He's got the whole world

10/5

Arrive a the church to find Joe and the gang still on the steps. Tell them I’m opening the  door soon. Rob the white guy back. Wondering what’s up. Tells me that he’s now in a place  in Yonkers. And working temp. But with the government shutdown, his case his case is stuck somewhere between Manhattan and Westchester. Him and how many others? He’s here to visit with his family. Offers to sweep up, but by the time I get back with broom and pan, he’s gone.

This week’s surprise is RL’s friend Thatcher and his wife have come to join us for worship.  His turn to usher up in Westshester and he’s decided to come here instead. Turns out Marsha and his wife are connected to the same workplace, Seniorbridge. 

I start us with It’s me, it’s me, it’s me oh Lord, standin’ in the need of prayer...

Point out that Jerry Garcia and the Wildwood Boys sang this as a sacred song at Jerry’s wedding.

We start out with Lamentations. (1: 1-7, 3: 19-26) How lonely sits the city that was once full of people....Pittsburgh in the  ’80’s, Detroit now? I point out that this is the exile the prophets have been talking about for weeks now. I mention that every summer our Jewish neighbors commemorate Tish’a’bav, the destruction of the first temple. And the readings are the book of Lamentations. The people have all gone, been taken, away.

The thought of my homelessness is wormwood and gall....

It is likely our night at the shelter.  That tonight is our night to serve at the homeless shelter. For those of us who serve there, it is revelatory. Many have jobs. Children. But still can’t get housing. And I think of Rob. Stuck in a government shutdown. Wormwood and gall....

But it is more than that. God’s mercies are...new every morning...

Psalm 139 is another of the greatest hits Psalms. Exile again. The opening lines

By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down, yea, we wept
When we remembered Zion.

Became well known through Bob Marley and the Wailers. in Jamaica, Babylon was America, the forces of colonialism. I remembered hearing it sung by Lebanese civil war exiles in Cyprus. A longing to go home.

For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song,
And those who plundered us requested mirth,
Saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How shall we sing the Lord’s song
In a foreign land?

Or as Marley sang, how can we sing King Alphas song in a strange land?

But the psalm ends in  one of the strangest, most violent passages in the Bible:

Happy the one who takes and dashes
Your little ones against the rock!

Bashing children’s heads against the rock? Whoa I remember Walter Wink reflecting on this one time. Many of us sensitive types would ban this verse  from the Bible.This psalm clearly not written from the triumphal time of David. Wink asked us to reflect on the feelings of an exiled people. A captive people. An occupied people. These are feelings of anger coming  from a sense of hopelessness. Of humiliation. Of dignity take away. We have to acknowledge those feelings. Give them up to to God. Or else we become suicide bombers. Psalms like this encourage us to share with God exactly what we feel. So that it can go somewhere else.

When the psalm is done, I pick up my guitar and do my own version of Marley’s Rivers of Babylon...a few more times and I might actually get this reggae thing...

With 2 Timothy 1: 1-14. Not a letter to a church for a particular reason.Not a letter of general moral exhortation. But a letter to a particualr person. And the references to two very specific people, Lois and Eunice...in the end, that’s what it is about. Specific people. With names.Relationships. that’s where the  holy lives. And we go around the circle and each name one who made us who we are. and as always, the answers are heavy on moms and dads.

Finally the Gospel. (Luke 17: 5-10)Increase our faith.You can’t increase faith.You either have it or not. Even the tiniest grain as the capacity to grow. Even the tiniest bit of faith is faith. The last part of the passage verges on the incomprehensible. But the first pat is clear. You either have it or you don’t.

it’s worldwide communion Sunday. We share our places of origin. our roots. Havana. China. Scots-Irish. French. German. Japanese-cabresan Italian. Texas. And I identify the stoles on the communion table: Mayan. Guatemalan. African kinte cloth. Palestinian embroidery from Jerusalem. More Light stoles of protest, now welcome to be worn by our servers, this week John R and Nirka as we share our bread and cup.From the Latvian potter Valda. from Pittsburgh. 

In honor of St. Francis and maybe the new pope,I bless all the dogs present today. Five of them! Including regulars puppy and Tony. And I let myself be awed by interspecies connection, understanding. Relationship. Something holy there. 

 sing l watch soccer from italy with Beppe. then  the Bucs vs. St.Louis from Pittsburgh. And end at my serbian friend Milica’s gallery. The artist s Itlaian. From Sardinia like beppe. The dancer Asian. 

World wide communion Sunday. He’s got the whole world......

And for a good night, good night

7/19

This morning, I see Sean on Broadway. Alert. Looking good. I stop to talk.

Sean, good morning.

Hey, good morning.
What’s happening? You said you were ready for rehab...

Yeah. I want to get my electric wheel chair first. They working with me on that. And I done my psych eval. And my physical. They say I’m too vulnerable for a shelter or dorm, they gon a get me my own room.

Who’s that Sean?

Goddard-Riverside.

Of course. You work with them, it works out. Proud of you man.

I get that chair, I’m gonna do the rehab.

Good. That’s good.

Look man, I’m sorry, you know? I know the mess I left. It’s embarrassing,you know? That’s not me.

I know. You’re working on it Sean, you’re working on it. You take care. As I start to walk away, he says, Wait, and I turn around. Thanks for stopping. For taking the time, for talking. 

Later in the day. It’s hot. I’m out for a walk. I see at least three people I’m not prepared to deal with and walk an obstacle course zig-zag back to the church. It’s too hot to think. My patience is running thin.

Work with Christopher on his future plans.

Step outside. Oh no. It’s Edward and Charlotte, back again.

Edward, I’m not doing this again.

I ain’t botherin nobody.

Charlotte chimes in: You go away.

That’s not the point. You can’t be here. Two days ago I had to call the police.

I ain’t been sleepin here. Been hookin up with her.

It wasn’t night. It was the middle of the day.

That wasn’t me. You think all black people look alike.

No man, it was you. The fire engine came. Then the ambulance. The the police.

Wasn’t me.

When they asked you your name, you said Human Being, just like two years ago. I’m thinking he doesn’t even remember.

Ah man. I ain’t hurtin no one.

Charlotte again: You go away. You motherfucker. You get the fuck outta here. You..

Edward: You hush now. Just sittin’ here mindin my own business.

I’m starting to lose it. Edward, I had to clean up your shit ten times. I’m not doing that again.

Ah that wasn’t me. That was someone else...

You were right there man, was no one else. Not again.

Charlotte: You get the fuck outta here.

(Anna and Sergeant Keith are behind me now.)

Charlotte, you take your man and get out of here. Move on.

Come on man, we don’t need to be here. We goin’, we goin’. 

And they’re off to the other side of the street, in front of PC Richards.

That wasn’t right, them cursin’ you like that. Keith says. Back home from where I come from....

It’s OK, Keith, it’s over.

I need to get away.

RL is going about set up for tonight’s open mic. I help him up the stairs with the cider. Danielle carries some six packs.  I just want to leave.

Max shows up. He’ll be tending bar tonight.

Sjoed Hoogma: Writersday

But I’ll stick around and play. Tonight’s surprises are another comedian. (Comedy is harder than writing music. Really.) And a singer songwriter from the Netherlands named Sjoerd who plays by the name Writersday. With some good guitar, some good songs and a mean harmonica. (http://www.writersday.nl/ )

Surprise of the night? Anna sings an original song she wrote back in the 80’s about the lingering effects of radiation on Japanese children. And then an English translation of a sukiyaki song. Her music is sensitive . And intelligent. Like her truest self.

Good to see Beppe. And Nancy. And Jamie.

Sjoerd joins in with his harmonica on RL’s Stay Awhile. And then I get up to do one of my New Mexico songs. Invite him to join me. And give him a break of his own between verses. We actually begin to roll a little.

A lot is  not good right now. But I love playing. I love feeling the calluses come back on my finger tips and thumb. I enjoy the work and effort that takes me away. Which is why I started doing this in the first place.

We wrap things up. Beppe and I head to Slightly Oliver’s. Sit outside. There’s a breeze. RL passes by. I look up, RL, it was a good night. He smiles, touches his finger to his hat brim. So for a good night, good night he says. And heads home.

As we walk back home, the gang has settled in for the night. And George had taken up the south door. George, you keep an eye on these guys, OK? He nods.

Goodnight.

A strange young man

6/15

See Edward Green and Charlotte on the street. And then newly elected deacon John R. He asks, Pastor, do you need anything, and I say, No, see you tomorrow.

Just a quick breeze through the church. enough time to print out my ceremony for my afternoon wedding. Jay is there keeping watch over things. He’s told  young man, a strange young man to wait for me. 

He asks to speak with me. I check my watch, I have exactly 22 minutes until I’m supposed to meet Katherine. No. I can’t. Well, are you sure? He looks so needy. Yes, this time I’m sure. 

Watching her go down the street, I felt sad

12/4

I return a phone call and soon a young man named Hakim has arrived in my office with a late request to set up a holding area for a new movie, the Wolf of Wall Street, directed by Martin Scorsese with Leonardo de Caprio and Matthew McConaghy. And understanding how these things work, none of them will be showing up here. BUT, it’s a great opportunity and despite the confusion it will create tomorrow night, I jump on it and we quickly reach an agreement. Now just to let Danielle and Teddy know.

Rachelle is roaming the church. This is her deadline for getting things out of here. She brings Magdala, a woman from the neighborhood, and her mother from Spain, into my office. They would like a tour, so I give them the architectural and social history talk. Magdala’s mom asks, Quando tiene misas? and I answer, los Domingos a las once. I tell them about our Purisima celebration coming on Friday night and they thank me and are gone. I hope she returns for nuestra misa. 

Martin and I meet to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. Much is riding on this. He tells me to just relax. As if.

Late in the afternoon, there’s a man I haven’t seen before settling down on the steps. Fairly tall, looks possibly Latino. I open a conversation. His accent sounds Native American. Name is William. Another veteran whose benefits have changed in such a way that he has just been evicted from Capital Hall. I explain the rules. Asks if he’s got a plan. He seems to have an idea when and where to go. We shake hands, and as I turn to go  back inside, he  says, thanks very much for asking...

Rachelle has worked long hours. Taken all her things out out and looked at them all, repacking everything very carefully even though there is very little of value. It’s time. These things can’t stay in the sanctuary where she keeps bringing them back. She had stuff sprawling all over the exit hallway. Dangerous. Fire hazard. She asks if Jay can come help her. He’s the only one she trusts.

She keeps making trips down the street, I’m not sure where. She puts her last shopping carts,strollers and suitcases out on 86th and drags them two at a time somewhere. When I see her pulling her last two carts behind her, heading east, for  some unexplainable reason I felt sad. 

She was once a professor living on the east side. She could not admit she was homeless, now she’s embarrassed to say she lives at Capital Hall. Nor did she ever like to admit these were her collected things, gathered from the street. People gave me things to help people, she said. Always sees herself as an angel of mercy. How much reality is she aware of at any moment? I don’t know. Yes, watching her go down the street, I felt sad.

Enough crazy, enough addiction

8/7

Spend most of the day with P____ in Housing Court.  Dante's circles of hell. Hour by hour my anger rises. The sheriff delivered the eviction  notice yesterday even though the hearing was scheduled for today. The landlord's attorney and a young real estate woman are trying to establish the fair market value of the apartment P_____has lived in for 38 years.  Seems there's little the judge can do. P____'s attorney is fighting valiantly.  I feel the rage rising. Keep wondering if I should rise up and just speak out. Channel Nathan. At the last hearing, the attorney began by saying Just because something is legal doesn't make it right.   

While we're there, I hear an old Chinese woman from Chinatown, every bit as lost as P_____, on the verge of being evicted in a Chinatown gentrifcation hustle. A middle aged heavyset black woman keeps calling out for Jesus. Do you see what's going on here? the attorney says to me. They're out for every vulnerable person in a stabilized apartment. it's an all out assault. He manages to extend the hearing into October. But now, can he get a stay on the eviction? P_____still doesn't comprehend what is going on.  Keeps talking about lasers and cameras and....and God's will will be done. And I want to say, No, P______, no it won't. In the end, maybe. But we're not going to see it. This is NOT God's will. 

So I get back to the church, worn out by rage and a feeling of helplessness. This makes no sense. And I find Edward sprawled out on the steps. Flies buzzing about. An open 40 at his side. Edward, come on man, you know the rules. you can't be here during the day.  I'm sympathetic man,  but you can't be here.  

He rouses. OK, OK, I'm going. But doesn't move. Look , I say, I'm going for coffee. When I get back, be moving, OK?

And I go next door to Barney Greengrass for iced coffee. I'm a dollar short. Next time, OK? says the counter guy and I nod. 

I come back out and see Edward, standing up, wavering back and forth,  his penis out spraying the steps with urine. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I shout, somehow managing not to drop my coffee. He stares at me, continuing.

I call 911.  Come up on the steps with him. Teddy has heard me shouting and has come out to join me. 

Why you yellin at me?

YOU'RE  PISSING ON MY STEPS!

No I'm not....I spilled my beer...

EDWARD I JUST SAW YOU!

Nah, nah, look if somethin came outta me, wasn't intentional, right?

I CARE FOR YOU EDWARD BUT YOU CAN'T PISS ON MY STEPS!

Teddy says, Look man, you can't be doin this. You just told me how much you appreciate this man.  This is disrespectful, got it?

OK,OK, I'm goin....

As he heads to the corner, he sees the cop car. Teddy points out the newspaper sticking out the back of his jeans. Dude's in bad shape, man.

Edward turns around , heads the other direction.  The car pulls over. The female officer opens her window. You called us?  

I say, yeah, and tell her what happened. She looks up Amsterdam, sees Edward turning the corner. I know him., she says. Edward, I say. He's a got a girlfriend  around the corner, she says. Charlotte, I say.  OK, I'll talk to him.

And they make their way north.

Teddy can see I'm shaking. Never heard you yell like that before, Bob. 

It's the day, I say. 

Teddy says, you did good. You called him out but didn't dis him. I respect that. 

Inside, I tell Danielle. She's upset. Jonah is waiting to speak to me. He comes in. Teddy comes in to say he found him wondering through the building again. I told you that part's off limits, OK? Don't play me....

I'm not playin' you, Jonah says.

I tell Teddy it's OK. I listen to Jonah's story. RL looks in, asks me to join him and his attorney at the Gate. I listen more to Jonah. On a journey to discover the meaning of life. Had to leave home. The energy of this place drew him in, there must be an answer here, a place to stay?

I want to say, Dude, not today. Wrong day. Wrong time. But I say, you're about 2-3 months too late for Occupy Wall Street. You would have fit right in. But not now. It's late. if you want to come back tomorrow, I'll listen to you play. But not now.

I'm done. I'm remembering my five day struggle cleaning shit off the steps every day last summer. Not going back there.  I've had enough of crazy. I've had enough of addiction.  Just let me talk to three normal people.  Just three....

I walk down the street to meet RL. Calm down. Later, I pass the church on my way to meet Jamie at the B. Teddy's outside. We talk, All is calm. For now. 

The man with gold teeth

6/12

Back in the city. Ludovica is in with her assistant Judy. She’s got a new play underway and is here to rehearse her new play. Early 20th century, Vienna, Freud....It’s good to have her back. Her rehearsals from her As it is in Heaven Shaker Play helped bring us back to life. Had to fix up some bathrooms. Cean the place up.  The Shaker furniture from that play stays with us. 

Out on the steps is a surly young  man with gold teeth. Decorative eyebrow shaved spaces. A bun on the back of his head. He’s listening to his Ipod and rapping loudly and disturbingly. I ask him to keep it down. He agrees. As i’m going inside, he appears to be begging from an African-American professional looking woman waiting for the bus. I let it go and go back onside. 

Later, I go back outside and he’s asking an African-American professional man for money.   I’m sorry you can’t do that, I say.  The professional man says Why not? Why can’t he? 

We don’t want that happening on the church steps. 

Do you have something  to do with the church?

Yes, I’m the Pastor. 


And I'm homeless, just tryin to get me some food, the man with gold teeth says. 

The man i the suit  looks somewhat confused, disoriented. Decides to leave,

Motherfuck, the man with gold teeth says, that was my money. 

Sorry, you can’t be here during the day.

I ain't alseep.

Sigh. That again. 

Didn't say you were. 

He stands up. Gets in my face. You a racist motherfucker. You let these white guys be here all the time. And he points to a pile of cardboard stashed in the scaffolding structure.

First of all,  ain’t no white guys here right now, I say. Never during the day. But I see you’ve got a beer can, you can’t do that  here, and cigarette butts all over the place.

He brandishes the beer can at me, then violently throws it to the sidewalk. You a racist motherfucker.

Marc has appeared on the steps behind me. Hey man, this is no good, he says.  I saw you yesterday. You’re not showing respect here. Not for the church, not for yourself, not for anyone else.  This isn’t good  for you. No good. 

The man with the gold tooth’s eyes flash for a moment.  yeah, well allright then...and gets off the steps and begins walking away. Stops and picks up the beer can.

I feel slightly embarrassed. It starts with tired and moves on from there.  

Marc has received a decent bid for the revamped amp he found and placed on eBay. It’s a good offer. From  Bangkok. Evry bit helps. 

I’ still thinking about the man with gold teeth.