y

"Above the altar is the picture of the face of Christ. In him the countenance of man and the countenance of God are one. In looking up to him, we experience the consecration of man.

"In Christ the divine entered fully into the human. By revealing true humanity, he revealed true Godhead. He did not, like a prophet, point ecstatically to One beyond him, 'Thus says the Lord', but, because he had full possession of the depths within him, he uttered his restful 'I am'. The clearness of heaven was in his calm sobriety. His noble face was also God's face.

"Before him, the human countenance was not yet the place of the appearing of God. In ancient times the sacred mask was worn. It was the expression of the fact that the spiritual beings who guided men acted as their real 'I', 'over men's heads'. Formerly the priest, the warrior, the dancer, wore the mask; for in the magic word, in the arms strong to fight, in the ceremonial walk and obeisance, superhuman powers wrought. Not through the human qualities as such did the revelation come, they were only the channels for currents stronger than man! What took place, took place without the knowledge of the human participant. He was only the stage upon which it occurred; and therefore he hid his face with the alien mask of a god.





Interesting page in this light.

"The time of the sacred mask is gone. The good spirits that led man have set him free; they no longer 'possess' him. They ask him to open himself to them of his own free will. Today they work only along the path which leads through the conscious 'I'. But a great danger has thus been conjured up. If man sleeps away his hour, and still seeks 'possession', then evil beings enter into him. Demons are lurking and trying to take possession of man, now that the angels have given him his freedom. As in the times before the 'I' awakened, the sacred mask concealed the human countenance, so now the unholy mask of the demon seeks to appear, because the demons would be glad to be the spirits that guide a man, 'over his head'.

"Today one need only go through the streets to see how the demon mask is trying to conceal the real countenance of man, and then one can feel it in oneself also. The picture comes to mind of how the noble face of Christ was spat upon and buffetted. Those who did that seem like mask-wearers, like larvae. Sub-human powers are disturbing their faces. But we can say, 'I am not of these'.


Christ Carrying the Cross, by Hieronymous Bosch.

"Between angel and demon, between the sacred and the unholy mask, between divine and Satanic possession, leads the narrow path to the en-Christed human being. The more fervently we frequent the Act of Consecration of Man at the altar, the more will the unholy mask be put off, and Paul's saying will be fulfilled, 'And we all, with unveiled face, reflecting the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another' (2 Cor. 3:18)."

~ Rudolf Frieling (from a Christian Community booklet called 'Sacrament and Ritual')

***

The Act of Consecration of Man is a new form of Mass related by Rudolf Steiner around 1920, at the request of a group of young theology students in Germany who wanted to see Christianity go through a renewal. They wanted religion, and Christian religion at that, but could not accept the existing traditions, the authority of existing churches. So they asked Steiner, an Initiate of truly exceptional ability and insight, to help them. An Initiate is one who has been initiated into the highest mysteries of existence, no less; a clairvoyant, a Master, an investigator of higher worlds and how they relate to physical reality. Steiner, as he himself said, was given the new form of Mass through grace; which is to say, he didn't invent it, it was described or imparted to him by higher beings in the spiritual world when he humbly 'approached' them (on behalf of the students) with the request for a new, contemporary form in which to clothe the Christian religion. He said to Friedrich Rittelmeyer (the first priest of the Christian Community and formerly a high-ranking Lutheran): "The fact that I possess clairvoyant faculties is nothing so very special; but that I know what Christianity needs today - this indeed is grace." In 1922 the The Christian Community (Wikipedia) was founded.

Last Thursday I attended the Act of Consecration of Man in Edinburgh, here in Scotland. I'd never been before; I'd never been to church before; and I went entirely of my own free will, without any prompting from anyone or anything of the sort.

I became a Christian through my own free decision. I wasn't brought up religious, and I can find little sympathy for the traditions and the authoritarian stance of most, if not all churches. But being an Anthroposophist (i.e. follower/student of Steiner's teachings, roughly speaking), a lover of independence/freedom, and a bit of an elitist, I was attracted to the very independent 'way' of the Christian Community. Complete freedom is given to the members of the community to believe what they want to believe, as long as, I guess, they don't disrupt the services or come in with an agenda to preach about other denominations or whatever. It's left entirely up to each person to make of the Act, and of Christianity itself, what they will; this being, in their, and my, opinion, the true spirit of Christianity - not impinging on the free will of others; co-operating in freedom with your fellows, no-matter who they are, where they're from, or what they believe. It is your responsibility to find Christ; no-one can do it for you. That's the point. Finding Christ freely makes you more mature as a human being.

The priests of the Christian Community do not preach, for one thing. They do not assume the role of leader, or middle man between lowly congregation and divinity. They are more the mouth-piece of the congregation, its selfless representative, its servant, almost. It is accepted that each of us is capable of finding our way to Christ completely independent of any authority (any prophet, priest, pope, etc..). This runs in direct contrast to all other churches down the centuries, who always insist that if you are not a member of the flock then you are not redeemed.

So why does the Christian Community church exist? Primarily because of the significance of ritual. The Act of Consecration of Man, this new Mass, is the heart and soul of the Community, the church; it almost is the church. There is no real hierarchy in the Christian Community - no bishops, cardinals, etc.. I'll quote one of the very first priests of the Christian Community, Alfred Heidenreich, in his book 'Growing Point' (written in the early 1960s when he was an old man, and describing the beginnings of the movement):

"It is obvious that...the teaching of Rudolf Steiner, who penetrated in his own way into the unseen world where our real 'I' has its being, is of inestimable value. But neither Steiner's nor anyone else's teaching past or present plays the part of 'doctrine' in the Christian Community. Strictly speaking, there is no doctrine. In fact, priests and members alike are constitutionally assured of complete freedom not only of conscience, but also of thought and belief. Such authority as is necessary for the co-ordinated conduct of a religious Movement is only concerned with the distribution of human forces, the ordering of public activities, and the administration of physical needs.

"The movement, it is true, has a Creed which is normally spoken by the priest in the Communion Service. But as already pointed out it does not contain the phrase 'I believe'. It is an instrument of meditation which the individual seeker may or may not wish to use for his personal contemplation. It offers the fundamental facts of Christianity in twelve simple sentences which may draw a free response from a seeking mind.

"From these sources of experience we draw the faith by which we try to live. Faith with us follows, not precedes, knowledge. Faith with us is not a belief in things unknown and unknowable, or an acceptance on authority of a body of revealed teaching, but a state of active concern, almost a state of universal love engendered by the voyage of discovery into the fields of supersensible truth.

"It is understandable that a religious Movement with this unusual character and qualities presents a puzzle to other religious bodies. We cannot pretend that our advent was universally welcomed by organised Christianity. The traditional bodies did not quite know what to make of us. In Central Europe the Community has been called a 'kirchenaehnliches Gebilde', a 'churchlike something'. This is not a bad description. In one way, for all practical purposes, we are a church. We hold services, Christen babies, confirm young people, celebrate marriages, and conduct funerals. We give religious instruction to children, provide bible classes and group-studies on other religious subjects, and offer our services of pastoral care. From all this we might be regarded as a denomination. On the other hand we attach no claim to our services, not only in the narrow economic sense that we do not charge 'fees' for our ministrations, but also in the wider sense that we offer our services to members and non-members alike; in fact to anyone who sincerely desires them. On these grounds we might be regarded as an inter-denominational movement.

"The fact is, we do not easily fit into an existing category on any level. But I suppose this is the nature of a growing point. It breaks free of accepted patterns and follows its own laws of growth and form."

So we might wonder how such a community holds together. But the fact is it does. It holds together because it is 'within' Christ. Imagine you could perceive ice but not water, and you looked at a body of water full of bits of ice. Christ is the water, Christians are the ice. Christ Himself is the church, holding the world-wide community together. It is vital to recognise the unseen. As I see it, if you acknowledge Christ, then, no-matter what else you believe, the Christian Community will consider you a member. In fact, as Heidenreich said there, even non-Christians are welcome. Christ is in us all, after all, whether we accept or believe it or not. But the Community takes its cue from each individual person; it does not meet them with doctrine to be learnt and rules to be followed. It's up to you to be interested, to ask, to attend services, and so on. We're grown-ups now, we human beings. The time to look for divinity only through institutions and priests and the like is over.

(Incidentally, the Christian Community has had female priests from the very start (Steiner insisted it should be so), and was actually the first church to have them in all Christian history, apparently).

Now, let me describe my own experience last week, the day I had.

I spent my last beans on the train fare (bloody extortionate it was!). I had a print-out map of the part of Edinburgh the church is in, a part I'd never been to before. I hurried because I didn't know how long it would take me to get there; I had about half an hour. I felt quite happy on the way, like I was having a wee adventure. I hadn't told anyone where I was going so I had that exhilarating feeling of independence that you get when away from family and friends and doing what you like. The streets of Edinburgh always remind me of when I went to art college there about twelve years ago; but the nostalgia was especially strong this time since I was there in the early morning, with the commuters, which I rarely have been since leaving art college. So I felt kind of youthful again, and excited and 'devil-may-care', to coin a quaint phrase. The prospect of getting lost on the way thrilled me, the prospect of getting lost always does, for some reason; getting lost allows me to think on my toes, which I never do, because I'm uptight and think too much. I feel like I'm in the hands of Providence when i get lost, which makes me feel more alive.

I went past backstreet shops that had yet to open, under-nourished students going to Napier Uni, old grannies going to get their pensions (or whatever). I kept going straight past the entrances to roads I was meant to go down because everything was smaller than it looked on the map. But I got on the right track and soon found myself away from the grim industrial areas around the city centre and in a very classy area full of suburban quasi-mansions and the like; old trees, birds whistling, etc.. This is the area the church is in, though, as I discovered, it's not a 'proper' church building; it's just a chapel in the room of a big old Victorian house. So I went in and looked about. The door to the chapel was on the right and had Steiner's seven planetary seals carved in wooden discs above it, in seven different woods, each wood bearing some mystical relationship to its planet (the seals also bear some relation, I believe, to the Seven Seals of the Apocalypse; also to the chakras, to the seven principal Archangels, and to certain processes in true alchemy). I felt a sense of respect and reverence as I opened the door quietly. I went in. Nobody there. Sat down on one of many chairs. It was a large, high-ceilinged room with walls painted violet. The altar stood at one end and was slightly elevated; there were a few low steps up to it. It was plainly designed, carved in wood, and covered with a white cloth. There were seven short candles at the back, the middle one elevated higher than the others; they were unlit. Above the candles, on the wall, was an attractive, colourful painting showing the hill of Golgotha from a distance, with the three crosses obviously, and a great, apparition-like face in the air above and behind it. This was a representation of Christ - yellowish-white like angels are often painted, as though formed from sunlight, beardless, and fairly androgynous; His right hand was up in the blessing gesture often seen in depictions of Him. It is supposed to embody the idea I started this entry with - the divine shining through the human visage. It is to this image that most of the Act of Consecration of Man is directed, giving the congregation a focus in its thoughts of the divinity the Act seeks to address, much in the same way icons have been used in the Eastern Orthodox church for centuries.

An older gent came in through a door at the back of the room, wearing what I imagined to be priestly garb, and I said 'good morning', and he said the same back, then I tried to explain who I was, because I was assuming this was the priest I'd corresponded with. He didn't answer. But I'd kind of mumbled it, and I was feeling self-conscious about being in a church, not knowing the etiquette or anything, so I just shut up and faced front. He lit the candles slowly then went out again, leaving me alone again. There were a few birds singing in the large garden outside the windows. The violet walls directly behind the candles went a beautiful magenta colour in the flame-light. I just soaked it all up, feeling more and more awed and 'quieted' as the moments passed. I was anxious to find out how the whole thing would affect me, whether I'd be impressed or sorely disappointed and disheartened, whether I'd find it admirable or laughable.

Only three other people showed up - a couple of old grannies and a woman in, I would say, her fifties (this turned out to be the priest's wife). The main service is on Sundays and apparently there are usually at least 40 (count 'em) people then. There are about 60 members in all, I'm told, which is a nice cosy number if you ask me. The older of the two old dears sat in the front row and wore a bright red cardigan that somehow didn't seem out of place on her stooped, bony, grey body. The other sat some way behind me, preposterously far back, I thought, in light of the sparse turn out; but maybe it's a humility thing for her, I don't know. She was very short and her body was a weird shape, reminiscent of an Ewok. She spent a considerable time apparently scratching her leg or something because all I heard for a good five minutes was that sound of a fingernail scratching synthetic trouser-fabric. I nearly turned round and glowered at her like I was in a cinema or something; driving me up the wall it was, nerve-wracked bugger that I am. The priest's wife sat in the same row as me, in a gesture, I felt, of welcome.

The old gent was not the priest but one of the, um, helpers? I don't know what they're called, it's complicated. The priest positions himself in the middle and is flanked by these two others, who each have their role to play. The left hand person (our left) (old gent in this case) lights and snuffs out the candles, removes and replaces certain outer garments of the priest during the course of the Act (the layers of the priest's clothes represent the various aspects of the human being's physical and spiritual make-up), and........I can't remember what else. The right hand person - in this instance a middle-aged woman - speaks certain lines at certain points, prepares the incense, and I think she handed the bread and wine to the priest after setting it out but I'm not sure.

The priest is a jolly guy around 60 years old named Michael. He has a big white beard and rosy cheeks and would look like Santa if he wore a red outfit, though he's probably not fat enough. He's English, which disappointed me slightly, not because I dislike English folk but because I feel Scottishness (or our Mother Tongue at the very least) is being lost, and Scottishness is, well, lovely, and homely. But whatever, a priest is a priest. In a way it's fitting - I feel Christianity, at heart, is pure cosmopolitanism.

The priests of the Christian Community, as I said, are really just the spokespersons for the congregation. I was surprised and fascinated by how the priest (Michael to you and me) virtually never faced the congregation. He spent most of it with his back to us, just as though he really were our spokesperson, standing at the front of us, facing the same way, addressing the spiritual world indicated by the altar and the painting. He only faced us to pronounce the words of blessing 'Christ in you' at certain points. He makes a gesture with both arms as he says the words, his left arm going up and out in a kind of blessing gesture, his right going in the opposite direction. He later explained to me that the left hand gesture represents all the processes of rejuvenation, spiritualisation, softening, joy, etc. in existence, and the left all the processes of dying away, hardening, materialising, despair, etc.. He mentioned that it relates to alchemy among other things (like with the planetary seals). The two gestures together, or rather the one overall gesture, signifies Christ's power, which is a balancing, healing power.

In Anthroposophy we learn that there are two kinds of evil, not one, and that Christ, the good, balances these. The notion that the world consists of good versus evil is a fallacy, and one which helps evil to flourish. Satan and the Devil are not synonymous. Satan is known as Ahriman (see bottom of wiki page) in Anthroposophy. Steiner chose not to use 'Satan' because he was striving to enlighten people about the two types of evil. He called the Devil Lucifer. Lucifer and Ahriman oppose each other in their independent attempts to corrupt humanity, but they work together in resisting divine beings, primarily Christ. Their influence on humanity is actually beneficial in most respects, it's only when they move out of their allotted bounds (which, through human beings, through the existence of our free will, they are perfectly able to do) that evil comes into being. What Christ does is balance their powers. That's how good comes about; not by conquering evil beings (because they are not inherently evil), but by balancing, mediating their influences. Christ does not fight Ahriman and Lucifer; His mere presence is what causes them grief. His presence affects them in such a way that their own evil intentions are turned back in upon themselves; they are then obliged not to be evil because their own evil destroys them; they are eaten alive by their own evil.

Steiner carved a 30-foot tall wooden sculpture to show, artistically, something of this process. He called it The Representative of Humanity (i.e. Christ, duh):



On the left are Lucifer (top) and Ahriman (bottom) as they relate to each other. Lucifer is a cloudy, ethereal being; Ahriman a hardened, bony being. On the right is Christ balancing them - Lucifer is falling upside-down above Christ's left hand, and Ahriman is imprisoned in a cave below his right, his own hardening power turned in upon himself, rendering him sclerotic and lame (in the human body, all illnesses related to hardening come from Ahriman's influence; death itself also comes from him; he is often known as the 'Lord of Death'. All 'softening' illnesses such as fevers are due to Lucifer). Contrary to how it might look, Christ is not actually causing Lucifer to fall or imprisoning Ahriman - his mere presence, as I said, causes their power to turn back on them. The being at top left is known as the 'rock-being'. Steiner felt the sculpture required something there, for aesthetic reasons, and it seemed right to him to create a slightly human-looking face with an expression of 'humour' that would take away from the weightiness of the rest of the sculpture.

In us, in our souls, Lucifer can be seen manifesting in distinct ways, likewise Ahriman. For instance, take the quality of cowardice. We think of this, maybe not as evil, but certainly as a bad trait for a person to have. It is obviously better for a person to be courageous. Cowardice = bad, courage = good. But there is also recklessness - a wild lack of concern for our own physical well-being. Cowardice is the opposite - over-concern for our own physical well-being. Courage stands in the middle. When a person is overly concerned with their physical body - whether it be through cowardice or sensuality or anything else - then Ahriman is there. When a person cares far too little for their physical body - through flighty, airy-fairy mysticism, asceticism, preoccupation with grand ideas unattached to reality, etc. - then Lucifer is there with them. But when a person, through their free will, becomes Christian - in all that that indicates in terms of morality and actual behaviour towards their fellow man - then Christ is there balancing the two evils. In their right place Ahriman and Lucifer are truly great and worthwhile beings, like I said. Without Ahriman there would, for instance, be no writing, no technology, no science. Without Lucifer there would be no art (culture), no spirituality, no religion at its best. What they both want is to take their activities, all these good things, too far - Ahriman wants to fully mechanise the world, destroy nature, and make all people hardened materialists (i.e. people who don't believe in anything beyond the physical reality they effortlessly recognise with their physical senses). Lucifer wants to spiritualise people, to convince them that earthly existence has no worth whatsoever and that they should just come join him in this little false spiritual world he wants to create just for us, over which he will be lord. That's the airy-fairy way, the dreamy mystic way, and the way of anyone who enjoys mind-altering drugs, which tear them un-naturally away from reality.

So it's not a question of Christ destroying Ahriman or Lucifer, but only of balancing their influence on us.

Here are a few examples of opposite evils and the good that arises when they're balanced:

Ahriman........................Christ............................Lucifer

Pedantry...................Orderliness.................Disorderliness (chaos)

Cowardice..................Bravery....................Recklessness (foolhardiness)

Apathy........................Concern.....................Over-sensitivity

Indifference..............Compassion..................Effusiveness

Sluggishness...........Steadfastness.................Excitability

Miserliness.....................Thrift.......................Wastefulness

Rigidity........................Equanimity....................Vacillation

Love of ease...........Controlled creative activity............thoughtless over-activity

***

Anyway, I digress.

This gesture the priest makes at the same time as speaking the blessing 'Christ in you' - make more sense now? It's even rather beautiful, if you ask me.

So that's the only time he speaks directly to the congregation, the rest of the time he has his back to them, except during the Gospel reading, when he turns side on and the left-hand person stands sort of between us and him with their back to us.

I want to admit that almost throughout the Act I found myself with a disturbing attitude of mockery. I'd never experienced a ritual before and it struck me as rather silly. But that would change.

The priest's outfit consists of - a black hat that he only wears when entering the chapel and leaving it; it represents his ego, which he 'removes' to become the mouthpiece of the congregation during the Act. A black garment representing his physical body. Completely covering this is a white garment representing what's known as the 'ether-body' or 'life-body'. And on top of that is a colourful thing (can't remember their proper names) representing the soul (or 'astral-body'). It's colour is different depending on the season. The Christian Community sets a lot of store by the seasons and the festivals that accompany them (Easter, Christmas, St. John's day, Michaelmas). At this time of year the garment in question is orange and purple, which suits the winter mood perfectly. On the back is a U shape, which is what the congregation mostly sees, given that the priest's back is turned to us most of the time, and it represents something like a cup, holding the spirit and the community. On the front is the lemniscate, the familiar symbol of eternity (and balance?).

Incense was burnt at a certain point (sorry, I'm not great with the details yet), which filled the room with a blue smoke. The left-hand guy kept coughing. Michael told me later that the incense consists in the main of frankincense and juniper, a recipe given by Steiner and made for the Community by Weleda. We stood for the Gospel reading (sat the rest of the time). The three women went to receive Communion. I stayed seated, respectfully, as a newcomer, though I don't think they would've minded in the least if I'd stepped up. I can't properly express how I felt as I watched them take the bread and wine, flanked by the left and right hand people, who seemed almost to be guarding them. I was very moved.

The Act ended, the priest put his ego-hat back on, and he and the two left the room together in single-file, the priest in the middle. We were left to just sit. A few minutes later the old gent came back in quietly, snuffed the candles patiently, and withdrew. The three women got up and left in silence. I sat there for a sec then followed suit.

The two grannies left straight away but I went into the common room. I chatted with the priest's wife, who is a markedly pleasant and cheerful woman, and she made me some coffee. She went to tell Michael I was there, he came, shook my hand, and we talked for a bit. Then his wife had to go and Michael and I talked for about an hour, mostly about Anthroposophy (which I'm always enthusiastic to talk about, since I've met very few fellow Anthroposophists) and about art (I'm an artist). It was some damn good conversation.

He leant me the book I've quoted from, 'Growing Point', trusting me with it (it's old and scarce), and gave me the Rudolf Frieling booklet I've also quoted from. With that I shook his hand again and went home.

Later that day I began to feel strange. I could feel that I'd experienced something deeply significant, not just mentally, but right down into my body. When I looked back to the Act, and to myself sitting there finding it all faintly ridiculous, I realised that my mockery was like a mask, and that, despite it, something had happened to the real me underneath. I felt like I'd been somewhere else for that hour, i.e. not sitting in that chair, watching this human play. In a nutshell - I felt that something supersensible had taken place. And then I realised the meaning and significance of ritual.

I'll be back there as soon as I have the cash for train fare (I'm so poor!). I'm anxious to experience the whole thing again, and to take Communion for the first time, which, I'm sure, will affect me deeply.

If you read all that - I love you. If you didn't, well, I still love you, just not as enthusiastically