The mass is ended

1/23

The frozen world continues. Achingly cold. Spend time with the man RL refers to as Lawman Michael at the Gate discussing a wide variety of legal matter before he is joined by his two beautiful children  and wife and soon to arrive next child.

Back at the church, Jeremy G and a productions guy are going over things for the Workcenter’s upcoming  performances.

Matt from Dzieci wants to schedule time for upcoming Dzieci explorations of Sacred Harp. A page from Bread & Puppet. What is it about these old southern and Appalachian music forms that so connects with these European Grotowski children? We talk about plans for this years’ Passion Play as well..

RL interrupts to make sure that Matt knows and will relay to the other  Dzieci the importance of keeping water  taps open during this cold...

Noche is hard at work on their studio, the sounds of pounding feet.

The rest of the Dzieci arrive. Bundled against the cold, they begin a rehearsal of the Fool’s Mass. They’ve got a performance this weekend in Kingston. Even out of costume,they begin to assume their characters. The asylum’s inmates emerge. And I get drawn in. Until the last moment when Ryan walks unsteadily but determinedly down the aisle. Looks at us and says The mass    is    ended.  And then, Go   in    peace. And then as an afterthought, raises his fingers to his mouth in a shhhhhh sound. And even in this form, still profoundly transformational. 

I see Teresita and give her a hug. She says I still look out and see my Sanctuary friends sitting there. We really had something for awhile. I had to go….lots of reasons…but…it’s sad…we had something…Tell Jeremy I miss him. I’m going to come hear him perform some day. And I hug he ronce more.

Sunday reflection 2: The runt

11/3

Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it.(Habbakuk 1:2)

Not a bad passage for Marathon Sunday. And it’s also the Sunday closest to All Saints so we begin with singing For All the Saints. And I remind everyone that in our tradition, we are all saints. (And of course, all sinners as well..)

John R says that the  references to violence and strife and perverted justice, justice delayed feels familiar to him. Feels like the society we live in.

And the prophet is called upon to write the vision so large even a runner can see it.  And it is our job to write it. And to keep watch.  As Dylan sang in All along the watchtower:

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

We have to keep watch. The righteous live by faith. Still a vision…for the appointed time…

We finish with the story of Zaccheus in Luke 19:1-10. How he was a tax collector. One who worked for the Roman occupiers. Who made whatever he was able to pry loose over and above the appointed tax.

How he was short. Easily lost in the crowd. Not seen. How what most of us need the most is just to be seen. And how he runs to get ahead, to see Jesus. Not just see him, but see who he was…

And instead Jesus looks up and sees him, and calls him by name. Like he calls us by name.

(Do we know what it’s like to be up a tree?)

And how the people grumble when they see Jesus go off with Zaccheus, this sinner. And how we love to grumble, to judge, to point the finger…To find someone to look down on. Knowingly. Sneeringly. We’ve lived on both sides of that equation.

Zaccheus’ words are usually rendered in the future: Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much. But the actual Greek is in the present. This takes away our expectation that one must repent or atone first. The grace, the gift, the acceptance is already there. Free. It is an action Zaccheus has already begun..

And Jesus makes it clear that this man, too, is a child of Abraham. And that he came for the lost. The lost in a crowd. The unseen.

And I tell my people about my grandfather. He was short, maybe 5 feet 4. (His mom was well under 5). He had to care for his mom and three sisters after his father got run over by the B&O train on the tracks near his shack. And then married a divorced woman with three children of her own already. How he had become the owner of his own grocery store then lost it in the depression. Had to go back to work as a clerk for his old boss. How he sang in the choir. And solos. And taught Sunday school.

I found a lesson he taught one time, neatly typed with handwritten notes. A lesson he called The Runt. The story of Zaccheus. Maybe my grandfather felt up a tree. Lost in the crowd. Unseen. Anyways, he saw himself in Zaccheus. I don’t remember anymore. But I remember that, The Runt.

It’s a communion Sunday. We join our voices with all the saints. Share the bread and cup. Close with 2 Thessalonians 4:1-4, 11-12.

The Session meets. Nothing more we can do. Today. Tomorrow night, the decision will be made.

Everyone has left. I wait for the Sanctuary NYC folk to arrive then remember they’re not here anymore. And I feel something missing. I tell Jane they were part of the rhythm, part of the flow. Like blood. Like air. They were there. A part of the body. Missed when gone.

Tonight I will join Hope and Kate and John R. We’ll serve a meal at the homeless shelter. Then I will go home. Search for sleep.

Sunday reflection 1: Maybe to be saved is to be freed from shame

10/26

Sunday morning.  Makes me happy to see Amanda and Amelia and Jen come into the service. As we work our way through the scriptures, Stephen will help me with Stand By Me…

We start with Joel 2: 23-32. What stands out in this apocalyptic passage is the sense of role reversal.

2:28 your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.

Normally, we’d expect the reverse, young ones having dreams, old ones having visions. Maybe we need the visions of the ones  younger than us. Maybe we need the older ones to still be free enough to have dreams. (Am I preaching to myself here?  Walking back into this building too the courage to dream dreams we thought we’d never have again. To not settle for what conventional wisdom said was true..and we are still fighting that fight…)

The word that really jumps out at us is the word shame.

27 my people shall never again be put to shame.

Glen wants to hold out for the importance of feeling shame in order to know what we need to change. But most are feeling the heaviness and the damage of shame.  For the prophet Joel, a people dragged into exile, conquered by others is a people brought to shame.

We spend a lot of time talking about the difference between guilt and shame. Guilt a feeling that is internal. Shame something that is imposed from outside. We remember the vie from the Palestine film series, Paradise Now, that took us inside the story of a suicide bomber. We see the daily humiliations, denials of self, imposition of shame  by the occupation. Shame seems to imply humiliation. A diminution of self-respect.  And sometimes the only way to affirm oneself is to strike back, violently as necessary. As in Frantz Fanon and The Wretched of the Earth.  Many of our people have experienced shame imposed by one means or another. One thing I always tried to do was to never impose shame on my children. To never say, you should be be shamed of yourself, or shame on you. I most often want to say that to adults.

My church tribe the most.

Maybe that is what it means to be saved, to not be shamed, to not feel shame again.

I’m impressed by how at home Amanda’s daughter Amelia feels. How free she feels to participate in the discussion, Share her own views. How self-possessed she is, how at home in the world. Amanda has done a good job.

Several, including Jen, from an evangelical background, speak of  a culture of judgment and shame. And it is Amelia who speaks against judging others and for accepting one another. And most  of all, offering acceptance and love to one another. Yes, Amanda has done a good job.

During the offering, Amelia joins Amanda in singing the old Quaker song, Teach me where peace is found…

It has been a good morning.

After our  too long and too anxious session meeting, I stay for what will be the last official service of Sanctuary NYC. After two years, they will be reconfiguring into a new reality. Worshipping in a raw space gallery in Harlem. I try to find the words to than them for all they brought. The creativity, the spirit the hope. Inside, I grieve the missed opportunities, the failures to follow through, the what might have beens. And yet, there was much in what was.  And I thank them for all they have given.

And mostly I am thankful for Jane. Who has bee a colleague. And friend. I wish I could go back to the beginning. Where she sought me out. Became part of our community while she tried to figure out what Sacred Center was then sought to birth Sanctuary. Do it over. But you can’t.  The friendship will remain. We will see what else.

We finish with a creative visual art project that symbolizes our interconnectedness. I almost get lost in the center several times, but find my way out. Admiring what we have created.  A young Dominican man is beside me. He keeps asking, What kind of church is this? Is it Christian? What religion is this?

Interconnected

There is no real answer. It is in the being of it that it is known. In its practice. Jane and I, similar roots, we live in similar space. We get each other.

Thankful for what was. What is. Letting go of what might have been. Looking to what might be…

Solstice: Making Music New York

6/21

Early part of the day spent in getting ready for this afternoon and evening. In the midst of preparations, the mumbling man comes in. That needing look again. When I tell him I/we have no money, I wish he could actually believe it. They just assume an open  church keeps a stash of money around. He of course wants to show me the edema  around his badly swollen ankles. No money. No food. No metro cards.We end our conversation, our negotiation? by my giving him enough for one subway ride. (It was Danielle’s turn last time...) He asks for a Bible. And I give that, too. 

Andre arrives. Almost time for our Rush Hour Concert on the Steps to take our part in Make Music New York.  Jeremy arrives with his keyboard and mics. Aaron is here to sing, too. And also Teresita. I’ve learned to accept her for the authentic person she is. Her smile, her spirit, is real. 

Rush Hour Concert
Aaron, Andre, Teresita, Jeremy, Bob

So there we are on the steps. Deacon James sitting there for support.  Singing for those getting off the buses, coming home. Those walking up and down the street. Classic gospel songs. Sanctuary, the signature song we share. My answer will be yes.... Through it all.... This little light of mine..... We’re all taking turns taking the lead. Jeremy gets me to do my Rest awhile...Aaron leads on Any day now. Teresita with What if God were one of us? (...like a stranger on a bus...) I take Pharoah’s army got drownded, with the Arlo Guthrie verse:

Moses was the first to get the notion 

That the world is safer with the army in the ocean.

Pharoah’s army got drownded....

And the Jeremy brings us home with And I bid you goodnight...

I’ve enjoyed the looks on peoples’ faces. The thumbs up signs. The child who is completely taken by Jeremy’s keyboard. The people who stop and stay awhile. people taking iPhone videos. Being in touch with the street. From the steps. Feels good.

And now, just an hour. Before open mic....but, then  I see him. Edward Green.(for Edward's story seehttp://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/search?q=edward%27s+story) On the steps. Got there while we were singing. I walk over, speaking softly. Edward, you know you’re not supposed to be here. He gives me a quizzical look. There have been issues, that make it impossible for you to be here. 

Ah man, what you talkin about, I’m just here to hear the people sing...

Don’t you remember, Edward?

Ah man, I remember everything....

I don’t think so. Two summers in a row, Five days each time. Cleaning his waste from the steps.  

...Just here to hear the people sing...

You can’t stay here, OK?

And I go back inside.

I hear Andre’s voice. Edward’s voice raised. Andre comes in. He says you’re persecuting him...And I tell Andre the back story. Well, you might be having to call 911. He seems adamant....I can’t be dealin with that up in here anymore...

I go back out. Edward is gone. I wonder what I would have to ask in order to re extend welcome. Some awareness, some understanding....

The chapel is all set for open mic. Martin has removed his construction materials. RL has done some redecorating. Marc has the sound system set up. Stephen the bar. A couple comes in, sees we’re not ready. Leaves. It may be a night of mainly musicians.

Before it’s over, Pat and Larry will show. My son Dan. And Damarius brings two friends. Who answer my question with the information that they are from a men’s cell group at a super conservative megachurch that causes name brand confusion.

Cara’s old friend Andy,

Andy

from Queens, opens with some decent songs. Then Jeremy. Who after his opening, moves over to our old piano. The one with the pedals not yet reattached. That has made its way from Andrea’s childhood home in Freeport to our home on 93rd and now to the chapel. It’s well worn. But still has a warm sound. He moves into his neo-Brechtian Let’s waste this year...And then invite me up for my new I’ve reached my limit with you...we just worked out this afternoon.

Then there’s Mandola. And RL in and out. David S has his set of surprisingly good originals. And Pat O’ playing his originals. I do a set of my own with Pat joining me on my ...Well....song. Playing Marc’s electric Fender for a change.  Marc shows his accomplished skills on the guitar. And RL finishes with his Stay awhile...and we all join in....It’s been a good night.

Mandola Joe

Somewhere towards the end, Beppe comes in. Sits down, shares Stella and conversation. Good to have him there.

Time to clean up. And then it begins. Is it the solstice? Anna comes in with puppy to report on her rounds. Next comes the #OWS lost boy to complain ... that woman with the dog is harassing me.... I look at him square in the eye. She’s very protective of this place you know? You know the rules. Follow them , you’ll be OK.

Awhile later, I go outside. The suburban Samaritans of the Midnight Run have arrived. People are gathering around for the sandwiches. A smiling man approaches, Hello there, would you like a cup of coffee? A sandwich? I consider telling him I’m the Pastor. Don’t.  It used to embarrass me when the Midnight Run crew first showed up on my steps during the peek of #OWS.  Now I just accept it.

David

Then I look around and see George is back. I walk over and shake his hand. Hello George, it’s been awhile. He smiles, shakes my hand. The Samaritans approach. They seem to know each other. He is soon lecturing them on the state of the world. 

Beppe takes this all in. Amazed? Amused? Or just accepting. Must be the solstice.

6/22

No one’s around while I’m in to do my service. Or later when I come in to write. Outside, the steps are completely  empty for the first time in a long time. Walking up Amsterdam, I see los Rodriguez and the #OWS lost boy encamped in the semidarkness of Baptist doors. 

Bob

Thanks to Marc Stager for Open Mic photos