This week’s gosepl speaks to us about sin, specifically the adultery committed by a woman (John 8) – and it speaks of two ways how this sin is regarded and dealt with by Jesus Christ. While the Scribes and Pharisees, who have brought the woman before Jesus, want to stone her, Jesus  sends them away: “Whoever among you is free of sin, let him throw the first stone.” And he does not  condemn the woman either: “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

When we do something wrong, it is in our power as humans to make up for what we have done. If this is not possible in the moment or in the immediate future, the opportunity is given to us through karma. We can work on our mistakes and learn not to do them again. We can change. We can go and sin no more.

All things have – at least – two sides. There is never just one way to look at something. And while, on the one side, we see Christ’s acceptance and non-judgement in the face of our sins – his encouragement to us – on the other side we see him write in the earth, as the gospel tells us, twice. What does he write? What is being inscribed in the earth?

There are indeed two sides to our sins. There is the personal, subjective one that is within our power to handle, to deal with and to make up for. And there is the other side that makes us face that whatever we have done is an objective fact in the history of the world. A fact that cannot be undone – a deed that, once committed, cannot be made to be ‘un-happened’.

Every deed that we do, every fact we put out there into the world is like a seed. There are seeds of light and there are seeds of darkness. Every sin we commit plants a seed of darkness deep in the earth where it cannot be touched by human powers.

This is where we have to admit that sometimes our merely human powers are not enough. That there are things that we cannot fix, circumstances where we remain helpless and where the help of a higher power is necessary and crucial.

What human power cannot touch Christ can.

He can take our seeds of darkness and infuse them with cosmic forgiveness. He, who has the power to overcome death can turn darkness into life and light. And if we ask ourselves how we deserve this help and forgiveness we have to answer that we do not. It is a gift of love from the cosmos to us. We may ask – and how do we give thanks for a gift like that?

The words of the Act of Consecration give us the answer: “…in reverence of Christ, in mindfulness of Christ’s deed.”

This contemplation by Rev. Contreras was inspired by John 8.

Under our feet, a new earth has come. The white and cold and crunchy ground is melting. The warmth has revealed the new ground. For we now see that the white ground of winter is just a veil covering the true ground of the world.

Within each human heart there is also a true ground, an inner ground, the foundation of true life.

But like the snow-covered earth, this true ground in our hearts is so often veiled, covered up, even from ourselves. For beneath the frigid blanket of worry for our earthly security that so often covers our souls, human hearts have at our core a deep trust in the divine for all that we have; for all that will come. Beneath the cold loneliness that so often shrouds our everyday lives, the human heart is designed to walk in communion with ‘the beloved’ with every step that we take. Beneath the desperate anxiety of our discontent, always longing for something more, something that will make our lives finally acceptable, our hearts are actually made to stand on perpetual gratitude for what is, for what we actually have, for the ever-present closeness of Christ regardless of what comes.

Dear friends, a ‘Christian’ is not someone who follows the rules, not someone who is ‘good’ and so to receive the reward of heaven at the end. A ‘Christian’ is not someone who believes something that cannot be proven. A Christian is someone who practices again and again breaking through to the true ground of the world – one who learns to ‘stand’ on deep trust, real gratitude, in communion with Him.

And the Act of Consecration, our sacred ritual, is a way to practice this new kind of ‘standing’. For as we come into the presence of the alive altar, as we feel the peace of communion descend, when gratitude and joy envelop our hearts, then we know that the warmth and light of His sun begins to melt the frozen layers of our hearts. The new earth, the true ground breaks through.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by John 6 and the melting snow.

“When an impure spirit leaves a man, whilst his inner being is still weak, then the spirit roams through waterless places, seeking rest and not finding it. Then he says: I will return to the dwelling which I have left. When he comes to this dwelling, he finds it cleansed and adorned. Then he goes and brings seven spirits who are even worse than himself; and they enter and dwell in that man. And in the end it is worse for the man than before.” (Luke 11)

In the natural world there is no such thing as a space devoid of air – a vacuum. There are no empty spaces at all. Everything is filled. When matter moves to a different place or state – maybe the core of a tree rotting away, the sea eroding the land or something as simple as us emptying a glass of water – something else is there instantly to replace it. A void space will fill with water, with air, with light, or with any other available substance.

If we want to experience a place that is empty, at times we have to look no further than our own souls. We can be devoid of spirit, of meaning and of purpose. We crave to have our souls filled. We can be like barren wastelands waiting for the water. When we become aware of the emptiness in us, we have to ask ourselves: What do we let inside? What will replace the emptiness? Do we let the outside world rush in, as it is prone to do, like air rushes into a broken vacuum or like a substance filling up a vacated space? Or do we choose carefully, as much as we are able to, what we expose ourselves to, what we let inside the dwelling that is our soul?

In the end the question is: Do we look toward the darkness or do we look toward the light? “The light of the body is your eye. And when your eye is clear and pure, the life of your whole body will be illumined; but if your eye is clouded, then the life of your body, too, will be full of darkness. Therefore take care that the light is not turned into darkness in you.” (Luke 11)

This contemplation by Rev. Contreras was inspired by Luke 11.

It is striking that in our gospel reading this week (Mt 4:1-11), we learn that the very first thing God has to do on earth is to make a commitment.

He resists the temptations of the adversary in the desert by saying ‘yes’ to the will of the Father- He resists by committing himself to the will of the divine. Christ had no weapon in the desert except his ability to say ‘yes’ to God. For Christ, commitment was His sword. Because of this commitment, the angels could come close.

Within each one of us there is also this sword of commitment- this power to say ‘yes’. And it is through this inner power to say ‘yes’ to our ideals, to what is highest, that the angels can come close. For as Goethe says ‘ the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.”

And yet, so much of our lives are spent coming up against temptations and difficulties; dealing with desperate challenges- perhaps even feeling despair and hopelessness. When we find ourselves in the inner desert, like Christ, we must remember, there is one thing we will always have, one thing that no one can take away from us; the sword of commitment- our ability to say ‘yes’ to God. For ultimately, it will be this ‘yes’ power in us that allows His realm, His being to come close, to descend into the earth.

In The Act of Consecration, our communion service, we practice this ‘yes’. Each time, we are invited to practice committing ourselves to the divine…. when we pour the water and wine into the chalice we are called to open a space in our hearts for the angels to draw near…His life in our life, His light in our daylight, happens because we say yes to Him.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by Mt. 4:1-11, the temptation in the desert.

Especially in this cold weather, its important to remember that the sun still nourishes all things, all beings. It constantly rays out its light and warmth to our world. When we feel the sun, we feel a being who is constantly giving.

Within each one of us there is also a sun, an inner sun. Like the outer sun, the sun in us is the one who is always ready to give, to ray out our gifts, however small, to human hearts, to the world. This inner sun comes alive in us when we feel true abundance- deep trust that there will always be enough. This inner sun comes alive in us when we love giving more than having.

And yet, even though every human spirit is born to become a sun, to become givers, so much within us would tempt us to withhold. We withhold because of the fear of not having enough; we withhold our gifts because of what we think others will think of us; we withhold because we fall to the temptation that we have nothing of value to offer.

In our gospel this week (Lk 18), the rich young ruler asks Christ how to enter the kingdom of God. Christ tells him that the awakening of this inner giving sun in us is the way. Give away all that you have to give – follow me.

For the kingdom of God is here within us, within this world but not of it. Entering it means awakening the giver in us, our inner sun. For Christ, who is the great spiritual sun is giving His being to us at every moment – to follow Him, to become in His image, means to learn to do the same.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by Luke 18.

To be a good gardener, two things are important; effort and patience. Tremendous effort must be put into preparing the earth, weeding and watering; and the gardener must also know when to stop, allow for things to take their course and patiently let the suns power bring forth fruit.

Every human spirit is called to be a gardener- a spiritual gardener. For the deep secret that our gospel speaks of this week (Lk 8) is that every human heart has received a seed – the seed of Christ’s being in you. The soul is soil, dear friends, and our spirit’s task is to learn to tend the seed of God in our hearts. This calls for tremendous effort; giving it water and weeding the soil of our souls. We water the seed of god in us with our spiritual practice; communion at the altar, contemplative study, learning to pray. We water this seed through loving deeds towards one another and towards the earth.

And we must also learn to weed our souls. For it is vital that the seed of Christ in us not be choked by inner weeds of blame, envy, greed, deceit, anger and selfish desire. These weeds must be recognized in us and continually pulled, if the holy seed is to grow.

But above all, the inner gardener in us is called to learn to stop working, take a Sabbath day, surrendering to what is, for it is in ‘allowing’ that sun power of god can work. In an age so focused on production, efficiency and results; patient surrender is our task and our medicine. For at the end of the day it is grace that grows the seed for the gardener and we must learn to get out of the way.

Wise effort and patient surrender…this is the curriculum for the human spirit. May we let God do the rest.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans is inspired by the parable of the sower, Luke 8.

Every day half the earth is covered with a blanket of darkness, half our planet wonders in the night. The destiny of the earth as we know it, is to be intimately related with the dark.

The destiny of every human heart, like the earth, is also to live intimately with the dark. It’s actually why we are here. For no other spiritual hierarchy knows what it is like to be separated from the light, alone and plunged into the night. Its our unique calling card as human beings. Even priests (Ha!)  sometimes feel uninspired, lying in bed sick with the flu on Saturday, having no idea what to say for Sundays sermon, looking up into the heavens for some light but finding only darkness.

And yet, when the darkness comes, when the loneliness wells up, our challenge is to not fall into despair, not to think that there is something wrong, our challenge is to befriend the dark and to learn to bend our knees, look up and TRUST. For the star of Grace is only seen at night.

Cultivating this trust in the night, this deep faith that there is light in the darkness is the task of the human being. For this trust is what ultimately heals us. This is why Christ tells the centurion in our gospel this week (Mt. 8), that it is faith that heals.

So, dear friends, this means that “when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. ” (Wendell Berry)

The Spiritual Sun of Grace

We all know that the sun makes things grow. Its gift of light and warmth are needed for the whole life of the plant. Because of what the sun gives, stalks rise up – leaves gather energy – the fruit ripens.

Within every human heart there is also fruit- inner fruit. This inner fruit is our higher self, our true humanity, and it is also ripening and growing. This ripening fruit of our higher self is our capacity to love God and all of creation in freedom. But unlike outer fruit, we don’t ripen through the gifts of the physical sun, we ripen through the light and warmth of the spiritual sun.

But even though this spiritual sun of grace is constantly gifting us, so much of the time we don’t feel gifted in anyway. So often, the spiritual sun seems to go behind the ‘clouds’ and we suffer under the illusion of feeling that we must do it all. If we are going to make it, we must figure it all out. If we are going to ripen and transform into our higher selves, it will be through our own efforts. So often we feel alone.

But we are not alone.

For even though we often suffer with the feeling that it is all up to us, nevertheless His rays of warm light are there. For His rays come to us in many forms:

• Receiving a new insight that changes the way we have seen things.
• Meeting a difficult situation that turns out to be just what we needed to grow.
• or the special deed of another that came at just the right time, in just the right way.
• Feeling the nourishing peace at communion touching our hearts

these are all gifts, rays of HIS sun that grow the inner fruit of our higher self. And when they find us, we know, because we feel carried, we feel strengthened by something greater than us.

For we are all called not to despair in our loneliness, but to discover more and more the grace of… “Christ in the lifting of our hands, Christ’s light in our daylight.”

This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by John 2, the Wedding at Cana.

At the wedding at Cana the master of the feast expresses his astonishment that – contrary to custom – the good wine has been served last. The good wine that was transformed from water through Christ’s help.

Just like the master of the feast we do not usually expect the best at the end. We live in the natural, material world and we are used to that things decline toward the end. Everything that is alive will face decline and death. We expect the good, the best, when the world around us is fresh and young. We expect the best for ourselves when we are young and in full possession of the powers of youth.

But we also know that there is another stream inside us that goes against the natural laws, against the powers of age and death. In us there is something that grows younger and better the longer we live.

Here we are part of a different world order than the one governing the natural world. It is a cosmic order that Christ brought to us in the mystery of Golgotha. His cosmic deed goes against the laws of nature as we know them: He is the life that grows out of death, he is that which rises out of destruction, he is the power of newness hidden in that which is old.

He is the best that comes at the end and at the same time the beginning of something entirely new.

What he touches and permeates with his love will not stay as it was – nothing he permeates with his life-giving power can get lost or ever be destroyed – including ourselves.

This contemplation by Rev. Contreras was inspired by John 2, the Wedding at Cana.

Not only do we celebrate the three kings today, but at Epiphany we also celebrate the baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan. We celebrate Jesus, whom before he is ready to receive the Christ at the baptism, must feel the deep need of a humanity that has lost all connection to the Spirit. We celebrate Jesus, whom before he can be anointed with the Spirit, must feel the deep suffering of a humanity in need of healing. For Jesus to receive God, required him to first feel a deep need for God.

Within each one of us, within every human heart, there is also one in deep need. This is the one in us who knows it is broken, not yet whole. Perhaps surprisingly, this one in us that is in constant need of grace is our actual human self. And this self of ours must, if it is to receive the presence of God in our hearts, if it is to receive the bestowal of wholeness, our self must, like Jesus, first feel the need for healing, the need for the Spirit. And this need to become a receiver of grace that lives in every human spirit only comes alive when we feel humility; our need only comes alive when we are full of reverent longing for The Spirit.

And yet, so much of the time we would hinder HIS Spirit from anointing us; so much of the time we would deny our ‘Epiphany’. We hinder HIS Spirit from anointing us by hiding from the vulnerability of our deep need, afraid that to be in need is to be weak. We hinder HIS Spirit from anointing us by running from our desperate loneliness into sensory distractions and empty addictions. And perhaps the most difficult hindrance of all to opening to HIS spirit is the illusion that we are already whole, that we are already perfect and one with God, making the practice of communion with HIM superfluous.

These hindrances which we all face, block our way to the Jordan, block our way to knowing Christ. But the baptism of Jesus, Epiphany, will always show us the way of entering into true life, Epiphany will always show us the essence of our human mission; That no matter how many or how big the stones are in the stream of our lives, we are called to stand up in the rushing river, begging and in need, and allow our brokenness to be blessed.

May our steps to communion, be steps into the river Jordan.

This contemplation by Rev. Evans  was inspired by Epiphany and the baptism of Jesus.