Exodus underway and the best review ever

1/30

The exodus is underway. Rafael tells me that it was a little rough last night. But that he calld on a couple of Dominican cops he’s befriended, who’ve been cruising by regularly, to help out. They hung out for four hours, helping the move out, removing folks who didn’t want to leave. This guy has something. He and his crew are doing set up and security for tonight’s symphony concert. Not exactly like the Hell’s Angels and Grateful Dead, but....

I realize that I have seriously come to care for these guys. Like I did last summer with the Tenant crew.   And in some way that can’t be defined they are connected. You live with people you know, they become, well, people. And will miss quite a few people. It’s that Hair revival again.. and a little bit of godspell as well.  I’ve come face to face with my own prejudices. Relearned that some who look sketchy are stand up and some who look stand up...well, but I didn’t meet any like that. Real relationships have developed. That’s us again. 

It’s going to be a busy night with a concert and another Times Square Playwrights night. Danielle’s in for the duration. I go home, hopefully to run, but that’s not going to happen. 

Get back just in time. Toniught’s concert is entitled Concert for the West Park Restoration.  I speak to the symphony audience. Tell them all about the Center and how this may be the first symphony concert ever with security and services by Occupy Wall Street. And that this would have warmed the heart of Jens Nygaard whose Jupiter Symphony lived here back in the day. Jens who survived bipolar and homelessness to craft his own unique symphony. Who lived with Mozart and never forgot the streets. Some of his alumni are here, tonight, in the Spectrum Symphony.

Never sure what to expect from these pick-up orchestras that are pulled together for a concert, coalesce (or not) into being and then disappear only to reappear in new configurations. These are the journeymen, the music for love people. The ones who can’t live without playing. 

Within the first notes of Copland's Quiet City, I relax. David has pulled it off. The litmus test of these ensembles are the strings and horns and he has nailed it. Even placing the horns behind the strings. Clean and smooth.  And in the balcony on English horn is Jerry, Jens’ old go to guy. After Jens passed and the Jupiter fell into OWSesque infighting, Jerry wanted to create his own successor at West-Park but it didn’t happen. Now his notes flutter down from the balcony like soft snow. 

Bob, Beverly and David

Beverly Butrie hits all the marks on Verdi’s D’Amor sull’ali rosee and Mozart’s Non mi dur...a voice cries from the audience, almost startlingly, Brava Diva!

I go out at intermission. Rafael is anxious to come inside and listen. He’d heard rehearsals last night. Dying to be in there. So I make sure Steve knows that’s got to happen. And Rafael makes it in for Beethoven’s Fourth. 

After the concert he says, I love that music. The Beethoven, my heart, it’s bright and dark, at the same time. Last night that woman, that soprano, I don’t know, it’s...it’s..it’s better than crack. I couldn’t stop crying. (I later tell David he will never get a better review) Why can’t our kids have this, why? Why do they keep it from them?

And he’s right. I remember when classical music was as much a right for kids in the city as education and health care. (Was.) Now except for summer concerts in the parks and philanthropist funded special school events, classical music is like the seats behind the concrete moats at Yankee Stadium. Classical music as privilege and a charity offering. Sucks.

After the concert, Steve introduces me to a friend, a classic UWS by day, closet OWS by night. Successful real estate agent and 86th street condo owner with her heart on the streets. (Lenny, where are you when we need you?) Got to figure Steve out. Just showed up one day. Somewhere between Capra and Runyon, the guy fixes things. 

Jamie and Steve

Congratulations all around. My friend Taki from Mani Market provided great platters. (And yes, he’s part of the Sweat Shop Free campaign). A violist remembers Erasmia. The Jupiter alumni share memories of Jens.  The remaining occupiers begin to arrive. That great moment when the groups flow through each other. West-Park.

A classical crew

Casting out demons, amends, who didn't pay us back, and Occupy Pachelbel

1/29

There’s confusion when I first arrive. One of Rafael’s security guys is confronting an obviously disturbed young man. Not an #owser, but drawn there, refused entry, he tore down Berik’s fashion show poster and slept on the steps all night. And now he wants in. I speak to him. He comes back at me. Eyes blazing, hands trembling.

Tells me he’s Jesus. Satan. Daniel. I say, Aren’t you Kevin? He says, No, you’re Kevin. Then he launches into song:

Oh water, water,water, I made it out of clay. Oh water , water, water, with water I will play. Do you know what I’m saying to you?

Uh yeh, that’s the dreidel song...

Of course I know that. My name’s Goldtstein. I’m a Jew. From Staten Island. My parents are dead. I’m dead. I am brought back to life.My own people, the Jews, kicked me out..I am God’s son..I am here to raise you...it’s all about the children...look into my eyes...

And I do. The scariest thing about mental illness is when I look into the person’s eyes and realize that they totally believe, are experiencing, what they are saying. Makes me question my own sanity.

Then he says,... Let me in, I can bring this place back, fill it up,  like Sister Act, like Whoopi Goldberg.

I have to admit, he almost had me there. Sorry man, can’t do. I turn and go in. He follows me. Yelling incoherently, swearing. Andre looks up from the piano, shaken. Rafael approaches Kevin. Looks him in the eye. Kevin cursing and swearing. Taking it out on Rafael. 

Rafael opens his arms, That’s okay, man, I love you, give me a hug...Kevin opens his arms, Rafael embraces him, picks him up, literally carries him out of the church. 

Andre tell me he almost had another stroke. But he was blown away. Had never seen such strength of love. I am  just glad Andre is here. Later, Rafael told me that outside, Kevin continued to rant. Until Rafael said, Well, ok, but I need a cup of coffee. And you’re the only one who can do that. Because you have super powers. Only you know what I need. Only you have the power to get that one special cup of coffee. And Kevin goes off to get it. And by the time he comes back, the ambulance and police are there and Kevin is on his way to St.Luke’s psych ward.


One of the two octogenarian Belnord peace activist Shirleys from across the street has come to plead for continued occupation. She and the other Shirley had gone down to Zucotti and put up their  own money to buy emergency supplies. She works me like a veteran activist. 

How do you preach to a congregation that’s filled with  occupiers? It’s the last official day. They’ve come to say sorry, to say thanks, to make amends. We begin by singing a calming Taize chant, confitemini domino....come and fill our hearts with your peace...and then because I know what’s coming, I move the scriptures, the sermon up. 

John reads Deuteronomy 18: 15-20, Andre chants Psalm 115, Marsha reads 1 Corinthians 8: 1-13. Arcadia reads Mark 1: 21-28 in Spanish and I in English. Tell them there are several things at issue today...

I ask, Who’s the leader of #ows? And of course the answer is no one, we all are. I lift up 

first the idea of prophets. in Deuteronomy...The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet  from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet...tell them that’s what God says when Moses is gone. After Moses. And it always seems to be that way. Someone always seems to be  lifted up...but... I’m not so sure anymore. Marian Wright Edelman said it: there will be no more MLK, no more Gandhi. It’s got to be us....

Paul staes it more clearly:

We know that "all of us possess knowledge." Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. (Any thoughts on this one beyond word?) There is beyond this the idea of the  equality of intelligence...that all of us together are smarter than one of us alone. .Presbyterianism is supposed to be built on that principle. 

Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge;

Then how do I make sense of all this stuff about food sacrificed to idols?  Forget all the stuff about idols, watch what Paul’s saying about decision making..: His argument is, we know the idols are  not real, therefore to eat food sacrificed to them doesn’t matter, so you can do it, but if you do, you might mess up someone who thinks they are real...

OK...what’ exactly does that mean for us? Like we said last week, all things for us, are lawful, not all are beneficial... you follow me? 

For example,  when I was growing up, when we  did eucharist, communion, it was grape juice, Welch’s grape juice. The first time I went to an early Sunday eucharist at an Epsicopal church and they had tawny port, wow! But then in the ’70’s, we said wine was ok and we were all like see we can be Christians and have wine ...but then...THIS church, West-Park, by its tradition, for our regular communion, uses grape juice. Why? Koinonia, or in otherwords, solidarity. Because some folks struggle with alcohol, right? So some churches have cup A with wine, Cup B with juice, but you know what? it’s suposed to be ONE cup, so, not because its not allowed, but because we CHOOSE to, we only use juice. ONE CUP.

We make choices. Can you extend the analogy here? We don’t do some things that there’s nothing wrong with doing because it might mess up others...choices...free will, respect, not rules...

8:12 But when you thus sin against members of your family, and wound their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ.

When he’s saying family, he doesn’t mean just your actual family, he  means your community, whatever that is. If it’s a church, to hurt another brother or sister is like to hurt Jesus because we all bear his name. In a community, to hurt a brother or sister  is like hurting God, because  God is in each and every one if us, we all bear the image of God, and God is in the intersection between us....

Finally...Jesus and the demons..can you believe we have this passage today? .in the Bible, the demons, they always recognize him...why? how? It’s that 666 thing..it's not some spooky thing, it's 7 was perfect and 666 is as close to perfect as you can get...ie, sometimes, the evil one is so close to the holy one as to be hard to tell apart, good and evil, so close...

There ‘s another story, about one possessed with demons who runs around naked until Jesus casts out the demons and the one previously possessed appears clothed and in his right mind...(which is how I want to see you all when I get here in the morning...)

SO if it’s confusing, go back a step...when you act, always ask the question, who will it hurt? Who will it help? How do we build up the whole? The greater good? Do I always know? No, I don’t but that is what guides, that is what we are called to...

Instead of the planned offertory, Andre sings Great is thy faithulness, and as I expected, at the end, he goes for the high note...and you can hear a pin drop, before the amens...

I put the prayers at the end of the sermon, not before, as usual.. and asked the children to stay because I know what’s coming...one after another, occupiers stand up to apologize, to thank us...one who speaks in tongues, nervously, another who says, I do that, too, let me help you with that...quietly, softly, humby the words keep coming...finally Marsha gets up and says, we want to thank you...for waking us up, for saying what no one wanted to say, we are better for your having been here with us...

And then Kelly, no dress today but a black suit and clerical collar, gets up, quotes Matthew 25, thanks us for having lived that out, and gives us $1600 in cash...and we hug...

We pass the peace. Sing I’ve got peace like a river, tengo paz como un rio, then gather  in our circle. After the benediction, we sing our Amen to the tune of the Pachelbel canon, and I say, you have just particpated in Occupy Pachelbel...

Later, the session meets. We are clear what we want to say to Presbytery. We are a church. Treat us with the same dignity and respect as any other congregation. That’s the bottom line. The session wants the occupiers to stay. After all, says Marsha, the banks never paid us back for what they stole from us...

The detectives have come in and disappeared. I give up looking for them, figure, they’re detectives, they’ll find me..there’s a knock on the door. It’s Jane with the detectives, Nancy Drew, girl detective reporting, she says, and Hugo looks quizzical. I’ll explain later, says Arcadia. And we all laugh. The detectives see a pile of hundreds on the table. It looks like a drug deal has just gone down. And I go to give them a tour of the church. 

The font  cover is still missing. The detectives, satisfied, leave.. On 86th street, there’s the Hatzolah volunteer ambulance waiting. Maria has had a seizure. A day that began and ended with ambulances. With grace and reonciliation in between. And as Jane says, and so it is.....

Embedded

1/27

Carlos and Palomo are in front of me. He’s Peruvian, she Brazilian. They want to get married. In September. In Queens. It’s good to talk with them, think about weddings for a minute. 

It’s Saturday, should be a day off, but....

Chris, one of Rafael’s security team comes in. Thin, long hair, goatee, he could have been one of the folks back in my off campus house, back in the day. From Portland, Maine. Where Andrea’s father Mel was from. Where his sister Molly and Jack still live. A place I think I could be with the ocean, the lobsters, the jazz, the little funky  downtwon. Maine. He’s open about his bipolarity. His three children. Issues with Maine DHS. Easy going and gentle. One more face of Occupy. With his wife Runi.

The  Session arrives, Hugo, Marsha, Samantha, Lilly. Another crisis with Presbytery breaking into the middle of an already overstuffed time. Stayed up until 3 am writing a draft response to a report about West-Park that just doesn’t present who we are. Well crafted, church legalese. It’s hard to keep coming back against that kin dof thing.

But for our Session, it’s about dignity, respect. We have many significant issues to deal with. We’re fragile. The whole future is on the edge. Our resources are few, monetary and human.  BUT, we have sought to be faithful, what happens here everyday is church. And we want that to be known.

Hugo is right. My first draft, though passionate, is defensive. We just need to tell our story in the positive way. Which means I’ll have to go back tonight and write another draft, another 2-3 hour job, another sleepless night.

The chef for the night, Danielle’s (occupier) husband, keeps walking in and out, buying groceries, bringing them back. An older African-American woman shows up with her suitcase, heard this was a place to stay. Asked her if she’s been downtown, talked to housing, got her name on the list. She shakes her head no. I tell her she’ll have to go do that. And she leaves, dragging her suitcase behind her. 

While we’re meeting in the sanctuary, a woman walks in, looking around. She looks familiar. It’s Christine, a singer. Hasn’t seen the doors open in years. Remembering when she sang here in one of Bernardo’s concerts years ago.  How great the sound was. A Brazilian song. Bernardo said he’s never heard it sung like that before. And how the guitar player, a good guitar player, hit on her. We say we’re trying to set those concerts  up again. She should sing here again. 

Meeting’s over. Ready to go. But I get a call from Teddy. Kelly from finance is bringing me money. So I’ll wait. Marc comes in to drop off some equipment he’s been using. We talk about the character of symphonies in the 60’s/70’s. How I could tell in a few bars which one  they were. The august, autumnal sound of Boston. Ormandy’s sweet and smooth Philadephia.The looser, brasher, edgy New York Phil of Bernstein.  And my hometown team, the brooding middle Europe sound of Steinberg’s Pittsburgh Sympnony and how he was in residence at Yale while I was there. As was Bernstein, who brought his Mass. Marc remembers a Bernstein party he once got into.

While we’re talking, Steve, the old school union guy who hangs with the occupiers arrives. Stocky, short hair, leather jacket, knowing bearing. Kelly’s on her way, be here soon, he says. 

Bobby, Capital Hall, brilliant, albino, toothless, walks in looking for Jane. His latest list of celebrity sightings: Adam Sandler, Ben Stiller, Wynton Marsalis(You need to get him to play here), Brad Pitts’ attorney...all in the same place? No, no, and he recites a litany of intersections. He asks me to take down a  number. I take out a pen, write it down. Satisfied, he leaves.

Kelly arrives. Round, deep black, Bronx, openly trans and solid stand up. A real mind for finance. And a straight dealer. She’s brought the rent. Wants to settle the laptop and art issues too. We talk about the service tomorrow. I’m church people, she says, Baptist. I know, Pastor, I know. Ravi has come, too. Haven't seen her in awhile. Wonder how she's dealing wiht the Jeff situation.

While we’re  counting bills, David of the Spectrum Symphony walks in. With his soprano soloist for Monday, Bethany. Wants to check on details for his Sunday rehearsal. 

Two detectives, male and female come in. Plain clothes, but definitely not occupier type. Amiable, friendly. Check the photos of the font. The font itself. The written list of agreements from Occupy. They want to toss, search, the place. Every room. Will need to come back tomorrow when I know where the keys are. Seem like good partners, easy with each other. 

Finally, home. For awhile.

Back on the street. Hours later. I sat on the couch. Woke up. The clock said 9:42. Morning? Night? It was dark. Must be night. Back to the church. Occupiers arriving. Two have returned from thier new jobs as security people at big box stores in the Bronx. I think of the irony.  Elizabeth has set up shop in the Session room. Created a studio. Shooting people one by one. Having them write in her book. Shooting upstairs felt too intrusive to her. Now people are lining up, one by one. I watch her shoot Noel, the Rastaman, his smile lighting up the room. 

Elizabeth at work

Elizabeth

She’s done everything but sleep here, winning people’s trust, getting to know them. I can’t sleep here, she says. Don’t want to be embedded, huh? I ask. And she laughs. It’s after midnight. I’ve got hours of work ahead of me. Time to go.


A sign on the wall says Mass tonorrow, 11 am, be there. 

On the way up Amsterdam, I see Rudolfo in a bodega. 

I'm going with it was Mary

1/26

Elizabeth has come to shoot my portrait. Before she can begin, Danielle comes up, says she has to speak to me. A semi-worried, semi-sheepish look on her face. Says that two reps of Noche Flamenco were touring the building and over heard people having sex and were quite embarassed.

(Expletive deleted) I said. I’m about to lose it. I’m working desperately hard to bring Noche into the house. To close the deal. And now this? (wtf, literally). She sees I’m about to explode. We’ve got it under control. Rafael is sending someone down from the Bronx. It’s ok.  She says. But I’m not sure. I don’t want to lose Noche. I’m done. More than done.

But I go with Elizabeth. She shoots me all over. In the 4th floor gym. In front of sanctuary windows. On the stage facing the Tiffany window. Stephen’s window. I tell her the story. I tell her to be gentle with me. I don’t want to look as old and tired as I feel.

I look in the sanctuary. There’s Mary, bent over. She’s in terrible pain. Tells me her legs have been aching. She couldn’t get up until she forced herself to go downstairs. She sees I’m upset. I tell her why. She says, Oh, that’s terrible. Then says, I hurt so bad, I couldn’t stop moaning. I just kept going, oh....oh...oh..

I say, what did you say?

She says, Oh..oh...oh...

Chris has come. He’s found one of the security guards asleep in the closed room.  Pastor Bob, I don’t know man, my guy’s been asleep...his girl was there, but the dude was dead asleep...I don’t know.. I think about what Mary told me. Call Danielle over. OK. I’m going with it was Mary. Moaning. Thayt's the story. Mary.

I’m spending hours on the phone trying to deal with P______’s impending eviction. It’s insane. If only I could get a judge to really listen to her, about the cameras, the x-rays, the poisoned food, the chloroform through the heating ducts, it would be so clear. The court clerks look at her massive, jumbled, disordered self-prepared pleadings and scold her with you should have’s as if she was really going to prepare professional legal briefs? I’m calling a friend on the bar, I’m calling Gale Brewer’s housing specialist..her case comes back Monday at 3:30...Time is running late, you should call....I could break down and cry..

I have to run and see Bernardo to talk about hooking up a San Patricio celebration...and other possible El Taller collaborations. Coming back, I get a call from Danielle, Gale Brewer...Communty Board 7...the police... So I have to go to Precinct 24. 

Two hours later, I’m back at the office. Ready to go home. To  a movie with Andrea. For a break...Danielle’s in deep conversation with a guy with a backpack. Obviously been going on for awhile. What the movement’s done to him....losing his faith..walked all the way to Washington..20-30 miles a day...picture in Time magazine....what does it all mean...what should I do...just want to go home (word)...job waiting...he’s a carny in Florida..so many children..

I’m exhausted, hearing about every other sentence. Look my brother, I know this is hard, but I got no more here, ok? And she has to go home. I can pray with you, but that’s all I got...

He looks at me, so where do I go? What would you do if you were me?

If I were you? You on the list? (He nods) I’d come back at 8:30 and go to bed. 

He shakes his head. No man, can’t do that...

Well you could try an emergency shelter. They tell me they’re scary. You won’t get into any church tonight. Find a synagogue, sit and listen to prayers and chants. That’s what I’d do.  Ride the subway all  night long. Sleep on the street. See what I mean? Come back...

Shakes his head again. Gets up, starts to leave. Wait, I say. I call him over. Lay hands on him. Pray for God’s angels to watch over him. Holy Spirit protect and comfort and guide him to where he’s got to go. That’s all I got. He goes out the door.


In the middle of this, John H comes in to remind me about a Dark Lady Players party tonight I've forgotten about. He can immediately see this is not the right time. Oh well, maybe next week, he says and is on his way. I wish i were going. 

Maybe now. Maybe now....I look in the  sanctuary. Rudolfo’s asleep on a pew. Not going home yet. Not yet...

What Sarah wrote to the Post

Sarah Zapiler · Director at LupusDictum

Ok, I'm going to write a lot but that is because I'm passionate and often write too much but also because I have some experience with this situation.

I was working with West-Park Presbyterian Church for quite some time and am still connected to those working there. I have also met many of the individuals with Occupy who work with West Park to promote community and responsibility while in and outside of the church. That does not mean, of course, that my voice is any of their voices or that I speak for them. But I do want to talk a little bit about what I feel I can say.

First of all, calling these people campers is simply inaccurate. Camping implies an impermanent situation. In the article, the author writes, "Occupy Wall Street protesters dispersed across the city in search of shelter" with the onset of winter. The reality is that the vast majority of people who had homes and were in Zuccotti Park solely as a political statement went back to those homes and many others used their networks to find places to stay. While many of these people remain incredibly active and continue to use public spaces in certain strategic ways, they do not require public spaces to sleep. By in large, the individuals staying at West Park are those who, before the occupy movement began, used public spaces to sleep or relied on various government or charitable services to find shelter. Many of them have suffered abject poverty, abuse or neglect and many are part of a large young community of lgbtq youth who have been forced out of their original communities because of their orientation. The reality is that within this community mental illness and drug addiction are very prevalent. Fundamentally, we have not developed many effective ways of treating this population as a part of our society, choosing instead to demonize and ostracize them, nor do we effectively treat them for their actual diseases. That bespeaks a larger issue with access to health care, design of treatment programs and education about access to care.

But this incident and the headline and the reactions it is generating also point to another issue: how we deal with the people who don't do what we want them to do. I know how important this baptismal font is to the congregation. Generations of their children - for the past 100 years - have been baptized in that font and they hope the children to come will be able to be baptized in that same font. Whoever used the font inappropriately was not respecting the property of the congregation and I can assure you has caused much upset and hurt. However, the way we handle the disrespect for property and other legal infractions is completely broken. The prison-industrial complex and school-to-prision pipeline ensure that those who disrespect the rule of law (many of which are designed to keep the system in place, but that is another long facebook comment in and of itself) are similarly ostracized. This does not decrease crime but instead quarantines it, consigning entire communities to deal with prison culture.

The people at West Park are not saints. Believe me, I have worked with them and they are just as perfectly imperfect as the rest of us. While I am Jewish, we share many values. Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" and when they worship at West Park they say, “Look about and see all the images of God assembled here. In me, in you, in each of us, God’s spirit shines for all to see.” But I also know that what they are doing working with this group from Occupy is not solely because they are compelled to out of charitable spirit. They believe firmly in doing the work it takes to build a better world for all people and have, over the past 100 years, partnered with many people and organizations with the same vision.

And my Occupy, the reason I participate and continue to advocate for the movement, wants to build a better world for all people. Wants to raise awareness about individuals and the lives they actually live. Wants to work with people who have historically not been given a voice in our political system. And, fundamentally, wants to connect people. Not because if people connect to one another we would live in some paradisaical utopia, but because connection moves us to deal with each other humanely. It makes us willing to see our own deficiency when we look at someone else and willing to see our own incredible greatness by recognizing theirs.

Mostly, I just want anyone who sees this to appreciate that there are entire lives behind these acts of "desecration." It is this kind of reduction that takes us away from actual solutions and instead instigates a perpetuation of systemic prejudices that allow us to oppress other human beings. And I think that's dumb.

At least we saved Pony

1/25

As Danielle and I are catching up, a woman comes in, frantic. Excuse me, she says, we have an emergency...that always make me nervous. My daughter was playing with her stuffed animal and threw it in the air and...and.. it got stuck in your scaffolding...Well alright, then. I’m ready to get a ladder and Dan the Occupier but Danielle figures we can handle this with a broom.

We go outside and assess the situation. There between a beam and the scaffolding roof , a stuffed pony is perfectly lodged. You couldn’t do that if you tried. Hell of a throw. A little girl is frantic, her sister (or friend?) looking, well, annoyed. Danielle reaches up with the broom. Ah, just long enough. She pokes once, twice, and the pony comes down. 

The little girl comes to gather it up, squealing in delight. So, what’s your name? I ask. Natalie, she says. And what’s your animal’s name? I ask. Pony, she says, of course, I think....My most special friend, she says. 

Natalie, Pony, sister (friend?) and mother are soon off. Natlaie turns and waves goodbye as they head down Amsterdam. I say to Danielle, if only every probelm were so easily solved. 

Pony, how did you get there?

Pony

Natalie and Pony and friend (or sister) with unnamed animal friend

Soon after, Robert, a young father with a tiny baby in a snuggly, walks in to take a look around. He’s just moved to the upperwest from Brooklyn. Clearly on the way. He’s impressed by the beauty.

Earlier, I hear Danielle outside the door talking to someone. I can hear the subject.  Feel she’s maybe trying to protect me. So I open the door. He’s pleasantly surprised to meet the pastor. Tells me he was a bit shocked by my reported language speaking to the Occupiers. But he understands. I give my new mantra. He nods, but I can see where he wants to go with this. A random blogger. 

I’m making lots of phone calls about P______’s case. To my chagrin, it’s hard to get a hold of. Impossible. Rosalia at Gale’s office never fully understood what P______ wanted when she went in there. I don’t have any docket numbers. Even the court address doesn’t make sense.  Time is running short....

                 * * * *

It’s after 10 PM. It’s been a long Program Committee meeting at Mim’s. But I have to come back to the church.  A free lance photographer from the Times wants to speak with me. Maybe we can help reclaim the narrative.

She’s young. A little shy. But feels present. Elizabeth. Herman. She’s back from Bangladesh. Been working on a project, Aftermath. What happens places after...That’s hopeful. She tells me she’s been reading this blog. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least she’s read my understanding of what’s going on. And she wants to do a quieter story. Hopes to counter the narrative that’s out there with something more human. 

Counter what I call the idiot story, ie, bleeding heart liberal pastor opens his doors to lowlifes, they pay him back with thievery and desecration, he gets angry, sees them for what they truly are and throws them out, now knows #ows for what it truly is. Thank you, Post. Thank you, Fox. Thankyou, Murdoch. Anyone can write that. Truth is more complex, harder to come by.

I’m tired but energized. I walk her upstairs, introduce her. Rafael tells me someone else is here. Another woman with a camera. It’s Los Angeles photographer Annie Appel. Just published a book on Occupy LA, now doing a country wide gig. Been to Portland, Seattle, cross country....and now New York. Seems high energy, a little travel scruffy. 

Again, we talk. She doesn’t shoot anyone she hasn’t talked to. I look at her book, begin to trust her. I show her MattWeber's work, just to show a culture of urban photography here. She wants a good background to shoot. I show her the Session room, preferred by fashion photographers. No, the peeling paint, she says,they don’t deserve that. It fills stereotypes...So we find a couple of good walls in the sanctuary.

And before its over, she’s shooting me. Non-stop talk. Putting me at ease. Connecting. She sees my exhaustion. Standing on the balcony, I tell her the story of the Stephen window. She wears a bright light, like a miner’s headlight. I tell her don’t shoot me looking old, tired and worn, which is what I feel. She shoots good.

I take her into Mc Alpin. Introduce her. Two photographers at large. Regain the narrative. 

Jeff talks to me about how tonight they had voted to pay the rent to the church. Whoa, just tonight? I thought  was approved a week ago? He tells me it’s all good. Walks out. I feel something else is going on.

Two Mexicans come wanting me to write letters saying that they are here receiving sanctuary. I’m willing to go with hospitality. I write the letters. Turns out they’re Poblanos, from Puebla. There are so many poblanos in this neighborhood that the state of Puebla has it’s own consulate up on Broadway. They call this ‘hood pueblacita. They should go there, when this ends.

Stan is back form his new security job in the Bronx. Looking good in his blue uni jacket and badge. Stopped two shoplifters tonight, before they lifted, he says. Could have used you last week, I say. I could have used me last week, he says.  Burning midnight oil, looking for alternative housing. 

Rafael wants to talk to me. So it happened. Earlier tonight, they voted to oust Jeff. Not only from his point person position, but from the community. Jesus Christ. The coup has taken place. I say there's got to be a mediation process. And no one gets put out at midnight unless there’s an active incident. Rafael agrees. There’s more. He knows he can make this work. He is putting his heart and sou and every ounce of his energy into this. The sad and soulful look on his face is almost enough to move me away from the Saturday deadline. 

I am bone tired. Exhausted beyond belief. It’s heading towards 1. A long day, today. Jeff, gone. Today. Damn. Well, at least we saved Pony.

photoraphy links:

www.elizabethherman.com

http: //elizabethdherman-visualsociety.com

www.annieappelphotography.blogspot.com

http://weber-street-photography.com/

Becoming the subject of your own history

1/24

I find someone asleep on the steps in the south doorway. I start to wake him up then realize it’s Sage. Hey, man, you know you can’t sleep out here during the day. And why aren’t you inside?

I can’t sleep in there, man. It’s madness. Thought someone was goin gto wake me up. 

OK, you know the deal, right?

Yeah.

Inside, Rafael has a whole crew of people together ready to start a construction project. He’s ready to go.

Deacon James comes in. Haven’t seen him for awhile. The chemo is getting to him. Hopes to get his new teeth in tomorrow. I tell him he’s got to come by so we can see. He’s thinking about Luther. How he didn’t give up. I told him Luther’s mantra against the powers, when he felt sore pressed, was I am baptized, I am baptized. James likes that. 

He talks about growing up in Freeport, Long Island. Where Andrea grew up. Where we got married. So many visits. So many years. Freeport, Long Island. Home of Guy Lomabardo. And Public Enemy. And Flava Flav. James says his pops worked for old Guy. I know the territory well. He says he’ll go so I can get some work done. I’m happy to see him.

Late in the day, P_____ comes by to discuss her eviction case. I’ve called someone from the courts who I met at the Martin Luther King, Jr. march last week. She has recommended someone in Gale Brewer’s office. Rosalia. I tell P_____she’s got to call Rosalia. She says, No, that woman says I’m crazy. She wants to put me in the loony bin... So it’s down to me and her again. She wants me to go to court with her on Thursday. She says all I have to do is swear that she sleeps there. If it were only so simple. Now, not only do they want to evict her, they want to force her to pay the difference between her rent stabilized payments and market rate for four years and also court costs. Who is crazy? If only I could talk to the judge.....

Out on the street, Nadia tells me that Rachel is in the hospital again. More fibrillations. Anytime I don’t see her in church, I should know, something is up.....

Jason has organized an impressive group of people to talk about a free university.  Kelly asks us to introduce ourselves and say what we bring or why we came. I recalled how back in the day, yes, 1973, I worked with David Leichman (now of Kibbutz Gezer in Israel)  and sister Dottie Shugrue to form a Free University of Religious Studies at the University of Bridgeport, then a working class university with lots of returning Vietnam vets and an active commie group in a city with a Ku Klux Klan. We had courses like Christianity and Marxism and Christian Roots of Anti-Semitism. 

Then I recall, PRAXIS, the free university at the Canterbury Center for Campus Ministry at the University of Tulsa. How I created courses on Tulsa, the All-American City with David Breed, editor of the city’s black newspaper, the Oklahoma Eagle, and Tulsa After Midnight, which was exactly what it said. 

There was Jason, back from Brazil where he was deeply schooled in the Freirian model of education for critical consiousness and David who lived the same thing in Ecuador and began exploring using a questions technique teaching philosophy and literature at both public and private schools. Bill, from upstate, who built the sphere at the Liberty Science Center and is part of the council of elders and does mentoring in a wilderness awareness program. And Jordan who hated her public schools and  only wants education that makes sense. And Aswad who wants to explore possibilities for homeschooling. And Catherine, a singer-songwriter from Portland (where else), well, grew up in Norristown, Pennsylvania, who’s been active in Occupy Faith along with her husband Sebastian, and of course Kelly. And we’re later joined by Eve, who works in Theater of the Oppressed (where Freire was required reading.) She’s feisty and strong and take charge. 

(The key in Freirian educaction? people learn to become the subjects of their own history. Their own lives are part of the text, must be in dialogue with it. At the end of the day Paolo Friere is one of the founders of this revolution, as well as contemporary Nicaragua, the Middle East...Paolo vive!...Warren Dennis at New Brunswick showed me the way when I taught with him. And now I've been invited to do the same in Newark, a truly urban city. )

I'm trying to put this all together with the travails of my living, breathing Occupy community in process with all it's chaos, infighting, confusion, passion, caring. Neither one is more the real #ows than the other. They both are part of what #OWS is. 

The conversation goes round. There’s an agreement as to philosophy, principles. And that teaching philosophy is not like, say, teaching making sushi. Later, Joseph walks in, mainly concerned about Native American values. And Eve describes her concept of Occupy Yourself University. So we’ll set some courses. Get them underway. Meet again in two weeks. 

Outside, we hang out talking for awhile. I can see that Eve has made lots of friends among the occupiers. We talk for awhile, she heads home to the Village. 

(Catherine's music is great.....

http://catherinefeeny.com/, http://www.myspace.com/catherinefeeny, 

  http://www.comegatherroundus.org/  )

Realtionships, trust mean everything

1/23

Wake up phone call from 1010 WINS news radio. And a later one from WABC. The story of the baptismal font won’t go away. And I learn from my son that the Murdoch papers are even running it in the UK. I do my best with the radio people, hoping my story comes through:

• Most of those in the church were profoundly upset
• You can’t blame the movement for not being able to deal with what the rest of us haven’t been able to deal with. At least they have tried to respond in humane and caring ways.
• No, it doesn’t change my mind. The behavior of the few does not discredit what brought them out in the first place. This incarnation of #OWS could vanish overnight and there would still be obscene income disparity and a global economy that is irreparably broken.

The entry way is filled with waking, leaving occupiers.  And the Polish plumbers are moving in and out trying to get to the latest pesky leak. Danielle found someone asleep in the music closet. Uh, Rafael?

Later Rudolfo comes in looking for money for a sandwich. And he wants to show me his application for a green card. Seems he’s had a falling out with his lady on 87th. The crazy thing, he’s got a halfway decent shot at the card. Born in Cienfugos, Cuba, he’s going for refugee status. And the crazier thing is, he actually wishes they would deport him back to Cuba. My mind runs back to last week's wonderful Landmark West! Noche Havana party. Try to put that together with Rudolfo. Can't. At least there he could get a minimum amount of food without begging and his diabetes would be tended too. And at over 50, his chances at employment in this neighborhood are next to none. 

The Times Square Playwrights are holding their first open reading. They make their way in through occupiers arriving at the end of the day. Tonight’s performance is Locked Doors by Shawn Belpanno. Echoes of Godot, Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel and Sartre’s No Exit abound. It’s a small crowd. I’m wondering what the Occupiers might have thought if they were admitted comp.

The audience members give Shawn mainly thumbs up over snacks. He’d like to go for a fully staged production and lots of ideas abound as to how to do that.

I go up to Mc Alpin to check on the Occupiers. I’m greatly relieved to find chaplain Stephanie there. Wearing her collar. I tell her I save mine for high liturgical events like protests, court and visiting the jail. We go around, visiting people, checking in. 

Stan takes me aside. He is in the process of checking out alternative venues for housing. The Quakers seem promising. I tell him to check the Franciscans. And maybe Trinity Lutheran for some of the lgbtq young folks. I feel very sad. But this current reality is unworkable. He completley agrees. One major part of this for me is the interminable in group fighting. Apparently tonight there will ba an attempt to oust Jeff. Did I really say if he goes, I’m done? Well, it’s a little late now. I repeat  that my issue was my wanting to make clear that ousting the point people did not mean that I had to deal with whoever emerged. Relationships, trust, mean everything.Without that, they’re done.

CBS 1010 Wins interview:

http://newyork.cbslocal.com/2012/01/22/desecration-at-church-leads-nyc-pastor-to-evict-occupy-wall-street/

Stories from the New York Post and New York Magazine:

http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2012/01/ows-campers-desecrating-new-york-churches.html

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/god_awful_ows_mob_VqPjFDW0n234NhA9hxsxnL

And finally, the best of all, the Westside Rag:

http://www.westsiderag.com/2012/01/23/occupy-protesters-agree-to-leave-local-church-after-religious-object-stol

Thanks guys for the props, you made a hard day bearable...

And from ABC.....

Occupy_Wall_Street-Church_Theft.mp3, Occupy_Wall_Street_Asked_to_Leave_Church.mp3, Occupy_Wall_Street-Church_Baptismal_Font.mp3   

The present form of this world is passing away

1/22

New bus stop on 86th street. Inscription anonymous.

An ambulance is at the 86th Street door. I ask Teddy what’s up. Mary, the older woman from Staten Island, is being taken to the hospital. Her legs have gone stiff and immobile on her. And I am concerned. Two or three others remain in what might be termed sick bay. Our occupiers are busy getting us ready for Sunday morning. Again it looks like no one has been here.

Amy is here and our service begins with the Brazilian Song,Cantad al Senor. I look out and see that our congregation is joined by numerous occupies and I’m very happy to see that Tracy has come and brought her sister. I have John read the brief selection from Jonah then I read Corinthians in English and Hugo the gospel in Spanish and me in English. 

We start by talking about Jonah. Who remembers the story? And many remember Jonah and the whale from their childhood. I say that the story is uniique, that ususally a prophet comes from a people and speaks to that people but here Jonah is called to speak to another people. And we talk about how he tried to run away and the sea got crazy around the boat and the others threw him overbord. And thus, bad luck on a ship, the Jonah. He gets upset when the Ninevites, his enemies, actually listen.  

The center of our discussion is the proposition from 1 Corinthians:  the appointed time has grown short....the present form of this world is passing away.. How many believe that? And most in the congregation do. Whether we’re talking about the economy, the governent or the church, it seems true across the board. 

Mark reads like an alarm clock. The reign of God is not to be  a product of but pre-condtion  for  discipleship. We wonder what  John’s arrest meant for Jesus..And we’re not sure but that the first stage of the struggle had come to an end. 

Jesus calls out to the fishers on the water and tells them he will make them fishers of people..(just doesn’t have the juice of the King James’ Version fishers of men...) What is he calling them to be? Evangelists? Community organiziers?

In thinking about the decisiveness of the moment in front of us, I recall (thanks to my colleague Alistair) these words from Shakespeae’s Julius Caesar:

There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

(Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224)

Sometimes there are no second chances. It’s now or never.

Everything about Mark is Immediately, immediately, immediately...It’s about the call of us...they leave everything..... nets, boats, hired hands, business father, even their father..And I think of Jason and Stan and Jeff who left everything behind to come here and occupy.

And they take on new identities. Do they take on new names, like the street names in Occupy? or Muhammad Ali? ( happy birthday, champ) or popes? New identitites. 

One reality is that ministry, or world changing,  can’t be solitary. The call here is not to add more, but to  add new...and to start living the kingdom, the kindom the beloved community now...not later, now...

I talk about how Jane’s community is celebrating a season of non-violence. From King’s birthday to Gandhi’s birthday. Live it now. 

This is our defining moment...and so, without a doubt, this is a great time to be alive...

We sing Lord you have come to the lakeshore in English and Spanish, Tu has venido la orilla. Make our circle, invoke our blessings, say Alleluia and sing Amen. 

Tracy is off to join the picket in front of Saigon Grill. I hope we didn’t scare away or turn off her hospital resident sister. Berik is interviewing, auditioning,prosepctive models upstairs. Marsha and Leila and I are reviewing church business. And Shayna tells us that she and her mom are soon heading to Capetown, South Africa for a wedding. P_____ kneels in prayer in front of the Christ candle  trying to hold off her impending (and irrational) eviction. 

I’ve seen the New York Post coverage of the baptismal font incident. They took most of their information from #OWS streaming video and meeting minutes. What I said in the context of community sounds very different diced and sliced and Murdochized in the Post. I’m wondering if I am breaking solidarity by simply speaking the truth.

I go back late at night. happy to see Carolyn, my volunteer chaplain.Happy to see Mary released from the hospital. But a controversy breaks out close to midnight. Jeff has told Teddy that he must leave due to a violent incident the night before. Teddy wants the group to hear about it. It’s almost midnight. Accrodingto Rafael, Teddy resisted for 45 minutes unti he was struck twice in the face. And then pushed his opponent to the wall as Rafael intervened to keep everyone safe. Teddy leaves, but is upset. There’s a growing outcry against Jeff who looks sick and exhausted. As Carolyn points out, this is  no time to have this discussion, especially with no facilitator. I go outside, try to calm folks down. Keep thier voices down.

Like I said earlier to Stan, it’s just not going to work. Just not going to work. It breaks my heart.