West-Park Press

Fourteenth day of Lent: Occuopoly

2012-03-10T23:28:00.000-08:00

3/8

An old man has come in. One of the Upper West Side tweedy types. Another never saw these doors open type. Says he used to perform here with musical groups. Wants to make a contribution. Does not want to be on mailing list.

Richard walks in with bouquet of flowers with red and blue balloons attached. He was one of the older guys attached to our frst #ows groups. Because of his age and bearing, I always assumed that he was one of the inner circle, to the extent there was one. But then I increasingly would find him sitting alone on the steps. And seemingly separated from the others. He has walked in to thank us. Tells us he’s moving on. Not sure where. There is a look of the deepest, profound sadness on his face.

John H is in to talk about a follow up meeting with Melissa from Galapagos to happen later that day. He considers listening to Matthew rehearse, decides not to. Will wait in the sunny warmth outside.

Runi has been up until the wee hours playing Monopoly. Seems she likes winning. Gets competitive. The others tease her, call her a one-percenter. You have to try and win. After all, it is monopoly. It is not a cooperative game. (I alwasy found those cooperative new games annoying.)We start a conversation about what an occupy version of monoply might look like. Call it occuoply. If you land on a vacant property, you don’t have to buy it, just occupy it. Instead of houses and hotels, tents. Chris laughs and says you’d have to greatly increase the number of go directly to jail spaces. Instead of Boardwalk and Park Place, Wall Street. There’d be a 60 Wall Street. What color would West-Park be? Baltic and Medterranean filled with squatters. This could go on.....

Things are looking up for Rudolfo. He’s got an appointment with La Migra. La tarjeta verde still a possibility.

Outside on 86th, I greet Marty. After he says, Hello father, he expresses concern that I don’t have my hat on. It’s windy, he says. I tell him I left it inside. You mean you fogrot it?He aks. My father always said, if you want to remember one thing, remember two. That ways, you’ll remember one of them. And my mother told me, if you want to remember something tomorrow, tie a thread around your wrist today. I thnak Marty for thsi advice. He shares some more words with me, then tells me he’s got to head back

home. Got to get to my paerwork, he says. And off he goes north on Amsterdam.

Melisa comes in with her two partners, Peter and Matthew. She’s developing a plan to potentially become the booker for the Center. This could be what we have been looking for. Would solve a lot of problems. Relieve Danielle and I.

Thirteenth day of Lent: Everything comes from Dylan Thomas and Hank Williams, Sr.

2012-03-08T22:27:00.001-08:00

3/7

The idea was that I would come in to the office after my weekly neighborhood lectionary study group and that Danielle and I would work together on a job description for a Union seminary intern to start in the fall. That was the idea.

When I arrive, the man with the cans and his companion are fast asleep in front of front door. Nobody can get in. It’s way late in the morning. Nobody can get by them, the doors can’t open. I tell them, they’re going to have to get up. They look at me, half asleep. Start to move.

I go to the side door. Stan lets me in. Danielle tells me that she has spoken to them and that they will be moving. I tell her that it’s going slowly. I go upstairs to look for my security folks. Sandy is there. Issues at her apartment have brought her back to West-Park. I remember how she’s an architect. The first one to have the vision of an inentional community, a coop. . How she brought the first work crew here. And I remember her connections to P_______. Saturday night she had called us several times. Sunday, Amanda walked with her for an hour. There is a gentleness about her. I’m glad she feels safe here.

Rafael comes in. I tell him I need help with the couple out front. And that I really need the steps clear before I get here. Teddy usually does that and was up and off to work too early. Rafael also wants to share his concerns about events planned for Friday night. We need to get thee things cleared up.

RL comes in. He’ snever had the full tour, so I take him around all the parts of the building he hasn’t seen yet. I find out that what he’s looking for is a place to practice, rehearse, work on his next CD. When we finish the tour, he makes clear that he wants his contributions to go towards fixing up the second floor bathroom, the one that Ludovica’s theatre group had helped us restore for their rehearsals.

And then we talk. About our tango. And Tom Lehrer. And his song about Poisoning pigeons in the park. And his song about the elements. And we drift into the day in Pennsylvania he found two boys shooting 78’s insead of clay pigeons and the treasure trove he discovered there. Some original Sun record Elvis. Some Sonny Terry.

His birthday is coming up. A question about his age leads to stories about the reservation. His Indian father. His horse named Red. A scene reminiscent of the classic Mongo and the horse scene in Blazing Saddles. Felled him with one punch....and as to age? Old enough to have heard Dylan Thomas and Hank Williams, Sr. How everything comes from them and I can almost agree. His daughter is up and awake so he’s off to see her.

I step outside to share with Steve the agenda for our upcoming meeting with the Occupy folk. I notice the can man’s companion sitting there. So I sit down to talk to her. Turns out she is named Antonia. And he’s Wesley, aka, Sequan. I tell her this deal is not working. Offer to get her help. She assures me that he’s getting them a place They’ll be gone today. I notice her pierced eyeborw. Harvard t-shirt. And (typical) ski cap, even on a warm day. She tells me she knows it can’t work. Not good for her health. Or his. I ask how long she’s been on the street. Never, she says, not until him. I keep telling him, I got to go in, but he don’t care....I tell her I’ll help her if she wants. She nods. And then says, we’ll be gone we’ll be gone....

Hope is in to help out any way she can. We talk about how Sekou’s vision for a a freedom church is pretty close to what we want to be. Why can’t we work it out together?

Finally, Marsha arrives. We’ll go out to talk, to catch up. People are arriving for Jane’s course on miracles. I greet them warmly. I see that Runi is talking with the intense neighbor lady with the tiny dog. The one who tells me that Jane’s office is where the guns are. I tell Runi I’ll handle it. She wants to come in for the course on miracles. I say, well, not with that dog. She says, he’s a service animal. I look again and say, well....and the class invited her in. Jane certainly shares in the pastoral work of the neighborhood.

Later that night, I come back. Jane’s on a break, engaged in conversation with Runi. How her name is closer to Rumi the Sufi than Rooney the Girl with the Dragon Tatoo. I talk with Jane and Tia. Jane’s appointment arrives. Time for me to head home. The house is full, filled with life.

The job description still not complete.

Twelfth day of Lent: A fine knit cap, a fountain in Poland

2012-03-07T20:58:00.000-08:00

3/6

Getting my morning coffee at Barney Geeengrass, one of the workers leans over across the counter. Wants to discuss a personal issue. It feels good to know our pastoral presence makes a connection through daily coffees. Neighbors.

The bag on the steps is from a high end neighborhood steak house. Inside there is a fine knit blue and white cap. It will be gone within an hour. An umbrella has been placed on a ledge near the door.

As Danielle and I are catching up, there is music coming from the sanctuary. A young woman is at the piano. I tell her I thought I heard original music. She smiles, shy. Says that she works at a doctor’s office down the street and likes to stop in and play. I tell her about the open mic night we just had. She says she’s actually into musical theatre. I tell her about Matthew and his play. Invite her to come to us with dreams and ideas. And then leave her to continue working on her music.

Luli comes by anxious about the Noche Flamenco contract. We just got their revisions. Need to run them by our attorney. Our session. But I too want to get this settled and locked up. She has brought their architect back for another look.

A woman is in the church praying. On her way out, she stops to say hello to Danielle and I. Danielle tells me she stops by often. She’s from Poland. And has a deep devotion to the Virgin Mary and a healing fountain that is there.

People working on their original music. People praying. That is why I want our office at the front. Why I never want to go back to a side door buzzer system again. The back and forth flow, money or no, keeps the place living.

I thank Marc for his work on the Open Mic last Friday. He tells me that with more advance notice, he could have had more artists there. There are musicians around, just lookig for a venue. He’d like to set up a shop. Maybe a mini recording studio. I tell him I”m still having trouble with my mini recording device.

It’s time for me to head to Newark to teach Liberation Theology again.

The eleventh day in Lent: Social, not political; Bavaria not Berlin

2012-03-06T22:45:00.000-08:00

3/5

The companion of the man with the cans has arrived on the steps early. She’s got a little boom box, playing music. Not sure what to say. She’s not alseep.

Danielle and I join in a conference call to discuss upcoming proposals for events with the Center Program Committee. We need to get far enough ahead to publish an actual program calendar, plan an actual season. Need to break out of the relentless present.

I find Max sitting in the sanctuary. He’s been visiting with Danielle with ideas. He joined #ows as a social movement. For him, it’s become primarily a political movement. He wants to recover the social dimension. Has some ideas. He and Danielle were interviewed by a German TV crew. I think of Micah. But this crew was from Bavaria, not Berlin.

Rose approaches me. Wants to know if now that it’s dark, the doors are closed, if the man with his cans and his companion can be on the steps. Yes, I say. That’s what I thought, she says. Outside, they have massive amounts of stuff. Giant stufffed suitcases and all. This is turning into an issue. This will not work.

Second Sunday in Lent: If we can accept, if we can receive it....

2012-03-06T22:41:00.000-08:00

3/4

In the sanctuary, Teddy is talking to a young man he found sleeping on the steps. He offered him breakfast, kept him downstairs. Now it’s time for him to leave. He’s giving Teddy a hard time. Look bro, accept the kindness that’s been offered. It’s time to go...

Got nothin’ to do with Occupy Wall Street...it’s nothin,’ you’re just a bunch of homeless...

That’s ok bro...you still have to go...

I tell Teddy I’m heading down to pick up the bulletins. I come back, we finish setting up for the service. Happy to see Andre has arrived. And Rachel. And my occupiers. Soon the rest of the congregation will arrive as well. And I see that a young couple has joined us. And my friend Rev. Sekou as well.

We start with Create in me a clean heart, O God...continue through Sanctuary, Nada te turbe, our prayers...I have John read Genesis 17: 1-7, about Abram and Sarai getting new names, becoming Abraham and Sarah. God’s promise with them, God’s covenant with them....many nations, yes, many nations... and we sing The God of Abraham Praise in English and Spanish. We do Psalm 22 people’s mic style. And then the Gospel, Mark 8:31-38 in English and Spanish. Time to talk.

The weather has been teasing us this week. Remember what I said about Lent....how it speaks to lenghtening? The lenghtening of days?

So what do we deal with today? Abraham and Sarah? A follow up to last week’s rainbow story? That was about God making a covenant, this is too...it keeps talking about Abraham being the father of many nations....we know them to be Christian, Muslim, Jew....

Or our gospel passage....how does that passage make you feel? We talk about Jesus saying get behind me Satan when Peter tells him not to go to Jerusalem. About how he knows he’s got to go there, but really doesn’t want to go. How for me that’s the only way the story works, if he doesn’t want to go. Maybe even a little afraid.

Then I say that my friend Barbara Lundblad, from Union Seminary, says you coud do a whole series on the theme of Jesus the Disrupter....every week disrupting something different... Like this week he’s disrupting expectations of what a messiah is all about..They expect him to come marching in with his troops,ready to take on the Roman Empire. Which he will, but not the way they expect. ..Or , she says, you could do a whole series of Jesus as stranger...and this week he ‘s describing a strange messsiah...

(Follow me so far...Jesus as disrupter, Jesus as stranger... anyone here ever feel like a disrupter? A stranger?) But finally we’re just left with pictures of God...and this week it’s pictures of a God who suffers with us...

What does it mean to us to think of a God who suffers? Who suffers with us....? Is that ok? Is it disturbing? Upsetting? Most of the congregation sees to be comforted by a God who suffers with us Like this week,that weird phrase an act of God. God did not create the tornado that wreaked havoc in the midwest. But God suffers with those who suffer in its wake.

The word is, those who follow Jesus must deny themselves...must take up their cross and follow him...There seems to be this division between those who focus on taking up the cross as the center of the gospel and those who focus on I came so that you might have life and have it abundantly...abundant life...Like they are opposites. But I’m thinking, maybe that is the way to abundant life...

What does it mean to gain the world, lose your soul...that temptation is there before us all the time...we lived through that when we had a vision of a whole residential building of affordable hosuing and then saw the percentage of affordable shrink away to nothing...

This adulterous and sinful generation...if, as Guttierez says, sin is breaking friendship with God, with others, failure to love brothers and sisters....then that is what we are facing....

Suffering with....it is just another form of feeling with...of compassion....and the reality is you cannot do that, feel with others without suffering, without hurting...because that’s what human life is....

But it is more. I think of the Brazilian theologian Rubem Alves...who says his problem with North American Christians is that thet want to jump too quickly to the happy ending ...that you cannot get there without embracing, experiencing human life in all its paradox, perplexity but most of all profound beauty...what I see on the subway every day and feel blessed to be alive...there is profound beauty in this....and that is where we are today....

As we take up the offering, Amanda does her riff off of This little light of mine...her song of struggling to be who you are supposed to be...conquering fear to move beyond mediocrity...

Before we gather for communion, I say that get behind me Satan was about conquering fear...and we are called to give up ours...I have brought a wooden cross, one that was used in the Tenant. I pass out cards, ask each person to write down a fear to tape to the cross, that we will thrw away after the service. (Thanks, Barbara, for that idea...) Release our fears.

and grace our fears relieved

As we come froward to share in communion, Andre sings Morning has broken, a capella.

As we form our circle of blessing, I ask everyone to look around the circle. it is a new circle. A growing circle. A good circle. I ask Rev. Sekou to join me in the benediction. And we sing Amen....

Afterward, Sekou asks Andre and Amanda to join him at the piano. He’s working on something. Kind of Gospel, kind of blue.

We go to the chapel to join in a meal. Gallo pinto, platanos, pizza....

Then the session meets with Jane and Ingrid and Karen to discuss where will go in our future. Much is still unclear. West-Park needs to gain more clarity on its own path before we can come to an agreement.

Later, in our own discussions, we talk of our need to come closer together in our own fellowship. Stengthen our own body. More meals together. More study. There has been struggle today.

Following the service, I has said to Hope and Marsha, individually, If we are able to accept it, if we are able t receive it, there is something happening here....just look around us....it’s here...

Ninth and tenth days of Lent: the unexpected intersections of unlikely combinations of people

2012-03-05T22:54:00.001-08:00

3/2

Tony Lo Presti, a neighborhood activist and one of the founders for West Siders for Peace and Justice, one of the main organizers for each year’s Martin Luther King, Jr. march, has brought a young Italian artist to talk about a festival that would bring together artists and musicians and children from the neigborhood together for exploration. Another good idea for combining our vision of ethics and esthetics working together across generations.

Teddy has taken the day off work to put together a crew to turn the chapel back into the music venue Amanda had created for our 100th anniversary event last December. He’ll also work the bar for us. Steve is in for follow up discussion on the silk screen idea that Jason had brought forth.

We spend the afternoon running around to gather supplies for tonight’s Singer-Songwriter Roundup open mike. Our occupy coop will be there selling their t-shirts and Jean’s brownies.

Amanda opens

What a night it turns out to be. The chapel again transformed, candles glowing in the old iron gates. Church pews, tables for folks. Marc working the sound. The musicians are there. Amanda opens. Piano Dan follows. A highlight of the night has to be RL dragging me out to tango with him while Piano Dan sings Tom Leher’s Masochism Tango which I hadn’t heard since I was a kid. My dad brought it home on the 33 rpm An Evening Wasted With Tom Lehrer back in 1959. Brought back memories of my dad as a young guy with his frineds in our house. I remember thinking it was eerie, strange and funny.

The Original Buskers

Justin Robert James and his dusky songs. Mandola Joe and his Original Buskers. Katie Rowell on violin and singing her own songs. Susannah Conn. RL himself. And I sing, too. Always loving to catch people by surprise that I do this. Amanda joining me on my last song.

Sarah came too

Some of the older Occupy crowd has shown up, too, like Steve and Jessica. Steve sending out a video of me singing. And Sarah has come as well, with her buoyant spirit and a hug. Feels almost like family.

Amanda and Sarah are given Occupy West-Park Coop t-shirts.

Her Occupy t-shirt

Dan and Katie close out the night. And a mixed group of musicians and occupiers head out together to the Gate. By the time the night has ended, Piano Dan has promised Teddy that he will teach him to sing.

This is what gives me some of my greatest joy...the unexpected intersections of unlikely combinations of people.

On the street, Teddy says, I love this place. It’s got soul, it’s got spirit, it’s got life. Amanda says, So, did you hear that?

Joe by Susannah

Piano Dan by Susannah

3/3

The day after. Passing Popover’s, I hear a rap on the window. Teddy, Steve, Jessica and our medic chaplain Mary are having a late brunch. Teddy comes out to drag me in.

Down at the church, one of Imiko’s dancers has returned to retieve something she had left there. Soon Kanaska and Rio arrive. I notice that since he was in church last Sunday, he’s now sporting a mohawk. Kanaska started out planning a simple open mike night for singers and comedians. It seems to be expanding cosmically. I’m wondering if she can pull it off and what else I might have to be concerned about. Rafael has his own thoughts. We do a tour of the church, I’m watching her thoughts whirl.

I’m happy to get back to Teddy and Steve and Jessica and Mary. I feel old sometimes.

The eighth day of Lent: Wounded Warriors

2012-03-04T23:06:00.000-08:00

3/1

The guy with the cans is back. Today is a beautiful day. No rain. Teddy and Rafael are encouraging him to leave. Today he is arguing that he is sick. Rafael agrees that he is sick, but is concerned as to what kind of sick he might be. There are worrisome signs. He moves, but just around the corner to the 86th Street doorway. Teddy tells him that if he is that sick, he will call an ambulance. His companion was concerned as well, but Rafael had overheard him say that if she continued to talk with us, he would punch her out. I want to call Reachout, but Danielle says that cutbacks have made them a lot more difficult to connect with. Just before we’re ready to call 911, he agrees to leave.

John and Melissa are back again. They and Hope and Amanda are comepletely abosrbed in Matthew’s rehearsal. The music soars, voices weaving in harmomies. Amanda says that he should do an open rehearsal before their opening. I make a note to ask him.

Jason comes with a new idea. There is a silkscreen company that is going to be in need of space soon. In return for space, they could teach coop members the trade and upgrade the quality of their shirts and other items.

Rosa has run out of time at the shelter she has been staying at in the Bronx. Dorot has been unable to help her. I recommend maybe theWestside Federation at Euclid Hall, draw her a map. She returns twice, so I finally walk with her the block and change to Boradway and 86th. Ultimately she will be back having failed to connect there as well, so I call to make her an appointment with their housing specialist.

I come back from Federal Plaza where Hope and I joined with the Justice Will Be Served campaign in their protest of the arrest of Chinese livery car drivers in Queens, the federal governent essentially acting as union busters on behalf of exploitative bosses. My friend Rabbi Michael of the Labor Religion Coalition was there as well.

Immigrant workers under attack,

Stand up, fight back.

Tonight is the Times Square Players premiere of Martin’s When Johnny Comes Home. It’s a sensitive play about a soldier coming back from Afghanistan badly wounded. And the struggles of his family to adjust. It’s a decent exploration of the issue.

But what really makes the evening is the after performance talk by Andrea Brin Sawyer of the Wounded Warriors Organization, a national organization of those who are caregivers for severely wounded veterans. Her personal story and the story of their lobbying efforts to get justice for those who have served their cointry was profoundly moving. And once again, I felt that this is exactly what we want to have happening here. I’m thankful to Martin for having taken this on.

The seventh day of Lent: With a circleof baby carrots on top

2012-03-04T22:08:00.000-08:00

2/29

Mim has come by for a conversation to see how the Center Board could be more helpful in working on structures to make our communication better and our work more efficient. She continues to bring a crtical amd caring eye to what we are doing helping keep the bigger picture in mind while Danielle and I are often caught up in the demands of the immediate.

John H has brought Melissa for a grand tour. Melissa is the fromer director of the Galapagos performance space, a space in DUMBO (the neighborhood under the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges) that features among other things, new music, both classical and jazz. A few months ago, I was there to see my friend Greg’s duo Due East and their CD release party. I was amazed seeing a full house audience in a renovated warehouse setting in rapt attention for both Greg and the first performance of a new requiem. (Not the West-Park occupier.) As expected, Melissa is taken by the space and its possibilities.

Martin Bard and the Times Square Playwrights are finishing rehearsals for their performance tomorrow night. Hope has come by to do anything needed and Amanda is there, too.

There seems to be a situation developing on the steps. A man with a large bag of bottles and cans is stretched out in the south doorway, his female companion nearby. I tell hm he can’t be there during the day, especailly with all that stuff. He starts an argument, you know, the rain and all. I waver a bit, it is raining hard. But have mixed feelings.

An expected meeting will not be taking place. Amanda and I will stop and chat with RL on the way to see Mandola Joe and his Original Buskers.

The man with the cans has moved on. In his place is a fresh pizza. With a circle of baby carrots on top.

The fourth, and fifth, days in Lent: planning

2012-03-01T23:24:00.000-08:00

shirts

2/27

Uli walks with me down to the church. Last night, the occcupiers had given him two shirts to take back to Germany and he had left them in the sanctury. One was the whole world is watching and the other was an Occupy West-Park Coop shirt. Uli will be leaving soon to visit his relatives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

Much of Danielle and my work is devoted to trying to wrap up the details of the contract being prepared for Noche Flamenco and all the information that has to be gathered together for tonight’s Center meeting.

Rose is in and out working on the business of the Coop. Annah has come to check out the basement, the old God’s Love We Deliver kitchen, to see if it might have possibilities as a bakery. John H is here to set up his next installment of his Dark Lady Players project, this time focusing in on the Anunciation.

Outside on the steps, there is an entire container of barbecue chicken. One piece has been eaten.

2/28

Back from midtown and a conversation with Jane and Ingrid and Marsha and Danielle about where we go next together. Wrestling with the challenge of looking at the whole building as a jigsaw puzzle and trying to figure out what pieces need to fit in where to make it all work.

Amanda is back. Teddy is happy to see her. Soon we’re engaged in a meeting to plan the M17/18 actions. The necessity of going to the Irish famine memorial, permit or no. Teddy wants to lay a wreath for his people. It was the famine that brought them to New York City. I say that the occasion demands that this be done. The leadership of this event appreciates my ability to articulate the meaning of the alternative march, the original focus of St. Patrick’s Day as an expression, a claim of dignity by an exploited immigrant group. And how hunger continues to be a political tool. They want me to speak at the event. And everyone still wants to see the weekend end with a celebration at West-Park.

Amanda meets Rafael for the first time. Rafael is wanting to set a time for the coop to move out of West-Park. There are some interal debates going on as to where all this is or could be headed.

First Sunday in Lent: Lonesome Valley 1

2012-02-27T22:33:00.000-08:00

2/26

Teddy stops by to tell me that a lot of the occupiers will be down at Tompkins Square park for another Occupy Town Square. I’ll miss them. He tells me that this church has been a big part of the good changes that have come about in his life. He helps me set the chairs in a circle this morning. We will be smaller in number this morning.

Virginia has come early to wait for Uli. She’s a long time board member of the internaional board of the Fellowship of Reconciliation. She was one of our group to travel to Germany the first time I went. Staying together at the Niemoller House.

Bob, Uli, Virginia

Teddy stops by to tell me that a lot of the occupiers will be down at Tompkins Square park for another Occupy Town Square. I’ll miss them. He tells me that this church has been a big part of the good changes that have come about in his life. SHe helps me set the chairs in a circle this morning. It’s going to be smaller.

Virginia has come early to wait for Uli. She’s a long time board member of the international board of the Fellowship of Recomciliation. She was one of our group to travel to Germany the first time I went. Staying together at the Niemoller House.

Happy that Amy has come. But I’m still going to play guitar and sing this morning. We start our first Sunday in Lent by chanting Create in me clean heart O God. Katherine always thought it was Taize. But I wrote it. From an old Jewish niggun. (When Bill Schimme played it on his accordion, it almost sounded like Sunrise,sunset...)

After John reads the story of Noah and the ark from Genesis 9, I pull out the guitar and sing The Great Storm is Over...

The thunder and lightning gave voice to the night;

the little lost child cried aloud in her fright. .

"Hush, little baby, a story I'll tell,

of a love that has vanquished the powers of hell.

Alleluia, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly!

"Sweetness in the air, and justice on the wind,

laughter in the house where the mourners had been.

We all shall have music, and see with new eyes,

the standards of death taken down by surprise.

Alleluia, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly!

"Release for the captives, an end to the wars,

new streams in the desert, new hope for the poor.

All of the children will dance as they sing,

and play with the bears and the lions in spring.

Alleluia, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly!

"Hush little baby, let go of your fear:

the Lord loves his own, and your mother is here."

The child fell asleep as the lantern did burn.

The mother sang on 'till her Bridegroom's return.

We do parts of Psalm 25 people’s mike style. We can’t find the Spanish Bible today so Steve finds the gospel passage on the ipad for Hugo to read and I read it, baptism and temptation in the wilderness, in English.

I start by asking Who remembers the story of Noah’s ark? and Uli is the first to respond with a pretty good tellling of the story. Others add their own details.

I say that its a classic reboot. Back to the beginning...if you remember,the first creation story began with the earth covered in water. It’s a do over.

And then God makes a promise to never again..at least with water..destroy the world.There will be no more do overs,this one has to work...he’ll have to make do with us. I point up to the rainbow flag hanging from the balcony. Kanaska, with her piercings, tatoos and strong voice, artist and occupier, says that it’s beauty, calm after the storm, the sun shining through the last of the rain...The rainbow reminds God of God’s promise. (Either God is growing or people growing in their understanding...) And if you think about it, the bow pointed away from us....

I have to say though, if you’re in New Orleans,with Katrina or Japan and the tsunami, it may as well be the whole world..it is your whole world...and as apocalyptic as it gets....

I also point out that the covenant is with people and every living creature...not just humans...

And now. This season a chance for us to do over...reboot....I love this time of year...the time of spring training...stretching muscles, getting back in shape again...it’s not only spring training, but also spring cleaning....Lent coming from a an old word that means ...lenghtening...the days are getting longer. I remember how Chris Shelton, when he was our intern back in 2002, brought in a big ball of lint. I thought he was just being funny, but then he brought it all home with the cleaning reference, what we find in the dryer,under the bed, need to throw out...One of the best children's sermons I ever heard.

And I point out that it was the same spirit that comes down at baptism, the same spirit that says you are my child, my beloved...that immediately drives Jesus into the wilderenss...Where he is tempted by Satan....Which of course raises some questions about God and Satan. Like are they working together? Is Satan like the drill sergeant and this is Jesus’ spiritual bootcamp? Is he like Jesus’ personal trainer who after 40 days will look up and say ok, he’s good to go? For Jesus, it was training...time to get ready for what’s ahead...

For us, too, that’s what this time is for....to get ready for what is ahead...the struggle we are in is for the long haul...We are learning to live together, learning nonviolence as a way of life, a way of struggle....

And we are getting ready...

For our offertory, I was going to sing Jesus walked that lonesome valley, but since Amy is here we sing it together:

Jesus walked this lonesome valley.
He had to walk it by Himself;
O, nobody else could walk it for Him,
He had to walk it by Himself.

We must walk this lonesome valley,
We have to walk it by ourselves;
O, nobody else can walk it for us,
We have to walk it by ourselves.

You must go and stand your trial,
You have to stand it by yourself,
O, nobody else can stand it for you,
You have to stand it by yourself.

And when we’re done, I say, true and not true. Yes, we each have our own unique path to travel, journey to take. But I don’t believe we’re supposed to go it alone. And as John points out, God goes with us.

We sing a hymn, make our circle, say a benediction and then, Alleluia, amen.

I sit and talk with Kanaska. She lost her personal guitar in the eviction. The one she has now is taped togetether, but she’s still out busking the subways every day. She’s got a very creative idea for a concert/festival/fundraiser for #ows to hold at the church. I’m thinking session will go with this. She’s with another music guy named Rio.

Uli has enjoyed the service, the intimacy, the conversation, the eclectic mix of people. He and Virginia are off for coffee. I’ve got a session meeting.

My biggest reminder from the meeting...how absolutely essential it is, in any kind of organizing work you’re doing, to never lose touch with your base. You have to have people feeling involved, engaged and informed at all times. Or they begin to lose a sense of ownership. Whatever extra it takes to do that, must be done.

Rev. Sekou and Rev. Karlene visit with us to share the vision of the Freedom Church, the Lawson Training Center, the other ideas we might bring to fruition. When he saw my guitar, he asked me if I played, I said yes. More like Jimi Hendrix or Bob Dylan? And I just smiled.

Drop back by after 4 to join in with the Sanctuary folks wishing Jane a Happy Birthday. I stand on the steps awhile with Jeremy talking about Japanese TV and movies. Tell him to see the Iranian film, A Separation.

Uli and I come back for the night meeting. Virginia has come, too. Uli has flowers for her and the occupiers have two shirts for Uli, one that says the whole world is watching and an Occupy West-Park coop shirt. Ben and Jerry have called together other progressive business people to talk about their Resource Management Group. Wanting to fund an organized, structured and principled approach to building a movement to last. I welcome the group to West-Park. Share our history.

I’m stopped by an Armenian journalist who wants to talk. And a young woman who was with my son Micah in Palestine. Uli and Virginia are impessed with what they see, thinking about connecting the FOR with this work.

Out on the steps there are two black shoes and a bag with two bananas.

Marsha, Uli, Virginia

The second day of lent: movie night

2012-02-25T22:47:00.000-08:00

2/24

Mim cmes to talk about the agenda for Monday night’s meeting. We head across the street for coffee and sandwiches. We continue to be in that critical space with more tasks to do than there are people to do them, the need for a long range business plan and strategy, a real strategy to build church strength and sorting out the relationship between center and church. It’s a lot. We bring lunch to Danielle, happy that she is there, knowing that we wouldn’t have accomplished what we have so far without her.

Rudolfo has come to visit and is very proud that he has found a place to stay. Not sure I fully understand how, but that’s ok. Chris talks to me out on the steps about wanting to borrow the projector so that they can have a movie night and we’re glad to help set that up.

Matthew is having one of his last church rehearsals and we explain to Mim how that all cmae about, Matthew being the son of one of someone close to my mom from her church. As soon as they are done, Martin Bard and his Times Square Players are back again.

Jamie has been working hard on putting our agreement with Noche Flamenco into standard contract form. It's almost there, all but the riders we are talking through. Just like our other real estae pro, Jon, she is protective of West-Park and helping to keep an eye on the big picture. We decide to go out to continue the onversation.

When I get back to the church, Raven is talking to a guy sitting in the doorway. He introduces him as DJ. Raven has explained about not having guests after hours. DJ is appealing to me for a place to spend the night, but I explain that I can’t do that. It’s got to be worked out through the coop.

I walk into the sanctuary to go to my office and pick up my things before heading home. It’s dark. The Tenant movie screen is back up. Requiem and Rose have the streaming Netflix hooked up. Movie night is about to begin. That summer camp feel is here again. I could almost stay.

Good for one pint of ice cream

2012-02-24T21:19:00.001-08:00

2/22

The meeting has been called to discuss actions for St. Patrick’s Day weekend. Call it the M17/18 actions. Jessica the social worker has called the meeting. Stan is facilitating. In additon to OWS folk around the table like Chris and Runi and Steve, Mark Greenburg of the Interfaith Assembly on Housing and Homelessness (which I chair, cofounded by former West-Park pastor Bob Davidson and Rabbi Marshall Meyer and Father Daniel Berrigan) has joined us. And also Shen, a veteran of Tianneman Square, and Ben. And Jerry. From Vermont. Yes, that Ben and Jerry.

I want to tell Ben that we once shared a jail cell together. His first arrest. My, well, I can’t remember. A lot of clergy were with us. Like my friends David Dyson and Father Earl Kooperkamp. And Daniel Ellsburg, of Pentagon Papers fame. And his son, along for his first arrest. We were arrested in front of the US mission to the United Nations. Thinking maybe we could prevent a war in Iraq. We didn’t.

So the target weekend is St. Patrick’s Day weekend. The focus, among other things, is hunger. The intention is to gather at Zucotti Park and march to the Irish Famine Memorial. Silently. With dignity. In contrast to the commercialized ritual of cartoon ethnic identity the parade has become.

There’s concern about competing with the parade. Would there be enough press, etc.? I like the idea of reclaiming the original spirit of the day, an outcry against oppression of Irish immigrants, a plea for dignity. And a connection to hunger and immigrants and dignity today.

The hope is to also encourage the faith community to join in symbolic plantings on Sunday. To symbolize new life. And everyone is open to coming to West-Park to finish the day with a fiesta in celebration of El Batalon San Patricio. We’ve got Mandola Joe and his Buskers lined up. All we need is the Mexican music.

Shen is intense and analytic as a strategist. And completely committed to non-violence. We know of multiple factions planning multiple actions for that weekend. There’s a good discussion of green action vs. red action. I wonder about black action, the still present faction of anarchists and anarchonihilists known as the black bloc. Shen and I will have that conversation later.

Much still unresolved. I give Ben and Jerry a quick tour of the sanctuary. Review the social history. Before heading back to Vermont, they leave a healthy check in support of the evolving Occupy West-Park Coop. And the upcoming Sunday night event. And also a coupon good for a free pint of ice cream.

2/23

Matthew’s rehearsal is ending. He’s getting close to being done here at West-Park. Almost ready to head to a real theatre to work on blocking. Martin Bard of the Times Square Playwrights is waiting for his rehearsal for his upcoming play about a veteran returning from Iraq.

Down in the basement th coop silk screen crew is working on West-Park Coop t-shirts.

I need to run to my Interfaith Assembly board meeting. When I get back, Danielle is finishing a tour for RL and Sarah, the poet, and her friend Travis, from Colorado. RL’s interested in connecting up Sarah and Amanda. There’s a chance for that to happen next week. And he’s secured Dave’s services for the next step on the bathrooms.

It’s time to head down and continue that discussion at the Gate.

Ash Wednesday: His name was Isaiah

2012-02-24T09:37:00.000-08:00

2/22

It’s a beautiful,sunny warm day for Ash Wednesday. Chris opens the doors for me. Matthew’s cast is rehearsing his musical. I go across the street to Key Foods to buy some olive oil. When I get back, Anna the caller with the wild fantastic stories is sitting quiety in the back of the sanctuary, her little dog in her lap, listening. When the rehearsal moves to the chapel, she will leave.

Jim gave us an envelope last week filled with old palms. From their dryness, I’d say they were a couple of years old. But its good to have palms from one of our own Palm Sunday services. I find a small metal bowl. Take it out to the steps. Fill it with the palms. I light them. They flare into flame for a moment, then die away to ashes. Bringing the bowl back into the church, I thiunk if Joseph and his sage and cedar smoke. Danielle says she likes the smell of tthe palms. I mix in a little olive oil.

I replace the green cover for the communion table with purple. One simple candle. My Christ statue from Columbia, a present from the Sanchez family years ago. My purple Guatemalan stole is missing so I wear the very simplest of stoles with my wheat colored alb. Ready.

As usual, the first person to come is an older middle aged Latina. Probably works in the neighborhood. Rafael is next, slightly shy. Wants to know what it means, so we sit and have a conversation. About mortality. A journey everyone takes, rich or poor. A moment to stop and reflect on that journey. Make corrections, changes. Anything we give up, not so much a sacrifice as a discipline. I feel honored to do this with him. As I do with Steve, who is next.

I really do love this day. It wasn’t part of my growing up. It was something alien, even a bit spooky. Something they, as in Catholics, did. Not us. I’m glad that in our 1990’s book of worship, the Presbyterian Church finally offered a service for the imposition of ashes. I enjoy the steady stream of the people, the opportunities for pastoral conversation.

I talk with Hope about this as we work on finishing the statistics. Se grew up as I did. But watching the people come through, quietly, one after the other, she begins to understand why I am glad to do this with/for the commununity. Later in the afternoon we’ll finish the statistics, hit the send button and we’re done. Something either fitting or ironic about doing those stats on Ash Wednesday.

A woman comes in. Very sad. Weeping. Asks me if I’m gonna call the cops on her. I assure her not. She’s an actress. Been on tv. A movie or so. Nothing big. We talk about depression. Meds. How hard it is to find the right therapist. What a crapshoot to get the right meds. We talk more. Then I put the ashes on her forehead, make the sign of the cross, pray. I walk out with her, Thanks, she says, you helped me feel better. A little. I smiled and said, sometimes a little counts, and she smiled back.

They keep coming, as evening begns to draw near, darkness outside. Arcadia, like every year. Then she brings forward a Mexican worker and I do his all in Spanish. Jamie is in, with her Jewish neighbor. We talk about the connections with the days in between Rosh Ha Shanah and Yom Kippur. The traditional Jewish understanding of mortality. Jane overhears this, and will later come back herself and ask me to do ashes for her. That for me is, again, an honor.

The last are two African American women, mother and daughter? and a young man of 4 or 5 with dreadlocks. After I have done the women, I turn to him. What is your name, young man? and he looks up at me, looks me in the eye and says, with resolution, Isaiah and I say, that’s good, a prophet, and do his as well.

I’ll wrap up, join Hope and Arcadia and Hugo for dinner at Popover’s.

Ahes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return....

But what am I going to do with the X?

2012-02-23T08:49:00.000-08:00

2/21

Brandon is in early to pick up a few cables from Woodshed’s storeage. I tell him about having seen Roger Lirtsman, Michel, from the Tenant, in Stan and Matt’s apartment play last Saturday. Called The Lower Lights and based on an old presbyterian hymn, they’d like to find a way to perform the play for the OWS folks at West-Park. Brandon also looking ahead to his musical event later in the spring.

Steve has come by and I’m reaching out for legal assistance in this case that still hangs over our heads, still need an insurance and bankruptcy expert. He’s got more cash to deliver to Danielle.

In th sanctuary, I hear Rev. Sekou trying out a possible music minister, the sounds of gospel dancing around. We sit and talk awhile, zeroing in on the idea of him opening up an office. I take him to see Danielle again. Hope has arrived to work on the accursed statistics again. So I introduce them. Sekou’s hoping to set up a book night for his Gods, Guns and Gays that could involve Cornell West. Something is going to happen here.

Sekou and I go upstairs to check out his possible office space. Chris is sitting at a table back by the kitchen. As we pass, he shows us what he’s doing. I’m trying to use every letter in the scrabble box to make words related to West-Park and Occupy. See? I look down and see he’s doing pretty well. Occupy, coop, protest...all there. But what am I going to do with the X? he asks.And Sekou and I think a minute, quickly give up.

We will continue to wrestle with the statistics. And the contract for Noche...until it’s time for me to head to Newark to teach. It’s Mardi Gras. I’m wanting jambalaya and gumbo. But not this year...a discussion of Gustavo Guttierrez will have to do.

Jane's office is where they keep the guns

2012-02-21T22:37:00.000-08:00

2/20

It’s President’s Day. No vacation here.

Hope and I have our first go at the annual annoying round of Presbytery statisitcs filing. This will take way too many hours. Wandering down winding internet paths. Numerical wild goose chases.

I step out. Talk to Rafael. Someone has made him out to be a serious crime kingpin. I’m telling him he’s shorting me and better come across. There’s some pretty exciting stories. I might be concerend if the same caller has not described Danielle as glassy eyed and Mooniesque under the thrall of Rafael’s Jim Jones mind control. Uh, no. What is scary, though, is that moment when you realize that the crazy caller literally believes what she is saying. That’s why our ancestors thought it was possession. It may be.

When I come back after physical therapy, Hope is meeting with Danielle and Rafael and two nurses from the National Nurses Union.We’re talking about setting up a three day a week clinic to handle OWS folks and anyone from the neighborhood who might have healthcare needs. We can make this happen.

Looking up, I realize that for the first time in years, all of the ceiling lights are on. How did that happen? Danielle tells me that she went up into the space between the ceiling and the roof with Jay and Requiem and found replacement bulbs and that they carefully made the exchange. And that Danielle discovered that not only is there glass in the ceiling but there is stained glass. How beautiful that would be with natural light flowing through. If that could only ever happen....

Bobby is wondering around. Filled with Whitney Houston stories. And jazz greats. He’s ready to bring them all here. Jane keeps the Montovani record he gave her on her mantle. According to the caller, Jane’s office is where they keep the guns.

Today we remember Adham

2012-02-20T23:06:00.000-08:00

Adham's shoes, by Peter Salwen

2/19

Today we remember Adham. Teddy and Rafael and Jay are getting everything ready for the service. They’ve got the folding chairs set up for our circle, but I explain that there’ll be more people today. I go off to get the bulletins and when I come back the congregation is already beginning to assemble while Arcadia and her family are getting Mc Alpin Hall ready for the reception to follow.

Marc has come in to get the sound set up because today we’ll be needing mikes. Amy and Andre are gettign the music ready. An altar has been set up with photographs and other memoria. I look out and see West-Park folks. And occupiers. And Jane. And so many of Adham’s family and friends. And it's time to begin.

We start by singing Morning has broken. Then Arcadia invites family and friends up to light four candles, for grief, for remembrance, for love and for life. Like the Compassionate Friends annual December Candle lighting ceremony (.http://www.compassionatefriends.org/home.aspx ) And Arcadia reads from Facebook postings from after Adham’s death in all their teenage rawness, uncensored emotions, just as they were. Nothing prettied or cleaned up. Nothing hidden. And as always, we sing Sanctuary.

After John reads the story of Elijah being taken up by the chariots, Andre sings slowly Swing Low, Sweet Chariot...Then we recite the 23rd Psalm together in English and Spanish. Hugo reads a story of Jesus calling disciples from the lakeshore in Spanish and I read the story of the Transfiguration in English. And then I speak.

I rememeber. Getting the phone call in Wahingtom, DC. Getting on the bus to get back to New York City. The dozens of teenagers who came by the house to share thier grief with Arcadia and Hugo but mainly each other. The hundreds who came by the Ortiz funeral home, the line stretching down the block. And the more than 250 who came to worship in the baement of SPSA that Sunday to remember Adham.

Three years later, it’s good to remember because it was important for our church. That morning proved we could be a church even without a building. It was, is, the people and our care for one another that made, that make, a church. That morning brought back many people who had been separated, for whatever reason, a time of reconciliation, if only for that moment. And that morning gave us a chance to witness to hundeds of young people both about our faith and the priceless value of their owh lives. And that a church took them seriously.

Three years later, Adham remains ever young and still with us in many ways.

Most importantly, in the circle of friends that were connected to and through him.

Through the relationship that circle continues to have with his family in their visits to his home, to Arcadia and Hugo. In stories that continue to be told, in laughs that continue to be laughed with him in mind. In lives thay have gotten better because young people have taken themselves and their own value seriously.

Please understand what I am saying:

I believe that God can and does work for good in all things if we are willing to be open to working with God. That does not mean that everything that happens is a part of God’s plan. God has a plan, but not everything that happens is part of it. Why? I don’t know. Somethings remain a mystery to me. That’s what it means to be human. Sometimes, even God is surprised. And God grieves with us in the deepest part of our hearts. But God, with our cooperation, has been working good these last three years.

Today is Transfiguration Sunday. That one last blast of light before the darkness of Lent descends. The disciples look up on the mountain, and they see Jesus there with Moses and Elijah...and they get it, what he’s about, what his ministry means...then they look again and see only Jesus...then he takes them back down the mountainside, back to down here, where we live, where we live it out...the glory is only good if we live it out here...

How? There are issues that remain for me, still, from that first Sunday service, three years ago. There are still things that are known that haven’t been said. Things that are known that are hidden. In some ways, that doesn’t matter quite so much anymore. Whatever peace can be found is found and there will always be a tension between pain and peace. And yet....that silence must be a burden...and telling the truth can be a way to be set free...the truth will set you free... and be freeing for all of us who loved Adham.

Young people, ah, young people of every age, never forget how valuable...and how vulnerable your life is. Take good care of it...and take good care of each other..

Parents....you can never say I love you enough...and doing I love you even better.

I said we had learned that a church for us is not a building. That’s still true. But buildings become places for church to be lived out. And more...what we do within a building creates over time a certain spirit. Our first remembrance services for Adham were at SPSA, where we were welcomed with hospitality, and we will always remember that. But it was not his spiritual home. This place was. I looked at a picture just last night of his confirmation day. Standing right about there....It is good to remember him here, finally. Like coming home, bringing him home, in a way. And so today, we remember...and give thanks, for Adham...for what he was, and is, in our lives.

As the offering is taken up, we sing Tu has venido a la orilla, Lord you have come to the lakeshore, and for the first time I feel myself choking up, almost unable to sing.

Arcadia brings up several young people who have tatoos in remembrance of Adham. They hold up the pictures. And she tells the story of the dragon fly that came into her apartment and followed her and the other dragon fly stories people have experienced adding this community’s story to centuries of traditions.

Our final hymn is Pues si vivimos: When we are living.

En la tristeza, y en el dolor

En la belleza y en el amor

Sea que suframos, o que gocemos

Somos del senor, somos del senor....

In sadness or pain

In beauty or in love

Ins uffering or rejoicing

We ae of God, we are of God...

I’m not sure what to do with so many people, but Jane tells me we can make a circle all around the church. And we do, And as the service ends, we hear first Bob Marley’s One Love and fittingly, Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love..

Upstairs there is food. And people talking. being together. We do this three years later because the reality of Adham’s tragic death on the subway tracks remains part of our present. I have the deepest respect and admiration for how Arcadia keeps the reality of pain and loss present while at the same time keeping all that was good and joyful in his llfe present as well. And does this while staying completely alive in each new moment that comes and present to the people around her. In this there is courage. Grace. And most of all, life.

Definitely home

2012-02-19T22:03:00.000-08:00

2/18

Back to West-Park after four days in Louisville. I’ll only say that the crisis in mainline Protestantism is visible at every level, in our church from the national to the presbytery to the local congregation.

Danielle’s in on a Saturday to catch up on a few things. I ask Steve to sit down, talk with him about any connections he might have in finding an attorney, specifically one with knowledge about insurance and companies that go bankrupt. It has been really hard getting this advice and the whole issue is still hanging over us. He's got several places to check. Rafael drops in just to say Hi.

Rev. Sekou arrives for our conversation. First he has to vent about the Living Wage Campaign folks apparently selling out and his overall frsutation with Occupy Faith. Lack of black preachers from the Bronx or Brooklyn or Latin Pentecostals. We each have our issues with liberals. Just want to start my own church, he says. But first he wants to catch up with what’s going on with West-Park, What do I want? he asks me. I say for me, the visions are clear, the pathway, the details, never quite so much.

We both want to see worship, study and action. But Sekou likes alliteration, so he’s for worship, word and witness. Will we try something different or at the same time? I ask him to come check out West-Park,on a Sunday, see what he thinks. And we agree to do a Bible Study, revolutionary Bible Study, on the Gospel of Mark, using Binding the Strong Man by Ched Myers. And I still want a night to discuss his Gods, Gays and Guns: Religion and the Future of Democracy. Sekou plays me his own setting of We Shall Overcome on the Piano. Kind of bluesy in a minor key. He looks over his shoulder and sees the police in to talk with Danielle and as he plays, I talk about that ongoing realtionship.

Sekou was late because he was watching Whitney Houston's funeral from Newark. She came from someplace,he says. And i think of my Newark students and our clas on Theologies of Liberation.

Hugo and Arcadia come in. They too are late from watching Whitne Houston's funeral. This ha stouched people more deeply than I realized. They are here to finish plans for tomorrow’s service marking the third anniversary of Arcadia’s son Adham’s death. It will be our first time to have that commemoration here. Arcadia has brought in an interesting gallery of photographs of tatoos that Adham’s friends have gotten in his memory. His sneakers thown over a phone line, dragon flies, names,dates...And Arcadia also has what was given to her recently, the last picture of Adham alive that night he died. Eating a muffin outisde a Dunkin Donuts on 122nd, blocks from where he died on the subway tracks. This is still hard. We talk about finishing the service with a Whitney Houston song. And of course, Bob Marley.

I excuse myself for a minute because I see RL out there with a young woman. Sarah, a writer, a poet. He’s got ideas for a poetry open mike. And how maybe how Sarah andAmnada could work together on festivals.

Outside, Requiem and Rose have set up a table and are holding an old fashioned bake sale. With brownies that Jean has baked. Curious neighbors stopping by. I am definitely home.

Welcome Iceland

2012-02-15T21:25:00.000-08:00

2/13

Mim, Ted, Katherine, Danielle and I are gathered in the sanctuary with Laura Simms. We’re talking about the power of story. It’s capacity to transform. I talk about the idea (again) of people becoming the subject of thier own history. Of controlling the narrative of one’s own life. Of the growing discourse of transformation across the world away from simple materialistic understandings of reality to mor humnaist perpectives. The role of story in community building and intergenrational bridging. And Laura sees the comnetion with #ows. We need ti fins a place for her here.

Graduale Nobili

In the afternoon, there are the sounds of Graduale Nobili in rehearsal. They are an Icelandic women’s chorus, here in New York City on tour with Bjork. Their ethereal sounds are filling the sanctuary. A couple from the coop to the north of us has come to talk about sound. Apparently they are on the first floor, the situation is unsettling, perhaps nerve wracking. I' m sensitive, want to be accomadating, but also want to be reasonable. I'm not ready to completely shut down tbe backyard. They are appreciaitive of Danielle’s attention. I recognize the man as the guy who came in at the end of Brandon’s ..Winged Victory...concert virtually ranting. The sound of Graduale Nobili continues.

I have no idea what to expect and so am impressed to find a nearly full sanctuary waiting for the concert. Where did thy all come from? Tonight we seem to be the center of Icelandic culture n New York City. It is a seriously Scandinavian crowd. And the choir is serioulsy white, the whitest women I’ve seen in a long time. They sing Icelandic folks songs with cold, dark edges, a suite by Lorca, a piece of a commissioned mass, an Ave Maria by Holst with the choir on either side of the balcony. And best of all, a new work by Bjork’s percusioonist Manu Delago featuring a new Swiss instrument from Switzerland called a hangd, looking like a space saucer, sounding like a mash up of steel drum and hand drum and shepherd’s bells. there is an almost otherworldly, breathy, beauty to their performance. The audience calls themback for more.

Councilmember Brewer is there for this international event in her district. Many leaving thank her for publicizing the concert in her e-blast, only way they knew about it. I tell David and Leila that their dad, Samir, would have loved this concert. They agree. David laughs, Both the music ...and the women...I’m sure he was here...., he says. This night was a part of his vision for what we should be.

Rafael’s crew is handling the doors. There’s the concert. And now a theatre benefit getting underway upstairs, the F love Club anti-valentine’s party. I share a drink with them. Time to leave.

Later Rafael calls. the man from next door has come over complaining. Saying its illegal. will call the cops, etc. Rafael talks him down, tells the dj to turn it down, takes the man to the backyard, accomplanies him to his home ot demonstrate that the sound is inaudible. I leave it all oin his ands.

On this Sunday how we are

2012-02-14T22:42:00.000-08:00

2/12

Sitting and talking with Teddy before the service. Getting ready. I know that Andre is with Erasmia in Jersey and that Amy’s working, too. So I ask Teddy and Rafael to pull the chairs together in a circle.

To start, we begin with confetimini domino, come and fill our hearts with your peace. When we sing nada te turbe, Arcadia asks if anybody knows what that means and when it seems like lots don’t, we work it out. Teddy says, I know nada is a nothing...and I say right, nothing can trouble, and John joins in.. there’s nothing to fear...the one who has God has enough.. Thats the word, I say, basta, enough...and Teddy says he’ll remember that one.

When we get to the prayers, we talk about the fact that the third anniversary of Adham’s death is coming up next week. And I talk about the loss of my friend Ed and Steve talks about the loss of his father. Many of us have loss to remember.

John read the story from 2 Kings 5: 1-14 about Naaman, the Syrian commander suffering from leprosy who comes to Elisha to be healed. I stop to make sure everyone has the plot line. And John says, it was too easy, and I say he’s got it , that’s right.

Then we do parts of Psalm 30 people’s mike style. Teddy reads 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 and then Arcadia reads the Gospel (Mark 1: 40-45) in Spanish and me in English.

And I start with what’s on my mind. That the story about Naaman is ultimately a story about big vs. small. Naaman has to compare his native rivers,the waters of Abana and Pharpar, that the rivers of Damascus were better than all the rivers of Israel, the might Syrian Rivers vs. the little river Jordan. If anyone has ever seen the Jordan River, sometimes it’s little more than a stream. Yet today, nobody knows Abana and Pharpar, everyone knows the Jordan River.

It’s important vs. not important. Sometimes, for example. it’s the little churches, not the big ones that can make the difference. As this community is evolving, sometimes it’s the least likely people who have stepped up to make a differnce. And it’s simple v complicated. Like John said, it was too easy. He would have more likely accepted some next to impossible hero’s quest, maybe even with a dragon, to what Elisha actually asked of him. His men say, “had he asked you to do a heavy task...” Sometimes we make it more diffiuclt than it needs ot be.

The I talk about Paul. All that athletic imagery. I have to go back to the Super Bowl last week. The big prize. And then the Imperishable prize vs. worldly prize. That training is important. And I love the images, DO NOT RUN AIMLESSLY or, if a boxer, BEAT AT THE AIR. We all know people caught up in running around in meaingless activity that dosen’t lead anywhere. We have to have a purpose, and know, make clear what it is.

Finally, in the gospel, it’s a matter of choice for Jesus. He has to choose. No right incantation or right recitation of words will makeJesus di anything. It's not our will or desire thst counts here. In going out to touch the one whi has leprosy, Jesus goes where others won’t...he touches him.....and that’s what the churhc is called to do.

I end my words by asking a question. I know people are here to support me, to support the church. But what woud it take to make someone come because they really want to and to say to a friend, you gotta come see this, you have to be there.

There are a lot of former Catholics. Peoiple who had bad childhood experiences there. Like Steve, growing up in Frnaco’s Spain. Surpirsingly, people like the smallness, the intimacy, the opportunity to get to know people personally. And there is the radical feeling of acceptance.That here is another chance to become who youwere supposed to be. Teddy talks about how he felt like he had been in a box and now has been set free.By the radical acceptance.Yhe trust. I feel in Jean a great depth of faith. It’s moving to hear people talk. And again, infuriating that people want to see social engagemnt and evangelism as separate endeavors. They are inseparable. Our social witness is also evangelism, another form of preaching the good news.

We close by singing I’ve got peace like a river again.

I spend half an hour with P______. Trying to persuade her to get a psych eval so that she can stay in her apartment. She insists that God will take care of her. I say, maybe that's God’s way. And that God is using Laura to help, too. (Laura has gone above and beyond to make resoures available. ) She’s afraid that everyone is out there just waiting to throw On thi her into the loony bin. And then she says her attorney sent her to a doctor nd she’s already got a letter. Says she’s being treated for stress. Now I don't know what to do. Will wait to talk to her attorney tomorrow.

The Session meets. First item of business, the Noche Flamneco agreement. Looks like with a couple of minot adjustments, we’re ready to go. I can’t wait t make it official.

Steve brings in Karen to talk with me. From Wyoming. Here for the Town Square yesterday. A story teller, puppeteer, theatre. I tell her she’s right in there with our conversaiton with Laura Simms. And Karen knows Laura as a story teller. More possibiitites out there. It all fits together. Jane’s service is beignning.

Occupy Town Square at West-Park

2012-02-12T23:35:00.000-08:00

2/11

For one day, what was the best of what was Zucotti Park came back to life at West-Park. There were banners, perfromers, teach-ins, workshops, artists, information tables. And lots of people. In some ways it was one part reunion for some folks who hadn’t seen themselves together in one place since the eviction and later Tompkins Square Town Hall. And also as usual, it's part political protest and part performance art.

Shorlty after arriving, I had my first visit of the day from the police. (They’d been there bright and early, before I arrived.) This time led by the commander, Inspector Barry herself. A grand larceny and two assaults were of course enough to raise a red flag or two. I introduce them to Rafael to make sure that there’s a direct connection with our security. They decide to leave a squad car parked there all day.

The next visit coms at shift change time with another request to entern and tour the building. Teddy handles this. People begin to crowd around.Rafael handles that. Especailly when he sees a ski masked protestor approaching. No, no, no he says, moving him away. They will make other visits throughout the day and into the evening.

Paul on the accordion

Sweatshop Free Upper West Side

My old friend from the neighborhood and PS87 parenting days Jean Fox is here with her with he single payer health care activists and Physicians for Social Responsibiity. Union musician and cultural worker Paul Stein is here with his accordion. The Sweat Shop Free folks have left the Saigon Grill picket an set up a table in McAlpin. Kelly’s leading a workshop on Open Space facililtation. Yuri is makig amazing little chain art signs. Occupy West Harlem has a table too. Teddy and Steve are running a table on the West-Park Coop and taking donations for the church. It’s good to see some freinds who have moved on like Sage and Stan.

Jean

All the rooms have labels like Brimingham, Paris Commune, Bannockburn, Stonewall..and there’s a people’s stage. And I again ponder #ows filling all the spaces where where Woodshed lived for so many months.

Sarah is taking it all in, again wondering how we can use this and just enjoying the vibe. She takes my camera to grab some shots. John H wants me to take a panoramic view. Bob, this looks very much like the church you wanted to have. And he’s right. Why couldn’t this be a congregation? But then there’s the hard part..how to connect all this energy, all this spirit to the actual congregation that lives here. Feeeling this connections is one thing, actually making it another. But he’s onto something worth following.

I'm amazed at the level of logistic planning deserve a lot of credit. For working it all out down to the orange security and information: please ask me..vests.

Upstairs as the day gets late, the floor has opened up for dancing, everyone moving to Iko, Iko... With Michael Jackson ringng in my ears, I’m heading downstairs. I hear someone say to his friend, Hey, I don’t want to miss that workshiop on active listening...

Teddy

Kelly's workshop

Bob and Sarah

The Town Square

Yuri

She's gone, but i'm still shaving

2012-02-11T23:55:00.000-08:00

2/9

I see the umbrella first. Then eventually the man behind it. I say, wearily, you can’t sleep here during the day. He says, I hear you, starts to stir. As he emerges, it’s someone I haven’t seen before. Middle aged white man. I ask him how long he’s been out. He tells me three weeks. Says the steps are safer than the shelter. Tells me his litany of bad things that have happened in the shelters and names them one by one. Stories I’ve heard before and believe. I’m trying to figure out where to send him, but he’s ready to go off. We say to each other, have a good day.

Matthew stops in before rehearsal. Talks about his play. Based on stories from 9/11. Missed connections. His cast has arrived. The music begins to fill the sanctuary again.

Sarah waks in and I give her a big hug. I’ve missed her. A couple has come in to look around. Going to a concert at St.Ignatius tonight. As we’re waking through the church, I notice a sickly looking pigeon in the back. Oh no, not this again. I go to get Carlos to help me. The couple leaves. Between Carlos, Sarah and I, we manage to get the pigeon out. Sarah is laughing. Yet one more sevice you’ve done for this church, I say. And she laughs again.

I take her to Popover’s to work on press strategy. How to regain the narrative. She believes we can’t do it from the side, we’ve got to go straight at Murdoch. Now how, that will be the question.

Liz, one of the New York Creates artists is there when I get back, listening to Matthew’s rehearsal. She wants to know my construction priorities. Easy. The outdoor grate. The elevator. Fourth floor electricity. Pigeons. She’ll be back with an elevator man.

Jeff is here for the first time in a long time. He has the assignment of building an access ramp for people with disabilities for tomorrow’s Town Square. Teddy is here, too, things are a bit uneasy.

Sarah hears his rough Yonkers vocie and goes running through the door to greet him. A big hug there, too. I notice Teddy has shaved.

Teddy, must be your wife, right?

Yeah, I knew she was coming, bringing my daughter. I had to do it.

Okay, that was days ago.

Yeah she’s gone but I’m still shavin.

And we all laugh.

Marc is checking out a box of intriguing odds and ends in the chapel. Including a mini digital piano. You don’t want to lose this, he says. He’s noticed the room above where he stores his equipment. There’s no way to get up there he says, without a ladder.

Martin comes in for one last go round of negotiations. He’s got bad news. And good news. Okay, let’s make this happen, I want him in the house. And of course, he’s not gone long before Luli wants to come in just to check one more time.

I step out, go down to Starbucks for a moment. Gio’s there. He’s been told if his girlfrend can’t prove she’s 18, she’ll have to leave. Which means he’ll leave too. She has a school ID, isn’t that enough? (So, I think, why isn’t she in school?)

sage and cedar

When I step back in the church, I’m afraid I smell smoke. Afraid there’s a fire. But it’s only Joseph, using cedar and sage to cleanse the sanctuary prior to tomorrow’s Town Square. He’s using an eagle feather to waft the smoke. He’s doing this while Piano Dan is working on the Beckstein, bringing it back again. That image, Dan at the piano, Joseph with his cedar and sage..Back in Oklahoma, my Native American friends used to do this with a new house. I figure we need it.

Lope who was there the night of one of the wild spokes council meetings walks in. She’s got art work for tomorrow. Max is checking out all details. We talk about the ceiling lights. I show him the ladder to the speace above the ceiling. Then tell him the ceiling’s glass. Don’t want anybody coming through, I say.

Sarah is taking this in. All of this. She looks at me and says, I’d forgotten how much I miss, how much I love this crazy place.

That’s all you can do, I say, love it. And I do.

Miriam comes by to talk about Presbytery. We head to the chapel. In all her visits, she hasn't been in the water damaged part of the building. Somehow we’e got to get people to see what we’re doing here. That it is good for the church. How we are there. And that presence itself is a form of evangelism. But it so feels like we’re living in different worlds, speaking different languages. Her encouragement, her wisdom, is heartening. She has quietly been here every time we’ve done something. She sees, knows what it is.

Late in the day Chirs arrives and he's clean shaven, too. (Gene Mc Carthy where are you now that we need you?) Whatis it with this clean shaven trend?

Jamie comes by to pick me up. There’s a conversation to be had about the neighborhood. About connecting normal people, the neighbors, to what’s going on. Maybe starting tomorrow.

Yeah, I do love this crazy place.

What is it with the umbrellas?

2012-02-09T21:24:00.000-08:00

2/8

Hope comes in late in the day to sign checks. And much of our conversation has to do with Presbytery, our feeling of being alienated, marginalized, much like most of the people we work with.

2/9

Martin comes in to try and wrap up our negotiations with Noche Flameneco. The creation of a studio in the gym now seems like it won’t work for now, but he wants to be part of our center and I really want them to be part of it. So we continue to work on what might work.

Danielle (the occupier) has found help to get bus tickets back to Florida for her and her boyfriend. He helps me clear the steps of cardboard, a bed and an umbrella. (What is it with the umbrellas?)In fifteen days, they’ll be headed back.

Matthew and his cast continue to rehearse their show, the beautiful music continues to fill the sanctuary.

I look up and Leila is there with her brother David. I haven’t seen him since last summer and the dress rehearsal for the Tenant. Although the fashion show went well, Berik is cancelling the other two shows he had projected. Not enough profit.

Mariola, the manager for Noche, has come in for one more look...I just want to get this done.

After an interminable wait in line at the post office...if there is such a thing as purgatory, time waiting in line at the post office gets taken away from your sentence...I go back to the church to sign some papers for the DOB related to the boiler. And I am already late to the farewell party for Alistair as he leaves for his sabbatical.

Requiem is already at the door. Occupiers already coming home One of the octogenerean peace activists asks do I have a minute. Well, actually, no, I don’t.

Back in the office, Max and other organizers are there to talk about Saturday’s Town Square #ows event. They are soon taking down the posters from Berik’s fashion showand putting up their own.

And the young reporter who has been doing the latest round of interviews shows up to shoot me and take other pictures. I agree, but all I want to do is leave.

Building a history

2012-02-08T21:37:00.000-08:00

2/7

Get to the church after spending all morning with Jane at a special United Nations event to celebrate interfaith understanding around the world and the role of faith community ngo’s in building world peace. Our friend Imam Faisel of the Cordoba Inititive was one of the featured speakers. Most surprising learning: 30-40% of all health care (and up to 75% in areas of conflict) is provided by faith based services. Neverthe less, it was a long morning.

Gio is working on the steps. There’s a bed to clear away and I explain to him how this works, folks can stay here at night, but everything must be gone in the morning. Can’t keep it around. Deacon James comes by and is somewhat annoyed to find that the bulk of the sweeping has been done. Still, he takes broom and pan and finds some spots that haven’t been cleaned yet.

Jeremy comes in looking for Jane. I tell him that she has probably gone home. Last saw her at the Starbucks annex. He asks me if I want to hear his latest. I say sure. He’s still working on it. He’s become part of a new writing group that is given a title and has a week to come up with a song. The title is Building a history.

I listen. Hear allusions to lost, wondering youth from the heartland. Protesting students in California. In the midst of lostness, seeking to build a history. Jeremy writes with clear concrete images, but always by inference, never didactic. And he’s able to swing into some gospel with it as well. A work in progress. I close my eyes and listen.

I realize that he’s onto what I’m talking to my students tonight. The whole idea that is enabling, equipping, people on the margins to reenter history, to in the langauge of Freire, become the subjects of thier own history, regain, or claim for the first time, control of thier own narrative. That’s part of what’s going on with the Sweatshop Free workers, with the #OWS folk at West-Park. It’s right there in Jeremy’s song...building a history.

On the way out of the sanctuary, I see a woman has been sitting there, listening quietly, by herself.

I’m off to a meeting. Stop at West-Park on my way to teach my theology students. Today I have missed Dan. And Mim. And representatives of the Cordoba Initiative. But now, off to teach. Building a history....

Koinonia, solidarity, same thing

2012-02-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

2/6

I’m upset that there’s a stained bed and a bag of clothes in the south doorway. Too late in the day for that. I tell Gio it’s got to go.

I see Max on 86th Street, he’s trying to wrap up details for the upcoming #OWS Town Square to be held at West-Park this weekend. An effort to bring #ows and local activists closer together, bring the neighbors in to see what’s going on.

Steve and Rafael say that Evelyn has brought a couch into the church. No, that’s not going to work. Thay agree with me,go to get it out and I tell them that the front neeeds to get clear. Part of our agreement. Explain that folks can be there overnight, but that steps have to be cleared in the morning.

Evelyn comes in to argue, her Caribbean lilt with a bit of sarcasm. Says she’s got a bad back, etc. I explain no furniture from outside. Just can’t be done. No private rooms. Try to explain that I only deal with the community. No separate deals. I explain that the spokescouncil cut off funding, that necessitated a change. She says they’re biased and no one advocated for them. Says Steve’s part of the one percent. I just have to go back to the community having to deal with its own internal issues, otherwise, I’d go crazy. She reluctantly agrees.

Brandon and Andy and Lawrence have all come to discuss the Unfestival, a new music festival that has its roots in Poland. The feature is a collaboration that’s been develoepd between a Los Angeles and an Eastern European composer bringing both of them to Los Alamos, New Mexico, recording ambient sound near where the atom bombs were exploded and....Anyways, our kind of idea. Looks like a spring event.

Evelyn waiting, wants to talk more. A reporter wants to talk to Steve, referred by Ravi. (Haven’t seen her since Jeff left.) Steve recommends Chris who seems up for it. Runi keeps coming around for conversations. Yesterday, cleaning up after communion, she thanked me for the grape juice. Said she has issues with using wine. I tell her that’s why we don’t. Call it koinonia, call it solidarity, same thing.

Danielle would like to ban all backyard activity, just to be safe with the neighbors. I’ve been so happy to get it back after all these years, I kind of resist that idea. What’s reasonable in the city? Need to think about it.

On 86th Street, near the baskets, I see the couch.

If we want it

2012-02-06T18:35:00.000-08:00

2/5

Just before worship, I get a phone call from Rose’s mother in the Berkshires wanting to know if her daughter’s ok. I tell her I just saw her last night and she seems greatly relieved. And when I see Requiem, I say, Tell Rose her mom called.

No Amy.No Andre. I’m on my own. Marssha suggests we just have a discussion, but I want to use some of the hymn, Arise Your Light is Come! :

Arise, your light is come!

The Spirit's call obey;

Show forth the glory of your God,

Which shines on you today.

Arise, your light is come!

Fling wide the prison door;

Proclaim the captives' liberty,

Good tidings to the poor.

Arise, your light is come!

All you in sorrow born,

Build up the broken-hearted ones

And comfort those who mourn.

Arise, your light is come!

The mountains burst in song!

Rise up like eagles on the wing;

God's power will make us strong.

Are we just supposed to sing these words? Do they have any meaning?

John reads for us the Isaiah passage, (40: 21-31), we do Psalms 147:1-11, 20c peoples’ mike style, Marsha reads 1 Corinthians 9:16-23; Hugo, Mark 1: 29-39 in Spanish and I read it in English.

It’s interesting how it changes your sermon when you look out and at least half the congregation are occupiers. Joined by Jamie, the neighbor from across the street who’s come in to check things out.

I start by asking What does everybody need? And I get food, shelter, water, the usual. Then Rafael says companionship... you have to have people with you, you can’t be out there alone. And when I mention Presbytery, Hugo mentions respect...Which gets me to where I wanted to go, dignity...I see that as a theme in all our passages. And the denial of that behind much of the violence, I see, physical, otherwise, in the movement, and in church. And I say that.

Isaiah starts by putting kings and princes in perspective...who created the foundations of the earth? Who brings princes to naught... to whom rulers are as nothing...In whose eye’s the one percent...and the rest of us...are like grasshoppers...

On the one hand, we are as nothing..on the other hand...we are known by name...a paradox....

According to Isaiah, He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. When I ask about the basics of classic community organizing, the first word Marsha comes up with is relationships, it all begins with relaionships, with one-on-ones...But the next word is, it is about power...

Power and powerlessness. I remember how Pablo Richard once told me that North American Christians don’t understand power. That you can’t just give it up voluntarily or walk away from it because an evil person will add it to their rown. We must use what we have for transformation, and the effective transferrence of power to those who have not.

How in Spanish, the word is poder... to be able to, can...like the farm workers’ said, before Obama, si se puede, yes we can...

And so the question, what is real power? real change? not just insisting on your own way..., but serious, grassroots, lastng change?

Are these just things we read in the Bible, that sounfd good in sermons, or do we really believe it? Willing to work for it?

But those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

That is the encouragement for us...

We need strategies...

Paul speaks of being all things to all people....but why? It’s not just about effective salespersonship. It’s about Dignity again. Respecting people for who they are,their culture, their histories, their stories...about looking for places to connect...

I have always dreamt of having a church ,a place, where currents cross...and that is already happenng...you,we are making it happen...

In the Jesus story, he heals Simon’s mother in law. Wait a minute, Peter has a wife? Whats her story? And we wrestle with how after Jesus healed her fever, she began to serve them..This is NOT about male and female roles, even historically.

The point here is, we are healed to serve..As we come to ourselves, as we regain our stength, our power, we are called to bring it back to the community. Peter’s mother in law was the first deacon, those who do the work of the church, visiting the sick, caring for the poor, and yes, serving communion.

And in this, too, there is dignity...

Hugo reminds us of the verse, ....if you want it...you can do all these things, if you want..and we recall John Lennon, war is over if you want it... We can do this, God will be with us...if we want it...

For our Eucharist today, we are using two cups, the one made for us by John Hudson, with the street on the outside and the people inside and the other one a cup made for us by Dan’s mother, symbolizing the occupiers joining us at the table. And Dan, free again, is with us. Wearing his kipa.

Coming into the circle, we are singing Let us break bread togther on our knees,...we join hands together and sing Amen.

After worship, it’s hard to break up the conversations taking place. But our Session has to meet, review what happened at Presbytery, develop our strategy. We need to stenghthen our own unity. We need to reach out and develop more relationships, figure out how to better tell our story...

When the session has left, Jamie and Steve want to talk. About how to tmake more connections between #OWS and the neighborhood. Break down more barriers, enlarge the circle of conversation. As we are taling, I look in the sanctuary, at Jane’s service. A Haitian woman is sharing her dance, her song....the rom is filling with drums, with singing...

On Amsterdam, there's Deacon Linda, spiky red hair bright as always. Tells me she will be working in the homeless shelter with our crew tonight. Just about Super Bowl time.

If God wants it, it will be...

2012-02-04T21:19:00.000-08:00

2/2

After breakfast with John H, after a moment where I feel like I know how this might all actually work, I’m greeted by Rafael and Steve and Chris and Teddy and the news that Dan was taken to the pysch ward at St. Luke’s. Apparenty there was a disagreement that ended with Dan throwing sugar in Teddy’s face. His eye is still watering and he is visibly upset. I’m actually relieved to hear some of this because I am hoping Dan can get the help he needs.

Apparently there were many issues with Maria over the course of the nght, too, and that helped trigger this morning’s conflict.

The counter point here is going on in the sanctuary where Matt Webster is rehearsing his show. Not sure what it’s about, but the sound is good, clean, contemporary musical music. It’s calming.

But Dan soon retiuns and I’m quickly sucked into a mediation session.The community wants Dan out but my position is if he takes responsibiity to deal with his issues, he should stay. Dan has talked his way out of psych. He is apologetic at first, but then caustic and combative. I have to make clear that any specai agreements have to do with his storage of stuff and not living arrangements. Those have to do with the community and I will not undermine that process. It’s clear that this is not getting anywhere anytime soon. Everyone is using their best conflict resolution skills, but there’s a limit....Seems like they want Dan to take a break, come back tomorrow and work through this with the community.

Luli from Noche is in to check out the spaces again. I’m hoping we can soon bring these negotiations to a close.

I need to keep it together to get to a Presbytery Council on Social Witness meeting. But first, coffee with Jane at our Starbucks annex.

2/3

On the steps are an umbrella, a woven basket, a bag of clothes...I need help with this.

The news of the day is that the conflict with Dan continued into the night and that Teddy decided to press charges and the police came and in the process found drugs and paraphanelia so this leaps from Precinct 24 to central booking. Danielle will spend many hours trying unsuceesfully to track him down.

Matt is rehearsing again. Charles, a timpanist with Spectrum, has his own symphony and a lot of creative ideas about rearranging the front of the sanctuary, lighting, etc. And his own possible series. When we walk into the sanctuary, he says, Are these the Occupy guys? and I say, Uh,no, it’s musical theatre, and the easiness of that confusion I find ironic.

Berik arrives and is confronted with the reality that with Dan in jail, he needs a DJ. Who can manage electronica for the models, disco for the party and ’80’s romantic pop for the anticipated Russians.

So in addition for searching for Dan, we’re now searching for a DJ. Berik was paying Dan with art, what can he offer now?

In the middle of our searching, the Fire Department shows up and Danielle and I hold our breath. Seeing the FDNY, Teddy jumps in. His uncle is one of the bravest, as we call them. He handles it well. At the end, it’s a matter of a few new EXIT signs, which Teddy says can be easily handled. Danielle and I exhale.

I’m off to meet with Pastor Elise.

On the way back to the church, I see the pickets are out at Saigon Grill. I greet Tracy, ask about Wednesday’s rally for the arrested workers. It’s a complicated issue, hard to reduce down to soundbyte size. Hope’ s on the line. First I’ve seen her since she’s returned from Atlanta. At this moment, in the midst of the picket, afer this day, after my conversation with Elise, I’m feeling good. That is, at peace. I know competely that we are doing exactly what it is we are supposed to be doing. I tell Hope we’ll be okay.

At the church, Berik’s fashion show is already underway. I’m happy to see Samantha and Lilly and Brandy and Hugo and Arcadia. Later, I see that Jane is here, too. The music is thumping, models are walking and pouting and posing. An there’s wine and snacks and Argentinian empanadas.

I share with Hugo my conversation with Hugo and he says, If God wants it to happen, it will happen..

After the show, Jane and Samantha and everyone are busy trying on things they can never afford. It;s disco music now.

I think about what Hugo said. Pickets, models, security by #OWS, Russians and empanadas. We will do all we can do, and then, if God wants it, it will be....

Jane

Hugo and Lilly

Arcadia and Leila

Berik impresario

Samantha and Brandy

2/4

Just a brief stop in after a Dark Lady Players’ dinner at wth John H. Only Requiem and his girl are here. I think abiut the affection I’ve come to feel for Requiem. How as he’s been given responsibility, he’s grown into it. He’s proven to be stand up. I remind them to keep people out of the yard after 10. How voices carry. Checking the steps in the morning. Welcome at services if you want.

They talk about their backgrounds, she from the dead milltowns of western Massachusetts. I mention MASSMOCA, the contemporary art museum. She shrugs, my people don’t go there. Like my son Micah said about MOMA, one percent. I come from rough, she says. So does he, and Requiem nods and talks about northern Florida swamp country. They met here. She took him back home once, between SPSA and West-Park.

She jokes that Dan’s yarmulke should calm him down. I look at her, slightly puzzled. She’s funny that way, says Requiem, and she’s Jewish. I like the absurd, you know, she says. And I get it.

As for rough, that’s how they see us now, too. It’s not intentional. It just is.

Sometmes the greatest beauty

2012-02-02T18:39:00.000-08:00

1/31

Walking down Amsterdam, I meet Teddy on his way to the church with a load of toilet paper from the dollar store for the restrooms. I tell him I had an e-mail from a neighbor to the north who had seen at 8:15 pm and later after 11, a circle of people in the back yard passing what looked like a lit pipe.She asked me to remind the group about curfew.

Curfew was the leat of my concerns. People not supposed to be back there anyways. Was supposed to be move out day. Plus, well....Teddy says he’ll tell Rafael. But when I get there, we sit down and talk. Rafael had been letting people go back there to smoke so they wouldn’t congregate in front of the church. Sometimes folks share handrolled. But he understands the issue. People are watching. Plus voices carry. Plus...

Time to check our report to Presbytery one last time and then head to the copy shop to get 200 copies, then cab to Union for the meeting.

2/1

The morning after. Never got to really speak, share our report. The weight of institutional bureaucratic language, the insular presbyworld while outside everything is breaking loose. Reflecting on the end of the day of white liberal hegemony. (Check Chris Hedges’ Death of the Liberal Class.)Time to take a breath, regroup. Keep moving ahead.

Teddy, Steve and Rafael are gathered with Danielle, talking about the exodus, this interim phase, the new coop coming into being. How these discussions are going on all across the country in Occupy hibernation. Factions sorting out the divisions between hard core activists and those who see creation of cooxperative communities as cell groups to carry the next phase forward, connecting to other affinity groups. The evolution of strategy theory/praxis is intriguing to watch.

Much as I’d like to be downtown to be with Tracy and a rally for arrested Chinese workers, I’m committed to being here and meeting Katherine and Laura for the grand tour of the church. hard to describe Laura beyond story teller extraordinaire. Chris is in Mc Alpin, sweeping, with the splintery floor a sisyphysian task.I make the joke, he seems to get it. Laura’s sense of excitement about the place, the center, is real. Again, possibilities.

I’m getting ready to go meet Jim at the office to talk about Presbytery, OWS, possible Presbyterian New Story article. Marc is in the sanctuary, testing his speakers, the sounds of Dire Straits and Mark Knopfler’s guitar rattling the walls..money for nothin’...., ah the sultans...

Late in the day, trying to wrap things up. Tia comes through on her way to prepare for tonight’s Sanctuary class. Occupier Richard ducks in to say You guys are awesome, just awesome...I’m trying to leave, visit Rachel, and my phone rings.

It’s my mom. My friend Ed De Lair has apparently just dropped dead in New Mexico. And I’m dumbstruck. Ed was solid. Classic Pittsburgh guy. Pastor of our neighborhood church back in Pittsburgh. Lived round the corner back when we lived in a house with a yard like normal people. Maybe ten years younger, his first three kids matched ours agewise. Same school, soccer, little league, basketball.Families, friends. When I lost my job, he was there. He was always there. Not dramatic. Not shiny. Just solid. Quiet. Solid. Did it the way it was supposed to be done.

Andrea reminds me that because he worked jobs like me, his pension is minimal. Not sure if he and Becky owned property.

For awhile he lived on my mom’s street. He’d drop by. Do little, small helpful things. I rested easier, knowing he was there. I remember watching him on a mini backhoe building a labyrinth in the church yard. His peace garden never got built. Recently got his dream job in New Mexico, at Ghost Ranch, Georgia O’ Keefe’s little place. I wanted to see him there. I’m not careful with myself. Ed was. I’m here. He’s not. Not fair. When I see Jane, I burst into tears. She hugs me.

Sometimes the greatest beauty is just being there, being who you're supposed to be.

Exodus underway and the best review ever

2012-01-31T22:48:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-30T23:08:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-29T22:36:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-29T00:20:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-26T22:15:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-26T22:03:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-25T23:53:00.000-08:00

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 soe 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 curch, I should know, something is up.....

Jason has organized an impressive groupof 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) and sister Dottie Shugrue to form a Free University of Religious Studies at the Univeristy 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 possibilitites 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

2012-01-24T21:53:00.000-08:00

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