I Do Not Condemn You Either (John 8:1-12)

Wherever we go or stand, everything and everyone demands a judgment of us—good or bad, for or against, yes or no. We even ask it of children: What do you think? From childhood on we have to have an opinion on everything.

Our judgments make it hard for us to observe with an open mind, let alone to find the truth. The harder we become in our judgments, the more we lose sight of reality. Hard judgments eventually become prejudices. And prejudices become unbending points of view. Whoever once takes such a standpoint, in the end he can’t make another step; he keeps himself imprisoned in a world of his own laws. In a world where differences are becoming ever greater, we tend to fall back on the Old-Testament judgment of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Only when we combat our superficial sympathies and antipathies do we begin to see the other—not the way we think he ought to be, but as he really is. Then only does the other feel seen and recognized: he has the right to be.

The story of the woman who committed adultery in John 8 speaks volumes about our deeply rooted inclination to judge and condemn. True, a thin layer of civilization keeps us from actually stoning such a person, but with our judgment on the guilt of others we stone them no less effectively.
And Christ? He was the only one who did things differently. He went to places on the earth where not only the shadow of guilt prevailed, but also the darkness of condemnation. It just is the way it is—sinners are stoned, literally or figuratively. He alone could say: “Whoever among you is free of sin, let him throw the first stone at her.”

He alone, the only one who is without sin, has the Old-Testament right to stone her—and He does not do it. Instead, He takes what is unbearable in our sin in His hand and writes it with his finger into the earth. That is another expression of the classic words: “See, the Lamb of God who takes the sin of the world upon himself.”

And when we want to find His light, the light of the world, there is no other way than to follow Him through the darkness of guilt. Without this darkness we are not able to recognize His light. And without His light we are not able to overcome our darkness.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, March 21, 2021

“The Light of the Body is Your Eye” (Lk.11:34)

A large part of our lives—maybe the largest part—consists of watching events without being able to do anything. That is true for the news the world dishes up for us every day; it is also true for countless events that happen to us. Natural disasters, illness, human tragedies, war and terror—they all put their stamp on the world, and we, powerless, can only watch. This powerlessness is our collective lot; and it is also a sign of this time. We have developed a spectator consciousness that has the tendency to keep looking, even when the situation asks us to act. “I stood there and watched.” No more, but also no less. Rarely do we realize that through our glance we can add something to the reality around us. How do we look at it?
One person’s confused gaze makes the darkness around him or her even more turbid than it already is, whereas another can light up the darkness with a lucid glance.

Of course this does not relieve us of the duty to act when we possibly can. But if watching is the only thing we can do, our glance has to be clear.

“The light of the body is your eye.”

Our eyes can do much more than watch: they can perceive. And if our inner light is sufficiently lucid, they can do even more than perceive clearly. They can add something to the reality:

A look of recognition
An enlightening insight
A stream of love.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, March 7, 2021

The Transfiguration on the Mountain (Mt.17:1-13)

Each era has its own images of Christ.  Each of these images has its own one-sidedness, but maybe together they form the whole truth.  In the first few centuries of Christianity there were only symbols of abundant life and trust: the fish, the anchor, the shepherd.  Only in the third century the countenance of Christ was depicted for the first time—the countenance of the Risen One.  When humanity was wrestling with questions about death, He appeared in countless representations as the Crucified One—the Man of Sorrows.  And when there was nothing left but materialism, His image was reduced to Jesus, the simple carpenter from Nazareth.

Not long ago, a new image appeared, something that had not been seen in the history of Christianity before.  In a short time, this picture became famous and went over the whole world.  It is the sculpture of a poor man, a drifter, who is lying on a bench in the open air, covered with a coat.  Only his bare, wounded feet betray who he is.  “Homeless Jesus” is the title of this artwork.  This image tells us what we did to Him: in our society there was no place for Him anymore.  He has been banished from our daily life.  What can we do in our time to give Him a place where He is at home?

HOMELESS JESUS, TIMOTHY SCHMETZ, 2013

Only once in His life on earth Christ showed Himself in His true form, in the overwhelming appearance of His Transfiguration on the mountain.  When this image disappeared, the Father gave us a task for all time with the words: “This is my Son whom I love.  In Him I have been revealed.  Hear His word!”

Christ is no longer visible on earth.  He leads a hidden, occult existence.  But we can hear Him through the words He spoke, words that want to be weighed in our heart until our heart is moved by them.  Or by the still voice in us, the Christ voice of conscience.  Then we begin to walk with Him, and He with us.  If we listen to His voice, He will find a place on earth where He can live.

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, February 28, 2021

Luke 18: 18-34

One of the most striking and most disturbing phenomena of our time is the division that is growing on all fronts of society.  It does not stop at the national borders, when peoples keep off anything that goes beyond self-interest.  We see this division also in groups and individuals who fight for their self-interest and, in the process, shut others out—everyone for himself.

As long as we do this we remain stopped before the eye of the needle, which we sooner or later irrevocably have to pass through, for there is but one way that leads across the threshold—the narrow way through the eye of the needle.  There we gradually lay down all that we have, in order eventually to enter the world of the spirit merely with what we are.  Gradually—meaning that this high art of living has to be practiced step by step by the highest art of dying.  It is the only way to overcome the sickness of the ego, egotism, and yet remain yourself.  In different words, whoever wants to overcome his ego must learn to sacrifice.

That is the way Christ shows to the rich man: “Sell all your goods.”  That means: Leave all attachment to the world of earthly goods behind.  For you can take nothing of it with you to the other side of the threshold.  Whether it be earthly possessions or a rich talent, everything we want to hold on to at all cost—sooner or later we will irrevocably lose it.

This is also the way Christ shows to his followers: to renounce everyone and everything that binds them, in order to have less and less, and be more and more.

Finally, it is the way Christ Himself went as no other human being.  Beyond renouncing, He decided to embrace suffering—to be an outlaw, to be ridiculed, tortured, flogged and killed.  It is His sacrificial way, which leads to life out of death.

–Rev. Bastiaan Baan, February 14, 2021