The Passiontide Epistle - a talk by Rev. Bridgette Siepker on Sunday, 15 March

6/4/2026

by John-Peter Gernaat

On Sunday, 15 March, Rev. Bridgette Siepker spoke about the Passiontide Epistle. What can we learn from the letter from the world of spirit about our relationship to the spiritual world and the spiritual world to us?

Before Christ came to the earth, human beings felt themselves to be separated from the spiritual world. The desire to connect with the spiritual world led people to attempt to purify themselves as a way of reconnecting. Through a long process of purification, an initiate could raise himself out of life into the spiritual world for a short period of time. The writings of the Hebrews share that they had to remove sins before they were worthy to enter the Temple.

When John the Baptist was able to proclaim, “There goes the Lamb of God”, it signified that Jesus had become the scapegoat for human sin. The divine united with human sin. The divine entered into the realm of sin and took this realm upon himself.

Through this deed, we can now live with sin and with God at the same time. The need for purity to approach the divine is past. The One bearing our sins lives in us!

Although we have this new knowledge, we have continued to live from the old mysteries. We no longer have to ascend to God; God has come down to humanity. In the Movement for Religious Renewal, we are working from this new Mystery.

In 2 Corinthians 4,

We are not proclaiming ourselves, we proclaim Christ Jesus, the Lord. In the service of Jesus, we serve you. God Himself, who spoke the word:

Out of the darkness let the light shine forth!

He has lit the light in our hearts. It leads us to illumination through insight into the world of lights of the divine revelation which streams towards us from the countenance of Christ.

we hear that God Himself spoke the word, “Out of the darkness let the light shine forth!” He has lit the light in our hearts. This tells us that although we may live in the place of death, death will not overcome us: the life of Christ is in us. Our heart may feel empty, yet Christ is the seed within our core.

We experience earthly life as if we are asleep because the spirit of awakening is difficult to access. It is in our blood that we experience the place of our life where longing arises. We share the air we breathe with every other living being. It is here that we may experience hope arising. Our consciousness experiences the separation from the divine, and we may become aware of a mournful lamenting within our consciousness that is seeking to reunite with the divine. We recognise the sting of evil within us and ask only for it to be overlooked. We can overcome the tempting power of weakness within ourselves. We, who should be upright in this world experience ourselves as being flat on the ground. The spirit that lives in us and brings us to Christ Consciousness can raise us. The “I” is accessible to us through the spirit.

We are never alone in earthly life; our work is met with grace. Hope is the doorway for grace.

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Adam Levin link

17/4/2026 12:32:58

This reflection offers a profound shift in how we understand our relationship with the spiritual world—one that moves from striving to receiving, from distance to indwelling.

What resonates most is the contrast between the “old” and the “new” relationship with the divine. The earlier path, rooted in purification and ascent, placed the burden on the individual to become worthy enough to approach the spiritual realm. That model can still quietly shape how many of us think today—that we must fix ourselves before we can belong, before we can be held by something greater.

But the image presented here turns that idea inside out. Instead of humanity reaching upward, the divine moves downward—entering fully into the human condition, not waiting for perfection but meeting us within imperfection. That’s a radical reorientation. It suggests that connection with the spiritual world is not something we earn, but something already given, something alive within us.

The idea that “we can now live with sin and with God at the same time” is especially striking. It speaks to a kind of spiritual honesty—one that doesn’t deny human struggle but holds it alongside grace. Rather than separating ourselves from the divine because of our shortcomings, we are invited to encounter the divine within them.

There’s also a powerful thread here about awakening. The description of earthly life as a kind of sleep feels familiar—moving through routines, aware on the surface, yet disconnected from deeper meaning. And yet, within that sleep, there are signals: longing in the body, hope in the breath, a quiet ache in consciousness. These are not signs of absence, but of presence—evidence that something within us is already reaching, already alive.

The imagery of light shining “out of the darkness” and being lit within the heart reinforces this. It suggests that illumination doesn’t come from escaping darkness, but from encountering light within it. Even in moments of emptiness or heaviness, there is something enduring—described here as the seed of Christ—that remains intact and active.

Perhaps the most comforting takeaway is the reminder that we are not alone in this process. The idea that our efforts are always met with grace reframes spiritual life as a relationship rather than a solitary task. Hope, then, becomes more than a feeling—it becomes an opening, a willingness to receive what is already being offered.

Overall, this reflection invites a gentler, more inwardly anchored spirituality—one that trusts that the connection we seek is not far away, but already unfolding within us.

Jessica link

17/4/2026 12:33:40

This reflection invites a deeper reconsideration of where we believe the spiritual life actually takes place—not somewhere far above us, but within the very conditions of our human experience.

One of the most meaningful ideas here is the shift away from striving toward worthiness. For a long time, spiritual life was understood as something that required separation from ordinary life—stepping away from imperfection in order to approach something holy. That way of thinking still lingers today in subtle ways, especially when we feel we need to “fix” ourselves before we can feel connected, peaceful, or whole.

What’s being expressed here challenges that entirely. Instead of separation, there is union. Instead of climbing upward, there is a meeting point—right where we are. The divine is not waiting on the other side of perfection; it is present within the imperfect, unfinished, very human reality we live in every day.

That idea carries both comfort and responsibility. Comfort, because it means we are never outside the reach of grace. Responsibility, because it asks us to engage with our lives more consciously. If the spiritual world is not distant, then how we think, act, and respond in daily life becomes the very place where that relationship unfolds.

The description of different layers of experience—the body, the breath, the consciousness—is especially thought-provoking. Longing, hope, and awareness are not random feelings; they are signals. They point to something deeper trying to emerge. Even discomfort or inner conflict can be understood as part of that process of awakening rather than something to suppress or ignore.

The idea that we often live as if “asleep” also feels very relevant. It suggests that spiritual life is less about acquiring something new and more about becoming aware of what is already present. That awareness doesn’t necessarily come all at once—it unfolds gradually, often through moments of questioning, struggle, or quiet reflection.

Ending with hope as the doorway to grace feels particularly fitting. Hope, in this sense, is not passive optimism—it is an openness, a willingness to trust that something meaningful is at work even when we cannot fully see it. It keeps us oriented toward growth, connection, and renewal.

Overall, this reflection offers a grounded and accessible way to think about spirituality—less about distance and perfection, and more about presence, awareness, and the quiet work of transformation happening within everyday life.