Hans Baars

on Experiencing the Divine
in All Things

The Franciscan tradition of Catholicism is built around the idea of interconnectedness. It’s about seeing the divine in ourselves and all of creation. So, what does meditation and mindful self-compassion look like from a Franciscan point of view?

Hans Baars is a former Dutch Franciscan Priest who served in Pakistan from 1959 to 1986, before leaving the priesthood and returning to the Netherlands. There he married and lived until 1996 when he migrated to Australia. Hans speaks fluent Dutch, classical Latin and Greek, French, German and English, and he has translated three books on Francis of Assisi.

On this episode of Noble Mind, Hans joins Kate and Alex to share his experience of the divine in all things, discussing how a Franciscan sees all of creation as brothers and sisters. He explains the importance of experiencing the sacred over conceptual frameworks of God and makes connections among different religious traditions. Listen in for Hans' insight around the origin of the word compassion and learn his experiential approach to meditation and mindful self-compassion.

Key Takeaways:

• How a practicing Franciscan sees all of creation as brothers and sisters
• The relationship between meditation and contemplation
• How Hans’ interest in Hindu philosophy led him to Pakistan and his experience there
• The parallels between Hinduism and Christianity
• How Hans seeks an awareness of the divine in all experiences
• Hans’ insight around the origin of the word compassion
• Why the experience of interconnectedness is more important to Hans than the details of Catholicism
• Hans’ view of God as much more than a punisher of our sins
• How being educated in a Christian context informs Hans’ experience of meditation
• Why Hans has moved away from conceptualizing God
• The connections among meditation and religious practices

Resources Mentioned:

• Francis and the Sultan: Men of Peace by Jan Hoeberichts and translated by Hans Baars
• The Canticle of the Sun
• Thich Nhat Hanh
• Christ in India: Essays Towards a Hindu-Christian Dialogue by Bede Griffiths
• Charlotte Rotterdam on Noble Mind EP017
• The Little Book of Buddhism by His Holiness the Dalai Lama
• Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation by Mary Daly
  
  

A Litre of Water

by Hans Baars

There was once a litre water, 1000cc, give or take. It was just plain ordinary H₂O, a bit muddy, with little bits of some chemicals, especially salt – because it was water from the ocean. I had taken it from the ocean and carried it in a thin transparent plastic bag as I walked along the beach. One of those zip-locks.

‘Thank you’, said the litre in the bag, ‘thank you, whoever you are’.

‘Thank you for what?’ I asked. Let me add that I was a bit surprised to hear water in a plastic bag talking to me. Doesn’t happen all that often.

‘I’ll tell you’, said the litre. ‘This is the thing. I never knew I could be a separate individual litre of water! But now I am! I am myself and no one else! Not just any odd litre of water, but this very particular one, well and clearly defined within the enclosure of my very own plastic bag. Me. There is no other litre of water like me. Thanks for making me aware of my individuality.’

‘My pleasure’, I said, not quite sure I was hearing all this: a litre of water talking philosophy, and existential philosophy at that. But there was no stopping the self-conscious litre of ocean water. Philosophers of any persuasion tend to do that.

‘I feel so good about these plastic walls around me. Now I can enjoy my own individuality. Granted, I do have my limitations and boundaries, and I do know I cannot get beyond this plastic sleeve – but I am fine the way I am. I am ever so happy to have my own boundaries, my very own confines, my definition. This is me. So, yes, thank you!’ And the little litre wobbled and sloshed and waved and rippled merrily within its plastic bag.

‘You’re welcome’, I said, trying desperately to hold on to the bouncing bag in my hand.

‘There is more’, said the litre. ‘I can now take on just about any shape I want – of course, within the confines of this bag, but who cares! As long as I stay within my very own bag, I can be flat and round and square, and soft and warm, and hard and cold (I do freeze over, you know) – just about anything. Wonderful, isn’t it!’ And my little litre did some more dancing and prancing and bouncing and bobbing and wobbling and sloshing.

By now my hand began to feel pretty tired, trying to keep the bag from slipping out of my fingers, and I managed fairly well. Until…., well, then it happened. It just happened, I couldn’t help it. As I was walking along the beach, just there where the sand isn’t quite the sea yet, and the sea not quite the beach, that’s when, and where, it happened. No, the bag did not slip out of my hand – I was careful to hold on to it. No. Let me tell you what it did: it burst! Just that. And what do you think happened next? You’re right: my delightful little litre of water spilt and splattered all over the wet sand and was soaked up and was washed away into the sea and disappeared in the surf and the foam and the water. I stood there with the shredded plastic in my feeble fingers, stunned, and not a little sad.

But as I stood there and listened to the gentle murmuring of the waves, I heard the voice again! Faintly, but unmistakably, it was my lovely little litre of water.

‘Listen,’ it said, ‘I am getting lost in this ocean of water…., there is so much of it! So many litres of water! I see millions of them, hundreds of millions, all around me. I am spreading out wider and wider, thinner and thinner – and I wonder where the ‘I’ is I am…. I am everywhere, all over the ocean. I am water, aren’t I, just the same as all those other litres of water: seawater, ocean water, lake and river water, tap and drum water, salt and sweet water, dirty and clean water, drinking water and irrigation water, rain water and frozen water and steamed water, …. I am wherever there is water, there is no water where I am not, and wherever there is water, I am there!’

‘Oh’, I said, not very intelligently. But I did know what my litre water was talking about.

‘Do you know what I am talking about?’ said the litre of water, slowly fading into the vast expanse of the ocean.

‘Yes’, I said, ‘I do! I have that sneaky feeling that you’re trying to tell me something, right?’

‘You’re so smart’, said the litre, ‘you’ll figure it out’.

And then there was only water – vast expanses, billions of litres, unimaginable trillions of drops….. and in there, my litre.

I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.