It's about family

5/17

Jen from next door has come with her daughter to look at some spaces. For her alumni group. She’s one  of the women who planned and helped a successful candidates’ forum to happen. But more than that, she’s on the board of the Goodman Foundation. As in Goodman, Schwerner and Cheyney. In 1964, three Freedom Riders were murdered in Mississippi. One of them, Andrew Goodman, lived next door to West-Park. Next summer is the 50th anniversary of this watershed event during the American Civil Rights journey. We need to have an event here, next door to where he lived, to reflect on that experience and what it meant, what it means today. We agree to work on that together.

Jeremy is in to finally take down his set up from the candidates’ forum. We want to take in another Knicks game together, if they manage to survive.  

Marc is hard a work setting up for Carman Moore’s rehearsal later today.

Stephen and Mitchell are hard at work going over figures to make something work.

Carman Moore’s Sky Orchestra has arrived for their rehearsal. The sounds of their music swell and fill the walls of the church. It feels loose and free flowing but he is exacting and knows precisely what he wants us to hear. I watch Kiori’s body against Catarina’s projections and the sound of Beppe’s bowls. Later, we’ll stand on the steps and talk over the events of the week. My strangely rising sense of hope.  I am so thankful for Beppe’s bringing this event our way. And that after having experienced so many performances here he’s  now a performer himself. Beppe has brought this gift to this place. While talking with him, I feel the warmth of the sun, things are feeling better. 

(Why do mice always look so sneaky running across a floor?)

RL drops in for a visit. Asks how it’s going. I tell him. He invites me to visit him at his office. 

About 3 PM Stephen tells me the numbers work. It seems we have a plan.  At 6 PM  Martin tells me the don’t. OK, enough for now. marina and Sol from Noche are dancing with another flamenco group tonight in the East Village. I’m on my way. 

I remember my first experience of flamenco in New Mexico. The sound of the feet pounding, I could almost see sparks, the tension, the passion, the sense of pride and power that shines through the eyes of the women, the ululating wail of the male singers in their cantes, their gritos. I could follow that anywhere. Lose myself in it. Marina is moved that I’m coming. It’s about family, I say. 

It all goes back

5/16

The wheelchair man is back, tucked under the 86th Street railing. I wake him, tell him he’s got to go. He tells me give him 5 minutes. Inside, I tell Stephen. We go back outside. He hasn’t stirred. I tell him again he’s got to move.  

I told you, give me five minutes.

You told me that last time and you here 24 hours.

I was sick, man.

And you left a serious mess.

Don’t say another word, man, not another word.

But you have to go. 

And with that he raises himself up quickly, taller than Stephen and I, even with no feet. In a voice filled with anger and rage and violence he says, I’m beggin you man, you got both your legs, I’m beggin you.

You want me to call someone?

Call someone? Call someone? Call fuckin who? Stop fuckin taunting me, stop fuckin tauntin me.

Stpehen intervenes, Sir, he’s not taunting you.

All right, all right. I’m goin through some serious mental stuff man, serious mental stuff. I’m goin, I’m goin.

OK,OK.

We back away. Stephen says, He’s getting up. Let’s leave him alone. I was scared. He moved fast. Taller than us. even with no feet.

And he’s right, I say, I have no idea who to call. Maybe where he got the wheelchair...and this feeling of sadness, helplessness fills me. And I can feel his frustration. His anger. His rage. Next time I go out, he's gone. 

Deacon James passes. Breathing heavy. How are you James?

Usually says, OK, this time just looks at me. Not so good. I’m strugglin, man.

You’re moving, you’re breathing, you’re here. You’re hangin in. Hope to see you Sunday.

He smiles. God willing, he says. I see his African beads, his Korean vet hat. Remember him as my sweeping partner. Shoveling partner. Hope to see you Sunday.

The Red Bull people are in to see Stephen. He’s closing in on finishing the contract. Later, NBC will be in to talk about a long summer filming. Some serious space use.

Catarina is in the sanctuary working on her projections for Saturday’s concert work with young Japanese dancer/choreographer Kiori Kawai. Very detailed work.

An older woman, hey maybe my age, comes in. Was at the candidates’ forum Monday. Lives across the street. Long career in politics. Wants to put us on the map. Thinks she could do the job for us. I feel confidence. And need. I ask her to write a proposal. 

Catarina and Kiori still working. Dzieci is arriving for the monthly healing circle. Martin is still looking for the answer.

Dzieci now alone in the sanctuary. No circle this time. Sitting in silence in the pews. Then a note. Then two. Then voices begin to join in. Unison. Then harmony. People rise, one by one. A circle begins. 

A circle, circling. People move to the center. Find their voice. Each individual. For awhile, the chant sounds like yah-weh. The sound of breath. The name of God. Sometimes sounding  tribal. Sometimes medieval. Gregorian almost. And sometimes like wolves. Or coyotes. All wordless...

The setting sun is pouring through the rose window bathing the sanctuary in light. Like honey. Like melting caramel. I feel like I’m in some corner of Westeros. Maybe with the wildlings. Game of Thrones.

We sit and talk after. It felt gentler. Quieter.  I talk about the ritual created by the theater group with the wolves and lambs, the cast of 30 for an audience of one. Rite of inititation. Theater. But here, like reaching back through our ancestors to roots. Pre-Christian. Pre-Jewish. Roots. Dzieci can’t commit long term until they see that the future is secure. That they can count on being here.  I am so tired. Of saying. Just a little longer. Just a little longer.....

I'm going with Isis to the B for conversation. My neighbor Rabbi Wildes walks by with two congregants. Or friends. I greet him. Shavout, I say. Right, he says. We were up all night studying. Then a rooftop breakfast. 

Sunday for us, I say.

He looks. Pentecost. Shavuot.

Of course, he says.

Our pentecost goes  back to yours. 

It all goes back, he says, it all goes back.                                                                                                   

It begins with truth teling

5/14

Short day. Jeremy drops in to review yesteday’s candidates’ forum and talk about plans for the upcoming Make Music New York day in June. And also talk about his upcoming trip to Berlin, hoping to connect with my son Micah and the music scene there. 

While we’re talking, Anna stops in with puppy, ready to volunteer for Saturday’s open house. She’s also been baby sitting for Boxer Mike’s Dalmatians who seem to have fallen out of favor at Capital Hall despite Michael’s volunteer role as peace keeper and protector in a sometimes sketchy environment.

Saw Boxer Mike on the street with a wheelbarrow full of gloves and other equipment. He’s got a gig training the project  kids in a local park. Always wished we could hook him up with a space, but there were issues around appropriate clearance to work with kids, etc. And I still wish we could find  way to help him with literacy. 

Need to run to catch up with Zeljko and Zoltan at the Port Authority to bus up to Stony Point for a screening of the Second Meeting and push the conversation as to implications for peacemaking strategies to a deeper level. Dale and Keegan will meet us there.

When we were in RL’s studio waiting for his Barqu barque piece, Zeljko introduced RL to Zoltan. He talks of his son, Arya. Like many little guys, he loves cowboys. Zeljko said that when he gave Arya a cowboy hat, Arya said,  Now I am RL....

5/15

Today my friends leave. Zeljko already on his way to LA for his Pasadena premiere.  Zoltan to leave soon. Last night at Stony Point (http://stonypointcenter.org/) was a great end to this part of the journey. A national women’s group was on hand. And others. And we had a chance to explore deeper.  

Dale’s thoughts as he took off that night, Zoltan’s description of the 78 days of NATO bombing. We Americans are so innocent. 9-11 or Boston shakes us to our core, yet we have no idea what it’s like to be bombed for 78 days. With mainly civilian casualties. For Zoltan, it was not a military action but terrorism. And he also used the word capitalisme, which Zeljko missed the first time around. And also the experience earlier at the outset of the breakup of his country, having to lead his multi-ethnic unit back from Croatia to Belgrade while avoiding armed conflict and then seeing men who had been comrades for years leave and become enemies. I continue to learn how the whole Balkan story with its  conflicting mythic nationalist narratives is an important key to the mysterious work of peace making. One thing we could conclude, it begins with truth telling, authenticity. 

Stephen is working hard to wrap up Red Bull contracts. 

John H comes in  to pick up a Halbreich foundation check for the Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space,(http://www.morusnyc.org/)  to give me one of their hats and to tell me of their new fight to keep the city and developers from taking over the Alphabet City community gardens.  The Lower Eastside/Chinatown/loaisai hood being the last stand  of struggle against gentrification in Manhattan. 

I take my baker friend Zoltan fresh baked popovers. He opens, sniffs, says ah, eggs...We share the popovers, ayvar, smoked meat and his favorite Budweiser then he’s off on his way back to Belgrade via London.

It begins with truth telling.

Going to the candidates debate

5/13

The Candidates Debate

Bill Tripp from Portland is in to talk about his vision for our tower. Bill was part of the first public event when we came back into this building back in December 2010. His presentation on ritual space (http://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/search?q=ritual+space) along with Matt Webber’s photography (http://weber-street-photography.com/) and Amanda’s music made the night. Our doors were open again. No heat. No restrooms. But it was the first step towards rebirth. 

Now he has developed a vision of a light installation that would symbolize our rebirth, reference our history as the founding congregation of the More Light Movement and be a visible beacon of hope for the community. Marsha and Stephen have joined us for the discussion. It seems reasonable. It seems doable. And Bill will stay for the evening candidate’ forum to share the idea with the community.  

The Tower Project

Cara stops in for our final clean up. But will be doing flamenco instead of politics come evening. As it should be. 

After days of absence, I see Rachelle slip into the vestibule and back out the door. I go out to see her to tell her I’ve been worried. And soon regret it. She’s got her SUV cart and numerous garbage bags and immediately begins to critique the posters for the candidates’ forum. She sees the posters for Leila and Berik’s opening last Friday and says the big word Tonight is confusing. Why not put the big TONIGHT over the forum posters? Within ten minutes, I’ve gone from compassionate to wanting to shoot myself again. She takes off on this project leaving all her things behind.

Later I see her in her black layers of clothes passing out her fliers to people about the forum. They don’t know, pastor. Nobody knows. Why don’t they know? How can I tell her she scares the hell out of people? When the women  from the West 80’s Association come into set up, she attaches herself to them and and they compassionately involve her in the set up work. 

The women remind me of those I knew back in Oklahoma in the Junior League. Organized,detailed, ready to bring their intelligence and experience and creativity for community betterment. My hope is that out of this experience a relationship can develop to build the support necessary to get the community invested in our project. 

Susan and Danielle

I return from a reception at the Serbian embassy where I got to see Dale’s daughter, from whom he’d been estranged, meet his son Keegan for the first time. The candidate’s forum is about to begin.

I do my usual architectural-social history rap. But follow it up with this:

When this building was landmarked in May 2010, this congregation had a very heavy decision to make. Our governing body advised us to sell this building and merge with another church. We decided not to do that. Because we believed that it was incumbent upon us as stewards to preserve this  place where so much important church... and social history had taken place. Not as an exterior landmark but as a beating  heart of the community at the center of the community. We have represented the best of what the Upper West Side has been. And we have  helped create that reality, helped shape what is known as the Upper West Side. We did so because we believed it would not be  right for this  building to become  a drugstore , bank or even festival  market place.   And we did so because we believed that not just the building but the church  was important to this neighborhood and that our  community would come through. We are still waiting. The future very much depends on you....

Speaking to the candidates

All the candidates spoke. Issues and concerns included the ongoing gentrification of our neighborhood, preservation of affordable housing, sale of public land to developers, pubic education, charter schools..and the effects of landmarking on places like West-Park. While almost all candidates wanted to take credit for saving West-Park, only few understood that landmarking the church building does not guarantee saving the church, or event the building. Only Helen Rosenthal had the courage to say, the community has let you down...

Later, she said to me, I’m with you. And after I’m elected, I’m going to, excuse the language, hold their fucking feet to the fire...At least she  knew what to say to me..

Our current commissioner, Gale Brewer, now running for Manhattan Borough President, flies in for a visit, gives me props, then says, Yes, Brashear, we know you need money...Stephen and Hugo look at each other, look at me...

Someone  is unaccontably whistling. Anna turns around and says, Shhh....you're scaring my dog...

At the debates’conclusion, Bil Tripp and I go off for more conversation.

We did our part, gave them a good night. But it’s time to up the ante. My people are  feeling frustrated.  we live in a neighborhood where every candidate s a liberal. Maybe even progressive. One is from the Green Party. Several will cross file with the Working Families Party. But the words of Simon and Garfunkel are running through my head...

Going to the candidates debate

Laugh about it, shout about it

When you've got to choose......

   

                                              Mrs. Robinson by Simon and Garfunkel

It's Mothers Day

5/11

And when I arrive on Sunday morning, Anna’s on the same bench I saw her on last night. I laugh and say, tell me you went home..and she laughs and tell me she did and we both laugh...

Many are absent due to Mothers’ Day, travel and illness but my son Dan has come home to surprise his mom and it always lifts my spirits to see him. And a cab pulls up with Harmonia Opera director and singer Emiko Iinuma whose presence is a surprise blessing. She is here to remember her mother.

Yes, it’s Mothers' day. 

Always a bit edgy. It’s not all hallmark. Some have wanted to be and can't be. Others have had bad experience with their . So on this day...for mothers, those who have had mothers, those who have been mothered by someone , for those who have  mothered others...and for those who have mothered us....we give thanks....

Do you know the origin of this day? I’ve been spending the week with friends from Serbia. In their country they have a day called " women's day."

Here in the US, it all goes back to  Julia Ward Howe. The First Mother's Day proclaimed in 1870 was a passionate demand for disarmament and peace.  Here is her original proclamation from 1870: 

Arise, then, women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or tears!

Say firmly: We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have taught them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.

From the bosom of the devastated earth, a voice goes up with our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!"

The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesars but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

Here briefly is the biography of th amazing woman:

US feminist, reformer, and writer Julia Ward Howe was born May 27, 1819 in New York City. She married Samuel Gridley Howe of Boston, a physician and social reformer. After the Civil War, she campaigned for women rights, anti-slavery, equality, and for world peace. She published several volumes of poetry, travel books, and a play. She became the first woman to be elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1908. She was an ardent antislavery activist who wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic in 1862, sung to the tune of John Brown's Body. She wrote a biography in 1883 of Margaret Fuller, who was a prominent literary figure and a member of Ralph Waldo Emerson's Transcendentalists. She died in 1910. My boys’ elementary school in Pittsburgh was named for Julia Ward Howe. 

It’s a typical American phenomenon.... We take something challenging, even radical,  and tame it....domesticate it, perhaps even imprison it?

Well, that’s my segue Segue into Paul and Silas. We have a lot of images of bondage here. First, the slave girl....to her  owner, and also  to a spirit...

And then Paul and Silas. There were actually  no laws against practicing or teaching the Jewish religion. Their charge would have to have been something like disturbing the peace or a public safety issue. But it’s obvious:    the real issue was  really economic. They were messing with the slave girl’s owner’s income production. And so they were imprisoned. 

It says around midnight, they were singing hymns and songs...I remember when I was arrested following the  Amadou Diallo death and the ensuing protests.  When I was taken into the cell, there was already a cell full of  black clergy in the jail. They were singing hymn and spirituals. And I immediately thouht of thsi passage. 

And then the jailer. First in bondage to  his job in the prison industrial complex. And then to fear. And  then to Chirst. 

So then there was this esrthquake. And Paul and Silas choose not to leave. they chose to free the jailer instead. When he asked what must he do to be saved, he could have been just worried about his own neck. (There are three jailbreaks in Acts. Usually pulled off with the assitance of angels. When Peter got sprung, Herod ordered that jailer put to death..)

The magistrates amd officials  act to preserve the status quo. The question that faces us is what is our bondage? What holds us, keeps us, from what we coild be, whay we are supposed to be? 

In the end, no prison can contain the God who gives "life and breath and all things." In the end, we need to be  freed from a mind set. We need to Free to be free. We need to strive to be a community that can offer support one another in that process. 

After the sermon, we spend some time talking about our mothers. What the greatest gift they gave us is. In may cases, it ws mothers who pass on the faith. One taught her son ti be a revolutionary by participating in a local ecclesiastical base communty which became the organizational  building blocs of the Nicaraguan revolution. And others learned patience. And perseverence.  And that it’s never to late to go for your dream. Or love. 

Where are they from? From Texas. And New York. And New England. And Texas. And Managua and Grenada, Nicaragua. And Tokyo. 

After services, we stay. Hang out for a little while. Dan and I have plans. I will stop at the apartment, pick up fresh Serbian bread and smoked meats.  Pick up flowers, fruit and guacamole. We’ll be four of us together. It’s Mothers’ Day. 

Unnamed women and the O.G.

Pirates or Latin Kings?

5/10

I leave a day immersed in the Serbian community of Astoria, Queens...a bakery, a store filled with dried carcasses and the intoxicating smell of smoked meats, shelves lined with ayvar (red pepper paste) and other products from back home, a cafe with a brunch of drinks and Balkan mezze, to jump into Kimberley’s internship project.

She’s called it the nameless project, exploring several unnamed women in the Bible. The first is Lot’s wife, turned into a pillar of salt for looking back longingly on the city she was forced to leave. (Gen.19:26) Not a good thing on a rain stormy day like this. 

Then Jeptha’s daughter. A story I’ve definitely repressed if I remember it all. (Judges 11; 29-40) The man makes a vow so God will help him in battle. He’ll sacrifice the  first thing to come out of his house if he wins. Tums out to be his daughter. He tells her. She asks for two  months to mourn her virginity on a retreat with her friends. Then she comes back and he “does as he had vowed...” What?!!

Why does God never say anything?

Why does he feel he’s got to  follow through?

Why does she agree?

If she can go to the hills, why not just leave? 

Why don’t her friends who go with her intervene? 

Why is she unnamed? 

Why is this in the Bible at all? 

What are they trying to say to us?

This one completely escapes me. 

So Jeptha was a son of a prostitute. Abused by his family. (Some in the circle who’ve lived through this seem to feel a connection...) How were three girls held captive in Cleveland against their will? To say, well that’s the Old Testament God, just isn’t enough for me. It’s supposed to be the same one.  The Bible can be  a dangerous book. 

Finally Samson’s first wife, the one before Delilah. (Judges 13-16) Issues with choosing a wife from outside of your own community. Resonance of West Side Story (One of your own kind, stick to your own kind...) A fight with a lion. Bees making honey in the lion .A wedding feast. A riddle. About the lion and honey. The wife threatened with burning if she doesn’t find the answer. Seduction. Revelation. Slaying 30. Losing his wife. Tying torches to foxes’ tails and burning the fields. Wife and family killed. Slaying 3000 with a jaw bone.  And later yet another Philistine wife. You’d think he’d learn. But as for this unnamed one?

Who was she loyal to?

How’d she feel about being forced to choose  between her husband and her own people?

How’d she feel about being married off to Samson’s best man? 

And what does it mean that her husband’s anger gets her killed? 

What’ going on here?

Can’t help but think of the old Rev. Gary Davis singing sermon, Samson and Delilah:

If I had my way
If I had my way
If I had my way
I would tear this old building down

Well Delilah, she was a woman fine and fair
She had good looks, God knows and coal black hair
Delilah, she came to Samson's mind
The first he saw this woman that looked so fine
Delilah, she set down on Samson's knee
Said tell me where your strength lies if you please
She spoke so kind, God knows, she talked so fair
'til Samson said "Delilah, you can cut off my hair
You can shave my head, clean as my hand
And my strength 'come as natural as any a man"

Yeah you read about old Samson, told from his birth
He was the strongest man that ever had lived on Earth
So one day while Samson was-a-walkin' along
He looked on the ground and saw an old jawbone
He stretched out his arm, God knows, it broke like flint
When he got to movin' ten-thousand was dead, Mmm

Well old Samson and the lion got attacked
Samson he jumped up on the lion's back
So you read about this lion had killed a man with his paws
But Samson got his hand in the lion's jaws
He rid that beast until he killed him dead
And the bees made honey in the lion's head

Good God!

I remember that from the old Blues at Newport album. Been covered by everyone from Peter, Paul and Mary to the Grateful Dead to Springsteen to Shirley Manson. Good stuff.

Kimeberley’s got the makings of a good series. These unnamed women. Weird and disturbing stories.Good that Stephen and Cara were there. Got to run to a wedding....

Outside,  storm is raging. Water flowing up out of the gutters onto the sidewalk. Marty looks  up, sees me on the steps, laughs and says, The rain in Spain ...

Hours later back from a disastrous wedding experience. Working late on tomorrow’s service.

On my way home, Anna on the bus stop bench again. Marine Rodriguez points to my black Pirate hat with the yellow P logo and brim. That, that there, that’s the king colors. The Latin Kings. Anna looks up. ‘Swhat I’m talkin’ about. And if you wear the yellow, you’re O.G.

Anna looks puzzled. Original gangster, I say. I tip my hat, remembering Public Enemy used to wear Pirate hats. 

These New York kings, nothin like the LA ones,says Sergeant Keith. Rodriguez shakes his head. I was a king before I was a marine. You don’t want to mess with them...

Good night, Anna. I’ll see you in the morning. See you in church. 

Samson...the Rev. Gary Davis

Peter, Paul and Mary

The Grateful Dead

3 / FR / Lyon /                                              SprSpringsteen

we pray for free

5/10

Berik and Layla's new show

Rough morning. Neither the Village Voice nor the New York Times has been kind to Zeljko. The Times especially mean, crossing a lie by not only criticizing the movie but also Col. Dale and his family. Unnecessary.This will cast a shadow over the day. Maybe some of it is New York cynicism, not able to take Col. Dale on his own authentic terms. So Zeljko has to let it go and get ready for tonight’s opening.

Mid afternoon. I’m overwhelmed. But a woman comes in. Distraught. Needs a place to pray. Someone to pray with her. Here’ s where I lose it a little. She’s a member of a local church. A multi location mega church that shares enough of our name to cause brand confusion, even though will not ordain gay folk let alone women. The kind of place that has a sense of moral superiority. That makes people ask us why can’ you be more like...Why are they so successful and you...That see themselves as the authentic version and us as liberal interlopers. That kind of thing. She went there. Five floors. But no open place to pray. Asked for crisis counseling. Told she would have to fill out a questionnaire. And that pastoral counseling would eb $100 an hour. I tell her she’s welcome to stay and pray. And that I would listen and pray with her. No questionnaires, no forms, no fee.We pray for free.

Just enough time to race to Brooklyn and set up a Jewish-Catholic-Buddhist-Japanese-Peruvian-American wedding. Should have known that was not going to be easy. 

Back in time to do the service. Lien Marc up for doing the sound for Carman Moore’s concert and then stopping by Leila and berok’s opening before running to Zeljko’s premiere. 

Breathe.

We pray for free.