When God Grows

Posted on June 18, 2013 by Lauren Van Ham

Children…always say, Do it again; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, Do it again, to the sun; and every evening, Do it again, to the moon… It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

– Gilbert Keith G. K. Chesterton

He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.

Psalm 147:4, NIV

As a seeker, and one who feels called to serve, I look forward to the moments when God gets bigger. In my work as an Interfaith Minister, God expands most readily in my encounters with those who practice Faith Traditions that are different from my own. A few weeks ago, I had the thrill of traveling, on an interfaith tour, to Turkey. I must confess that in the 10 days we were there, my experience of God busted right outta da box. Because there’s too much to tell, and no words for lots of it, here are four times when, for me, God grew.

Just before the trip, a friend of mine who is Sufi, explained to me that in Arabic, “Al” is affirmative, translating to mean, “yes,” and “Lah,” is negative, or “no.” Al-lah. Yes-No. Allah. Yesno.

Mevlana Rumi Mosque, where Rumi is buried

Five times a day, the Muslim Call to Prayer resounds from the minarets and mosques across all of Turkey. Whether the Call found me walking with others in the daylight, or waking me from sleep at 4am, I was eager to add my own prayers, to the millions of others, petitioning, thanking, praising God, the One who is Both, the One who is Neither, the One who holds the Inbetween. Yes-No! God-Dess! Al-lah!

Even the smallest villages have gorgeous mosques with tall minarets!

One hot, windy afternoon, out beyond the nearest village’s audible Call to Prayer, God grew again. It was when we visited the site of Mother Mary’s home. Driving up the mountain, high above Ephesus, I loved being pushed to imagine for the first time, what had happened to Mary after the Resurrection. Where did this mother, this woman whom Catholic Christians and others revere and entrust with their prayers, where did she go? It was then that our Tour Guide used a word I wasn’t expecting. It was innocent, I’m sure, when he said, “superstitious.” He said it in reference to the fountains of holy water and the wall of prayers created by those who have come to Mother Mary’s home. How many times, I wondered, have I limited God’s bigness by labeling certain practices as….superstitious. Without hesitation, I went directly to the fountains, dipping my hands in the holy water, touching my cheeks and throat with the cool wetness. I thought of how many times Jesus, Mary, Mohammad, had been equally grateful for water’s refreshment. Rummaging through my bag, I wrote my prayer on a piece of scrap paper and tied it faithfully to the wall of prayers.

The shrine where Mother Mary once lived

The wall of prayers outside the shrine

How’s your Turkish? Mine, like God, is growing….though not as rapidly as would’ve been useful during visits with our hosts. Verbal language, be damned! Connecting with these humans through facial expressions, charades of comic proportion, and – in extreme acts of desperation – bad drawings on found bits of napkin, we discovered genuine affection. We unearthed the deep regard humans can feel for one another. In each face, a spark of God. Seven billion sparks of God and growing…

Dinner with Olive Farmers

Gifts and Playtime with the Next Generation!

Laurel and Tom

And lastly? I haven’t yet mentioned that I was on this trip with my Mom, and her husband, Tom. Looking across ruins I had been asked, as a kid, to re-create in Sunday School using toothpicks and marshmallows; looking across ruins, whose architecture I studied and was made to memorize for The History of Theatre, as a college freshman; looking across ruins, my eyes picked out of the crowd, my Mother, the one who brought me here.

Mom, in awe…

No wonder!!! (Süleymaniye Mosque, Istanbul)

God grows….

Where, in your world, is God getting bigger? And when God grows, what happens in you? Please share with me….I like hearing from you.

[A version of this post also appears in Lumunos, where I have the thrill of “guest blogging” from time to time. Visit them!]

Why Lauren Bikes

Posted on August 26, 2011 by Lauren Van Ham

[This post belongs in a series of 7 entries written to build community and receive donations to support the Climate Ride, a 320 mile cycling pilgrimage I made in October, 2011. Several entries focus on and celebrate the particular efforts of each of the 4 NGOs I designated to receive funds I raised for the ride.]

Greetings!

In 35 days, I’ll be up in Fortuna, CA, and preparing to ride the 350 miles to San Francisco – 5 days of cycling to celebrate this Earth-home of ours, and to raise awareness about how we can do a better job of taking care of it.

So, SO many of you have already offered support. Thank you for your generosity! And for those of you still wanting to give, you have 4 more weeks. You might recall that I’ve designated 4 NGOs, in particular, to receive the funds raised on behalf of my pedaling. For the time remaining between now and Oct. 2nd,I’m going to focus on 1 NGO a week, highlighting why I think their efforts are important and worthy of your donation.

This week: The East Bay Bike Coalition http://ebbc.org/

Their mission: Promoting bicycling as an everyday means of transportation and recreation since 1972.

Geek Treat: In the United States, 25% of trips are under a mile, but 75% of those trips are made by car. Biking or walking one mile instead of driving will save you at least 15 cents on gas. And what about all those fun interactions with people and your neighborhood when you’re not stuck behind the wheel? (http://www.americantrails.org/resources/health/SuburbBrody.html)

And now….Why Lauren Bikes

“God made so many different kinds of people;
why would God allow only one way to worship”

– Martin Buber

I bike because it’s when my body prays. I bike because it makes me feel strong. I bike because two wheels take me to locations I wouldn’t otherwise see. I bike because I always return from rides feeling different from when I left. I bike because the challenges scare me…and I am someone who needs to lean into her fears directly.

A few years ago, I was riding my first double century – a double century is 200 miles in one day. I became very afraid, suddenly, when I learned a big climb was coming and we’d be working very hard for the next hour. “Climbing for the next hour?” I questioned inwardly. A young voice inside whimpered, “I can’t!” and I wanted to cry….but another harsher voice snapped, “You can’t cry and ride a bike at the same time! Keep moving!”

I finished the climb; infact, I finished the entire 200 miles, but I also became irrationally fearful of climbing. For two months after that ride, I avoided certain roads and noticed an existential distancing between me and my love for meditation on the bike. I knew I had to lean into this fear and find out what it meant.

In sought-out time with a Buddhist teacher, who is also an avid cyclist, he asked, “Lauren, do you KNOW that you can’t cry and ride your bike at the same time? For whatever it’s worth, I had a lovely cry on my bike just last Sunday.” He also questioned wisely, “About how old was the one inside who said she couldn’t? And who was the one who told her she had to?” Before ending our session, he asked me to describe what it was like to finish all 200 miles. Had I even taken time to acknowledge the accomplishment? Ever so gently, with his own tears of joy leading the way, we both wept and celebrated my first double century triumph. I agreed then to address the fears directly by returning to the East Bay hills, and I vowed to let him know what happened.

One week later, on a very foggy morning, I climbed South Park Road, one of Tilden Park’s steepest. Along the way, I spoke to the fear, “You can do it. Look at you: you’re doing it!! You don’t have to go fast; you can stop if you need to….but look at you! You are doing this. Breathe. Pull, push. Breathe.” At the top of the hill, I cried. I cried and pedaled and laughed and whooped my way across the ridge, tears and snot running down my face, while I rode my bike at the same time.

Practice with Parvati, my two-wheeled Guru

I ride my bike because I see Creation from ever-changing angles. I ride my bike because it is meditation in motion. I ride my bike because in our dance together, we find God.

What is the Power of Your Love?

Posted on June 23, 2007 by Lauren Van Ham

[I delivered the following homily in the summer of 2007 at my Renewing Ceremony. The ceremony was created as a ritual to both renew my 1999 Ordination vows as an Interfaith minister and profess myself an Eco-chaplain. Similar to a minister whose Call is healthcare ministry or prison ministry, I had come, through uncomfortable discernment, that my calling is to care – very intentionally – for the Earth and all Her inhabitants. With my seminary’s endorsement and the blessing of my spiritual communities, I stepped into this new “office” on June 23, 2007. The ceremony began with an invocation by Jane DeCuir, of the Cherokee Metis Nation…]

Jane's Invocation

In seminary I was taught that Interfaith ritual should begin first by honoring the land on which you are gathered and the people to whom it belongs. Thank you, Jane, for your presence here today.

I’ve heard that when the Europeans began arriving in America, they confused the Native People by asking them to translate “God” and “nature.” In many indigenous languages, of course, the two words are the same. It’s the newer languages that felt a need to distinguish the God we know in nature as different from the God we know, perhaps, in the train station.

Looking for God, seeking the Holy in a variety of settings, is the work of a chaplain. Just as the chapel is separate from the church or temple, a chaplain resolves to create sacred space in the complexity of hospitals, war zones, city streets, Wal-Mart… At first glance, these intense places may be perceived as separate and God-less. A chaplain’s call is to bring some light; to prophetically state, “Here, too. No matter how horrid, the Source of our Breath abides in this place, too.”

A year ago, I began to see that my work was changing. Caring for the Earth had become my deep love in ministry. I’ll admit I’ve been making it up as I go, but I’ve been calling the work “Eco-chaplaincy.” I say it with love and dread because, after all, what does it mean when our Earth is so ravaged that it too, like a prison or the Iraqi desert, needs a chaplain? And what, exactly, does an Eco-chaplain do?

Offering Homily

One of my favorite movies of all times is Mary Poppins. I love how Mary Poppins finds magic in the mundane. I also love her fastidious tendencies. For a good long while now, I’ve wished badly I could snap my fingers and—just like the toys in Jane and Michael’s nursery—have the environment return itself to a lush, forested, healthy planet. InMaryPoppins’ world, it’s fine to use what’s around you and to play with vigor, so long as you put it back…each article in its right place.

I went through a dark, troubling period last Fall. In the world around me, nothing was being returned to its right place. I saw 1-person-per-car idling on the freeway, an endless supply of Styrofoam cups and plastic bags being used once and tossed. Then one day, walking down University Ave., I saw a “SALE” sign in the Goodwill store window!

What does it mean when a thrift store has so much stuff it requires storewide liquidation?!? We are clearing the Earth’s forests to the tune of 69 acres per minute, so we can drive to the store and buy stuff, to give to Goodwill, so they can send it to the landfill, some of it contaminating our soil and water for a millennium or more. What is going on??? The whole scene had me feeling desperate, judgmental and angry — a pretty undesirable litany for a minister.

Blessing of Earth Worms

I knew that blame was pointless and staying mad felt miserable, so I did what one is wont to do when feeling sad, afraid, and misunderstood: I turned toward what I love. I spent a lot of time alone, turning toward the rocks, the trees, the smells of nature. With some kind coaching and encouragement, I got strong enough to ride my bike into these hills so I could sweat and breathe Mother Earth’s theology. It’s Her theology, after all, that gives birth to all the others. The miracle of our 13 billion year story on this planet is what, for me, truly makes sense. We are this soil, this water, one great breath, breathing together.

As I connected again with all that I am and what I so dearly love, I began to thaw. The anger melted to grief, and the words of Eco-philosopher, Joanna Macy comforted me: “The grief you carry for this world comes from your love for it. It is high time we tasted the power of your love.”

My work as an Eco-chaplain, I’m coming to see, lies in the very heart of this question: What is the power of your love? My guess and my hope is that there are more Eco-chaplains out there.

I’m not at all certain how this work will continue to evolve, but I would like to close by sharing my present intention for what I will do in this role:

What is the Power of YOUR Love?

As an Eco-chaplain, I want to remind us all of our True Nature. We are inextricably connected and linked to everything in this universe.
From this awareness, I want to act and serve on behalf of all species, advocating eco-justice. I want, likeMaryPoppins, to teach that the magic is in the mundane. I want to celebrate the abundance inherent in simplicity.
In the face of adversity or despair, of which I know there will be plenty, I want to practice not closing down, but rather, “allowing in.” I’ve heard this practice described as “poor man’s equanimity.” With the stakes so high and the enormity of the crisis so deadening, “poor man’s equanimity” frees us to move and act without the guarantee of success. After all, I have no clue how this story ends. The Divine invitation for each of us is to bring our creativity, our compassion and our Whole Self to each moment … one at a time.
And finally, the biggest secret: I want to do this work with joy! An Eco-chaplain’s work, though wrought with a sense of urgency, is wonderfully Joyful! I believe this is so because in caring for our interconnection to all and with all, I can clearly recognize—at least for brief, ecstatic moments—that there is no end to our mutual belonging.

If we humans want to live sustainably on this Earth, we have our work cut out for us: BIG time. As an Eco-chaplain and fellow human, my vote is that we get busy. And I invite us, like Mary Poppins, to find the magic in the mundane—to draw deeply from the wellspring of joy and love.

The Divine is ready, willing, awaiting our next act.

What is the power of your love?