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Saturday, November 27, 2021

Thankfulness

11/26 




Farmers Market



My good friend Rabbi Steve Blane and I have a tradition of sahrign a Thanksgivign service together.  Here is this year's reflection

 Good shabbes chaverim…we’re here on the Friday after Thanksgiving. A day that has come to be known by the strange designation “Black Friday.” I understand the connection with businesses going into the black, but it’s still weird… I do remember that as a kid, this day marked the beginning of the Christmas shopping season. Do you remember when the stores waited until then to open their magical holiday window displays? I remember how my family would head to Pittsburgh’s South Hills Village Mall to start our Christmas shopping. And of course to the Jewish deli for hot pastrami or Reubens for lunch. Now we see the decorations go up the day after Halloween. Now Pittsburgh turns on the lights in early November and calls it “Sparkle Season” so as to be really inclusive, guess.

 Which leads me to what else is big this weekend. We’re right on the cusp of the first night of Hannukah which falls on the same Sunday as Christians begin Advent, that four week time of reflection and spiritual preparation leading up to Christmas…our sibling celebrations of glowing, growing LIGHT in the darkness. BUT…I’m not ready to let go of Thanksgiving yet…I’ve got leftovers! And warm memories of my family together yesterday. 

Did you know this is the 400th anniversary of the first Thanksgiving? The pilgrims were celebrating the fact that they had a successful enough harvest with enough laid away to get through the coming New England winter. Thanks to the Wappanaog Native Americans who had taught them how to grow corn and squash and harvest clams and fish and cranberries. (A decision they regret to this day!) By the way…we always associate orange and brown with Thanksgiving. For turkeys and pumpkins I guess. But orange now has a deeper meaning..it’s the color chosen by Native Americans to commemorate those who were forced into “Indian schools,” begun in Canada and now into the US. How they came together in that first Thanksgiving is more complicated than the story we tell but we’ll just leave it with the celebration tonight. My wife had grown up believing that Thanksgiving was started to give thanks to the Indians. She was really excited to share Thanksgiving with the family of the retired chief of the Pawnee Nation  our first Thanksgiving in Oklahoma. 

 So Thanksgiving is giving thanks. And that’s important. Walter Breuggeman, a Christian theologian ,says “Doxology is the beginning of resistance.” And Abraham Joshua Heschel said “It is gratefulness which makes the soul great.” Above all else, giving thanks is an affirmation that we are not alone. On the Upper West Side, the West Side Campaign Against Hunger just gave out over 1000 turkeys. Here in Harlem, where I live, neighbors in my building gave out 50 turkey dinners. The Harlem Lounge threw its doors open from noon to 4 for free dinners for all.

 But I want to get personal. In 1993, I lost my job…and my father…all in two weeks. I soon fell into depression feeling I was all alone. But a wise friend took me aside and said, “Look, you’ve got a roof over your head. You’ve got a family, friends and people who love you who will stand by you, not let you down. Start your day by giving thanks. It will get better from there.” And he was right, I did that. And no longer felt alone. And was soon on my way back. 

 Nahum Ward Lev in his book on the Hebrew prophets, talks about the spiritual discipline of giving thanks. He recommends every night before you go to sleep, remembering all that happened over the course off the day for which you are thankful…especially what wasn’t expected. Whether it’s first thing in the morning, last thing at night or better both, it helps keep us grounded. Going. Thankfulness for all we have is a way of being, a way of living. Rabbi Heschel also said, “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement [to] get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” 

 The song I sang tonight was written in England in 1864. It came to the US in the depths of the Civil War. Somehow while the world seemed to be falling apart, people wanted to believe that there was still much to be thankful for. 

 God of all, to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise…

1 For the beauty of the earth, 
for the glory of the skies, 
for the love which from our birth 
over and around us lies. 

Refrain: 
God of all to you we raise 
this, our hymn of grateful praise. 

2 For the wonder of each hour 
of the day and of the night, 
hill and vale and tree and flower, 
sun and moon and stars of light, [Refrain ]

3 For the joy of human love, 
brother, sister, parent, child, 
friends on earth, and friends above, 
for all gentle thoughts and mild, [Refrain] 

4 For yourself, best gift divine, 
to the world so freely given, 
agent of God's grand design: 
peace on earth and joy in heaven. [Refrain]


Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Harvard-Yale reflections

 11/20





The Bowl



To New Haven

The day begins catching the 8:10 AM from 125th Street in Harlem to New Haven. To my complete surprise, the train is already SRO. I pass through cars until I can go no further. Not a seat to be had. While New Jersey Transit has a strict no food, no drink policy this Metro North is a rolling breakfast tailgate complete with mimosas. I am not looking forward to a two hour stand.

A young Asian guy is holding 3 of 4 of the straight back fold down seats for friends joining in Stamford.  The circle of friends nearest me say, “Dude, seriously?” And he relents and offers up 3 of the 4 seats and goes back to his Times.  A young woman looks up and sees an old  man standing and says, “Would you like to sit down?” And without hesitation, I say “ I sure would” and take her seat.


My companions  are all  26 or so and Yale Med grads working at Sinai. A mix of ethnicities, genders, gay and straight, friends. Yale. They are well supplied with craft beer.  They ask if I’m an alum and I say “Yes, Div School’75” which leads to questions and shared beers as we roll on to New Haven.


I realize the overwhelming number of riders on this train are young professional grads from Yale and Harvard who live and work in the city. Their city adventure years. Doctors, lawyers, traders and techies, you could run a small country with this train.    But today, it’s all about the GAME.


                                                             To the Bowl


How to get to the Bowl from the Union Station is a major concern.  Cabs and Ubers, given the traffic, are out of the question. My companions are ready for a two and a half mile trek to the Bowl.  My best option seems to be a cab to campus and then a Yale shuttle. As I look for a cab, I see another FREE shuttle to the Green.


And there I am, right across from the Yale shuttle.  I’m pleased that I’ve managed to come this way all for free. On the bus, I remember the old familiar route to the game. Little changed in almost half a century.  Even the package stores where we’d load up on beer and harder stuff and the delis where we’d stock up on hoagies for the game. I remember the long Saturday afternoons with my friends, from Texas and Ohio and Virgina. Our crew of first Div School students still feeling like, holding onto being college students. And I remember my late December time here in freezing rain with one of my Bridgeport students to see the Giants trounced by the Vikings during their ill conceived  two year sojourn here. How the Giant’s faithful must’ve hated this journey.  I see it all again, my friends, their  faces. The feel of crisp fall New England air. 


As we slowly wind our way to the Bowl, there’s a steady growing, flowing stream of people walking their way with determination to the Bowl like pilgrims to a shrine. Which is in a way true. 


The OG

We finally stop a couple  of blocks short with traffic at stand  still so I walk the rest of the way, looking at the grassy fields filled with tailgaters. At the gate, a group of Harvard students are surprised to find a no bag policy in effect and the security guy is giving them a tough once over. He sees my old school hat and repro practice jersey, my age, smiles and says, OK OG, you’re good, c’mon through.  And after an ID and vax check and always anxiety filled mobile ticket scan, I’m there. The grassy hill  that surrounds the bowl, built from the earth dug out to make it, like a prehistoric culture’s burial mound.



                                          Pregame


Nothing has changed …except for the circle of food trucks ringing the stadium with everything from barbecue to guacamole to kelp burgers. I settle for a “loaded” kielbasa. 


Oh, and portable stadium lights on trucks.  With the advent of overtime in college ball, games, even starting  at noon, can stretch out into late afternoon with darkness falling. 


Joint bands

Inside, I’m shocked to see the Bowl only about a third full. At most. I take a great  aisle seat on the 40. The Harvard side nearly empty as  first the band in Crimson and then the Yale Precision Marching Band,  both in their blazers and white pants,  do their pregames and the the two bands join together for the National Anthem. 


                               The Game

The GAME is underway



Yale marches right down to score.  A couple of interceptions lead to a field goal and touchdown for Harvard . With 5 minutes left in the half, Harvard is up by 10 after a return of an all too short punt. Then at about two minutes left, Yale’s left handed sophomore quarterback Grooms is nearly sacked, scrambles and nearly out of bounds flings the ball straight down the sideline to a sprinting JJ Howland for a thrilling touchdown. 


I missed some exciting plays due to the steady stream of people entering the stands. I’d forgotten that for a large part of the crowd, the tailgate is the main event. I remember taking my visiting brother to a game. As we walk past tables laden with food and cutlery and iced bottles of champagne, he said, “It’s like a rich peoples’ Woodstock.”


As I look at the game wear, the quality of shirts and white Yale sweaters and corduroys and fine leather shoes, LL Bean and beyond, I imagine the stone front the houses and rolling Connecticut estates.  Trains are for the young during their city adventure years, not people my age. There is almost an aroma to privilege.  And I’m beginning to feel annoyed. As the half ends, a late arriving group ousts me from my seat. 


There’s a tribute to veterans and a recording of I’m proud to be an American by Lee Greenwood. It feels almost Ivy ironic. I stay for the snarky half time shows of the two bands, always the essence of clever and ironic. But always ending with the traditional Boolah, Boolah (1900) and March down the field (1904). (When I moved to Oklahoma, I was shocked to discover Boolah Boolah had morphed into Boomer Sooner. Yale always has a majorette twirler and at least one guitar and violin in the band. Then head to look for food. 


second half view

With interminable lines, I head to the lower curve of the Bowl. And to  my surprise, see a nearly full stadium. The Yale side fulll, Harvard about three quarters. Nearly 50,000. Still. Years from the glory days. Still.  


I realize I’ve seen more fur today than I have in  decades. Mainly on men. Old white Elis and a black man in raccoon coat and boater  and a young flambouyant Latino with his dad. We really are reliving the last  golden age right into the twenties. This would clearly be disconcerting  to the kelp burger guys. 


I am sitting at just the right angle for a sweeping stadium view, There’s a steady stream of couples lining ups for panoramic memory shots. 


Harvard's ball

The game itself is a classic.  After back and forths and  being down by 10, Yale finally takes the lead on another Grooms pass at 34-31 with 7:48 left. Too much time, I think. And sure enough, Harvard marches relentlessly  down the field and with 22 seconds left, Luke Emge hits Wimberly with a perfect corner of the end zone  pass for a Crimson touchdown and that is that. And despite PA warnings, the Harvard students take the field.


                                                  Postgame


Handsome Dan

Grab a pulled pork barbecue on the way out. The kelp guys are giving away free burgers. Stop to check out the Handsome Dan icon statue. Searching for the shuttle back to campus. 


On the crowded bus, a beautiful young woman with chestnut hair sits beside me and, clearly having had a long day, fall asleep, her head on my shoulders. This seeming pleasant experience is fraught with anxiety contemplating how one accidental shift could lead to a startled wake up and potential “trigger” incident, me being the only old man on the bus. So I sit frozen in place for the 45 minute crawl back to campus. Thankfully, as we arrive, a friend taps her on the shoulder and I am set free.


Soon enough, I’m back at the station and on my way back to New York.


                                                      Back to New York


The train is not crowded on the way back. Mainly Harvards around me. And I’m reflecting on privilege. How with my Yale degree and first call at the then  largest Presbyterian church in the country, the table had been  set for me.  And pondering the choices that wind me up in my Harlem apartment and riding the train instead of a stone manse in Connecticut and a car and tailgate party near the bowl.


My Div School friends came from good schools.  We all felt privileged to be grad students at Yale. Somewhat  taken aback by the undergrads we’d encounter who looked at Yale as an expected birthright. 


What made Yale for me was New Haven. My off campus work as a teachers’ aid in a ghetto middle school. My time with Legal Aid in the Hill District neighborhood with a feisty staff of blacks and Puerto Ricans. Getting to know and Iove the people of the projects. Starting  to learn Spanish. The summer I stayed in New Haven working with them. My Puerto Rican  paralegal girlfriend. The Friday afternoon beer and pizza sessions reviewing the week. My architect school friend Harvey from the Bronx living on Dagget Street and working to build an access friendly peoples’ information system for the Hill.  My work at St.Paul’s Episcopal in the Wooster Square neighborhood with its landmark pizza parlors. That’s what set my course for life more than storied Ivy walls and Gothic architecture. 


I think of my friend Mark, heavy set, long haired, wheel chair bound singer-songwriter of magnificent songs, a Doonesbury era Yalie. Hosting the pandemic virtual Yale Cabaret, his circle of Yalie friends from that ‘70s other side of Yale. The unchanged older Zonker Harrises. We lost him to Covid. 


All these memories and thoughts fill my mind as the train makes its way back to Harlem. It was good to be back. 


March, march on down the field,

Fighting for Eli.

Break through that crimson line,

Their strength to defy.

We'll give a long cheer for Eli's men.

We're here to win again.

Harvard's team may fight to the end,

But Yale will win!


Bulldog, bulldog, bow-wow-wow, Eli Yale!

Bulldog, bulldog, bow-wow-wow, our team will never fail!

When the sons of Eli break through the line,

That is the sign we hail.

Bulldog, bulldog, bow-wow-wow, Eli Yale!













Tuesday, November 9, 2021

Widow's mite, widow's might, widow's witness



Sermon


11/6


Jekyll and Hyde resists the rush ti Christmas decorations

It was the morning we rolled the clocks back....and I preached again for Beverley Church...here is my reflection,...


So the time has changed. And the leaves have changed. And the weather has cooled. I don’t expect to see fresh corn much longer at my local farmers’ market…but there’s more apple varieties than I could ever imagine. And fresh cider….Covid doesn’t seem to  be going anywhere anytime  soon and you’re never quite sure what the rules are. And yes, since we were last together, New York City has a new mayor…our second African-American mayor. And the New York City Marathon is back…streets of the city filled with runners for the first time in two years.


The stores are making the switch over from Halloween to Christmas…but we will wait until Advent for that. And just this  week was all saints and all souls, the Day of the Dead.


This time of year when people get into giving has traditionally been time for churches to focus on stewardship.  And this passage in Mark, we used to call it the widow’s mite, remember that?  Pastors would tell the story of the "poor widow" and encourage everyone to be like her. But in all honesty, there’s more going  on here than  meets the eye. 


First of all, the scribes…who were they? The Bible sometimes uses the expression doctors of the law. That’s appropriate, but why ? What was their role? They had the job of drafting legal documents in line with the Torah, contracts between people for marriage, divorce, loans, inheritance, land sales, etc. All for a fee, of course.  Jesus’ critique about them, those 

who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!….can cut close to home..those preachers who wear the finest  suits, who sit at the head table at charity galas and get invited to do invocations at civic events…..those guys…When I lived in Tulsa, all the pastors wanted to get invited by Oral Roberts to give the prayer before ORU basketball games. 

The first pastor I worked for, and let me add he was a truly great man and good mentor, had as part of his call package a membership in the city’s best downtown dining club and it’s best country club. 

But it gets worse…Jesus says that they … devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers….

Can’t you just hear this prayers? (You probably already have…) See in those days, when a man died, women were not allowed to inherit her husband’s  wealth or property. That’s why the Old Testament always speaks about special care for ..widows, orphans and strangers at your gate…they were among the most vulnerable in society.  So scribes also had the role of managing women’s inheritance and property. Some charged exhorbitant fees. And if women were unable to pay, the scribe would  get control of the house. 

That is the context in which Jesus praises the widow.  It’s not just look what a good little giver she is. It’s in the context of this condemnation of an unjust system that does this to people.What this widow has experienced is wrong…and the temple owes its existence, at least in part, to the exploitation of people like this widow. The contributions of the scribes  come from the money they take form the widows and then the widows’ own money….in essence, they pay twice!

Well, widows may have it better today.  But there’s still plenty to make Jesus mad. Back to Tulsa for a minute. And let me share that I actually worked at ORU for a few years and knew Oral Roberts to be a complex character. But more than one poor widow gave all they had for Oral’s ministry. When he built a retirement home, there was major problem with his followers selling everything they had and coming to Tulsa believing they would be taken care of.  The rest of us had to push Oral Roberts  to hire a social worker to deal with the issue.

Let’s look at society. Income inequality its at its highest level in fifty years. Women still only make .68 cents on the dollar to men. The middle and lower classes pay the highest percentage of taxes. And the census tells us that  in the last ten years, homelessness in our city has increased by 110 percent and 159 people list Central Park as their address.  

Friends, I think it’s safe to say Jesus is still angry.

Now back to our widow. She doesn’t give from her excess, she gives from her essence. The words… everything she had…are literally her whole life. She has made a sacrifice. And that word’s Latin  roots are to make holy…it’s not so much the widow’s mite as it is the widow’s might…ultimately the widow’s witness. 

So in the end, this is not about giving your every last cent to church. (You can relax). BUT…it is about how you live your life. Those of us who claim the name of Jesus as our savior, who claim his name and seek to live life  in his community…are called to place God…through Jesus … at the center of our lives. Being a Christian, a follower of Jesus is ultimately a way of life. The most important work of the church is not to develop all kinds of programs.  The most important work of the church is to help its members be encouraged, empowered and equipped for the daily living out of their Christian witness. It’s not what we do on Sunday that makes us Christians but Monday through Saturday.  

As we come together to share in community with our Lord and our community today, let us help one another be strengthened for that daily living out of Jesus’ call. Let those with ears to hear, hear….


Mark 12: 38-44

38As he taught, he said, "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, 39and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."

41He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43Then he called his disciples and said to them, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."



Tuesday, November 2, 2021

On the 10th Anniversary of Occupy Wall Street: an interview

 

“Could we take a hundred people?”

Robert Brashear, a pastor and father of three, was 61 years old and living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan when Occupy Wall Street took Liberty Square. His participation in Occupy began that first day and continued in the years following the eviction of the protesters from the park. He tells me his Occupy history during the week of the 10th Anniversary.

I was the pastor of a church we were in the process of trying to revive, a church that had fallen on hard times. It had gone through a lot of challenges.

I was also always involved in public service and political activities. In 2011, I was a Chair of the Interfaith Assembly on Homelessness and housing, working for homeless people in the city, and I’ve always been involved in progressive causes of one kind or another throughout my life.

Very shortly after the Liberty Square encampment started, I went down to see what was going on.

What do you remember of that first experience? What was that like?

I started going on almost a daily basis, and I was struck by the fact that it seemed to be sort of equal parts political protest and performance art, in a sense. I was struck, from the start, by the creativity and the humor that went along with what was happening.

How do you mean?

I remember, for example, somebody had created an Occupy Lego Land, created this giant Lego display that was supposed to represent what it looked like there in Liberty Square, all kinds of artwork in the park. At all the marches that took place, there were always signs that had a great deal of humor. The sense of creativity was always very, very present to me.

Do you remember the first large protest you participated in with Occupy, and what that was like?

I can’t remember what the first one was like. There were many, many marches.

I remember marching across the Brooklyn Bridge. I remember any number of them.

As far as what they were like: To me, they were not all that different from other marches I’ve participated in throughout my life, very, very similar in nature. Although, I do remember interactions between protesters and some of the police and guards that were surrounding, which, for the most part, were very, very positive.

One important thing about Occupy is all the different kinds of work on the ground by the people participating, to start it and keep it going. You alluded, for example, to the creative and artistic aspects. What was your work in Occupy? What was your primary way of working in the movement?

As far as the interactions began, aside from just visiting to see what was going on, and being a body, the first time the relationship began to get filled was the first time the rumor spread that they were going to come drive the people out of Liberty Square.

I arrived with some other church members to make a barrier to try to prevent that, if possible. At that point, I was able to connect with several young seminary students who were, I remember, using brooms and other things to try to clean the area, and I developed relationships with those seminary students.

But, it really became major, for me, when the eviction took place, and 100 Occupiers came to live at my church. That’s when we became a housing place for the people. And we became the regular meeting place for the spokescounsel. At various times, we had people visit, Michael Moore and other people.

So, becoming an actual home for people to live in was the major contribution that I made.

Let’s come back to that later as well. What is your fondest memory, or a few memories, of the movement itself?

I should’ve also said that as a minister and a pastor, I participated with other clergy who would go down there, from various religious events. I also remember going with Jewish friends to the High Holy Day (NTS) celebrations that were held in Liberty Square. I remember going with other friends for spiritual gatherings.

It was one of the most holistic experiences of protest I’ve ever experienced, in terms of the way that Liberty Square really took on life as a real community, with a kitchen and with a library, and with daily educational events. I think all of that was really important.

I think the main thing, more than anything, was the sense of almost innocent good humor about the whole thing.

What about your most difficult memory, your least fond memory?

The most difficult memories are having to deal with the realities of people that were living within my church.

The people who lived in my church, who I got to know, ranged from idealistic young people, who were willing to set everything aside and devote their lives to trying to create a better world for people with serious mental illness and substance abuse issues, and some chronic homelessness. That’s a very difficult population to keep together in any kind of meaningful way.

And we had to contend with things like theft, and not so often but occasional violence, and it was a real experience in idealism facing up to reality, and that was very hard for some of my more idealistic friends.

We had this one incident that became an international incident, where the top of our baptismal fountain got stolen, and I got very angry about that.

Somehow, that made it into the New York Post and all around the Murdoch papers, and the right-wing was really trying to make something of that. And we had to make it very clear that the vast bulk of people living there were ready to take responsibility and deal with it.

The beautiful outcome of that was: One of the parents of one of the Occupiers was an artist and created a beautiful ceramic top to replace the copper top that had been stolen.

It made for a very symbolic blending of new and old, and it was a very special occasion when we brought that out. Even though the right-wing really tried to make a lot of that, the end of the story was very beautiful.

But, just the reality of all the problems people brought with them into that situation, it was very difficult to deal with.

I was very happy to have a team of volunteer chaplains from Union Seminary to help out. It couldn’t have happened and been done without them.

What were Occupy’s greatest strengths as a movement?

The first was the capacity to literally change the language of the conversation about economics in the country, to make the concept of the “one percent” a really commonly understood idea.

Secondly, it was the fact that they were, pretty consciously, a space and not necessarily a solution.

I remember one conversation with people on the outside of Liberty Square. It was lunchtime and there were people yelling at the Occupy folks, “WHAT’S YOUR SOLUTION?”

And the response from the people I was with was, “Well, what’s YOUR solution?” And that stopped that. (laughs)

So, it wasn’t prescriptive. It was a space for many, many wonderful things to happen. And I think that the commitment, even though it ultimately became part of the downfall, to be completely accepting of everyone, on principle, was very significant.

Talk about some of your experiences with police, either uniformed or undercover, or both, or neither if you didn’t have major experiences with them.

Well, yeah. I mean, I have a couple of things to talk about.

One, I was visited by local police and told that I had to report to the precinct office. And I came in and sat down in couple of detectives’ office, and the detectives left, and two other guys came in and said they were with Homeland Security. And they began asking questions.

And I said, “I’m not going to answer any more questions.”

And they said, “Well, you know we’ve got people in your place. Don’t you?”

And I said, “Well, I don’t know whether you do or not, but I’m not going to talk with you anymore.”

So, that was the first thing that happened.

A few days later, two guys from the FBI came to my office and started asking the same questions, and I said, “You know, I just had those same questions asked by Homeland Security. Don’t you guys talk to each other?”

I was taken by the fact that we were clearly being watched. And I have no doubt in my mind that they were absolutely right when they said they had people that they had planted within our place.

I am equally convinced, although you can’t say I can absolutely prove it, that some of the more difficult problems were caused by provocateurs who had been placed.

What were they asking you? From what you could gather, why did they seem interested in you?

They were interested in names and trying to discern if there was actual leadership. I think they were trying to figure out if there were particular people they ought to be focused on.

I think because the basic concept and idea behind Occupy was that the whole system is messed up, it was perceived as potentially a very serious threat, possibly a threat. And the fact that there were expressions of Occupy happening all over the world, I think there was a sense, for a brief while, that this could really be a potential threat to the system as it exists.

Because no one was being put forward as leaders, I think they were trying to figure out, “Are there particular folks that we ought to be focusing on?”

Our government has a history, with movements like the Black Panthers and so forth, of taking out leadership, literally. I think there was a desire to try to find out, “Are there particular people in Occupy that we ought to take out in order to bring this down?”

What was the day of the eviction from Liberty Square like for you?

Fairly quickly, word went out that we were going to have to find places for people to stay, and the request was, “Could we take a hundred people?”

So, very rapidly, we had to figure out, “Where are we going to put a hundred people?” “How are we going to handle things like restrooms?” There were all sorts of logistical questions. I had to have a number of volunteers come in and help us get set up.

Of course, I remember the hours going by as the people kept streaming in. I don’t think I got any sleep for about three days.

So, it was a matter of simply trying to figure out where to put people and how to take care of people and to be ready to make it work.

Were you present at the eviction itself? Did you see that happen?

I did not see it happen, no. I had been there the first time it was predicted when we were able to stop it, but the actual day of the eviction, I did not see it.

How many other churches opened their doors to Occupy protestors, or how unique was that to your church?

There were several. I think we probably had people living with us longer than any others. We had people there for over a year. It was a much smaller group by the end. It went from a hundred down to about two dozen over the course of the year, and I think there were finally about a dozen who were forming a cooperative.

So, we had Occupiers living with us for over a year after the eviction.

Like I say, we were a small church, but there were a lot of arts and cultural things going on. Occupiers provided staff services, and the Occupying group that was there started a t-shirt company.

That was all quite an experience.

I think we did have people stay with us longer than most others. Many churches found it was very problematic trying to house that population for any extended period of time for the various reasons that I mentioned, the number of people with mental health problems and people with substance abuse issues.

Was the choice, firstly, to participate in the movement in general, but also to take people in after the eviction, tied to your faith in any way?

Being engaged with the world around me, trying to make the world a more humane, just, inclusive, and sustainable world, has been a lifetime commitment as an expression of my faith.

So, the fact that Occupy was happening when it was happening, that was the place I needed to be at that time. Like I said, it’s been a lifetime commitment.

The Occupation of Liberty Square ended. On that day, there were many other crackdowns on other major Occupy encampments. Many were evicted from the park, figured out what they were going to do next, how and where to survive. But, especially from your perspective, having continued to be involved after that, did the Occupy Movement end?

As a movement named “Occupy Wall Street,” sure, it had an end. On the other hand, it had an extended life. And I want to talk about that for a moment.

At a bigger, more visible level, one of the most amazing experiences for me was being involved with people in Occupy Sandy following Hurricane Sandy. There were two guys from Occupy who had lived at my church, who went to a town on Staten Island immediately and volunteered, and used the social media connections of Occupy to begin bringing things there.

So, a couple days later, when the police wanted to set something up in this beach town in Staten Island and they went to the church and said, “Well, we want to set something up, but we can’t work with these Occupy people,” the priest said, “Well, they were here first. They were here before you. So, if you’re going to do anything, you’ve got to work with them.”

And it was amazing that they developed a sense of mutual respect, and they had extended what they were doing out onto the sidewalks and out into public spaces.

And when the police sent currently uniformed people to shut it down, there was an amazing coalition of police and retired Occupiers who faced down the police and made them leave. I thought that was an amazing example of how the spirit had continued.

I know at least half a dozen people who had been involved in Occupy, who stayed in the city, because they’d come to love the city, and became involved in various political campaigns so that the next round of City Council elections, there were at least half a dozen or so candidates elected from the democratic socialist perspective, and former Occupiers had been directly involved in that.

Part of what I’m trying to say is: In ways that are not necessarily openly visible and named, Occupy has continued to have a serious and real impact.

Also, when the climate march took place, much of the infrastructure for the climate marches that took place in New York City was created by people who had gained their experience in organizing with Occupy.

So, there is a through line.

From Occupy to the environmental movement to Black Lives Matter, folks who got their feet wet in Occupy have stayed consistent.

Where do you feel the country has gone since Occupy?

I feel, on the one hand, that the country is more dangerously divided than I’ve seen it in my life, that there are significant numbers of people who do not believe in democracy anymore and are pretty open about it.

Strangely, at the same time, there is a broader understanding of the reality of systemic racism, and that the legacy of chattel slavery has continued to harm us, and that we will continue to be unhealthy until that’s dealt with. There is a much broader understanding of that.

So, two things have happened at the same time. Since Occupy, the dialectic has gotten drawn a lot more starkly than it was in the past.

Personally, politically, or both, what has been the significance of the 10th Anniversary to you?

I’m going to precede that by saying something else. One of the things that has so shocked and amazed me, until I’ve began to think about it, is the number of people who I knew from Occupy, and continue to be in touch with, who have fallen into, like, the anti-vaccination crowd, and in some cases, are very close to the QAnon crowd.

At first, I found that somewhat amazing. Then I began to think that if you were seriously connected to something, just because it had the position that you simply can’t trust the government and everything is screwed up, maybe that opens you up to these kinds of ideas?

At any rate, that is very surprising to me.

But, I think the 10th Anniversary gives us the opportunity to reflect back on what was inspiring and good about those days.

Again, the creativity and the humor, and the almost innocent belief that anything is possible, it’s good to go back and take a look at what we were thinking and feeling while that was happening, and to renew the conversation about the desperate income inequity in this country, not that that conversation has gone away, but the 10th Anniversary gives us an opportunity to revisit that in a serious way.

And it was really Occupy, if nothing else, that changed the language of that conversation.

It’s the 10th Anniversary. Are there any long-term plans for the Occupy Movement at the moment?

Not at the moment, but I’ve been trying to reach out to people who stayed at my church, to find out where they are in their lives now and what’s happened between then and now, and how Occupy might have inspired them.

I haven’t gotten a whole lot of responses back yet, but I’m very interested in that. And I am encouraging the church to try to do something in the next couple of months that would take a look at that time.

Politically, what are your greatest concerns about where the world is headed now, 10 years after Occupy?

I understand that these things go in cycles, but I am extremely concerned about the rise of fascism, the attraction to it in this country. It’s very hard to accept that at least 45 percent of my fellow citizens see this country and this world in a radically fascist way.

I feel that the damage done to the structures and the cultures of democracy in this country over the last several years, flawed as they were, it is going to take a long time to recover from. And I’m not sure how much that’s going to happen.

The attacks on access to voting, the situation in Texas of paying your neighbors to report people for abortions, are very, very dangerous trends.

And you see a similar kind of leadership emerging in places like Hungary, and Bolsonaro in Brazil, and others. I think this is a situation on the rise globally that we have to be very, very concerned with.

At the same time, the whole situation with global warming and the climate remains very, very serious.

Not unrelated to that is our global situation of migration and people on the move. That’s been one of my biggest places of involvement these last several years, the movement for justice in migration because as societies continue to crumble, people will be more and more on the move. And there are more people on the move now than any other time in history, and they die in the desert and they die in the Mediterranean and countries close their borders.

So, all these things are very much on my heart and mind.

I really think that people who criticize Occupy for not having had clear goals and objectives and points to negotiate, etcetera, missed the point.

To me, the point was to open space for a conversation that had not taken place, to try to create a new way of decision making, a new way of participating, a revival of grassroots democracy.

BY MATTHEW VERNON WHALAN

Matthew Vernon Whalan's work has appeared in New York Journal of Books, Alabama Political Reporter, Scheer Post, Eunoia Review, The Brattleboro Reformer, multiculturalbridge.org, occupywallst.nyc, Let's Rethink This, American Awakening, and other newspapers, journals, and websites around the country. He is the editor and head writer for The Hard Times Review. His main focus in the past few years has been oral history and journalism on homelessness and prisons in America. His book of investigative journalism, Doing Time, was the first book about American prisons during the COVID-19 pandemic. He is also the author of two oral histories on homeless life, which are called Homeless Anything Helps, and Memories, Dreams, and Reflections of THE American Buddhist. All of these came out in 2021 with Hard Times Review Press.