Living in coronavirusworld 19: Good Friday

4/10

Hot crossed buns

It’s Good Friday.

*The flashing lights of emergency vehicles and whine of sirens is becoming a constant part of every day. On every street around me now.

* It is so windy today, my hat is blown off crossing Fredrick Douglass. It lands right in the middle of the street.  The cars stop and allow me to retrieve my hat. 

* The buses are now free and you enter through the back, not the front, the driver separated from everyone else. There was a story of a driver sneezed on by a rider who didn’t cover. Eleven days later, he was dead. (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/04/us/detroit-bus-driver-coronavirus.html).    We get those double seats all to ourselves  now.  There is that. In the effort to protect the driver, the handicapped seats are now cut off. 

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It’s now the second day of Passover. The night of first Seder, I tuned into my friend Steve’s “live streamed seder,” live from his living room and starring his family.   As usual, we gathered from around the world for Steve’s unique and universal take on the holidays, including his clever and yes, corny, rewrites of traditional songs. (Sure easier to sing and saves some time…) Oh and it turns out one verse and chorus of Dayenu is perfect timing for hand washing. 

It feels good to be connected, but also sad.  I’ve got over 40 years of Passover memories.  From my first with my colleague David on Long Island, from the Reconstructionist/Zionist tradition, to a friend of my parents near Pittsburgh providing matzoh ball soup and gefilte fish for my new wife as small icons as we made our way west to Tulsa. How alone she must have felt. Thirty years of family seders. My uncle-in-law playing banjo for Dayenu...The endless Maxwell House Haggadah. The charoset and brisket. Our interfaith couples group in Pittsburgh. Katherine’s creative, progressive and probing seder of friends.  Look it’s a part of me. 

At our family’s seder, at my in laws, we wrote our names in the back of the Conservative Haggadah we used every year. Once, I looked and saw the name of a now divorced and gone member of the family. I thought, let that never be me. Well, just goes to show.  I wonder what thoughts come up when my name is seen in the back of a Haggadah.  It is still a party of me.  

Here’s what I wrote on my Passover post to my Chaverim this year…

To my chaverim...Happy Passover...may our doorposts be clearly marked. May the shadow of that angel pass us over. May we leave this narrow space and walk into the open places once again....

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And it is a day of success!  We succeed in getting the facebook group for the Presbyterian Health Education and Welfare Association rebooted, as well as reclaiming the homepage. It took a lot of e-mails phone calls and texts to get it done, but it’s done.  Just in time for easter weekend. The front line workers have a place to communicate with one another. 

And after a session with my buddy Steve, I’m ready to give a (virtual) West Park open mic a go. I set up the ZOOM room and we’re ready, And of course there are multiple foul ups and some people can’t figure out how to get in and never do get in and the link to facebook never gets accomplished, BUT, we had an open mic. We had original songs and covers and our young Saraiya and an old me and we sang and talked and it was good. Next week will be better. 

I had been slightly unsure as to whether I should wait a week, being Good Friday and all. But all of us are aware of the death out there. And it was a chance to get people together with  each other. And in the end, that is reason enough.

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Hard to know how do we  deal with Good Friday in this coronavirusworld? Good Friday’s all about death. And the silence of God. And Jesus giving in and acceptance. What do we have Good Friday, 2020? There’s front page picture in the daily news of the city turning to an already crowded Hart’s Island to bury people. It was running out of room before. (https://www.nydailynews.com/coronavirus/ny-coronavirus-hart-island-burying-capacity-dead-challenges-20200410-vtxpzjd2qvfypcjf3daicvbrpi-story.html) 

A man went to a funeral and a few days later, a birthday party. Three weeks later, 15 had been infected and three died.How do you live with that?

 ( https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/tasneemnashrulla/chicago-coronavirus-cluster-super-spreading-event ).   It’s all the death I need.

I walk down Fredrick Douglass and see all the empty shops, restaurants, bars. Harlem Tavern still adorned for a St. Patrick’s celebration that never happened.  Just like time stopped.Silent, singular masked people walking the quiet streets.  It’s seriously post-apocalyptic. I don’t need a three hour Good Friday service. And really, three days from now this will not be over. 

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On the way home from picking up a prescription, I stop at the Silver Moon Bakery. Hot crossed buns. Fresh and yes, hot. Good memories of childhood. Something endearingly human about turning crosses into sweet icing decorations on top of warm buns. 

It’s Good Friday.

                                          

4/22

Good Friday. And Earth Day. Connections? The earthquakes in Matthew. How the very earth seemed to tremble at the death of Jesus. A cosmic brokenness. I’m thinking of Japan.

Amanda and I meet for coffee to plan the day. Shortly thereafter Rochone and Danielle arrive. Long intense work on the June concert series. Working on a name. Playing with the idea of bridge. Like a bridge on a guitar. Connecting things. Our concerts not just to present music but to link with groups and people transforming the world. 

I leave to visit with my friend Pastor Elise Brown, working in a plan to raise funds. I appreciate her taking time in the midst of a Good Friday to work with me on this. Rochone, Amanda and Danielle head to the "office." 

Marty is outside. He remarks that the weather is unseasonably cool. He speaks of median temperatures. How a woman in a gown used to deliver the temperatures inTV. Last name of Dollar. Which led to him telling me he watches Creplo Dollar and Joel Osteen on the TV. How his father, the Rabbi, used to ask him to watch Bishop Fulton Sheen on TV and take notes. Asks me if I use humorous stories or parables in my sermons. Repeats his favorite joke about the spirits in which the gift was given..Tells me about his days at a famous Bronx High School. And then City College, the Harvard of the Working Class, until he couldn’t continue. He’s in a good mood today.

Late  in the day we go to visit Rachel who makes it to church every Sunday, hip replacement and all. We were finishing a run  the park the day she fell. 

At 6, we gather for our annual Good Friday service led by the  youth. The first year this was planned, I was skeptical about the idea, Good Friday too solemn an occasion for youth. But when I actually went, I was touched and moved. They gathered around a rough wooden cross made by the Santiago family. Keeping  that part of the tradition alive. Holly and Pat worked with the children and youth until they knew their parts. And with grace and dignity the seven last words were simply presented. 

This year, Samantha is in charge. I hear the words again. we sing Sanctuary:

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary, pure and holy, tired and true, with thanksgiving, I’ll be a living, sanctuary for you...

This Good Friday

4/18

Theatre Group Dzieci
A Passion

Good Friday. 

There are four cans of liquid nutritional supplement on the steps. And a beautiful long apparently cashmere coat that I drape over the scaffolding railing. By afternoon, all these items are gone .

Geoffrey comes in early, stakes out a space in the back of the sanctuary. Goes to sleep. Earlier Martin had called to say that Soli had seen him downstairs near the restrooms. Yes, that happens. He’s respectful and harmless, though eccentric. Geoffrey, that is.

Karen is playing her music in the sanctuary when  Jean comes in with her work crew of kids from Sacramento, all in  their familiar Presbyterian Disaster Relief t-shirts. They are young. They’ve been working all week rebuilding homes in the Rockaways. RDA is building six. The total needed is 27,000.

Jean and the Sacramento PDA workgroup

I tell the crew the history of the church. It’s struggles. It’s witness. Ending with the ceramic baptismal font cover Dan’s mom Sheryl made. Occupy Wall Street over Tiffany Victoriana. The contractor Don has special interest in the architectural history and is eying things carefully, making mental notes.

They head off to Central Park while I try and get ready for Easter. Danielle places a beautiful cable knit sweater and a straw hat on the steps. Soon, only the hat is left. Late in the day, I decide to head down to the Gate to give RL a head’s up about the kids. But I run into the crew. Jeanie says that she already saw him. So I join them at Caesar’s for pizza. And Don has ideas for a work group to come work on West-Park.

After dinner, they just have a little while to chill before Dzieci’s A Passion. As this is the day we commemorate the passion of Christ, the timing is right. The play begins. It’s evening dark this time. Some blocking has been changed since last week. But again, I’m drawn into their story. I’m watching closely, wanting  to understand how it works. It’s like a community gathered for ritual. One that has happened over and again. Perhaps at a scheduled time every year. Familiar and yet new.  Trading well known, familiar roles  around. And in the midst of telling the  story, it becomes real and present and we are in the midst of it as a real time reality.

As the dance to a lively Hinay ma tov reaches its peak, they are inviting audience members  to join in. One does. It’s former Dzieci Isis, back for this performance in a dance she knows so well with old friends. Hinay ma tov…

It’s that song that will bring us back together after the scroll has been left, tied up as in a burial shroud but at the same time an object of respect and veneration. And we all go out together. Later, in conversation, Jean will say, I have never been so moved by a passion and Matt says, Let me take that down. Rev. Jean from Sacramento? And Jean is immediately trying to figure out how to get them to Sacramento. Somewhere in there we notice Geoffrey is still here. 

The Dzieci want to talk with the kids. And this is where things start to go awry. They are already in the chapel where Open Mic is getting ready to begin. So there’s a moment of confusion and then the Dzieci thank the kids and exit.

A couple of the kids are planning on performing. RL opens. Then Dion with his good hearted stand up. Then a female comedian announces she wants to work hard. Or let’s say blue. And awkward uncertainty sets in until Jean decides to lead them all out. In the hall, they encounter Joel and Jean

A hug with Joel

persuades him to do an impromptu improve. Which he does.

Then they are out the door.  One of the kids brings a message that the blue comedian is done and please come back. Just for one song. Jean hesitates a minute but has already made her exit s the crew is on their way to the subway and back to Jamaica.

Halfway down the block, I want to run after them and yell come back, come back. I think I know what RL has in mind. Another 10 minutes won’t matter. Opportunities come once and vanish. For every second chance I’ve had there’s an equal number of never to come agains. You never know. By the time I think this through, they’re an avenue block away.

I’m kicking myself for not having insisted when RL steps outside. I’m sorry, I say. I am too, he says. And then, you’re out of practice. I look at him, a question on my face. …. dealing with rational people, he says. And I appreciate that.Trying to make me feel better. But I’m going to brood on this awhile. So I’m lost in my head while the comedian’s boyfriend Chris lays down a solid electric guitar set which RL compares to Duane Eddy. And I barely notice another stand up guy who seems to be off in his own stream of consciousness without a paddle.

Chris plays a mean guitar solo

But I snap out of it in the middle of Joel’s performance when he enters into a riff on his encounter with Jean and the crew and he just lays me out. He weaves his emotions about their work, their faces. Luckily, his videographer friend caught the performance. It sort of healed the night for me. Sort of.

By the time I came on, we were down to close friends and associates. So RL decides to take a different approach to stay awhile. Kind of slow, reflective. And that’s how it ends.

This Good Friday.


for more Good Fridays: http://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/search?q=good+friday

Good Friday: The accumulated weight

4/6

A day of pressurs and anxieties. Runi back for another round. She got her one thing done. Wesley and Antonia slow again. Wesley comes in with a handful of Gospels of John he picked up somewhere. Teddy had told me they had recived a marraige license. But no. Lost the papers. Wesley tells me she’s getting worse. Needs a psych eval. I tell him about the free clinic. The staff had  actually been looking for her.


Coffee at Barney Greengrass. My friend behind the counter might have a job as a chef, what he's been looking for. Gary is looking forward to Passover tonight then leaving for his annual Pesach week vacation. I wish him good travels. 

A German woman has come in just to look around. From Bavaria. And Berlin. I tell her I have a son living in Berlin. Jamie and Steve drop by from a walk to the Conservatory Gardens I wish I could have been on.

I hear the ominous sound of cooing, whuch sends a chill down my spine,  and realize that the pigeons have broken in somewhere again. Which tower? Did someone leave a door open? Turns out the bell tower hatch has come open. Teddy braves it and goes in, scares the pigeons away and pulls it shut. 

I look and am somewhat amused to see that Teddy is wearing an old t-shirt of mine with the old New Haven Black Crows baseball logo. The ever resoureful #ows clothing committee under fashion director Chirs has obviously found my stash tucked away soemwhere during the water damage clean up . I tell him it looks good on him, tell him the story and we both laugh. 

Jane and I go for coffee. She mentions that Teddy with hu slarge personlity, creative humor and Yonkuhz accent woud make a great character for a sitcom. Except he’s a real guy, in every way. And I think that its good to have moved from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to sitcom territory.

RL’s in to look around. Talk about possibly renting space to rehearse. And reviving the open mic night. I haven’t had a moment to breathe or work on that one. 

Anna and her dog come by again. I tell her I appreciate her comments and contributions. And I mean it. She’s very open and honest about herself. 

Raven has returned from somewhere. Anna greets him warmly.

Rudolfo comes in. Medical concerns.Delays with his green card an therefore medicaid. I tell him about the free clinic.

Scattered people throughout the day into pray. Table draped in black. Single candle burning.

Get anxious and frustrated waiting for the folks to come for the Good Friday service. No program. And we’ve got no paper for our printer. And there’s none at CVS. And none at PC Richard’s. Finally racing back from Goldleaf Stationers, I’m on the verge.  By the time I get back with the bulletins, everyone is sitting in te sanctuary, anxiously awaiting. 

The girls do their annual Seven Last Words presentation. I feel distracted. Heading home, the accumulated weight of the week has begun to wear me down.

It's Good Friday.

Easter

4/24 

A quiet hour in the church preparing for Easter. Open the doors, seep the steps. Putting the vacuum out of sight. Emptying the trash. And changing all the colors from Lenten purple to Easter white. Find my white alb. My wool woven New Mexico stole.

A couple from Michigan arrives first, then Andre. The Interim Executive Presbyter Tony de la Rosa. Who would know better bout resurrection than West-Park? he said when I thanked him for coming. Then happily more members, and more visitors. Our first Easter home in four years. At SPSA, I’d forgotten the pleasure of meeting people you’ve never met before at Christmas and Easter. 

Tony and Hope

As the people gather, I explain what we are, what we are not. Our first Easter here after three years.  No trumpets. No choir. Not even an accompanist. Just Andre and I. Not a full service operation. A resurrection not complete. But an opportunity to help create something new. Bring a church back to life in the resurrection season.

We sing Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia! And pray. Read the Easter story in Matthew. 

Easter has always been hard for me. As a kid, after so many hours in church that week, Maundy Thursday, three hours on Good Friday, the oppressive quiet that followed Good Friday, somehow Easter morning never brought the joy I wanted. Even with the eggs we dyed.  Even with chocolate eggs and bunnies. And the garden tools we received back at the old house on Park Avenue. Always second to Christmas. 

As a young preacher, never got to preach Easter. Maybe the Sunday after. Every Associate Pastor knows what that’s like. First Easter sermon was at a community service in a shopping mall in Pittsburgh. A macaw in a large cage giving me my amens. 

The Matthew story raises questions. 

There are two women. Like in the Park this morning. Not considered reliable witnesses. The first to see. 

Last Friday was not only Good Friday but also Earth Day. Any connection? I think of the earthquake that day. As if the very earth  trembled at Jesus’ death. As if a cosmic tragedy had just occurred. And woven into creation’s fabric. And today, another  earthquake, simultaneous with the angel. How do we even talk about earthquakes, in the context of Japan, tsunami? The very earth trembled...

The stone. The angel rolled away the stone: why do that? Not to let Jesus out, he’s already out. An then the angel sits on it. On the one hand, it was so people could look in and see what was not there. The stone was also the symbol of power of the state, of Rome. The state’s effort to express its dominance and control, it’s power to entomb, to wall up. By rolling away the stone, by sitting on it, the angel rejects its power. They even try bribing the guards to keep the truth hidden. 

And so the women react with fear and joy.  Why? Because often we can feel more than one thing at the same time. Because resurrection is not easy. Is scary. Easier to stay in the  tomb. Not come out into the aching light of day. Easier to stay dead than to risk life again. Risk life again. Risk love.

And then go to Galilee...what does that mean? That Jesus is always there, out there ahead of us. Waiting for us. Anyplace we ned to go, no matter how scary the path, Jesus is already there. Can we see that place Jesus is calling us to?

So, what happened? Something happened...something beyond metaphoric, something real. What do we believe? That there is something beyond death. Something in the circle of the seasons. In the heart of creation. Something we live through. Die through. And live again. Over and over and over again....

And so on this Easter, we are opening ourselves to resurrection...walking together towards life. Again.

We take up an offering. Sing the doxology. Christ the Lord is Risen Again. There are too many to  make our circle this morning. We step across the aisles. Say the benediction. Sing our amens. 

I walk around to meet the people. Young women with dreams. One musical theatre. From Oklahoma. Two older women. A famous singer. And the daughter of our former Hispanic pastor from 30 years ago. Whose daughter is an actor friend of Chuck’s who was at our artist gathering yesterday.

The Santiagos have brought baskets for the children. Especially Hugo’s grandchildren. The girls wearing,well, funny Easter head things. Andre and I close up the doors. Walk into the sun.

Easter girls

Palm Sunday: the Lord has need of it...

 4/14

Ready for Palm Sunday

On Palm Sunday morning...I go to Good Shepherd Faith Church near Lincoln Center....

We all love a parade. This neighborhood is mad crazy every night before the Thanksgiving parade when they have ballon blow up night. Next week will be that unique New York event known as the Easter Parade. El barrio has its annual Three King’s parade. (Although the real sign of having made it as a religion in or city is to get a no alternate aid parking day.) and all the ethnic groups get their parades- Columbus Day, St.Patricks Day, Puerto Rican Day, West Indian day—-. Today Jesus gets his parade...Palm Sunday.

I have great memories of Palm Sunday as a kid, although I can’t say I ever fully understood what all those palm branches

Palm branches

were about and there was always that ominous sense that the long depressing stretch of Holy Week about to begin. The most days in church of any week of the year ending with the endless Good Friday service.

Maybe the wasn’t so bad. As a pastor, I really didn’t like it when the liturgical powers to be in the church decided to make this Palm and Passion  Sunday ...out of anxiety that modern Christians would want to jump straight from the celebration of Palm Sunday...ending our Lenten journey- to the joy of Easter...skipping right through the liturgical journey of Holy Week....with Maundy Thursday and the darkness of Good Friday. ( May I say I have very good memories of the intimacy of Holy Thursday at Good Shepherd and the annual 7 last words service at Rutgers...I have to say I miss that...but glad I had to have had to opportunity to complete the whole Seven-Word cycle...)

So what’s going on with Jesus today? Luke’s telling of the story is especially vivid... it’s got that “unridden colt” detail...what’s up with that? Maybe it's similarity to an unblemished sacred sacrifice? Maybe a reference to Zechariah 9:9 where the king comes riding on.. a colt, the foal of a donkey? And that wonderful line the disciple use to secure the loan of the donkey, “ the Lord has need of it...”.....

Of course, that raises the question what do we have that the Lord might have need of? Anyways, it seems to work...

What’s important is that Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is an evocation of, or mimicry of or even subversion of the triumphant entry of a victorious military leader into a conquered city. It excites the people. Maybe even they believe that Jesus is about to launch the revolution.... completely missing the point that Jesus’ victory has already begun in what is now his inevitable journey to the cross. This victory is beyond what military victory could ever be imagined....it is an entirely new way of living in world.

And there is at least the the implication that Jesus’ failure to live up to their expectations would ultimately contribute to his crucifixion...like in Jesus Christ Superstar.

Which of course leads to the question what expectations do we have of Jesus this are not appropriate to who he is?

My favorite line of course is that you can silence the disciples but the very stones will cry out...there are some things that are so wrong, creation it self moans with agony and cries out.

The poor stones could be crying out all the time these days. I have had a hard time dealing with the fact that we were separating parents from their children. That we put children into cages. The smallness and pettiness of seizing rosary beads from detainees. Or how naval ships in the Mediterranean refuse to rescue imperiled refugees. When do you hear the stones cry out?

The beauty of the palms makes for a glorious Sunday....but what happens when the parade is over?

There is one week before Easter..,what unfinished Lenten work do you have to do to make your Easter truly a celebration of resurrection?

So..,

1. What do we have that the Lord might have need of?
2. What expectations do we have of Jesus that might miss who he is?
3. What makes the very stones cry out?
4. What’s on your Holy Week to do list?

So...what do you say?

Hosanna....blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord?

Amen.

We are blessed today to have sharing their music with us Ta'u Pupu'a, former NFL football player and rising opera star, and Pamela Thomas.

Ta'u Pupu'a and Pamela Thomas

By the time Ta'u finishes Ride On King Jesus, the walls are ringing in Palm  Sunday glory.....