of God and at the same time the world of hardened materialism.” But do we not do exactly that? We do serve two masters at the same time! Or, to be more accurate: We
try to serve two masters. And so we know, that to serve both the world of God and hardened materialism is, at its best, an uneasy alliance. Often it ends in exactly what the gospel predicts – we either hate one and love the other or follow one and despise the other.

To truly serve we have to serve wholeheartedly. And the gulf between the world of God and materialism is too great for us to serve both of them with all our heart. We might decide to turn fully toward materialism, leaving spiritual matters behind, even fearing and hating them. Or we might reject materialism in all its forms, despising it, living only for the Spirit. The first of these options is undesirable, the second only practical if we decide to live like hermits in a cave.

Maybe the question to ask ourselves, when we stand at the precipice that divides the two worlds, is: What is in our hearts?

The gospel exclaims: ”How  weak is your faith!”.
If we are servants, do we have faith in the master that we serve?
Faith, that there is a world beyond materialism?
Faith, that there is a path for us to walk on. That our lives have a mission and that the world has meaning and goal?
Faith, that we live in a universe, whose very fabric is goodness and love?
Faith, that at the altar the transubstantiation happens and that matter is permeated with spirit?
Faith in the future of the earth and of mankind?
If we start answering those questions, if we carry that kind of faith in our hearts we are on our way to serve the right master.

This contemplation by Rev. Inken Contreras is inspired by Matthew 6.

Ephphatha! Be opened! Christ speaks this word to the deaf man today in our gospel, not only to open his ears, but because Christ knows that each and every one of us is actually meant to be broken open; our destiny is to learn to hear in a totally new way – radically open to the divine word in all beings.

And yet, if we are honest, most of the time we are deaf to what we hear because we only hear ourselves when others speak, missing the divine word because our word is so loud. This deafness to others is our lonely situation.

And in order to overcome this lack of hearing, we are actually called by the gospel to become like the deaf man; completely vulnerable. The deaf man had to make himself vulnerable and allow his friends to bring him to this strange Jesus, he had to become vulnerable and allow Jesus to put his finger in his ears, even to put spit on his tongue! The deaf man shows us that the divine word only opens us when we become vulnerable.

But so often we are not strong enough to bear this kind of vulnerability. Our strength fails us because we fall prey to the illusion that vulnerability is an unhelpful weakness, leading us away from a powerful self. Or, our strength to be vulnerable fails us because tender feeling is so often painful. Our strength to be vulnerable fails us because our small selves know too well how many wolves there are in this world waiting to devour our softness.

Nevertheless, and in the face of these wolves, following Christ means to find the courage to be broken open in every encounter. For only through radical tenderness can we begin to hear The Spirit sound, to overcome our desperate loneliness.

But, if we don’t want to surrender our loneliness so quickly,

Then let us allow loneliness cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season us.

Let this something that is missing in our hearts make our eyes soft,

Our voice tender,

Our need for God absolutely clear.

(taken from elements of a Hafiz poem on loneliness)

This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by Mk 7 and the word ‘Ephphatha’

There is a God that so many of us grew up with, who is like a policeman with a radar gun on the highway, always watching and waiting to doll out punishment if we break the law. We all know this God well. He wants us to avoid sin at all costs by following the rules, never failing, never breaking, or else wrath.

This picture of God, spoken of in so many churches, countless mosques and synagogues across all lands, this God is no longer needed. For it is a caricature, an unhelpful shadow of the real God. This Tyrant with his rules is no longer helpful because our task is not to be good, but to become good. And true becoming, true development is impossible without mistakes; to become good we need a god who can help us encounter our guilt, grow through sufferings, transform darkness into spirit maturity. But the god of rules knows nothing of this. For the tyrant with the radar gun has never transformed through pain, only condemns from afar.

What is most needed today is a relationship with a God who has in love entered the darkness with us, suffered and come through the power of sin. We need a god who knows how to become new because we must become new. We need a God who knows that there is light hidden in the darkness. A god who knows that…

Dear Friends, In our gospel today (Feeding of the Five-thousand), the real picture of the God of the Human heart is shown; not the harsh judge, but He who nourishes us with spirit-bread, feeds us communion on our way to becoming, who knows first hand that the human journey is not to remain innocent of the dark, but to learn the light of love, in and through the night.

This God, this Christ, is what is needed!

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by a sermon that was given at a local mosque and by Luke 9: 1-17

The great poet, William Blake once wrote,

‘He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.’

Mr. Blake wrote this because he knew that each and every one of us is meant to join in a great rising; our hearts destined to become light filled ascending suns. And to aid in this great destiny of ours we receive many joys and blessing. Summer vacations for example, getting away into nature, sharing a delicious meal with loved ones; these pleasures and others nourish and fuel our sun-hearts, buoy our inner-wings, rejuvenate our souls so that we can return to our work and serve others with joy. For this is what is most important – that our pleasures in life serve the aims of the rising Son.

And yet, so often we make pleasure itself the goal, not the rising. So often we are consumed by material life, making consumption our god, forgetting the Son. For as Blake says, he who binds himself, clings to a joy, ‘does the winged life destroy’. Because when our desires for sensual pleasures become our main focus, when we are obsessed or even feel we can’t live without certain thing or person, or when our need for security or a good reputation become the most important thing, then our warmth wanes, our inner suns begin to darken, eclipsed by the perishable world.

Therefore, dear friends, in this summer time of joys, let us make our central aim the winged rise of the sun-heart, which knows that pleasures are meant to renew us with their brief presence, but then must be let go of – never to become our reason for living. For the sun-heart must be free of what binds it in order to rise – free in order help others rise. Only what is risen can be useful for the heavens.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by William Blake and the Prodigal Son.

A very wise man once said,

“If you treat an individual as he is, he will remain how he is. But if you treat him as if he were what he ought to be and could be, he will become what he ought to be and could be.”

This wise man, Goethe, said this because he knew that each and every one of us is meant to become a seer of what is not yet; we are all called to awaken as warm suns to what wants blossom in the other. For like the sun that brings forth the potential from the seed, we are to develop the power of an inner sun that puts its warm focus, not on our shortcomings, but on a future self. For every one of us knows how life giving it is when someone believes in us, trusts in what is becoming.

And yet, so often we fall into condemnation. So often we judge human souls and ourselves so harshly, as always such a ____, pegging souls as a ______for ever more, or worst of all, constantly focusing on and emphasizing the sin and weakness in others as if this were something righteous. We forget that we are all in the darkness and it is only the sun-heart that can help.

And this is why Christ in our Gospel this week (Lk 6) reminds us to ‘judge not’. For condemning, judging and criticizing others and ourselves only adds to the depth of the dark- takes away our destined sun power – weakens our inner warmth that wants to co-create true humanity.

But, Dear friends, let us not be nieve in our striving. Let us continue to quietly discern destructive behaviors, harmful thoughts and feelings that stream out of our mouths and from the mouths of others, for the dark is meant to be named. But behaviors, thoughts and feelings are not souls themselves. Let us never judge a human soul itself. For everyone can blossom – everyone is meant to flame.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by Luke 6 and J. W. Goethe.

‘Once I said to God, “How do you teach us?” And God replied, “If you were playing chess with someone who had infinite knowledge and wanted to make you a master of the game, where would all the chess pieces be at every moment?” Indeed, they would be not only where he wanted them, but where all were best for your development; and that is every situation in one’s life.”

St. John said this because he knew that each one of us is meant to become masters – masters of life, no matter how many lives it takes! However, God and John also know that mastery does not mean winning as we might think. For our obsession with winning, with results and outcomes – how I think my life should be – only distracts from the goal. Because mastering human destiny means learning to fully meet what is, what is here, what is now – mastery is deep trust that everything that comes to me in my life is exactly the way it should be – exactly the chess pieces I need. Truly surrendering to what our lives are asking of us is the only way to enter God’s classroom.

And yet, so often we resist meeting what is- so often we fight against surrender. We fight against this surrender by holding on to the comfort of a warn out persona, repeating to ourselves at every juncture ‘I am the way I am.’ Or, we fight against this surrender by not allowing the blessings in our lives to inwardly touch us, clouding over gratitude with unnecessary guilt and unworthiness. Or, we fight against surrender when we fall into the obsession of questioning ‘why me’ for the difficulties in our lives, forgetting that subtle expectations of a life I think I should have, subtle expectations of a reward I think I have earned, only distract from the chess board. For Christ is not interested in reward and punishment, His only hope is for those who can become new.

Dear friends, let us remind ourselves again and again, that our lives are exactly the way they need to be. The only question that remains is for our chess pieces themselves, ‘what are you trying to teach me?’

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by St. John of the Cross and Matthew 11.