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“And He took him aside by himself, away from the crowd… (Mark 7:33)

The Dutch language has the word eigenwijs which, literally translated, would be something like “own-wise,” and is used for someone who is out of step with others, or sees things differently from the way others normally view them.  Formerly, someone who was “own-wise” was just annoying.  When decisions had to be taken in a group, such a person was soon considered to be a spoilsport who had to be isolated.  Today the word has developed a different meaning.  It is even encouraged: do it in your own way, don’t let others tell you what you should say or do.  For we have all become more or less closed personalities, each one with our own opinions, our own wise.

But this individuality is as a double-edged sword.  On the one hand, it makes us autonomous, frees us from ties; on the other, it brings us into a world of colliding interests, opinions, and conflicts.  If we only follow our own wisdom, our conversations become like verbal combat among the deaf, who are all locked up in their own points.

To heal a deaf person, Christ had to take him away from the crowd to a quiet place.  There, alone with him, He could perform the miracle of the healing and open his ears.

Also our deafness, our own wisdom that is estranged from divine wisdom, can only be healed when we are in silence together with Him.

That is the way and the significance of the Act of Consecration—being together with Him in silence.  Where in the world can you still find such a spot, where you can practice the art of listening with full attention?  For, the art of prayer is nothing other than the art of listening to the will of God.  The Act of Consecration teaches us to lead a listening life.  Sooner or later, He will open our ears to His presence, not only at the altar, but in every human being, no matter how “own-wise” we may be.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, August 31, 2025

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“Ask, and it will be given you.” (Matthew 7:7)

If things were as simple as it sounds in this sentence, all our questions would be answered and all our desires fulfilled.  But the reality of life is very different.  How often have we asked the spiritual world a question, fervently prayed for help—and no answer ever came.

But did we ask the right question?  Or did we perhaps not hear the answer because we were expecting something very different?

We have in our world, which always focuses on outer results, lost the knack of asking questions.  Even worse, it has often become a caricature.  The spiritual world does not take to cheap questions, and even less to cheap answers.  Real questions need time to be born.  To ask a real, honest question, you have to nurture it, brood on it, until it has ripened.  For, everything we ask of the divine world is subject to the plea: Not my will, but Your will be done.

It makes no sense to ask to be spared illness, suffering, and evil.  Prayer is no means against evil, but a means to make the best of even the worst that happens to us.  In every human life there will come temptations that threaten to exceed our forces.  There are not only things like ordeals to test us, enlighten us, and initiate us, but there is also darkening, and failed initiation.

But when the hardest ordeal comes, when you think: I can’t do it anymore—remember then the plea of Christ during His greatest temptation:

“Father, if it be your will, then let me be spared this cup.

But not my will but your will be done.” (Luke 22:42)

No human being stood by Him.
He was not spared suffering.
But an angel strengthened Him.

 

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, August 4, 2025

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“You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29)

Long ago, there was a time when it was necessary not just to recognize Christ in silence, but to also confess Him emphatically, as Peter was the first to do: “You are the Christ.”  Of course, because at that time there was almost no one who recognized the Son of God, Christ, in the Son of Man, Jesus.  In our time you cannot just pronounce that.  When you loudly start proclaiming that He is the Christ, no one wants to hear it.  On the contrary, you then just irritate others, or your words are blown away in the wind.

Confessing Christ—how do you do that in our world?

Actually, we constantly confess something without words as we go through the world.  Just look at the faces of the people around you: so much somberness, so much sorrow, so much annoyance, so much anger.  Just look at yourself when you are walking through the streets of a city.  Without sensing it ourselves, we spread and confess our moods, for our face, our posture, our footsteps speak volumes.  We leave our tracks non-stop, visible and invisible.  In the world in which we are living these days you don’t need to pronounce what you know and believe; without speaking a word, you can DO what you know and believe.

When we receive His peace at the altar, this gift can become our confession.  This peace is not only meant for us, but through us for the world.  That is the appeal of Christ after He has bestowed His peace on us: My peace is not of this world.  My peace wants to work in the world through you.  Are you ready to confess my peace?

Give me your hands, your head, your heart, your feet – and walk the way of peace with me.

– Rev. Bastiaan Baan, July 27, 2025

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Peace

Wherever you look around you, in our time peace has become a shaky, unstable concept, both at large in our society, and also in relationships between people.

Hardly has peace been established somewhere, and it is broken again and superseded by chaos and fighting. Even in the individual peace is often elusive—hardly has our inner life been set at rest, and the storm of our changeable moods breaks out again. In nature it is similar. A peaceful landscape can suddenly be drowned in violent rain, or wither in the scorching heat of the sun. Nature holds up a mirror to us of our chaotic, disturbed world. In brief, nothing is as vulnerable today as peace.

The peace that emanates from Christ is beyond compare with our earthly concepts and ideas: “I leave you the peace: my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives.” (John 14:27) When we make an effort to comprehend what we receive with this form of peace, our intellect has to capitulate. What does Christ bestow on us when we for a moment feel His touch with the words: “The peace be with you”? From His suffering, from His death, and from the underworld, He has wrested a substance of peace He always bears with Him, until the end of the world. He is the calm in the storm, the quiet in the chaos, the rise in the decline.

Even if our whole life long we are not able to understand what He bestows on us with this touch, one day we will stand face to face to Him, and He will remind us of what He gave us:
“I leave you the peace: my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives.”

– Rev. Bastiaan Baan, June 10, 2025

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Ascension

Ever since Christ’s Ascension people have a deeply rooted tendency in religious life to look up.  Here on earth, in the “vale of tears,” it can’t be found.  We have a religious homesickness for heaven.  The disciples looked up to heaven when He disappeared from their eyes.  But the angels who stood by pointed in a different direction, back to the earth.  “Why do you stand there looking up to heaven?  This Jesus, who has been taken up before you into heaven, will come again, revealed in the same way as you have now seen him pass into the heavenly sphere.” (Acts 1: 11)

Where should we look to find Him?  Where did Christ go when He left the earth?  With Ascension He disappeared from view, with the promise of His coming, His coming again.  And what else is the second coming than His heaven on earth?

It is as if by centuries of looking up to heaven we have forgotten to look for Him on earth.  Look at your neighbor, even if he is a stranger to you, even if he is your opponent, even if he is your enemy.  For just as in yourself, in the depth of his being a king is hidden who is waiting to be freed.  His name is: Christ in me.  Christ in you.  Christ in us.

In the words of the poet, Lita Vuerhard:

We await him who from his throne
Will radiantly descend.
His heavens full of angels’ songs.
For centuries we await this now
If it will repeat itself.

Away from the world,
To heavenly pastures
We threw our yearning gaze,
In the highest of all lights
To behold his approach.

But he lies deeply in our soul
Shining as a precious stone.
Come, he calls, I’m worthy of it.
Into the depths for Ascension,
As deep as you can sink!

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, June 1, 2025.

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Contemplation on the Service for a Deceased Perso

When a person is dying, in the last weeks or days of life the mask of the everyday personality drops off. It is as if not only the physical sheath, but also the sheath of the soul breaks open. A dying person usually shows himself in all his vulnerability, as he rarely did during life. When you cross the threshold so vulnerably and broken-open, it is not surprising that on the other side of the threshold you are as helpless as a newborn baby. No wonder that in antiquity the day of death was called dies natalis, which means “day of birth.”
A fifteen-year old girl wrote on the day before she died totally unexpectedly a poem with the words:

Two woven hands
Unfold as two wings.
An inexplicable light.
Cries of joy, unheard.
Unborn being,
Forlorn human being,
Helplessly planted.

That is the world of a person who has just died, an unprecedented, unknown world, into which you are helplessly planted. There you need to be enveloped, just like a newborn. Thank God, that help comes in the form of angels’ hands that receive the deceased on the other side. But in the months and years after crossing the threshold, the deceased is still in all his fibers connected with us, the living.

The angels cannot give him the protection he needs by themselves. We humans cannot do that either. But together, angels and living partners in distress, we can help him come home in the land of his birth. That is the meaning and significance of the Act of Consecration for the Dead, just as formerly, in all times and cultures, people prayed for the deceased.

That is why we gather at the altar to accompany our dear deceased with our prayers, with our offering—for them to get wings in the world of the spirit.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, May 18, 2025

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Peace be with you! (John 20:27)

The more often you hear these words, the more you may be surprised that they do not express an incontrovertible truth, but a possibility. Why did Christ never say: “Peace is with you”—not even to doubting Thomas, who was allowed to touch him? And why do we never hear at the altar: “Peace is with you”—whereas He is giving it to us? Does this mean that we have to make this possibility a reality?

What do we do with the soft touch of Peace that we receive at the altar? What does this touch bring about?

Peace is a mood that wants to reach further than a feeling of rest and harmony. It wants to be part of our voice, our gestures, even our feet. Are our feet—speaking with Paul—“…shoed with preparedness to spread the message of peace…?” (Ephesians 6:15)

With our feet we walk the path of our life. Semiconsciously and consciously we leave our traces. Only when we walk with Christ and He with us, do our feet begin to spread the message of His Peace. His Peace is not only meant for me, not only for my destiny, but also for everyone’s destiny. This Peace wants to go into the world in us, through us, to save what can be saved. For, Peace in the world is inconceivable. But walking the still, narrow path of Peace—this creates in a torn world an indelible track.

– Rev. Bastiaan Baan, April 27, 2025

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Easter

Never to die anymore—that might well be the worst that could ever happen to a human being.  If that ever came to pass, a human life would never be able to renew itself.  When a life is fulfilled, death comes as a liberator.  When you are weak and infirm, when the burden of the years and cares becomes unbearable, death is the greatest benefactor who bestows another form of life on us.

Finally, the dying person is redeemed from suffering, freed out of the prison of the body.  Sometimes this liberation shows itself even visibly.  After the death throes the deceased leaves its traces on the face—an expression of rest and nobility that you don’t find anywhere but in death.  Finally freed from the burden of life.

When Christ died, something else happened—completely different from the death of every human being.  Long before His death on the cross, He announced His path already with the prediction: “The Son of Man will be for three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.”  The heart of the earth has a sting, which is death.  Its lord and master?  It is the prince of darkness.

Christ did not wage the worst battle on the earth, but in the heart of the earth—to vanquish death from the inside, to heal the heart of the earth.

Since His death, each human being who seeks Him can die differently—no longer imprisoned in the heart of the earth, but secure in the heart of Christ, where each who has sought Him has a home.

Christ was not committed to the earth like mortal remains.  He laid Himself into the earth to renew His creation—as a seed that lets blossom the whole earth.

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, Easter 2025

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Judas and Mary Magdalene

In the middle of Holy Week, money has the leading part, both in the anointing Mary Magdalene performs and in the deed of Judas.  In both cases, money is the instrument of the opponent who wants to break Jesus’ power.  When the woman anoints Jesus’ head with oil, the disciples are indignant because of the waste of so much money.  They are blind to the meaning of His consecration to death.  The only thing that counts is money.

When Judas betrays his master, the chief priests offer him the paltry amount of thirty pieces of silver for his capture.  That is how slaves were traded in those days.  But usually, when someone sold a slave, the price was mentioned by the slave trader.  Then they haggled, until the trade was made.  Now the roles are reversed:  a human being (Ecce homo—See, the human being) is sold for what the buyer offers.  There is no haggling at all.  In the eyes of the chief priests, Jesus is less than a slave.

With all these humiliating actions you can become desperate about the power of money and the shortsightedness of people.  But Jesus sees beyond their shortsightedness.

Even when evil works openly, when Satan takes possession of Judas, even when evil triumphs—even then it is no more than a tool of the power that prevails.

That’s how it went when the decision about the lot of Jesus was made.  There was no escaping it.  But on the way that is waiting for Him, Jesus is much more than just a victim.

Church Father Augustine tried to put himself in Jesus’ state of mind from that moment.  He put the words in His mouth: “I suffer not for my sins, but when I die I fulfill the will of my Father.  Then I DO more than I SUFFER.”

What from the human point of view is the deepest suffering, is from the divine point of view the highest form of strength.  Golgotha is at the same time the deepest tragedy and the greatest deed.  In the words of archangel Michael that sound in the fall in the epistle at the altar: “The deed that created life out of death on Golgotha.”

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, April 18, 2025

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The Entry into Jerusalem

In the months of the life of Christ that led up to Golgotha, what will take place there sounds again and again.  Christ Himself foresees His future.  Three times He proclaims the way He is to go: See, we are going up to Jerusalem.  And everything foretold in the books of the prophets will be fulfilled on the Son of Man.

But the dead know it too.  During the Transfiguration on the mountain, Moses and Elijah appear.  Luke writes: “They spoke of the fulfillment that His earthly life was about to reach in Jerusalem,” literally, about His ex-hodos, His going-out.  Why is Jerusalem mentioned all the time?

Jerusalem means: City of Peace.  If there is one city in the world that is torn apart by fighting, it surely is Jerusalem.  Even today it is a bone of contention of peoples and religions.  Countless times, the city has been destroyed and built up again.  Under thick layers of sand and stones lie the remnants of destroyed and ruined cultures.  And thus it will probably continue to go in the future.

With foresight, Christ chose this city as the place of His entry and of His exodus.  Gently, seated on a donkey, He enters the city of peace that has become a city of strife, as if he wanted to say with this entry:

I create a way up in the way down
I create life in death
I create peace in violence
I go with you on the long way from the old to the New Jerusalem, the City of Peace.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, April 13, 2025