Moving forward in more ways than one

10/1

The Greengrass Yom Kippur marathon has begun

Back from a visit with my friend Sekou from a luncheon with a vast array of the city’s faith based activists at Union Seminary. Part of the New York Theological Seminary’s Micah Institute. (It’s a bit of an oversimplification, but NYTS is a more grassrootsy sister institution to UTS…). In the midst of discussions on progress on issues like Living Wage, Climate change and affordable housing, Sekou is trying to rally the troops to put boots on the ground in Ferguson  next weekend for a Hands Up rally and action to draw attention to the failure to bring charges against the police officer who shot Michael Brown to death. The sense of a campaign against black youth is a deeply felt concern in the African-American community.

Pat O is showing a group of four people from a downtown healing center around the building. They’re very interested. In a lot of space.

He’s also trying to get the roofing people to set a time to start the work. Not as simple as removing the stop work order. Contractors march to the beat of their own drummers. And the good news: our asbestos report comes back negative.

Dzieci has arrived and is beginning their warm up exercises in the sanctuary. Tricia and Lee arrive for their rehearsals.

I’m meeting with my friends from the Presbyterian Health Education and Welfare Association executive committee. Sitting in the church, seeing the faces of my friends as we meet via gotomeeting from Hawaii to Minneapolis to Atlantic City. It still amazes me. Like a group skype, leaping across continents.

People keep coming in looking for food. Keep getting us confused with SPSA.

The Session gathers and prepares for our conference call with Presbytery’s property committee. Their questions are good ones and we patiently explain our evolving plans. It feels good to meet with an atmosphere of real desire to understand, not hostile opposition.

To Charlie

That meeting over, all of us fully updated, Marsha wants us to lift a glass to an old and close friend she just lost in Charlotte. It makes me feel good that she wants us to share in this moment with her. That’s the kind of community we’re trying to build…where we celebrate each other’s victories, share with each other in our losses and defeats. And those moments that fall in between.

We’re moving forward in more ways than one.  

On the street, the Barney Greengrass yom kippur marathon is underway.

The Greengrass crew getting ready to roll

Yom Kippur Rush Time

9/30

A very quiet day.

Stephen W comes in for one final interview with a candidate to replace Danielle. Actually, Leila’s been doing a great job, but we committed to this process. We’ll see where this goes.

Pat O has more documents for me to sign to get permits moving and our construction work underway.

 David S is continuing to research the security camera situation.

Women want to have a look around.

 Lily is here waiting for Stephen S to finish his work. She’s got Presbyterian grant ideas. Plus stories worth sharing.

 Finish the day taking a walk with RL to visit his Harvey at the Riverside, formerly known as Kateri residence. The statue of the Native American  woman Saint Lily of the Mohawks is gone. The new parakeets are bright and multi-colored. There's a mezuzah by the front door. 

10/1

October already. Year racing by. Next thing you know, it will be Christmas.

But it’s still the Jewish High Holy days. Next door, at Barney Greengrass, it’s Yom Kippur rush time. Every year, Gary borrows our tables to set up his assembly line to fill orders from all across the country. Sable connects the New York City diaspora to home. It’s his single busiest day of the year. He always complains, but you know it’s part of the liturgy of the year. This marks my season of free coffee as our tables take their place as volunteers in the sturgeon supply business. Feels good to be a part of it and see the bee hive of activity. When we get to Thursday, it will be an all nighter.

Nanette comes from a Baptist church looking for a new home. No, we still worship here. Still preach the good news. Not going anywhere.

Deacon James stops by. His patience with the labyrinthine twists and turns of veterans’ and government bureaucracies is awe inspiring. But then, what choice does he have?

John R2 stops by. He was with us on the Climate march. He’s got a bulletin from a funeral service in Tulsa. A very close friend from  over 30 years ago died.  I look at the picture. Try to remember, reconnect. Look at the age. 64. Same as me.

We walk out to together as I’m off to visit Hope to pick up the check to replace the computer. And just visit awhile.

 A woman is looking for SPSA. That happens a lot. Two blocks away. Sometimes people need to be convinced that we are not actually them.

 Martin’s daughter Gabriella is hard at work on her fictionalized story about Teddy. Martin tells me she feels Teddy was one of the 4 biggest people in her life. Teddy did live big. His space has never been filled.

 Lee has some potentially exciting grant ideas. Tricia’s cast members arriving for Othello rehearsal.

 Nate drops by for a pre-National League wild card playoff game. Our hometown Pirates are playing San Francisco. We’ll be part of the ‘burgh diaspora in what will prove to be a long night joining Oakland in an early exit.

From the weight of the snow

2/15

A couple has come in to see me about getting married. On July 4^th.  But before I can talk with them, a man comes in and tells me that a man in a wheel chair outside is asking for Father Bob. That would be me. That would be Sean.

So I go meet Sean at the 86^th street door. Struggle to help him in, get the battery hooked up, help him switch from one wheel chair to another. While he’s still working in that, I go back and meet the couple, apologizing for taking a while. Another mixed Chinese- Irish relationship from Queens. Another New York story. After we finish, I go to see Sean but he is gone.

So I go for coffee at Barney Greengrass. As I’m getting ready to leave, the cashier says, I see they fixed the scaffolding. 

What? I say. And he tells  me that this morning, a section of the scaffolding over our front doors collapsed from the weight of the snow.  Someone called the Fire Department and they arrived. Cut the sidewalk off with yellow tape. And called the scaffolding company who arrived, rebuilt the scaffolding and added extra braces at street level. 

They just left about an hour ago, he says.

I look at him. I didn’t know a thing  about it, I said, I’ve been here about an hour. Not a thing…

Look outside, there’s still some yellow tape.

Thanks, I say, and go outside with my coffee to look.

And sure enough, there are still strands of yellow security tape still around some poles. And as I look at the steps, I realize that explains why there is so much snow on the steps. In clumps and piles. It fell there when the scaffolding collapsed. And as I look up, there is still lots of snow on the scaffolding.

I go back inside, somewhat shaken. Both because of what happened and more that I knew nothing about it. Until my Greengrass friend filled me in. Priska comes down, done with her work for the day. I tell her about the scaffolding. She looks at me incredulous. 

I was working inside, I never knew…she said. 

Me either, I say.

Finally Sean has returned. His battery is charged enough that he can back in his electric cart and motor off.

Time for me to go.

Later, at home,  I get a phone call from RL. The lights under the scaffolding are out. He’s tried  all the breakers. Nothing works. I tell him about the scaffolding collapse and the emergency repairs. Ah that explains it, he says. Someone unhooked something and didn’t hook it back up. We have to get on that first thing in the morning.

I know. You get Department of Buildings fines for unlit areas under scaffolding. I know. I’ve been to court around that. It’s what they calla per se violation. No grace allowed. The fine is automatic. We have to get right on that….

The corner to be turned comes into view

9/9

The greatest joy yesterday was seeing Rachel in church under her own power. John R walked her home after services. 

A man asks if he can come in and pray. Hours later, he’s laid out, asleep in the pew.

The day begins with a visit from my friend Jon D. Former second chair bass player for the New York Philharmonic. Back from his work with El Sistema in Venezuela. That Freierian inspired music project founded by Jose Abreu that has produced musicians like Gustavo Dudamel, conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic.  We get Martin on the phone and talk about an exciting potential collaboration between Jon’s Very Young Composers’ program and Noche Flamenca. An idea begins to take form. Jon is also interested in working with Ethel who have just returned from their summer break. This is exactly what the center is supposed ti be about. 

A crew comes over from Barney Greengrass to borrow our long tables. It’s become an annual tradition as they prepare to face their annual avalanche of orders for the Yom Kippur breakfast that comes at the end of the week and people from the tribe all over the country ordering sable, lox and sturgeon from Barney to mark the end of the fast. The truck is there, ready for loading. 

We meet with Henry and Naomi from Presbytery’s Ministry and Nurture Committee to fill them in on our total strategy and pending lease. They are very impressed. Feel we’ve moved ahead light years since we first met and even since last February. The deal we have now is  far superior to what we had then. We maintain control of the building. Wind up with spaces developed for rehearsals and studios. Just like we planned. We talk again of our vision of everything working together. How it’s already happening. We mention the comedian Dion’s coming to services yesterday.

They’re a good pair: Naomi a classic church elder from 5th Avenue, Henry a feisty pastor from Queens who’s been through the mill and knows what the cost can be. They get it. They’re with us. Will give us their  support in the all important upcoming Presbytery meeting. Now of only we can have the same kind of success with the Trustees tonight.

Outside one of the holiness guys is hanging out with a man in a wheel chair. (Not Sean) he calls out, Hey, hey, he wants to know, are you the Pastor? I answer, Yes, I am. 

Stephen and Cara are in. Stephen to talk strategy about that Trustees meeting.

David S deeply involved in an electrical project.

Two young Koreans are in. Back, I should say. Still looking to lease the entire building. It’s been months since their last visit. They've managed to raise up some serious money. And are surprised when we tell them we are almost ready to roll with another project. They were convinced that if they could just raise enough, all would be well. God’s plan. Not so simple. Nothing like downcast bright shining faces.

Of to a reading of Ludovica’s latest play.

Later, Jamie, Stephen and I go to the B to celebrate our outcome with the Trustees. Hard to believe the turn around. We face the possibility in  a month or so of actually being able to not just hang on but to  begin moving forward. To have achieved stability. And an opportunity....Can we shift our mind set, our way of looking  at things? Can we believe in possibility? A Do the hard work necessary? It’s been a very long time. It’s taken a lot of hard work. We never count our chickens before they’re hatched. But....I’m ready.

And ready to finish up my work and head down to 78 Below where I’ll meet son Dan and do a few songs. 

Christmas Eve: God in us

12/24

The stomach cramps are gone but the exhaustion remains. Hours before  Christmas Eve grow short. Danielle heading to California for Christmas soon. Just enough time to squeeze out the Christmas Eve service before she leaves. I’m floundering until I find the 2003 liturgy that Katherine created. Uses the same liturgical lectionary sequence as this year. Gives me something to work from.

Time to switch the sanctuary over from Advent purple to the white of Christmas. And set out the Christmas Eve candles graciously shared with us by SanctuaryNYC from last night’s celebration.

Then a last effort to wrap up shopping and everything I couldn’t do with the unexpected events of last week and getting sick. The pressure and stress has been  unrelenting for so long. Teddy’s death was like the final push. Like my body saying, OK, so you say you can’t stop, can’t slow down? I’ll show you. 

Stop back to drop and pick up packages.Take a  final look around. Kara is asleep on the first pew. She stirs a little.  Tells me she hasn’t been able to sleep since the loss of her beloved Isaac, a neighbor shopkeeper last week . Now she’s finally able to sleep. In this safe space. 

Stephen and I go through everything. Looks OK. We ask Kara to leave for awhile as we close up until right before service. Stepping outside, I see Rachelle. Hesitate. She says, Don’t you go away. There’s need of you. Right now. That woman...and the man on the steps...there’s need of you...

We go around the corner and there is a conflict between Anna and George. As always, she is looking out for the church. And has her suspicions about George. She may be right.  I explain he’s welcome here for his periodic visits. Michael, another homeless man from the ‘hood comes up to convince us that there’s nothin wrong with George, he cool, and if we think he’s into any wrong stuff, we got the wrong guy.  I tell him I know, I know. 

George is as beside himself as I’ve seen him get. Words sputtering  out in an angry flow.  I’m catching ...woman...bitch...ho....among other words recognizable and otherwise. 

Anna says that if I’m cool with George, it’s cool with her. Then she tries to gently cajole George out of his anger using the functional street savvy I’ve seen her so effectively utilize so many times in different situations. Not working with George who continues to sputter. Out of my face....not a word...to me.... I tell him its OK, no more conversation. 

Rachelle has been observing the whole scene.  

We turn the corner and back to the side door. I need to get out for awhile.  Stephen says Everyday of the week. And I reply And twice on Sundays...

On my way home, I stop by Barney Geengrass to pick up sable and sturgeon. Years ago, Andrea said she’d give a lot to skip the annual drive to Pittsburgh for Christmas and just stay home and eat breakfast at Barney Greengrass. So I started stopping here on Christmas Eve to bring Barney Greengrass home. Today, I’m in line behind Matt Dillon. I remember being in Tulsa, watching him shoot  Franics Ford Coppola’s take on the Outsiders. That was too long ago. I do what we do as New Yorkers, which is respect the anonymity of anyone famous or not.  When I get to the front of the line, I get ready to pay Gary and he says, You know what Reverend, good yontuf.  Know what what means? 

Sure do, Gary. Good holiday.

He smiles. Yeah, good yontuf. 

And soon enough, the waiting is over, it’s Christmas Eve. Andre has come to be my liturgical support. James has arrived. Nate and Dan will soon be here. And as always, there are guests.

My grandfather's "Yule Tie"

As the service begins, I am aware that with every Christmas, all Christmases past come flowing over you in a kaleidoscope of images. Our own individual Scrooge journey. The  excitement of after almost twenty years in ministry creating my own Christmas Eve in my own church. And our own family Christmas Eve traditions. Always wearing my grandfather’s depression era Yule tie. Home after services for the dinner we shared with others. The shifting faces around the table.  Taking candles to the Quebecois across the street. When I couldn’t get Sybille to change her own long standing tradition, taking candles to her house after our service and singing We wish you a Merry Christmas...until the year the split came with Lauren and then....well,  no more...The faces around our family table. Many gone now, for one reason or another. And the pain of missing them. Brokeness and regret. The years of the quartet. The amazing years of Larry Woodard and the Sunday Morning Circle... The inimitable Bill Schimmel and our service on Christmas Eve 2001...begun with a performance piece by his wife Mickey....a perfect night of poignance, ambivalence and beauty.....the commitment to move beyond the traditional lessons and carols liturgy to something more authentic...to move beyond the liturgical theology of everything was darkness then Jesus came and presto chango light...having enough resources to actually strive to create the perfect Christmas Eve liturgy....and Katherine came close in 2003...closing the building for three years...coming to do a simple service on the steps, just to show we were there in 2009, actually coming back in 2010...with no heat, no bathrooms......all these images rushing, flowing, by...

I have come to accept that each Christmas is its own on its own terms. Can’t be forced into any preconceived box or even compared and none will ever be perfect. That is the nature of how Christmas comes. In the midst of... That is incarnation...In the middle of us....so I accept this one as it is with its own gifts. The community that is here is my community. And my family.  This is who we are this Christmas.   

Years ago  my ministry colleague Jan, then at Jan Hus across the Park, said that for those of us non-destination churches, on Christmas Eve, when so many of our members  have returned to their homes for the holidays, we discover our true communities, those always around us though not always visible. 

I share some of all this with the congregation.  Some. 

I’m more concerned with how it feels to celebrate Christmas in Newtown, Connecticut tonight. I recall last year Occupy Faith seeking to deliver a mini Occupy tent with a holy family inside to Trinity Wall Street. And that gift being taken away, rejected.

This year, I wonder where would Jesus be born tonight? In a mold infested unlighted bungalow in Far Rockaway? Inside the police cafe comfort  tent on Midland Beach? That’s the hard, raw, beautiful side of incarnation....born among the outsiders, the shepherds, the suspicious gypsies. And angel choirs with flamenco guitar. Here is where the Christ child is born.

I ask Andre what he feels moved to sing. And slowly he moves into Sister Mary hada but one child.... and I remember back to Larry’s arrangement for dueling sopranos, for Lauren and Andrea Bradford. And tonight, the simple poignance of Andre's solo voice. 

We light our candles. Sing Silent Night. And finally Joy to the World. The service is over. 

Stephen is talking to the visiting family. Apparently they came here ten years ago. I try and remember,as they remember me, back in the day. Stephen has discovered the man's a musician. He’s being his best ambassador. I remember a day or so ago overhearing him doing the rap on our social history for visitors. He is owning it. Making it his. i look down the aisle. See Kara and Rachelle walking up side by side. In their flowing black clothes, like vestments, they could be sisters in a medieval holy order convent. Les soeurs petites de notre dame de West-Park. 

Rachelle telling me her beautiful Christmas gifts for me and my assistant, vanished, disappeared, gone...I tell her it's ok. 

Kara's has given gifts of peacock feathers to every guest. I take candles and peacock feathers across the street to our Quebecois amis. Knocking down, loading up. Their visitation  done. In a few hours, on their way back home. Montreal by noon. Christmas at home with their families. 

We’re walking home. Someone had mentioned One flew over the coockoo’s nest. Dan wants to know if the more eccentric community member might scare off visitors. Maybe, I say, but that’s not the point. We need to bring  in more who understand the beauty and value of radical hospitality. Dan wonders. Dinner awaits. Christmas has arrived. Emmanuel...God in us. God in us.