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Die Gruender der Christengemeinschaft: Ein Schicksalsnetz
By Rudolf F. Gaedeke
Translated by Cindy Hindes
July 31, 1869, Hernsheim/Franconia – January 6, 1959, Munich
August Pauli, the second oldest of the founding circle, lived through a very similar destiny as did Friedrich Rittelmeyer and brother Heinrich Rittelmeyer, as well as Hermann Heisler and Christian Geyer. Pauli shared his French homeland with Friedrich Rittelmeyer and Christian Geyer and almost the same theological training and ministerial experience with all of them. Hermann Heisler, Heinrich Rittelmeyer, and August Pauli remained individual campaigners, while Christian Geyer and Friedrich Rittelmeyer were united by their unique friendship over many years.
August Pauli was born on July 31, 1869, the second of five children, in the vicarage at Hernsheim in Lower Franconia. The boy spent his first seven years in the natural, purely rural environment of the small village where his father worked as a priest.
His second seven years were marked by a move to Nördlingen and small-town life when his father became dean there. The boy went through elementary and Latin school (1876-1883) until, at the age of fourteen, he entered high school, the Anna-Kolleg in Augsburg, where he passed his Abitur in 1887. His preparation for confirmation and the celebration itself became a particularly profound experience for him in which he learned not only outwardly that the human being partakes in Christ’s grace. The experience opened up inwardly for him: This also means me; I am included in it.
From his entire school years, August Pauli only reported on his history teacher, Professor Metzger, in Augsburg, whose enthusiastic teaching captivated the schoolchildren.
Four semesters of theological studies in Erlangen passed as if without a trace on his soul, and nothing was reported about life in the student fraternity Uttenruthia. It was not until his third year of study in Tubingen that he was forced to follow the students’ example into a more intensive engagement with the study contents. The main occupation involved learning by rote, as it once was at school. The fourth year of study, again in Erlangen, was similar. One of his fellow students was the later famous Ernst Troeltsch; he was followed in the Uttenruthia by ‘the fox’ Friedrich Rittelmeyer, who immediately attracted attention because, as a newcomer, he wanted to give a speech.
Despite his lack of participation, August Pauli passed his first examination in 1891 so well that he was recommended to the Munich seminary. He immediately began his service as a vicar. At twenty-two, he suddenly found himself in the pulpit of his hometown of Nördlingen, substituting for his father, who was seriously ill and soon died. After the third sermon, Pauli thought he had said everything he knew. How was it to continue? The young pastor Dr. Christian Geyer, with whom he had become acquainted as a colleague, provided him with a certain amount of help that his father could no longer give him. From Nördlingen, he then passed the Second Theological Examination in Ansbach.
After three years of this first period of learning, the church leadership transferred him in 1894 as a traveling preacher to the diaspora parishes of Upper Bavaria in Tolz, Miesbach, Holzkirchen, and Tegernsee. In the Catholic area, his activity was quite varied, with constant travelling. The mine workers in Hausham near Miesbach, the immigrant Swabian farmers in Holzkirchen, the bathers in Bad Tolz, and the aristocrats in Tegernsee each formed their own kind of community. And the most diverse acquaintanceships and connections developed – also with “crowned heads.”
In 1897, August Pauli was now twenty-eight and not yet married, when something deeply shocking happened to him; while he himself was in love with a girl, he received a letter from a young man who told him that his sister was devoted to Pauli, and that she was sure he loved her too. This episode, which does not seem to be very significant, awakened a profound problem in August Pauli: Is it permissible for a Christian to experience happiness at the expense of others or alongside the suffering of others? Questions now arose that awakened his own judgements. This struggle gave rise to his first writing:On the Trail of Life – Diary of a Young Theologian. (Auf der Spur des Lebens. Tagebuch eines jungen Theologen.)
The reflections in Schultze Naumburg’s magazine Kunstwart gave rise to interest in and questions about art. Friedrich Naumann, the theologian who became a politician, awakened Pauli’s interest in politics. In theology, which had hitherto been the content of his studies, historical interest in Jesus awoke, and Christ as the Son of God disappeared from consciousness. “At that time, the path had to be taken from the dogmatic Christ, who no longer had any life in him for us, to the historical Jesus.” It was as if, at a later point in the unfolding of his life, something came to light that others had experienced earlier. August Pauli was a loner. He also took his inner steps basically in melancholy solitude and without a friend.
He was strengthened in this by his intensive reading of the writings of Søren Kierkegaard, who had particularly emphasized the importance of the striving single individual and had ultimately given a harsh critique of official church Christianity. August Pauli found in Kierkegaard a precise description of his own stage of development.
Tolzer’s term of office also saw Pauli’s first meeting with Dr. Johannes Müller, who had just moved to Schliersee. August Pauli met him in person. The emphasis on the individual, the single personality, was also the basic motif of Müller’s work, and August Pauli, who was increasingly questioning the fixed forms of the church and church service, found confirmation in the spontaneous, humane nature of Johannes Müller’s work.
At the turn of the century, in 1899, August Pauli became pastor of the small Lower Franconian parish of Westheim. A mere farming village, it was prosperous and knew how to maintain this prosperity with firm social forms, right up to marriage. The parish priest was an integral part, indeed the guarantor and often the enforcer of the customs and laws of old. The new pastor had questions everywhere, challenged the customs: Should this be Christianity? Is it not rather Old Testament, pre-Christian? Is a people’s church at all capable of being Christian? Doesn’t the uniformity of a community contradict spontaneous enthusiasm, the filling of the individual with the spirit? “O could I, like Paul, be a carpet weaver and then, when I wanted to, not if it drove me, if it were an inner necessity for me, help my fellow men come to the truth, to God – would that not be the better, I might say purer in style and therefore a more effective way to serve the cause of Jesus?” Thus wrote August Pauli in his book Im Kampf mit dem Amt. Erlebtes und Geschautes zum Problem Kirche [Struggling with the Office. Experiences and Observations with the Problem of the Church] (1911, p. 47), which was probably significantly influenced by his experiences in Westheim. He could “do nothing but faithfully guard their [the church’s] sleep.”
To vent his soul, he wrote polemical articles in the Pastors’ Correspondence Journal, which soon made him known throughout the country as a ‘highly questionable heretic.’ “By openly and courageously confronting the terrorism of an outdated orthodoxy for the first time, the movement was prepared, which my friends Dr. Geyer and Dr. Rittelmeyer later took into their own hands,” he later wrote.
In 1908, his decision had matured; August Pauli resigned from the service of the Bavarian Regional Church after seventeen years of work. He worked as a freelance speaker in southern Germany and in the summer months at Mainberg Castle, near Schweinfurt, as a private secretary to Johannes Müller. The latter gathered a congregation there near Elmau (1908-1911). During this time, Pauli met his wife, Elsbeth Seydler (October 13, 1881), who came from Königsberg in East Prussia. He also had an important, longer meeting with Christoph Blumhardt in Bad Boll/Württemberg, where he experienced the special, healing presence of the spirit in prayer, with which father and son Blumhardt had been able to work so convincingly.
What is special about August Pauli’s biography compared to that of Hermann Heisler is that he saw himself as able to re-enter the church ministry after a four-year break. In Bavaria, the church did not accept this’ heretic.’ Still in office in Munich was president Bezzel, with whom Friedrich Rittelmeyer had had harrowing experiences.
August Pauli became pastor on the ridge of the Thuringian Forest in Schmiedefeld near Wallendorf. He had also married there at the beginning of August 1914. Despite 4000 members, there was no ‘proper’ congregation among the poor farmers and workers in that harsh climate. People were more or less socialist; there was no religion. On Christmas Day, there was finally time to slaughter a pig; the church was empty – so empty that sometimes no sermon had to be preached. This changed abruptly with the outbreak of the First World War. The church was overflowing, and field services had to be held. Every man wanted to take communion once more – or for the first time – before enlisting: a field of work “calling for a heathen mission.”
From 1916 to 1918, August Pauli worked as a pastor in Weißenfels an der Saale, the place where Novalis died. There, too, his experiences with the Thuringian-Saxon population were not much different from those in Schmiedefeld. He had to administer a “pastoral parish with about 12,000 souls”. There were too many outer obligations, for example, funerals. “I was curious myself when I stepped up to a new grave, what I would say again.” “I had to tell myself that a church that makes its servants accept such things is itself contributing to the complete devaluation of its sacred acts.”
But the political orientation of the church was also intolerable to August Pauli. On the birthday of the emperor (January 27, 1918), the superintendent held the sermon with the theme: “The Hohenzollerns are given to us by God for wisdom and for justice and for sanctification and for salvation.” So his friend Christian Geyer’s offer to take up a pastorate in Nürnberg fell on good ground. But the church leadership did not want to see him in Nürnberg. So he went to Regensburg (December 1918). Even though the people in this southern German city were more accessible and open, church life again shaped itself in the old traditional forms. “I was obviously not yet in the right stream.” In 1921/22, the ‘Leimbach case’ occurred in the Bavarian Regional Church. Pastor Leimbach in Öttingen was a militant advocate of a radical-modern theology. Bavaria’s pastors were divided over him when he was to be suspended. Dr. Christian Geyer, at the head of about fifty modern-minded colleagues, took a six-month leave of absence. In view of the founding of The Christian Community, which Geyer helped to prepare, he hoped to be expelled from the church. This did not happen, and Geyer travelled back to Ansbach to the General Synod instead of Breitbrunn and Dornach.
August Pauli had known about anthroposophy for over a decade through his wife but had not found a special relationship with it. He, too, took a six-month leave of absence because of the Leimbach case. Initially, he had not heard about the preparations for the founding of The Christian Community. Now that he had time, the news came just in time. It became clear to him what had to happen, and he intensively studied the transcripts of the first two so-called ‘theology cycles,’ which Rudolf Steiner had held in the summer and autumn of 1921.
It is pointless to speculate about how many of the fifty progressive pastors around Christian Geyer would have found their way to The Christian Community if he had gone before them. Certainly not very many. It took a deeply personal decision. But August Pauli made this decision. He resigned from the church service for the second time and worked among the founders from the Breitbrunn meeting onward. “Even in my most recent and highest relationships, I bind myself to those who, like me, want to be bearers of the mission of Christ, which we do not receive as individuals, but as a community.”
Rudolf Steiner had explained to him that, actually, only two realizations were necessary for cooperation: That in Jesus, there lived more than a human being and that there must be a new liturgy. Vom Pfarrer der Landeskirche zum Priester der Christengemeinschaft [From Pastor of the National Church to Priest of The Christian Community] is the title of the book August Pauli published in 1928, in which he described the path traced here.
He had walked it in his own way, thoughtfully and thoroughly. The insight that the preaching ministry, as well as the people’s church, urgently needed renewal had already come in 1908, but then fourteen years had passed before he wanted to help build a new church of the future.
As full of pressing questions and deeply moved as the first part of his life had been, he then served the new mission steadily and straightforwardly in the congregation of The Christian Community in Munich, which he founded. In Munich, he began the new work with Gerhard Klein immediately after the ordinations in 1922. In November 1923, Gerhard Klein left Munich, and Hermann Heisler joined Pauli. Seven years younger, he had often taken his steps in life very similarly. But in temperament and style, there had hardly been a greater contrast among the founders of The Christian Community.
Hermann Heisler was a fiery speaker, but August Pauli was always thoughtful and calm, even taciturn, or even aloof, as a friend called it, but always balancing and forming the calming pole in the spiritual discussions of a community that was repeatedly subjected to severe tests.
Probably the most severe of these – besides the ban – was the conflict that broke out in 1933 through Gertrud Spoerri. Hermann Heisler came out sharply against her. August Pauli tried intensively to bring about a mediation. Finally, Friedrich Rittelmeyer travelled from Stuttgart and announced her leave of absence.
The exhilarating time of the beginning of all congregational work for The Christian Community had thus come to an end. The rising power of the National Socialists overshadowed all free spiritual life. Hermann Heisler had to give way to this. He had violated a ban imposed by those in power, and it was necessary for August Pauli to agree to his departure, even though the two men, so different from each other, had become close friends.
Of August Pauli’s two children, his son Reinhold, born in 1915, died in 1938 during a mountain hike at the ‘Totenkirchl’ in the Wilden Kaiser, east of Kufstein. This experience had deeply shaken August Pauli, and Hermann Heisler had been a strong support for him during this most difficult time.
The death of his son unleashed new abilities and possibilities in August Pauli. At almost seventy years of age, he opened his soul to his fellow human beings in radiant mildness, and the refined humor of old-age wisdom met his friends. From that time on, August Pauli was able to perceive clear experiences from beyond the threshold, from the so-called dead, with an alert daytime consciousness. With this ability, he was able to help many people in the following difficult years of prohibition and war.
After the Second World War, August Pauli was the patriarch of the reconstruction phase of the congregation in Munich. He had to cope with the death of his wife Elsbeth in 1955 and another crisis among his colleagues. But then, the almost ninety-year-old was able to experience the consecration of the new church in Munich’s Leopoldstraße, revered and celebrated by the whole congregation. He was rightly one of the few wearers of the golden ring and the title of ‘Archpriest,’ a distinction that has only been awarded to a few priests to this day.
On Christmas Eve 1958, weakness forced him into bed. He died on January 6, 1959. Thus his dying was at the same time a journey through the twelve holy nights and a full awakening to the spiritual reality on Epiphany, the day of the appearance of the light from above.
Die Gruender der Christengemeinschaft: Ein Schicksalsnetz
By Rudolf F. Gaedeke published by Urach Haus
Translated by Rev. Cindy Hindes
Images sourced therefrom
Alfred Heidenreich, 1967
Alfred Heidenreich was the youngest Christian Community Lenker since its foundation, proposed by Rudolf Steiner, and recognized by the priesthood. On Rudolf Steiner’s advice, his priestly mission took him to England, later to America, South America, and finally to South Africa, where he died in Johannesburg during a journey. Of all the founders, he was, without doubt, the man with the widest horizon of experience, both geographically and spiritually. He had acquired a comprehensive knowledge of German-speaking and English-speaking intellectual history. He was a man of the world in the best sense, as Rudolf Steiner wished many representatives of anthroposophy to be. He had a perfect command of the English language and was equally successful as the editor of the English journal The Christian Community and as a speaker. A knowledgeable connoisseur of anthroposophy and an alert and sharp judge of contemporary events, he had appropriated the ideas and techniques of Rudolf Steiner’s social suggestions – as few in the circle of priests had done – and knew how to apply them masterfully. As a Lenker, and from 1938 on as an Oberlenker, he actively impulsed and shaped the development of the Christian Community for decades until his death.
Heidenreich, 1920
Alfred Heidenreich was born in Regensburg on the Danube on January 17, 1898, the fifth of six children. His father, Georg Jakob Heidenreich, was already 52 years old at his birth, a tax official whose ancestors had been expelled from the Austrian Waldviertel (Heidenreichstein) as Protestants. His four siblings were older than him by a wide margin. His mother Henriette was a née Dannheimer.
The boy attended elementary school from 1904 and, in September 1908, at the age of ten, passed the entrance examination to the Royal Old (humanistic) Gymnasium, which had once been founded by Albertus Magnus. The old imperial city of Regensburg stimulated many historical interests in the very tender boy. For years he went daily past the famous Scots Church of St. James, a direct reminder of the (second) Irish mission to the continent. The old monastery of St. Emmeran, the Romanesque churches, the Gothic cathedral with the jewel of the All Saints Chapel, the stone bridge over the Danube that has been preserved from the Hohenstaufen period, the old patrician towers, and the remains of the Roman city – these are all living witnesses of two thousand years of history that deeply impressed the boy.
And soon, his father especially liked to take the son Alfred with him on his lonely hikes in the city’s beautiful surroundings. Since then, Alfred Heidenreich had been a companionable or also solitary hiker and mountaineer throughout his life.
Schooling consisted primarily of language instruction: first Latin, then Greek, French, and finally Italian as an optional subject. Apart from mathematics and mathematical physics, there were no scientific subjects – a classical education for the ‘ivory tower elite,’ in which the educated bourgeoisie largely lived, without real contact with the emerging problems of the time. Alfred was at the head of the class. When he went off to war in the fall of 1916 with an early school-leaving certificate – Abitur – he had already been an active Wandervogel guide for years on behalf of the elders who had become soldiers before him. Apart from the encounter with two teachers, there was no humanly significant experience at school. It was quite different in the community life of the youth movement.
With his Lutheran Confirmation, his interest in religion and church had ceased. Alfred was attached to his family, parents, and siblings but always felt strange, different. The “Dignity and Security of Officialdom,” which his three brothers also entered, repelled him. But he was also – in an inner way – alien to himself, a homeless soul. Alfred Heidenreich described all this in detail, first in the magazine “The Christian Community” and later in his book about the founding of the Christian Community (Growing Point, 1965; German: Aufbruch, Stuttgart 2000).
On October 18, 1913, on the Hohe Meißner, near Kassel, the now famous meeting of many free youth alliances had taken place, which summarized their thoughts and their will in the Meißner Formula: “Young people want to shape their lives out of their own determination, before their own responsibility, with inner truthfulness” (see Fritz Blättner, Geschichte der Pädagogik).
Alfred Heidenreich, who joined the leadership of the youth movement at the beginning of the war, later felt this formula to be an essence of what Rudolf Steiner had worked out in his Philosophy of Freedom, just not philosophically formulated but clearly felt.
At eighteen and a half, he had to leave the familiar and beloved world of his birthplace and the Wandervogel life. The brutal events of the war dragged the young man into the material battles of Ypres and later into English captivity on the north coast of France. He had to endure extremely severe humiliations at the hands of the English, which affected him deeply.
He was released in the fall of 1919 after an English guard showed him the white chalk cliffs of Dover on a clear day across the channel, “There, England!” which Alfred Heidenreich always remembered as a first hint of destiny.
At the end of October, he began studying national economics in Munich. Of course, the days off at the beginning of November were used for a trip to the Wendelstein. The group had to divide, and some of them followed.
On November 2, 1919, Marta Heimeran and Alfred Heidenreich met in the small train station in Bayrischzell, and both later described that this first meeting had been a deep recognition for them. A lifelong struggle for common ground began.
In the summer semester of 1920, they both stayed in Rostock, but there was more hiking than studying, so they separated for the winter semester of 1920/21. Marta Heimeran went to Tübingen, Alfred Heidenreich back to Munich. In March 1921, the ‘Open Anthroposophical University Course’ took place in Stuttgart. Rudolf Steiner gave eight lectures on Observation of Nature, Mathematics, Scientific Experimentation, and the Results of Knowledge from the Point of View of Anthroposophy (today in GA 324). Marta Heimeran sent a program of the meeting to Alfred Heidenreich, who had no plans to travel there, with the handwritten remark, “So you know what you’re missing.” Thereupon Alfred Heidenreich decided to go after all. He experienced Rudolf Steiner’s course as a “complete inner upheaval.” During those Stuttgart days, he expressed, “If I stay to the end, I will become an anthroposophist.” So it happened.
Only a few months later, at the Stuttgart Congress in the summer of 1921, the memorable meeting between Rudolf Steiner and members of the youth movement also took place (September 4, 1921). Heidenreich was the spokesperson for the group. Today, this and other encounters are documented in volume 217a of Steiner’s works, Die Erkenntnisaufgabe der Jugend (The Cognitive Task of Youth). The youth movement was and is not only judged positively. Rudolf Steiner, for example, also characterized the wandering instinct as something pathological (GA 318). But he also said of the impulses of the new generation that they were a “hopeful movement of time” (GA 239) because, in these impulses, something drove toward clarifying the fact that every human being has already once, several times been a human being on earth.
Heidenreich’s first work
Alfred Heidenreich now grasped this thought with all the vigor of his soul: anthroposophy is the real goal of the youth movement. This was the purpose of his first essay in the journal Die Drei (Volume I, Heft 8), founded on Rudolf Steiner’s 60th birthday, and then of his first work, Jugendbewegung und Anthroposophie (Youth Movement and Anthroposophy, 1922), in which it says at the beginning: “Anthroposophy is something for young, youthful people, and it is bitter to see how what belongs together in its deepest essence does not come together” (p. 8). Printed in an edition of 5000 copies, it was soon out of print.
From this realization, Heidenreich, together with Wilhelm Kelber, then became a founder and editor of the first anthroposophical youth publication, Der Pfad (1924-1930). (Its editorship soon passed into other hands. In 1930 the journal became the victim of the tragic developments of the General Anthroposophical Society). However, his will became effective, and there were attempts to present anthroposophy in a youth-oriented way for the age of about 17-28 years – a concern that Rudolf Steiner assigned as the task of the Youth Section of the School of Spiritual Science and to which he developed many ideas. September 4, 1921, when the attempt was made in Stuttgart to adapt the Anthroposophical Society to the development of anthroposophy and its practical effects in cultural life, Alfred Heidenreich appeared and said: “If I have asked to speak as a young person, I would like to make an announcement in all modesty. We anthroposophists who have emerged from the youth movement have met during the congress in a number of meetings and have realized that we have special tasks in our mediating position between the youth movement and anthroposophy. We have realized that it is not only our duty to bring anthroposophy to the youth movement, but that it is also our duty to put our young forces at the service of anthroposophy, and that a corresponding activity can result from this” (Mitteilungen des Zentralvorstandes, No. 1, p. 18; in GA 217a, p. 236). Rudolf Steiner considered this appearance as “epoch-making within the history of our anthroposophical movement…. “(op. cit.). In the summer semester preceding these events, Alfred Heidenreich studied in Tübingen. He met, with Marta Heimeran, many a future colleague in the group that called itself ‘Saturn Ring’. One of them, Tom Kändler, and Ludwig Köhler from the anthroposophical student group went to the first course for young theologians in Stuttgart during this time. What was going on there, they asked themselves.
From the fall of 1920 Alfred Heidenreich had become an anthroposophist within half a year. This was
Heidenreich’s cosmopolitan impulse expressed in the subtitle: The English World Church Plans and the Religious World Task of the German Spirit.
the same period that he had intended to use for a study visit to England but which had not come about. The next half year brought the decision to do something for anthroposophy, to participate in the work of religious renewal. He took part in the Autumn Course for theologians in Dornach (September 26 – October 10) and then completed the winter semester. During this time he wrote his aforementioned paper and, as a guest of the Heisler family in Tübingen, worked on his philological-historical doctoral thesis on the Altaich sermon books during the summer semester of 1922. It comprised almost three hundred pages and was typed for him by the fellow student Jutta Frentzel (see p. 413 ff.).
Of course, in the spring he had also participated in the dramatic first meeting of the founders in Berlin, where he belonged to the group of people who not only admired Emil Bock, but were also critical of him. Then followed the weeks in Breitbrunn am Ammer See. His sermon in the forest about “Bread and Wine” always remained in his colleagues’ memory. They met in the stable; they lived by the lake; they were united for a great task. So they went together to Dornach. Rudolf Steiner, who had advised so comprehensively in two courses, now became the helper, the midwife of the common will to celebrate again and again the renewed sacraments, as mediators of present Christ-activity.
On September 16, 1922, Alfred Heidenreich was ordained to the priesthood by Friedrich Rittelmeyer within the first Act of Consecration and became the youngest Lenker of the priesthood. On September 20, he celebrated the Act of Consecration for the first time in the circle of founders at the first Goetheanum. In Breitbrunn, Marta Heimeran and Alfred Heidenreich had already told the co-founders of their intention to marry at some point. It was not until two years later that Alfred Heidenreich addressed the fundamental question to Rudolf Steiner as to whether two ordained priests could marry. “They must only conduct the marriage in such a way that their priestly dignity is preserved,” was his answer. Marta Heimeran drove from Dornach back to Ulm, where the prepared circle was waiting for her. On the first Sunday of Advent, she celebrated the first Act of Consecration there. Alfred Heidenreich was her server because he had not yet moved out to work in a congregation but was still taking his oral exams in the winter of 1922/23.
In 1923 Alfred Heidenreich began to form his congregation in Frankfurt/Main. He asked all anthroposophists not to join it for two years until it had consolidated itself within itself. A solid working friendship developed with Hermann Poppelbaum, later the first Chairman of the General Anthroposophical Society. Soon the young doctoral student in biology, Johannes Hemleben, was won over for the priesthood.
Marta Heimeran went from Ulm to Frankfurt as early as 1923 and from January 1924 onwards for good so that the development work there could be carried out jointly until their marriage in 1929. From the beginning, Alfred Heidenreich managed his regional lenkership in the whole area of West Germany between Darmstadt and the Ruhr area, later including Holland, until he moved to England.
He wrote essays and reviews already in the first volume of the journal Tatchristentum und Christengemeinschaft. In 1928, he published the booklet Im Angesicht des Schicksals (In the Face of Destiny) in the series Christus aller Erde (Christ of All the Earth) edited by Friedrich Doldinger. And, of course, he was a co-organizer and speaker at the many large conferences that drew public attention to The Christian Community throughout Germany in the 1920s and 1930s.
Alfred Heidenreich described himself as a person who was not naturally religious. All the more intensively, he immersed himself as a pastor in anthroposophy because it even – also – has a religious effect. Thus it was he who, in the first years during the priests’ conferences, proved to be an expert, especially on Rudolf Steiner’s so-called theology courses. He was kindly mocked as ‘bible-strong.’ Later, others tried to emulate him and always learned much, even by taking Rudolf Steiner’s words literally, if not dogmatically.
Alfred Heidenreich and Marta Heimeran married on September 9, 1929, after a difficult inner struggle. They were married by Friedrich Rittelmeyer a few weeks after they had finished their work as founders in Frankfurt and had begun their work in England. From the summer weeks in July and August 1924, during which both had listened to Rudolf Steiner’s karma lectures in Dornach and during which he had granted them a series of personal conversations, they had received, among other things, the clear hint that the work of The Christian Community would have to be carried to England and America in the coming years.
Now, for a second time, they began to actualize their priestly task starting from nothing and in another language at that. The texts of the Act of Consecration and of all the other rituals had to be translated, for which Cecil Harwood gave them important help. Thus, on June 27, 1929, in the small English seaside town of Lancing, where they completed this work as guests in peace and quiet, the first Act of Consecration in English could be celebrated. Subsequently, the congregation was formed from London. It was Heidenreich’s concern to establish many contacts with other churches and communities.
He did not want The Christian Community to be understood with the claim to absoluteness of the right, new church, but rather as a “leaven” that also brings about many things in others. He had to cope with the special problem that many concerns of The Christian Community, which had emerged from anthroposophy and the German-speaking spiritual life, were to be linked to the English spiritual heritage. He did not want a German (spiritual) colony in England, but an English Christian Community. In other words, He felt like Paul, who did not want to impose Judaism, from which Christianity had arisen, on the nascent Christians of other nations. In his colleagues on the continent in Central Europe, he had found very little understanding for it at that time. In part, they saw it as a decline of the primordial impulse.
Heidenreich, 1937
He succeeded to the point that already two years later, three English priests could be ordained. Until the war, three more personalities were ordained.
Together with Friedrich Rittelmeyer and Eduard Lenz – and after Friedrich Rittelmeyer’s death in 1938 with Erwin Schühle – Alfred Heidenreich traveled repeatedly from London to Berlin after the banning of the Anthroposophical Society in Germany from 1935 to 1939 to negotiate with those in power in order to prevent the banning of The Christian Community, which was not actually carried out until June 9, 1941.
The relationship with England became even more difficult when Alfred Heidenreich, shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War, after a vacation in Tyrol, left Marta Heimeran-Heidenreich and their son behind because she did not want to come with him yet. After completing a conference in Holland, at literally the last minute, he was able to return to England. There, strangely enough, he was not interned, and finally, after the end of the war, when he had become stateless, he accepted British citizenship. After Friedrich Rittelmeyer’s death in 1938, Alfred Heidenreich had become Oberlenker. Now he lived in England with four English priests who had meanwhile been found. There, and in Switzerland, Holland, Norway, and Sweden, The Christian Community remained active during the Second World War and its prohibition in Germany. In London, Alfred Heidenreich was even able to ordain three more Englishmen as priests in 1944.
After the war, a continuation of his community of life with Marta Heimeran was no longer possible.
In 1948, with his help, The Christian Community was founded in North America, later in South America (1956), and finally in South Africa (1965). Alfred Heidenreich was a leader in all this work and travel. He worked as a recognized anthroposophical speaker, as a helper to Karl König in the Camphill movement, and was appointed to a leading role as a member of the board of the English The first chapel in London
Anthroposophical National Society. With his help, it was also possible to run a seminary for priests in Shalesbrook for several years. In 1965 Marta Heimeran died in Arlesheim/Switzerland. Four years later, at the age of seventy-one, on March 11, 1969, Alfred Heidenreich died during a trip for The Christian Community in Johannesburg. His English co-workers had already worked out that The Christian Community could one day be founded in Australia and New Zealand, which has since happened.
Thus we observe the worldwide radius that Alfred Heidenreich’s thinking and activity had assumed on behalf of the movement for religious renewal. In the times when Central Europe in our twentieth century was led into bondage, war, and hardship, it was a particularly sacrificial pioneering act to introduce the religious renewal emanating from Central Europe into the English-speaking world, into other continents. The Christian Community will probably only be able to appreciate in the future what has been achieved by Alfred Heidenreich and his collaborators. This will initially be done through the book by Christian Maclean, Pioneers of Religious Renewal, Edinburgh 2016.
MEMORANDUM
I hereby declare my decision to serve to the best of my ability a religious renewal by founding a free Christian congregation on the foundations imparted by Dr. Steiner. I want to begin my direct activity at the moment which the community of co-workers considers to be given according to the authoritative advice of Dr. Steiner. The realization of the necessity of this decision has made doubts about my suitability and worthiness recede, although, for the moment, I can only consider myself capable of founding a free Christian congregation and presiding over it as a preacher but not worthy of being the bearer of the cultus given to us. To acquire this worthiness through inner work is still my endeavor.
March 4, 1922 Alfred Heidenreich
The text of the Act of Consecration of Man consists of words that are like seed kernels that are waiting to sprout sooner or later. Some of those words and sentences are promises for the future that are expressed in the form of a possibility. Sometimes the verb is even missing so that it does not become clear whether it is a wish, a petition, or reality: “Christ in you.” What does it mean? Is He in us? Or are we asking Him to dwell in us? Or are we called to give Him a dwelling place? Who is able to say of himself: Christ is in me?
“Our life is His creating life.” Has that come to manifestation in our daily life? We usually act as if our life is not His life but our own. Perhaps in a distant future, looking back from the highest standpoint, we will be able to acknowledge: Yes, our life was His creating life.
But that does not mean that we should meekly wait until that time perhaps comes. On the contrary, every day, every moment calls on us: can you make this day, this moment into His creating life? Can you even do that with the mind-numbing daily work that countless people have to perform in our time? Billions of people on earth have to work as insignificant links or as slaves of technology. When you ask them: “What are you doing it for?” the discouraging answer is usually: “I am doing it for the money.”
But also the most thankless, seemingly senseless work can make a contribution to life on earth, when we not only ask: What do you do? but also: How do you do it?
With everything we do Someone sees us—Someone Who wants to connect His creating life with every human life. His deepest longing is: I in you and you in Me. Everything we do we can do in the knowledge: I am doing it for the earth, for my brothers, for my sisters, for Him Who wants to live in us: Christ in us.
-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, November 20, 2022