Columns

What would ministry be without a minister's column in the monthly church newsletter? Here are some of my recent musings for the monthly newsletter of the Unitarian Universalist Church of
Columbia, usually centered on our monthly themes.

© Copyright 2024 George Grimm-Howell. All rights reserved.

Rooting and Reaching

November 2022

I’m beginning to wrap my heart and mind around our worship theme for November: Ancestors. And I admit to being excited about our earth teacher for the month, trees. I love the paradox of trees, who are always rooted yet always reaching. The combination of ancestors and trees, brings to mind my own family tree and all the complexity that comes with being rooted in a family, a time, and a place — yet allowing myself to reach beyond my origin story to create my own identity.

Like a tree who is rooted, however, I’m coming to realize that I’m not meant to “overcome” or “transcend” my family of origin — but rather embrace my family tree (even the broken branches and the deep scars) and understand how it not only has shaped who I am but will always inform to some degree who I will become.

As I research more about the little-known lives of trees and communities of trees, I’m learning that they are deeply connected underground, that they communicate with each other, and that they even help each other survive. I can’t think of a better metaphor for a religious community. (I think there’s a sermon in there somewhere.) I look forward to connecting and growing with each of you this church year and beyond.

Sweet Dreams

December 2022

As I contemplate our December worship theme of slowing down, I think of dreaming. Leave it to me, the ultimate multitasker, to think of ways to stay productive while sleeping! The Communications Board in the church kitchen currently says, “Build the World we Dream About.” And yes, that’s what we’re called to do in this life-giving faith tradition. But amid all our fervent activity to set the captives free and bind the wounds of the world, when is it that we’re supposed to do the dreaming part?

Of course we will never stop doing good in the world. The hurts and injustices that we are working to heal never take time off. But this winter season offers us a prime opportunity to slow down, light a candle of hope against the dark, and do the essential work of dreaming into being the world we know is possible.

I’m privileged to be among you this holiday season, strengthening our connections, and challenging each other to spiritual growth. This December, let us give each other the precious gift of our presence with each other. But most of all, let us dare to share with each other and the world the healing and hope that dwell in our dreaming.

Blessing on you and yours during this holiday season.

The Blessings of Inter-Being

February 2023

I often think of Thich Nhat Hanh’s beautiful idea of inter-being. Each life is intimately intertwined with the rest of existence. No being or object stands independent of its deep relationships — relationships to the past, sustenance in the presence, and the path for future evolution.

So too with our church family and the way we practice our faith. Our beautiful project here, how we “do” religion, is steeped in relationship. When we step into our sanctuary, we step into the history that preceded us. And as we experience faith formation, we do it in collaboration with others as we all wrestle with the big and small questions of our existence and how we are called to be in the world.

I look forward to continuing this shared journey with you, as we enter the month of February and explore our monthly theme of interconnection. May our relationships carry us forward into lifelong learning and the peace that comes from being held by the interconnect web of existence of which we’re a part.

Open

March 2023

In March we celebrate the theme of emergence. This is our time to emerge from wintry contemplation and put ourselves out
there, spiritually and in the flesh. Like the daffodils, let us poke our heads out and prepare for a time of growth and flowering. Spiritual writer Deng Ming-Dao speaks of flowers as the most pure offering we can imagine: “Flowers arouse in us an instinct to protect them, to appreciate them, and to shelter them. This world is too ugly, too violent. There should be something delicate to care about."

Remember the joy of flowers, yes, but also how essential they are. Beauty has a purpose: to attract the pollinators who are in so many ways the sustainers of life. But to allow this lovely intercourse with life to proceed, we must first be open and vulnerable.

Let us emerge together, sheltering and supporting each other. And let us open ourselves gently to perform a fragile yet life-giving miracle: to offer to a world preoccupied with death and limitation a message of beauty and hope.

Trust and Risk

April 2023

Soon, Christendom will light the Easter fire to mark the passage into new life. As we contemplate our worship theme of trust and risk this April, the Easter fire is an opportunity to reflect on the pain and joy of change. As a community of faith, trust and risk go hand in hand as we kindle in our hearts the perpetual flame of destruction and renewal.

The Sufi mystic poet Rumi says, “You must set fire to have light. Trust means you're ready to risk what you currently have.” When a prophet invites you into their fire, he says, we must go quickly and not fret about being burned.

But perhaps our own Unitarian Universalist tradition says it best: In our hymn “As Tranquil Streams,” the 1933 lyrics of Marion Franklin Hamm call us to revere our past traditions but “trust the dawning future more.”

I look forward this month to gathering with all of you around the warming fires of change and renewal.

Practice

June 2023

Since childhood, I’ve always carried with me the inherited mantra of “practice makes perfect.” When it comes to spiritual practice, which is our summer worship theme, for me it’s been something more like practicing imperfection.

I’ve always admired those who seem to have poured themselves fully into a particular spiritual practice. Perhaps they do yoga, sitting meditation, or gardening. Others read poetry or pray. I used to feel some frustration about the fact that I haven’t found a single “that’s the one!” spiritual practice. The wide variety of spiritual practices available have me feeling like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Why can’t I try them all? Call it spiritual practice FOMO.

For now, I’ve decided to give myself permission to be imperfect, to keep experimenting with new things, to feed my soul a balanced diet, rich with variety: Prayer beads, holy texts, forest bathing, trail running, and our UUCOMO silent meditation group on many Sunday mornings.

But through it all, I’ve come to realize that my ultimate spiritual practice is learning, loving, and growing as part of a spiritual community. In other words, being in relationship with you is my primary spiritual practice. And for me, that practice feels
just perfect.

50 Shades of Pray

July 2023

OK, I’ll admit it. I’ve always been uncomfortable with prayer. There, I said it in public. I’m a minister who doesn’t like to pray. Or at least I didn’t until I read this fantastic little book Simply Pray, by UU minister Erik Walker Wikstrom. It gave me new language to talk about prayer and what it really means. Prayer, to my great joy, has now been reimagined as mindful attention — as deep listening to the prayer that’s already praying deep inside me.

Now, I think of it less as a long distance request line to the divine and more like the magical compass in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies that, regardless of position, always points to your heart’s desire. Prayer, for me, isn’t about asking for stuff or getting answers, it’s about hearing the questions. It’s about deep listening to the longings of your own heart. And it’s about shining a loving spotlight on people and other beings and things that you care about.

Prayer can take so many forms that there just might be one that suits your heart. Make some prayer beads that symbolize the four elements, talk to a tree, say a word of gratitude when the sunlight kisses your skin. Or let your prayer be a wordless act of service that pays mindful attention to a fellow soul in need. Make it your own. Amen.

Joyfully

October 2023

Unitarian Universalism in many ways is the hardest religion. The theology is not handed down to us ready-made. Rather than reciting easy answers, we wrestle together with life’s toughest questions. We choose the harder path of saving each other over and over. And let’s face it, the journey toward a more just and inclusive world can leave us spent and frustrated.

And this is why the way we move through precarious times must include joy. As I contemplate our October theme of “Joyfully,” I’m grateful for the reminder that our faith knows not only the work but the joy of living a life of the spirit, the joy of discovery, and joy of deep and satisfying relationships.

A joyful life of the spirit includes a celebration of life-giving breath. For me that includes the cathartic joy of singing. Most any kind of singing can invoke joy, but for me the best kind is singing in concert with others. Singing hymns at church and singing in choirs have always been the elixir that reawakens me to abundant life and expands my soul. I look forward to making joyful noise with you
in October!

Collectively

November 2023

As our traditional closing words from Rev. Wayne Arnason remind us that, in the hard work of doing UU church, the way is hard, the stakes are high, and the path isn’t clear. But we can be courageous when we know the truth that we are not alone.

My UU faith has evolved considerably over the decades. In my earlier formative years, the ethic that I imbibed in my home congregation was that spirituality was an individual endeavor. Our embrace of freedom of conscience and freedom of the pew meant that we pursued spirituality as private individuals. But I now see this “private” approach as a recipe for maintaining the
status quo.

This reminds me of early 20th century theologian Walter Rauchenbush’s admonition against a faith grown in flowerpots. He writes, “...those who hold that the flower of religion can be raised only in flowerpots will have to make their reckoning with the prophets
of Israel.”

In other words, the practice of religion should and must be a collective, prophetic endeavor that moves us toward a common vision of the social good. Rather than becoming rootbound in our own flowerpots, we must let our roots mingle, grow together, and feed each other as we become a diverse garden that blesses the world with abundant liberation and love. Together, we can do so much more, and be so much more, than we ever could alone.

A Tender Calling

December 2023

An old Baptist hymn that dwells deep in my bones sings of salvation as a soft and tender calling. It’s not through our selfish determination or fear of failure, but through grace that we are called home, called into the beloved community of the faithful.

As I contemplate the close of my intern ministry here at UUCC, I am profoundly grateful for the grace in which this community has held me, nurtured me, and challenged me. In your midst, I have finally heard in clearest tones the deep and beautiful call to ministry. As the old hymn intones, this calling was soft and tender as you opened your hearts to become once again a teaching congregation, giving me space to make mistakes and discover my growing edges.

As we approach the day of final farewell at the end of December, my soul is filled with gratitude for the many ways you welcomed this Indiana farm kid who has finally found his calling. I will carry you all with me into my new life to come.