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The Good News

The Good News

Not without reason the New Testament has been called the Good News for centuries.  Countless people have drawn infinite consolation from it.

You can’t say the same of the last book in the Bible.  In the Apocalypse we are confronted with evil, so overpowering that when reading it we risk losing courage.  It is as if all the consolation of the Gospel is washed away by death, destruction, and demons.  And not only is this true for all the evil that is spreading in the world; the same is true for each one of us.

“You have the name of a living being, yet you are dead.” (Revelation 3:1, the letter to the congregation in Sardis).  How come that in our time—for this letter speaks of our time—we are dead before the countenance of God, in the middle of our lives?

Imagine how we look in the eyes of the divine world when we have occupied ourselves all day only with eating, drinking, money, technology, and the countless distractions away from the ONE, which God needs.  When we then fall asleep in the evening, we not only appear with empty hands, but eventually what will happen is what the Offering in the Consecration of the Human Being calls burying our eternal being for the sake of our temporal.

And yet this shocking word of the Apocalypse gives us a gleam of hope when it is followed by the call: “Strive to awaken in your consciousness, and strengthen what is still living in your soul so that it die not.” (3:2)

Not all in us has to die, even though we are taken up day after day by a world that wants to turn us into willess slaves of technology, money, and power.

A single prayer by a righteous one can bring about miracles in silence.

A single deed of unselfishness strengthens what is left and otherwise threatens to die.

A single service at the altar is a beacon of light in a darkened world—not only for us human beings, but also for the divine world, which looks for traces of life in our mortal, dying earth existence.

 

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, October 27, 2024

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Do not be anxious about tomorrow… (Matthew 6:34)

That looks like an impossible task in a world full of troublesome developments.  In times of harmony and peace it is not difficult to live without anxieties, but now?  Peace and harmony have been replaced by conflicts and chaos, wherever you look.

And yet it is Christ’s appeal not to be anxious about tomorrow—a task for all times, in well-being and adversity, in fortune and misfortune.  How do you do that?

One means to obtain trust in the future is the Act of Consecration of Man.  The more you become part of the joint prayer, the more you can carry and are carried.  Because for whom do we pray this intercessory prayer?

The offering gives an answer to this question.  With every step of the offering our prayer grows.  Not only the visible community, but also that of all true Christians and all those who have died are part of it.  And then we realize that there is another person who offers and prays with us.

This is Christ, who brings His offering anew in every service.  For that is how it is called: the Christ offering, even as it would come to life in us, through us.

How does our prayer get wings?  That happens because He prays with us, as He offers Himself with us.  In this awareness our trust can grow, for He goes with us in well-being and adversity, in fortune and misfortune.

Whoever has come to know the light of Christ in the Act of Consecration of Man will begin to recognize this light also in our daylight.

That is why we trust – also in tomorrow!

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, September 22, 2024

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The Ten Lepers: Luke 17: 11-19

The Ten Lepers

On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee.  And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices and said, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.”  When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”  And as they went they were cleansed.  Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks.  Now, he was a Samaritan.  Then said Jesus, “Were not ten cleansed?  Where are the nine?  Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”  And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”

Luke 17: 11-19 (RSV)

The story of the ten lepers who are cleansed is more than a miraculous healing.  In what is here enacted between the afflicted ones and the Healer we are confronted with the question: what is healing in reality?

In our everyday, result-oriented world healing is a matter of diagnosis, medication, and medical intervention.  You are ill and the doctor has to make you better.  Most of the time we are treated as if the disorder is an obstacle that has to be cleared away as quickly as possible.  There is just a part of the body that has something wrong with it.  And when that is fixed we go on with our life as if nothing has happened.  In this process we, the patients, are passive objects; we passively undergo the way from being sick to getting better.

Christ does it differently.  To heal the sick he needs no passive object but a cooperative subject, someone who has the will to become healthy, someone who can give thanks from the bottom of his heart.  And a person who does not do that has not really been healed.  He has only been cleansed.  Only to the one who comes back to give thanks can He speak the redeeming word: “Your faith has made you well.”

When at the altar Christ gives His medicine that makes whole, He surrenders defenselessly to us, waiting for an answer.  He Himself is the medicine that makes whole, who gives Himself to us.  He is the God of defenselessness.  And only if we also give ourselves to Him, unconditionally, can He heal us fully, just like that one person, with the redeeming word: “Your faith has made you well.”

-Rev. Bastiaan Baan, September 15, 2024

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“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.

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“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

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Announcement: New Congregation!

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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