Living in coronavirusworld 103: "Ha bibi, como estas?"

7/5

....2020

On July 4th, in Central Park, between the Meer and the Conservatory Gardens,  I saw perhaps the most quixotic Black Lives demo yet. Around  two dozen or so marchers chanting “Central Park does not exist” and “Bring back Seneca”. The point of course, is well taken.  Before Central Park there was a thriving community of over 300 homes, three churches, three schools. Called SenecaVillage. The first place in the city African-American owned property, and therefore could vote. Later joined by Irish, some perhaps even drafted into what became the break away San Patricio bridge in the misbegotten adventure of the Mexican War. Later some Germans too.  The foundation stones of the All Angels Church, arguably the first biracial multicultural church in the city ultimately  forced their way out of the ground to visibility. The papers described it as simply “squatters” and “ne’er do wells” as they were literally ploughed under and buried to create the “natural wonder” of Central Park. For that reason, West-Park held its annual early Easter service among those foundation stones. Seneca is not coming back.

I meet the Brooklyn Beverly Church via conference call and share this reflection:

Good morning church.  A Happy 4th of July weekend to you. In some ways it was a 4th  like any other. The parks were filled with people barbecuing and picnicking. And there  may have been no Macy’s fireworks but if your neighborhood is like mine, last night was the dramatic culmination of what seems like a month of fireworks. Last night, right out on the middle of the street…until at least  2 AM.  Dogs barking. Car alarms going off. I’m hoping that’s over. 

But it was a 4th also like no other I’ve seen.  We are still in the middle of that virus that keeps us apart. And we are still in the very beginning of a national reevaluation that comes in the wake of the murder of George Floyd.  And this time feels different. In one day we said good bye to Aunt Jemmima and Uncle Ben. And Mrs. Butterworth is under review. The last confederate flag has gone down over a statehouse. (Mississippi) And even businesses have agreed that Black Lives Matter. Only the President is proclaiming that these are hate words of a terrorist organization that he intends to save us from.

I’ll say a few more words about  the nation. Then the church. Then Jesus. This may be very difficult time for us. But I feel it is as well a time of hope. Not in my lifetime have I seen this much willingness to stake a serious look at the  past, that there was nothing romantic about the antebellum south, that it was a whole culture and economy based on white power and domination. My youngest son has initiated among our family a conversation challenging  each of us to take a look at how racism has been part of our individual and family lives. Some of these actions may seem awkward or uncertain. But they are all important. They count. They give me hope.

I was blessed to represent New York City Presbytery the 224th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA). It was supposed to be in Baltimore but wound up in my living room.  And a lot of other living rooms. Can you imagine?  Over 500 delegates on ZOOM at the same time. But somehow we all figure it out. Somehow we got it done. I am happy to say that the PC(USA) is on record as supporting Black Lives Matter. Along with a commitment for the first time to seriously look at our own history. For example, how  southern Presbyterians gave theological support to slavery. (We split over that….) And how our institutions benefitted form slavery. And begin the study of amends. Even reparations. We also reflected on the virus and how it unfairly impacts our most vulnerable people. And we continued to encourage congregations to become part of the Matthew 25 churches movement in the church…being there for Jesus you might say.

What we failed to do was officially lift up the work of a special Black Women and Girls report.  While it has been put off until 2022, we are calling on congregations to begin studying and acting on the report now. I’m sure many of the women of Beverly would have much to say about the unique experiences of Black women and girls. Just to hear your faith journeys, stories and struggles would be inspiring, often having to juggle so many roles and responsibilities at the same time. 

As for Jesus, well he’s been here looking over our shoulders all along. Today he’s voicing his frustration with the religious authorities who were like damned f you do, damned if you don’t. John the Baptist  was an ascetic and they called him a demon. Jesus comes celebrating life with people, turning water into wine,  and they call him a drunkard and glutton. Nevertheless, as he says, wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” Or, the proof is in the pudding. 

It’s simple he says. No fancy formulations or equations to work out. You want to know God, watch me. In the same way Jesus is telling us that of people want to know him, they can look at us.  It’s a heavy, but at the end of the day, we bring people into the community of Jesus or send the away based on how we act. (I am so thankful that generations fo African-American Christians find a Jesus beyond the one of the masters. One who can sustain and free.)

This has been an especially hard road. And it’s not over. Thankfully Jesus has this invitation, this promise….

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

These are some of my favorite words of scripture. Hear them. Receive them. Believe them. …..rest for your souls….something we could all use…there for us….

Amen

I celebrate communion with them. Imagining each of their faces before me as I break the bread and bless the cup. I can hear their voices as they greet one another and share concerns and ultimately  peace. It is not not entirely a ZOOM world. 

Our family meets for its weekly ZOOM session. Sharing conflicting  stories  about effectiveness of masks, etc. Germany has now gotten to the point where contact follow up is possible and can locate exactly where new cases are coming from. Our national brokenness continues to cut deep. 

Meet a friend for dinner at the Harlem Tavern. We have go around the corner to enjoy our “take out” drink as we await a table. Each business working out its own code. Other than that, and masked servers, it’s almost a normal summer dinner out. 

Over heard in the corner Deli: “Habibi, Como estas?”

And so I love this city, this New York, even in Coronavirustime.

word on the street is......

  

Gospel Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

16“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,17  ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
          we wailed, and you did not mourn.’18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; 19the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

25At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”