Melissa came to visit

9/1

Melissa, Matt and the girls came to visit

Today my longtime friend and colleague Melissa , her husband Matt and two children are in the city for a visit. When I first knew her, she was a student at Louisville Seminary and an intern with our Presbyterian Health Education and Welfare Association. I’ve known her through her student days,  her call to ministry and ordination to a small salt of the earth people church in Cairo, Michigan. And then from her subsequent call to a sizable Presbyterian classic church in city edge Rochester, New York. Where I preached her installation service.

We’ve been together through many Presbyterian Church (USA) General Assemblies seeking to defend the denomination’s traditional pro-choice position on abortion from the annual assaults and efforts to turn it back. As PHEWA’s liaison to the ever changing names and configurations of the (now)Presbyterian Mission Agency Board, I sought to be supportive of her in her role as an official voting board member.

We suffered through the biennial staff blood lettings including the year we lost our PHEWA Executive Director. And I supported her as she fought to achieve something approaching fully inclusive decision making process with sufficient information, engaged debate, etc to honor our polity and tradition. And finally, as she fought to get a fair shake for Stony Point and the shared vision of Rick and Kitty Ufford-Chase.

And we spent many long hours over bourbon barrel beers talking about the church we loved and its future. Pretty much deciding the church we knew was gone. That many congregations would carry on into the future as if nothing had changed, but the historic institution was pretty much in the postlude and something new waiting to be born. Already being born at the grass roots level. She pushed me and pushed me to stay at West-Park and bring it back to life and to be part of that birthing.

And let’s not forget baseball games, Tigers and Bats…

(Oh …and she’s also co-author of a book, The Girlfriends' Clergy Companion: Surviving and Thriving in Ministry Paperback, along with  Marianne J. Grano , Amy Morgan , and  Amanda Adams Riley.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Girlfriends-Clergy-Companion-Surviving/dp/1566994187 )

It’s been five years since she has been here. In looking around, she can see so much that has changed, finally. The restored ceilings and walls, the fresh paint, the brightness of the first floor.  I tell her all about this summer’s Antigona. And I give her girls angelitos painted by Angelo Romano. I have to remember sometimes, yes, a lot has changed.

Don’t give up, she says, it’s happening..

An afternoon conversation

1/23

Kristen Leigh has driven down to the city from her place in the woods an hour outside of Albany. To take care of some business and to continue our conversation. Living in the woods in  winter has made very elemental concerns…is there enough propane ? how much snow can the front porch hold? How will I  survive if my car gets stuck in the snow? Do I have enough food if I get snowed in? ….the highest priorities. And the fact is, that is where most of the world lives its life…struggling to get by for the next day, the next moment..

Her thesis Finding God in the in –between: A Post Modern Approach to Sacred Music and Art in Contemporary Western Culture tackled a lot of subjects, important for me was her critique of the institutional church for viewing music and art as illustrative or didactic exposition of the word when in reality, artistic expression is a word of its own, its own meaning inherent not derivative. The songs sung in  the Saturday night bar or café just as much to God’s glory as a Sunday morning offering. On this we totally agree. In my own dissertation, I had written that in a post 9-11 world, creation itself was an act of defiance and resistance against the forces of non-being, an act of partnership, co-creation with the creator.

In her post-graduate travel to Bali, she had learned that for much of the world , the distinction between sacred and secular doesn't exist. It's just life. the separation is a particularly western enlightenment late development. Likewise, the concept of art as a separate category is itself also a western concept. All to be taken into consideration as we consider art and the holy.

She also critiques so-called art for art’s sake, looking for a connection between beauty and truth as I look for the intersection between beauty and justice.  She is helping me fill out what I had intuited when I saw this intersection as a vital part of an urban theology. Reading her thesis inspired me to go back and reread my dissertation which left me with ambivalence. On the one hand, ten years ago I had clearly seen what was essential coming down the road. And the plan that I had developed had already started to show success…23 new members in one year. But the intervening landmarks struggle, building struggles and resulting conflicts plus an economic collapse had drained our energy. Is there still time?

I had heard her say that church is needed for when the shit hits the fan, but she pushes me further on that.  Not church, but something deeper, God, Jesus , the source. Ultimately, church has to be not about us, but God.

In the meantime, we share our sense of the demise of the church as we have known it.  Yes, there are congregations with enough resources to keep on living the present reality into the future, but in the bug picture, we are already in the postlude.  In her view, church is there wherever there are two or three gathered…and that can even include a work of art, so there will always be church. But my question is what does that mean for small churches like West-Park who have to find the funds to support a creaky behemoth of a building? Is Sunday morning still as possibility for the community I see coming into being?

She’s also faced the reality of churches concerned with safety in downtown settings behind security systems like I encountered when I first came to West-Park. Our front doors, open to the street, move her. And there is the experience of liberal compassion from position of privilege combined with judgment around drug use, etc. What we’re called to, she agrees, is vulnerability.

We talk about roles. What I learned in Occupy. And the current Black Lives Matter movement and the emerging spiritual communities that are forming themselves. We (well at least me, she’s younger) are not going to be the leaders. (Sorry Union Seminary, not you either…) That day is past. We are viewed with suspicion as if we think we know better and are going to tell them what they should do. Which is frankly what a lot of us still want to do. But if we listen closely, stay present, earn trust, we will be given our opportunity to reflect, advise, exegete, share language and structure and strategy. It is a ministry of radical accompaniment.

The late afternoon sun is shining through the windows at the Gate. I’m looking forward to making music with her tonight.

A fan has something to do with it. And Jesus.

8/29/14

RL opens. And closes.

The fire extinguisher inspection guys came today.

Beppe stopped y last night, just back from Sardinia. We talked about his recent experience at a 3 day meditation retreat. About that shared sense of what is beyond us.  I talked about my feeling when my cat Troy climbs up on my chest, looks into my eyes and I can feel him breathing. This sense of sharing something at a deeper level of creation. The gentle steady lapping of the ocean. And the sea gull who walked over and stared at me on the Jersey shore. I’m thinking this is going to make it into a sermon somehow.

Ryan is in. Tonight is opening night for Cymbeline.

Jeremy M in to talk about our Sunday morning project. And rehearse for Sunday. We try Ripple, one of the most intriguing of Grateful Dead songs, lyrics by Robert Hunter. I’m hoping to do it tonight with Esther, Joe and Pat. I love Jeremy’s voice adding harmonies. Then he brings out an original, You’re going home, written for a dying woman. It’s painful. Poignant. And the harmony he has for me is sharp. And clean. Close. And plaintive. After a few tries, it’s there. And I feel something quiver inside.

Joe and I spend an hour or so working on the plan for revitalization of the congregation. I can actually see it working. If we can get people to see it, the step by step, maybe we can get past the history of missed opportunities, move to hope and possibility again.

A crew from BRC (the Bowery Residence, where Chris now lives…) arrives to move Sean. There’s some van problems, can we keep some of his stuff just a little longer? I’m happy just to see he’s got another shot. And that all my bridges have not been completely burned on his behalf. Sometime I feel Sean must have some angels watching over him, despite his losing battle with his body and lingering demons.

Kristen Leigh walks in and I’m happy to see her. I’ve been looking forward to this conversation for some time. I admire her work as an artist. Her bringing the Collection here.  I enjoyed her part of the concert Songs to fill the air a few weeks ago at St. Bart’s featuring the songs of Jerry Garcia. (That’s what pushed me to tackle Ripple…) She shares with me a beautiful note she wrote the creator/producer/director of that event about the power of performing live music. It’s inherent imperfection as part of its beauty. The difference between the pursuit of perfection on a captured moment in time live recording and the you never know what might happen reality of live performance. (Her Songs in the key of redemption concert at West-Park a couple of years ago had to contend with a sudden snow storm.) She concluded with the audience is always right. And that, as my boys say, is word.

I appreciate her as an artist and as a theologian. I’m interested in the community around the Wild Goose festival. (http://wildgoosefestival.org/)(In all honesty, she says,  a little too heavy on middle aged yearning white males…careful there…).How to be more diverse? And how much of the emergent movement is sill captive to the institutional church.

We agree how open mics can be like church. There is welcome. Acceptance. The chance to share. And grow. And become. And that the same could be said of followers of a football team or any other activity we do regularly. So what makes the difference?

It’s what’s there when then shit this the fan, she says. The need to go deeper. And find something, someone there.  I can’t even necessarily define it. But it’s either there or not. And too many mainline churches are like, well, clubs. But I don’t need that. I enjoy open mics more. Unless you’re going deeper, ah, you know?

She shares her own journey. And here’s the main take aways:

1.     You have to make demands. If it means something, it costs something. Not just tithing. Your whole self. Progressive churches can’t be afraid to ask.

2.     Allow for mystery and awe. Don’t need to explain the Bible or apologize. Burning bushes are burning bushes and virgins give birth. The question is not how, but why? What are they trying to tell us?

3.     It’s Jesus makes it radical. Move beyond that spiritual but not religious. It’s not even about belief. But it is about following.

We talk about the conversation we had with Mario and company about performance and the sacred. I wish she could have taken part. I wish she could stick around and play some music tonight. But she’s headed for her new cabin in the woods. His conversation will continue.

                                                            
                                                                * * * *

I’m in a heightened feeling of inspiration when I return from my conversation to be confronted  by RL to deal with the front steps. And there I find Edward Green, like I do every August like clockwork.  The only person permanently banned from the steps.

He’s curled up in a fetal position. Head on a clear garbage bag filled with cans and maybe a clean shirt or two. Looking gaunt. With an unruly beard and Afro wild. Edward, I say..

My God, you know my name…

We have history. You know you can’t be here.

Please just let me get some rest…please…

Edward…

He begins to gasp. Writhe. You want me to die? You want me to die?

Do I need to call 911?

Please.  PLEAASE….

So I do. And have to explain over and over why this is an emergency. They’re trying to talk me out of it. Look, I know him, OK? This is serious.

Soon enough they arrive. The EMT guy looks tired. Exasperated. Hey, I just took you to the hospital two nights ago. What’s up? He says to Edward.

Edward is crying. Tears streaming down his face. Gasping. Finally they pull out the stretcher. Get him up on it. Push him into the ambulance. My bag…he cries…my bag…the EMT guy picks up Edward’s Afro pick. Sticks it in his hair. We’ll take care of the bag, he says.

While the EMT guys are wrapping up, I go to the guy on the north steps. He’s lifted up his eye shade. A police squad car has arrived as well. He’s checking everything out. This might  a good time to leave, I say. He nods. Puts his shoes on, gathers up his bed things and takes off up the street.

I’m shaking as I go to dispose of Edward’s things. I’d wear gloves if I were you, says RL. Of course. There’s an empty St. Ides 40 in the corner. RL starts to talk to me about why brighter lights and a no loitering sign will take care of this. And I don’t really want to hear it right now. He’s in a self-admitted Jack Frost role right now. Of course he’s right, but…

Pat and Joe are arriving, ready to rehearse…

Edward challenges my whole theological system.  Somehow I can exegete Eric Garner. Ferguson. Gaza. Foley. But Edward? He’s been to rehab a dozen times. Given his life to Jesus Christ twice that. And he’s always back here dying a slow death without even the charm of Sean to draw angels near to him.  What do we say here, Kristen? What do we do?  What kind of music is this? It is. That’s all. Just is.

    

Joe, Pat, Bob

Time to go practice with Joe and Pat O. Ripple. Joe’s mandolin….If I knew the way, I would take you home…

                                                           ****

A quiet night at Open Mic. Like family, says Rabbi Steve.

Steve Blane

Dion

+ Dion, fresh back from vacation. Ready to get back in the flow.

+ Warms my heart to see rabbi Steve back again an don the Beckstein instead of the honky tonk piano in the chapel..

+ Kieran’s here with some fans

Kieran

Gigi

+ An old peace activist from the outer boros, Gigi brings her poems of protest

+ RL tells her some of our history. Love to hear him tell it. And then in an atypical RL moment, questions why conservatives tell us that gun laws won’t stop gun violence but somehow abortion laws will. (Stop abortions that is, not gun  violence.)

+Joel is especially on tonight, inviting Steve to improvise with him. We could be in  the village 40-50 years ago. I could see the two of them together on the Steve Allen Show.

Joel, with Steve

Pat O

+ Pat O and Mandola each do solid sets. Scottish independence upcoming vote a theme.

Mandola Joe

+ And then after my ..Queen…song, they join me for Rider and Ripple, which I say is right there with So Lonesome…as a near perfect song…Playing with people is healing. Though I do miss the singing harmoinies…

+ Miryam has arrived late. Does a set, she says,  of one traditional, one original, one cover…Pat O singing along quietly to the McGarrigle’s Heart Like a Wheel…

+ And then it’s time for RL one more time and Stay Awhile…

….a very long day….

Forming new spiritual communities: the church that could be

3/1

Martin is working intensely on Antigone. Yesterday, he was excited for me to have a look in the studio.  One dancer, very,very tall..eight, nine feet? in height,  was standing at one end of the studio. A long flowing back dress stretched all the way the length  of the studio. All of the sudden,there is a stirring at the base of the dancer. Under the long stretch of dress, a figure is moving  forward. Strange and eerie. And then Marina’s head pops out. Slowly she frees herself and proceeds to move through an anguished dance.

Strong effect, right? Martin asks.

Great, I say, mesmerizing. And it is. I’m blown away and not sure what to say.

I look in today and now there’s a guy standing there. And the body is not Marina.

I go in to my meeting. Ask Jeremy and Katherine, did you look into the studio? Both nod yes. Both have eyes very wide, very wide indeed, like they can’t believe what they have just seen.

Katherine and Jeremy are soon joined by Felicita and a young woman from Greece by way of Toronto to who has just arrived and hosted the work center. Katherine and Felicita have been in email exchange.  It’s an important conversation. First and simplest, Katherine’s issues around the simple clarity of their performances. How hard the words are to understand.  If I hadn’t told her that it ws Ginsburg poetry she’d have  never known.

More important is the issue of context. Their work clearly has spiritual content but what is the context? Any performance seeking to create a spiritual experience must come from some place unless we’ve happened into a post-modern derridaist construct. What is the spiritual place they understand themselves to be coming from? Where do they seek to take us? As Katherine puts it, what kind of experience are they trying to decant?

Felicita agrees that they are good questions. Doesn’t necessarily have answers. They need to reflect on these things.  Any performance that seeks to create a spiritual experience is essentially a liturgy. That liturgy has theological content and ultimately a theologic, that is an intentional progress from one point  to  another with a conscious intention behind it. What Katherine refers to as a scaffolding. What our former music director, accordionist extraordinaire Bill Schimmel (Dr.William) referred to as the architecture of the liturgy. To this analysis the young woman from Greece adds the category of dramaturgy, that is the inner dramatic logic and structure of any particular theatrical performance. All agree that this us an important conversation. When  asked why it hasn’t been doe before, Felicita says that she hasn’t wanted to distance herself from the experience by dissection, even vivisection, of the work.  Which leads to a discussion of the process of action (or experience), reflection and revision leading to new action. An ongoing cycle.

I have  a different but connected concern. Much of  Mario’s work connects with existing spiritual communities. According to Felicita, Mario is looking for particular competencies.It is essentially  a dialogic process, two communities sharing their gifts and understanding together.

I am concerned for that growing circle of people who call themselves spiritual but not religious. And that when they come to open choir, say,they’re coming in a search for community. That community in formation must not only look inward but outward, transformation of the self and the world around us. That the music they are using from the American south, whether plantation work song or spiritual or Appalchian white mountain music is music of communities of struggle and that apart from engagement in the world the music becomes abstract aesthetic.

We want to talk about who comes to the open choir, and why. What are they looking for. And can we provide the space and support for building an ongoing community and how does that connect with the existing church here. We have open space and time now to do that. My experience tells me that this is the direction that the future of church lies, the creation and formation of new spiritual communities of shared experience, mutual accountability and commitment to building a more just, humane and sustainable world. That is what young people see in Bread &Puppet, Dzieci, Work Center. That’s where we need to go.

Katherine stays as our meeting breaks up. Almost screams as little mice scramble across the floor. (Yesterday in my office, Felcitia kept looking towards the closet. Is there an animal? She asked. I smiled and said yes.  The exterminators are coming next week.

Leaving, late, it’s freezing. Outside the door, there’s Rachel. I tell her you can’t come in, no one’s there. She holds out her gnarled hands, my hands are freezing, she says. I hesitate a minute, I’m sorry you can’t be here. No one is here. I can’t stay here. You’ve got to go somewhere….

                                                             ****

моїм друзям на Україну, прийняти серцем