,

“He took him aside by himself, away from the crowd….”(Mark 7:32-37)

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

It is a well-known phenomenon that, as soon as we are surrounded by people and activity, we have the tendency to forget about ourselves.  In the worst case we forget what we came to do or wanted to say.  Without interruption the noisy world chatters into us, wants our attention and, in the end, makes us forget why we actually came to the earth. That phenomenon is as old as the world; however, in our time that world is so noisy that everything and everyone risks being drowned out by it.

Formerly, life was still ordered, more or less, according to the principle of “pray and work,” ora et labora.  Now there is nothing left that imposes the duty on us to turn away from the world at set times and go into our inner room.  But there is something else that has taken its place, something that in former times was not yet so obviously present.  That is loneliness.

Even when we are in the midst of a crowd, surrounded by distraction and diversion, we may experience a profound loneliness that throws us back onto ourselves.  Only, we often have the tendency to escape from such loneliness and drown it out.  We throw ourselves into the rush of things, into the whirl of life.  And then comes usually the hangover, the realization that we are even lonelier than before.

We can also choose a different way.  When we succeed in staying in the loneliness, a conversation may arise from it, a conversation with ourselves.  Then what was one is turned into two.  This is what Dag Hammarskjōld meant when he wrote in his diary: “Lonely. But loneliness can also be communion.” *

Even more than a conversation with ourselves, loneliness may become communion.  For Christ wants to be alone with us, away from the crowd, to open our ears to His voice.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, September 1, 2024

* Dag Hammarskjōld, Markings.

,

“My son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found.” Luke 15:24

“My son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found.”

The century that lies behind us has received the name of the century of the child.  There was a good reason for this.   More than ever before in history people were interested in the child.

We would be equally justified to call our 21st century the century of youth.  In our current society youth and youthfulness have become an ideal.  This ideal not only applies to younger people; adults too and even older people have to follow it and stay young and vital as long as possible.  The ideal picture of eternal youth is only relatively new.  Formerly, people looked at the course of life differently.  A well-known saying went: “In youth an idealist, as an adult a realist, as a greybeard a mystic.”  When we grow old we have a natural inclination to turn inward more and look back on our life.  “Looking back in wonder,” a well-known authoress called it.

Only, when we do that at an advanced age, life does not look anymore as it did before.  If we are honest with ourselves, we see more and more the shortcomings.  The last stretch of the path of life, which we go through in increasing loneliness, is permeated by the realization: I have separated myself from my divine origin and intended purpose.  I come home with empty hands, poor and needy like the prodigal son.  At the end of life we are all prodigal sons and daughters.

But precisely then, when we have lost all, the Father comes to meet us and bestows on us the only thing we still lack after a life of separation: forgiveness.

 

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, August 11, 2024

,

In your midst stands one whom you do not know. (Jn.1:26)

When at the end of the day you look back and wonder: Where was I today? you most often come to many places, to a lot of busyness in many ways, but hardly to yourself. We are called from one task to another, or we simply let ourselves be led from one impression to another. But where was I myself?

There is only one place where I am completely myself, and that is in my own midst, a place where I am not more and not less than myself, where you can have a feeling of poverty and riches at the same time. On the one hand, you feel privileged because you are king in your own realm; I can myself decide to whom I open the door. On the other hand, you feel poor because you are impotently facing yourself and find that you hardly know who you actually are. I don’t know myself.

In this empty space I am alone with myself. Of old, this space has been called the hidden Holy of Holies—not only in the temple, but also hidden in the human being.

“In your midst stands one whom you do not know.”

With these words, John not only indicates Christ who is waiting for him in order to be baptized. He also indicates our midst, where Christ stands and waits until He may come into our hidden Holy of Holies.

– Rev. Bastiaan Baan, July 15, 2024

,

John 5: 24-25

Whoever hears the word that I speak, and places his trust in Him who sent me, he has life beyond the cycles of time.  The great decision of destiny does not apply to him, for he has already passed from death to life. … The hour is coming—and it has already come—when the dead will hear the call of the divine Son, and those who hear Him will be bearers of true life.

Reality and illusion, truth and lie are two worlds we are less and less able to distinguish from each other.  We can no longer self-evidently rely on the visible world we are shown.  With cunning technology an illusory world is conjured up before us that cannot, or can hardly, be distinguished from the real one.  The same is true for the words with which people want to convince us.  Do people really mean what they say?  Or is it a lie wrapped up in pretty words?  More than ever do we live in a world where visible and audible reality is mutilated.

But one manifestation does not let itself be disguised like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  That is the moral music, the tone that makes the music in the language.  When we direct our attention, not to the meaning of the words, but to the tone in which they are spoken, we can hear something of the hidden world behind the words.  Words are more than just sheaths.  It is the intention that makes them truth or lies.

Christ speaks to us in the Gospel.  How does He speak?  We only do His words justice if they are spoken from mouth to ear.  The written word only becomes reality if we become conscious of the fact that it is the voice of Christ that is speaking to us.  That is the secret of the proclamation of the Gospel at the altar.  Do I hear Him speak through the words?

When our hearts fill themselves with His pure life, His voice sounds in our words—His voice, that wants to awaken the living and the dead to life.

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, June 27, 2024

,

John 17: 6-11

“I have made manifest your name to those human beings who have come out of the world to me through you.  Yours they were, and you have given them to me, and they have kept your word in their inmost being.  Thus they have recognized that everything which you have given me is from you; for all the power of the word which you have given me, I have brought to them.  They have taken it into themselves and have recognized in deepest truth that I come from you, and they have come to believe that I have been sent by you.  I pray to you for them as individual human beings, not for mankind in general.  Only for the human beings which you have given me, because they belong to you.  Everything that is mine is yours, and what is yours is mine, and the light of my being can shine in them.  I am now no longer in the world of the senses; but they are still in the world of the senses.  And I am coming to you.  Holy Father, keep, through the power of your being, those who came to me through you, so that they may become one, as we are one.”  *

The message of the High Priestly Prayer seems so simple: “They have kept your word in their inmost being.  Keep them through the power of your being.”

How do you do that—keep His word in a world of chaos and violence?  How do you create order in that chaos?  For us humans that looks like an impossible task.  It is even difficult to imagine that the angels will unravel all the knots.  They may have the patience of angels, but unraveling the chaos human beings bring about has to be a colossal job.  You can even imagine that the angels lose courage and sooner or later turn away from humanity with the message: “We can’t help you if you don’t help yourself and each other.”  In our time the danger arises that the angels will lose interest in human beings.

In the High Priestly Prayer, Christ prays for all who want to follow Him.  In this one sentence the task of all true Christians, wherever and whenever in the world, is expressed: “They have kept your word in their inmost being.”  Again, how do you do that?  For it can’t mean that we have to learn and remember every word in the Bible?

God waits and works in silence with more than the patience of an angel.  He works with divine patience to bring His word to manifestation in us.  No longer does He call us to order through commandments and prohibitions, but His word sounds in the still voice of our conscience, and in the strong voice of our destiny.  And even when this becomes fateful to us, even then it is still hiding the gift of the Lord of Destiny.

If we follow the voice of conscience, if we say yes to the voice of destiny, we have kept His word in our inner being and will be kept in the power of His being.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, May 26, 2024

* From: The New Testament, a rendering by Jon Madsen.

,

The Spirit of Truth

The longer you take part in the Consecration of the Human Being, the more astonishing it may be that the miracle of the Transubstantiation takes place every time.  Not just now and then, but every time anew.  True, our attention is but wavering and changeable, but nevertheless you always come back strengthened from the altar.  What causes that?  On the one hand, it is the words of the sacrament that give us strength.  Someone once said, when she was asked why she kept going back to the service: “Where in the world can you experience hearing for a whole hour nothing but truth?”  That is because no human words sound at the altar, but angel words.

But even more than by these words are we nourished and quenched by the meal of bread and wine that is permeated by the presence of the Resurrected One.  “Christ in you,” this promise is literally and bodily fulfilled in the Communion.  With the Peace, He touches us, just as He did after His Resurrection, when He spoke to His disciples: “Peace be with you.  Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 21:21-22)  These words marked the beginning of a new era: the era of the Spirit of Truth.  This Spirit was not only meant for the first followers of Christ.  He is meant for all who want to follow Him.

Just as the miracle of the Transubstantiation is enacted every day anew, the Spirit of Truth also wants to touch us every day anew, every time when at the altar the words sound: “The Peace be with you.”

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, May 19, 2024

,

“I am the way and the truth and the life”  (John 14:6)

Attempt to live in the truth” is the name the Czech dissident Vaclav Havel gave to his inner compass in a society in which the lie rules.  He did not call it “living in the truth,” as if it had already happened but, with a modest expression, an attempt.  That word indicates that it is not a ready-made recipe that produces results all by itself.  If you could speak of a result at all, it could perhaps only be the power of the powerless.  Vaclav Havel several times had to pay dearly in prison for this attempt, because the authorities of his country could not bear the truth.

On the other hand, it does not take any effort at all to live in the lie.  That does indeed go all by itself in a society where the right of the strongest rules and you can just let yourself be carried by the masses.

Whoever makes an attempt to live in the truth has to walk a lonely road.  We can’t follow Vaclav Havel in this.  I have to go my own way, which no one can prescribe for me.  But when in all modesty I try day-in-day-out to make the truth a reality, I walk on the path of Him who says: “I am the way and the truth and the life.  I walk with you in your attempt to live in the truth.”

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, May 5, 2024

, ,

Easter

Easter

Nature is the teacher of art.

Natura artis magistra, is an old saying.

What art does nature teach us?

Of old one knew the art of living and of dying: ars vivendi and ars morendi.

But above all, nature teaches us the art of living IN dying.

What for us humans is often a battle of life and death is self-evident for nature.  Unceasingly, she teaches us: no life is possible without death.  Or, in the words of a well-known author: Death is the trick of nature, to have much life.*

Look with how much apparent ease a tree brings forth its blossoms at this time of the year, and how obviously and effortlessly it drops its wealth of flowers in the wind, so that all the color and scent has passed away in a few days.  Would we humans ever succeed in dropping everything that has flourished in our lives with such ease and letting it pass away—in the realization that only that which dies can produce fruit?  If there is one place where the secret of life and life out of death comes to appearance, it surely is nature.

That is what the altar prayer of Easter time wants to tell us: the earth itself has become luminous.  Spirit-shining sun power streams through the earth.

By His death and resurrection, the germ was laid in the dying earth existence for a new earth.  And we begin to share in His resurrection if we become pupils of the master of art, nature.  She teaches us how in every tree, bush, and plant new life is born from death.

Thus Christ teaches us how from His death, if one day we die in Christ, resurrection is born.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, April 15, 2024

 

* Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Der Tod ist der Kunstgriff der Natur, viel Leben zu haben.

,

Easter

One of the most revealing and confrontational discoveries of the past century is that of the unconscious and the obscure forces that slumber in it.  It seems as if this discovery has brought it about that the forces of darkness have been unchained more than ever.  Be that as it may, in this regard we are not only contemporaries but also fellow sufferers.  We are not simple, straightforward human beings.  Every person of this time is a vessel full of contradictions.  With part of consciousness we shine light on the inner and outer world; another part remains hidden in the unconscious and leads a life of its own in the dark.  Increasingly, we are confronted with this uncomfortable truth: in every person forces are slumbering that may be destructive.  One need not be a criminal for this.  The saint knows better than any other person that he too might do anything.  And we will be wise, since we are no saints at all, to watch out for what we don’t know and don’t want to know about ourselves.

But in the depths of the soul there is not only a demon hiding that is waiting for the opportunity to do its destructive work.  Hidden under this abyss there lives in every human being—even in the criminal—a deep longing for redemption.  In the grave of the soul something is buried that is waiting for us to awaken it.  And only if the grave of the soul becomes an altar of the soul, if we seek Christ with heart and soul, will He let Himself be found and will rise from the depths.

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, Easter 2024

, ,

Good Friday

When we hear the story of the Last Supper we know already what will happen and what comes next: the martyrdom, His death, and resurrection.  Of course it was not that way for His disciples when He had the meal with them.  He was speaking in riddles to them.  He kept them guessing about the future.  Every event that followed was another riddle: Gethsemane, the sleep that overcame them, the capture, the flight.  None of them was able to stand by Him to the end.  Of course not, none of us would be able to maintain our footing in such circumstances.  How could a person at that time ever foresee that the last evening meal would not only be followed by the first morning meal of the Resurrected One, and that He from now on would give Himself, day in day out, in bread and wine, to every human being who hungers and thirsts for His presence?

At the end of His life on earth, Christ indicates with an unusual word that this end is the beginning of a completely new life.  Of all the disciples only John was present as witness when this last word sounded on the cross: “It is fulfilled.”  He is the only evangelist who wrote this word from the cross down.  What is so special in these words?

Christ here used an expression that originated in the old mysteries: tetelestai.  It means something like: the goal has been reached. (telete was the ancient word for initiation.  The place where the initiation took place was called in Eleusis: telesterion.)  The expression tetelestai is no finality, but an indication of a completely new life.  From then on the initiate stood on the other side of the threshold and was at home with the Gods.  From the other side he could order life on earth according to the hermetic principle: As above, so below.  The holy order of heaven had to be reflected in life on earth.

Where was Christ after He had spoken His last words?  He too crossed a threshold, but not to go to the Gods, but to the demons and the dead.  In the three days after His death He was not in heaven, not on earth, but “in the heart of the earth.” (Mat. 12:40)  There He brought light into the hopeless existence of death and the underworld.  There the germ of a new heaven and a new earth was planted.

Since His death and resurrection every death experience can become the germ of a new life.  For whoever dies in Christ walks with Christ through death into deathless life.

 

Rev. Bastiaan Baan, Good Friday 2024