Bridge to fusion: visions of liturgical tango dance...

Andre sings with Joe

6/17

Newark Airport, waiting for my son to arrive from Hawaii. Frantic call from Amanda. A firetruck has arrived at the church, lights  flashing, sirens roaring. What’s up? Steven and Woodshed are holding auditions. Completely taken by surprise.  No one is supposed to be in this building the fire guys say. Say what? Great confusion. Did someone  call and complain? Is this, like random?  I explain that last December, before the clean up day, I’d spoken to the local firehouse and was told that because we left voluntarily, there was no inspection necessary. 

I finally reach my son. He’s still in Hawaii. I drive to the church as fast as I can. Danielle is sitting on the steps. She has handled the fire department professionally, all is well, for now.  

Musicians from Joe Powers’ group are arriving for a sound check.  Concert time fast approaching. 

The Prophet is sitting on the steps. African? Ethiopian? Caribban? He’s got his open 40 of Ballantyne in his hand. Walking stick beside him. I walk over. Sir, you’re weclome to be here, but you can’t have that open bottle here on the steps.  He holds the bottle out to me, I go to take it from him and he won’t let go. He begins muttering anxiously, I lean in close. Takemegodtakemegodtakemegod... then hearmelordhearmelordhearmelord....then amenamenameanamen...holding tight to his 40. I decide to let it be.  Work to be done. 

Marty is hangign out in front of Dunkin Donuts. Wants to know if litigation will pay for our renovation. No time for extended concersation. 

The doors open. Audience slow in coming. It’s going to be another small night, it looks like.  The night opens with Bernardo Palumbo of El Taller talking about our realtonship, our year of concerts back in 2006. When  I look at the house, I remember how disappointing it was to have done such amazing concerts for so few people.

 Then Octavio Brunetti and Machiko Ozawa of the Urban Tango Trio begins. Little did we know that Octavio is currently the most respected tango pianist in the US. Bernardo is impressed that  we’ve brought him in, thanks to Rochone’s reasearch and negotiations, and Joe Powers is anxious (to say the least) to play with Octavio.

Octavio and Machiko ease into tango, the pefect metaphor for the evening, Bridge to Fusion, wiith its mix of euro and latin, drama and sensuality, classicism and dark cabaret edge. His fingers genty dance across the keys, Machiko’s violin wrapping itself around the music from the piano. The set dances from Buenos Aires to Paris and back.

Jor Powers brings a kind of Harry Connick, Jr. with a harmonica vibe. He’s a showman, working every minute, playing the crowd as well as his harmonica. His sound takes me back to the work Bill Schimmel, founder of the Tango Project, brought to West-Park in his years here. Did any other church have tango in its worship? Some people were absolutely not ready for that. That’s not what I want to feel in church, one of our singers said. That feeling, there, is for someplace else...

Joe does some pieces with Octavio. Then brings Andre up to sing Georgia on my mind...

We all go upstairs. Intrigued by the Japanese tangeras. One is explaining how we could transform McAlpin Hall into a home for molonga, the tango dance parry. Just need to sand the floor and finish it smooth. The semi-ruined feel has the decadent feel of Berlin.  Perfect. 

Tangeros and tangeras drinking wine, laughing, talking. Octavio and Machiko mugging, posing, all around the room. Then they put on a cd and start to dance, all drama and sensuality. Her leg wrapping around him, just as her violin playing did. 

So we learned that we can produce world class events for intimate grouos of people. (Been there before.) Tonight is good, but not enoug 

I walk up the street, visions of  liturgical tango dance in my head....

Bridge to Possibilities: a two ticket day

Aaron, Bob, Amanda, Sonora, Brianna, Simone

Amanda and Bob

6/16

The dumpster has arrived last minute courtesy of Friends of West Park.  Luis is directing our crew of volunteers on the physical end of things with Danielle managing the overall strategy.  The job is to remove all the trash and  garbage that has been stored in the Session room. We have moved everything out of McAlpin so that it can be used for our concert receptions, now we need to empty the  room to make  a Green Room.

Luis, Lily, Alma, Uncle Pete, Diana are all here, soon joined by Steven. And my son Daniel joins in as well.  Samantha managing the office while she works on her project from the Fashion Insititue. The work moves steadily and smoothly and in two hours its done.

Marc has arrived to help develop a strategy for marketing and branding, a word that troubles some church folks. Yet we have to find a way to differentiate oursleves from others. I’ve brought Marc my dissertation. Tell him to take good care of it.  He’s got a lot of questios to ask me. There are ongoing interruptions, that’s the way it is here. He listens intently and creatively and I’m excited to hear his first thoughts. How the church might actually grow.

(Met Marc over a seder at Katherine’s one time. A year ago, at a South African restaurant in Brooklyn, I mentioned Oklahoma, that led to Tulsa and within a few more questions, when I mentioned the Oklahoma Eagle, Tulsa’s African American newspaper, how I wrote for it  all the years I was in Tulsa, how I did arts and cultural reviews under a nom de plume. How the Editor was my friend. He said omygod, and told me his uncles owned the paper. I knew them well, the Goodwin brothers. But that’s another story.)

Dave is giving one more look at the lighting. Aaron, Amanda’s guitar player, will also be handling the sound. We take my van to go down to SPSA and borrow a set of sound equipment from the Sacred Center. This is after trying to remember where I parked it and discovering  a ticket. My first of the day. I use my cellphone to snap a picture of the pole with a missing sign.  At SPSA, there is a controversy over what exactly we can have. I tell Joe who watches the door at SPSA and his friend to watch my car, alert me if the police come. They agree. I go in to help Aaron. A mixer is at issue. There doesn’t seem to be any give here. So we take all the speakers, stands, etc. and go back to load my car. And there’s another ticket. I look up at Joe. He shrugs. We told them not to do it, but they did it anyways, he says. Next time I’ll give you my keys, I say. A two ticket day.

We unload the equipment, Aaron tells Amanda about the mixer. Before I can get my car parked, she’s called me and told me to head back ot SPSA to pick up the mixer. Aaron’s there, we load it up, circle back to the church and unload. Artists are already arriving for sound check. It’s almost too busy to worry right now.  Danielle is finishing the programs. 

I race home to shower, dress. On the way back to the church, I stop at the GAP to buy new jeans. Wear them out of the store.  Old jeans in the bag. Volunteers are arriving to staff the door, manage the raffle, tend the bar.  The artists are hanging out in the green room.

My friend Rick Ufford-Chase has arrived from Stony Point  and imedaitely jumps in helping me carry bags of ice upstairs and other prep work. We sit to talk about how the night will go and then its almost time. The Bridge to Possibilities is about to begin. A night of music by women singer song writers.

The lights go down.There’s what Rick calls an honest fifty in the audience. Rachel has come with her daughter.  I talk about the chuch, the Centre, the vision. Introduce Rick, who talks about Stony Point, the community that’s emerging there. The intentional communities, Muslim, Chrisitan, Jewish. The new arts intitiative, how we might work together. Artists movigj back and forth between Stony Point and West-Park.

And then the music begins. Simone Brown, who calls herself Infinity, begins with her song/poem about self-empowerment. Then Susannah Conn, who’s a public school teacher sings from her experiences. And Sonora Dolce, from La Guardia’s New Music Ensemble sings her French cabaret style song, M’Etranger, accompanied by Eli Greenhoe whose Snowbound continues to haunt me long after I heard it weeks ago. And two saxes. And then Amanda, accompanied by Aaron on guitar does a set with both her piano and guitar and it’s intermission time. 

In Mc Alpin, the walls covered by Berik and Leila's paintings, Luis is tending bar and people are gathering, talking. 

The second half starts with Brianna Buttermark, also from La Guardia, singing two ofher songs with ukelele. There’s a cute on the surface, but right underneath, there’s something else.  Intelligence, craft.  The Kristen Leigh from Union Seminary accompanied by violin and bass  does a set of her songs exploring edges of spirituality and passion. And then Amanda brings Andre out and he sits at the piano and sings Here’s to Life, in his deep rich baritone. The song he sang the Sunday after 9-11. And at the end of the performance piece we created with Bill Schimmel in Tucson.  

Musically, it’s been what I wanted. Different ages. Different voices. Journeys. Collaboration.  Amanda brought Susannah, Rochone added Simone, I brought Sonora and Brianna and Danielle added Kristen. And now we’re all upstairs, there’s wine and talk and laughter. 

As the crowd thins, Aaron comes over. Down in the sanctuary, he’s discovered his mother and father, divorced 15 years, playing guitar, singing songs together. The songs they used to sing. Seventies songs, James Taylor, Simon and Garfunkle, Carol King. 

We quietly gather in a circle. Amanda takes the guitar, sings. Then hands it to me. Now you have to sing, she says, you all don’t know that Bob’s a closet singer, do you? He writes good songs. This kind of Bob Dylan lots of words thing going. And she looks at me. 

I look around, church members, Danielle, others. The guitar strings are smooth and easy to play. I close my eyes, sing an old love song. She says, play the one about Arizona. I shake my head, New Mexico, I say. Then my song about my first visit there, finding the dead end of the commune my friends from college had created. And left. I look up. Hand the guitar back to Amanda. There’s a feeling of warmth. A feeling of things being the way they’re supposed to be. And these good spirits joining what has gone before, becoming part of this place. It feels good.

Free the chickens

6/15

After a run around the reservoir, we stop at Joe’s then I open the church for Amanda to do an early morning rehearsal. 

After my neighborhood lectionary group and a stop to review finances with Nan (we’re still ok, barely..the tight rope act continues...) I’m back and it’s all of us working to make final connections around the concert. 

In the middle of all this, a guy walks in, with unruly hair, glasses and intense eyes. I’m still open to the possibility that he could be ok. Introduces himself as Moose, but that’s just a nickname, my real name is El Ad.  He tells us it’s not about money. And that he has a story to to tell about how he got here. Which makes me think it will be about money.

Tells us he was in Brooklyn and walked by a shop filled with chickens. They will all be slaughtered, they will all die. It is his mission to buy those chickens freedom. What will he do with them? Set them free, maybe Central Park.  Amanda, who actually knows something about chickens, having three of her own in Portland, suggests that might not be such a good idea. But couldn’t a church like this make a contribution?  

The church is broke, Amanda says. He looks at me imploringly, the church is broke, I say. 

Couldn’t you even spare $10,000? He asks. That’s a lot of money for chickens I say. But at what price  freedom?, he says, no cost is too great. He finally understands that we will not be contributing to the chicken liberation fund. 

(The chicken story will come up later in the day while we are visiting Rachel. Turns out she grew up on a farm. Amanda and she talk about chickens, goats...)

We are all experiencing anxiety.  Dave is hard at work on the lights, Piano Dan tuning away.  

Just like Christmas, or awaiting the birth of a child, there comes a point in any project where you just have to let go and allow it to happen, where there is nothing more you can do and what will be is going to happen. When you just let it be. We’re nearing that point.

The day at the church ends at 10PM, unloading three cases of wine, courtesy of RL.

Why we are here

6/14

Day starts at Joe’s again.  Then to the church. Danielle and Rochone shortly thereafter.  As we approach lunch hour, Amanda and I go to Barney Greengrass to drop off tickets, promote the concerts.  Amanda has visited every door man in a four block quadrant. They nod as we walk by.  Doing everythig we can to make these concerts succeed.

Steve Siegelbaum from Dos Pueblos drops in to check out the space. It looks like it would really work for their fall benefit concert with John McCutcheon.  I remind him that he was principal when my son Nate went to computer school.

RL and Dave are upstairs, examining the lights. Seems like the dimmer box might actually work after all.  RL and Dave try to explain in great detail what’s going on with the lights.  And I still don’t understand.  

RL autographs and gives me a copy of his cd along with a Dusty Withers Fan Club button. (His own mythical 1950‘s cowboy creation.)   Raised  on an Indian reservation, he had seven years trianing as a shaman.  And that stays with him.  He’s got more ideas for the lights. He and Dave have figured out that the dimmer box may not be dead afterall. 

A call from the church pulls me from a Presbytery Council meeting. Andre has not shown up for his rehearsal.  When I arrive, he’s still not there. So we call. He’s lost his wallet, has no Metro Card. So Erasmia jumps in her car and drives up to Harlem to pick him up. They come back, she starts to warm up on the piano, he limbering up his voice.  

He begins to sing An Die Musique, by Schubery.  As he moves into the song, he leaves Erasmia’s side at the piano and moves to the center of the sanctuary.  His voice is deep and rich, filled with feeling. There is this moment: As Andre is finishing the song, Erasmia is looking not at the music but him. As the song ends, she says, you’ve still got it, gets up from the piano and hugs him. Andre turn to us and says, How was that? Danielle, Amanda and I are sitting there with tears streaming. This is the moment when you remember why you are doing this. Why we are here.  When you think, At this moment, this is my life. And it is good...

On the way up the street, Danielle says that this is the first time she has been truly happy leaving work. 

                                      *  *  *

Years ago, Erasmia created the West-Park Chamber Society.  They started their rconcerts in Mc Alpin Hall and soon grew to need the sanctuary as performing space. Erasmia used the classics in strong thematic ways and pushed the boundaries of the genre. Her performances were an amazing mix of

 intelligence and passion. She was once the featured pianist along with the Society at Steinway.  She introduced me to Greg Beyer, the percussionist who collaborated with me on so many performance interpretations of scripture and special liturgical events.  She left her Chamber Society to become a mother and bramch out into other artistic pursuits including work woth children and young people, especially her creation My Music Garden.  

Here is the letter she wrote today:

My friend Andre Solomon-Glover is a charismatic, gifted baritone.

Some of you will remember Andre as the strikingly handsome, dynamic lead in Hal Prince's Broadway revival of Showboat.  Others may remember his exciting international career - singing with Leipzig Gewandhaus and Philadelphia Orchestras, or making solo appearances at Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall.  When I was director of West-Park Chamber Society, I had the incredible honor of performing with him Brahms' Serious Songs and Kurt Weill's German Requiem.

Younger friends may not know him or remember him.  I'm not surprised.  Eight years ago, his career was cut short by a devastating brain injury - at age 42, he suffered a massive stroke, which affected his short-term memory. 

His goals are different now.  Andre no longer lives off his singing - he lives in order to sing.

Andre is in trouble and he needs our help.  He is about to lose his home.  The Interfaith Assembly on Housing and Homelessness is hosting a recital to raise the $6,500 Andre needs in order to stay in his home.

This Sunday, June 19, at 7 pm, the final concert of "The Bridge to Restoration" series will take place at West-Park Presbyterian Church, corner of 86th Street and Amsterdam Avenue, New York.  The concert will feature Andre and some of his musical friends, including myself, violinist Ashley Horne, percussionist Gregory Beyer, pianist Jed Distler, and soprano Dana Hanchard. 

Bridges will be a big theme on Sunday - the symbolic bridge between Andre and his friends - old friends and new ones; the metaphoric and slippery bridges between prosperity and affliction; the nostalgic bridge between the past and the future; and the inspiring bridge that carries opportunities for sharing - for Andre to share his still vibrant musical gifts, and for us to share our appreciation and our monetary gifts.

Last night, as Andre and I rehearsed Schubert's poetic lied An Die Musik, I was amazed by the power, the musicianship, the communication.  Wasn't he struggling to stand just a moment ago?  And yet, his voice contains such force, such nuanced expression, and such deep, dark beauty - he was once again the Andre I remember, 42 years old, intense, alive and full of passion.

But I should not be surprised by this - one of the most profound and startling moments of my life is the image I retain of Andre in a hospital bed, in a coma.  I had put on some tapes of the Brahms songs we had performed together.  I was waiting, wondering if he would take any of it in, watching his body struggle to stay alive.  After a few moments, Andre's body revolted.  With eyes closed, still in his unconscious state, he suddenly took a deep breath, and his voice resounded fully during the last phrase leading to the climax of the last song.  For those few seconds, he was not in a hospital bed, he was on stage at Carnegie.  I was stunned.  And scared, too, of the power of the mind.

Yet last night, I felt humbled by Andre's sense of gratitude and joy.  I was moved to tears by the honesty and authenticity of his singing.  And I was in awe of his wisdom, his insights, his observations, and his generosity.  He shared a comment that struck me - "How liberating to sing without feeling like you need to impress anyone!"  He may not remember where he put his metrocard, he may not be able to learn new opera roles, he may speak or move a little slowly, but no illness will conceal his musical essence – Andre's beauty and genius are hard-wired and will touch you deeply.

Please help my friend Andre.  Please come to West-Park this Sunday - experience Andre, connect or reconnect with him.  Even if you don't know him, please consider making a donation.  You may donate by clicking here:  http://andresstory.chipin.com/andre-solomon-glover   Or you may send a check, with Andre's name on the memo line, to West-Park Presbyterian Church, 165 West 86th Street, New York, NY.

I'm not in the habit of making these sorts of requests and I understand this may feel like an imposition to some of you - no matter how worthy Andre may be.  But I can't help but think that none of us is immune to tragic life-altering circumstances, and I can only hope that I will never need to make this sort of request again on anyone's behalf.  Regardless, the help from strangers will be at least as meaningful as the help from friends.

See you on Sunday!

Erasmia

Open house, all day long

6/13

Day starts with coffee at Starbucks,because of  Wi-Fi.  Then we go to the office to meet Danielle.  Not too much later Rochone arrives and we’re hard at work trying to figure out a strategy to move these tickets. When Mim arrives, Rochone and Amanda switch to concert production while Danielle and I try and catch Mim up to date on what’s going on, the upcoming meeting with the AC and what they need, the information that Kate from Landmarks West! wants and the incredible frustration of trying to get a meeting set up with a major funder. How frustrating when promises are made. And not kept. 

Amanda has decided that the way to push the tickets is through the neighboring restaurants and doormen.  Danielle and I go out and realize that Barney Greengrass is closed. The manager at Popover’s is receptive. We offer tickets for the servers. And the cashier says, I’m not a server but I want two tickets to the jazz concert. 

On a whim, we go to visit Schaatzie the Butcher, soon to be star of his own reality TV show.  He thought the church was abandoned. Glad something is going on at the church.  Says, listen, points a remote controller , and then his recorded voice pours out into the shop. Sinatra style with a deep, rich, mellow bottom.  Like a fine aged bourbon.  That’s me, he says. Wants to know how many seats the church can hold. WhenI answer, he says, I could fill that.  He promises that if he’s in town, he’ll be there. And he takes tickets for his son Richard as well. 

Back at the church, Piano Dan is working in the piano, Dave working on sound and Theo is working on a banner for the scaffolding. 

Steve Goodman from the Educational Video Center comes to meet with Ted and Mim and I.  Amanda’s singing with Piano Dan, so we go to Mc Alpin where Three Graces has just brought their Shaker benches back as a donation. Nice reminder of their presence.  As it is in Heaven has just closed.  

The whole discussion with Steve has a certain  chicken and egg quality. We know we’re fixing the boiler, probably the elevator. But he needs to tell us what he would like, need in the space. We know that his video project is right in line with our broader vision, with the kind of partners we want to have. He needs to come back with an architect. 

Danielle has been outside talking with Arlene about pigeons.  And a dumpster.  

I leave for an appointment and when I get back we’re scrambling around to get ready for the open house. Two women pop in early, offer to help, then leave and come back. The one was a former volunteer in the pece program at the church. She is proud of having stopped the developers who wanted to tear down the church.  I think about trying to explain to her what the plan really was, then give up and decide to stick with the future. She’s a classic example of  older people with progressive credentials who rallied against the church and for landmarking.  They never saw the whole mission aspect, the economic realities. 

Two men arrive and my neighbor, Stewart. I take them all on a tour.  Later I take a young architect and his family on tour. I’m excited when he completely  gets the complexity of issues involved. Came with them in mind. He’d love to come back and take the deeper tour. 

My last tour is with Katherine and her former student Mark. He and a friend  are establishing a new business dealing with marketing and branding. He loves the church and its spaces. Is bubbling over with ideas as we sit in the old Papp theatre. He will come back.

One last neighbor comes in, just as we are about to close. Just to look around. It's been a truly open house, all day long house. 

Pentecost: Centennial

Bob and Mark

Bob and the visitors from Ohio

6/12

Pentecost. Coffee with Amanda at Joe’s then to the church where Danielle is waiting and Hope arrives soon. Much to be done before guests arrive. But when I check outside, the steps have already been swept. 

Chairs to move. Garbage bags to move. Final cleaning of my office, now looking good. And checking out how we made everything Pentecost red for the day. Andre is at the piano warming up. Mark Koenig of the UN office asks what he can do. Move some chairs, I say, and he does. 

Soon Amy arrives. And James, telling me he was up for doing some work this morning so he tackled the steps. That’s why they looked so good. Then Mark’s visiting church group from Ohio. Almost time for church. I begin in my black robe with the red doctor’s stripes. And a tie.

Talk to the children about Pentecost. The Jewish roots. The 7 X 7+1. Super good luck plus. Jubilee.  Moses receiving the ten commandments and that’s why people in Jerusalem. That’s in people’s minds when they first heard this story. 

Pentecost. It’s known as the birthday of THE CHURCH. How it moved from a small fellowship support group of Jews in Jerusalem to a multinational, multiethnic, multilingual global triumphant CHURCH. That’s what Pentecost was.  But for us, it is the birthday of this church. On June 11,1911; West Church and Park Church came together to form West-Park Church.

1911. We were part way through the Taft Administration. William Jay Gaynor was mayor of NewYork City. The only mayor of the city to survive an assassination attempt. Lived the last years of his administration with three bullets in his neck.  Fought for the subway to be built. Died soon after. The Presbyterian Labor Temple was a year old. Will Durant running the school. Presbytery accusations against the Temple’s Leadership of Bolshevik leanings. (Not sure where our pastor stood on that one.) The Triangle Shirt Waist fire and tragedy had just happened. Hundreds of immigrant women workers incinerated behind locked doors. The Mexican revolution had just begun and was making people along the border nervous. The US backed a coup to overthrow a popular President in Central America. (Sigh.)The first Indianapolis 500 had just taken place. Ronald Reagan born, but also Tennesee Williams. And Jean Harlow, the actress. Revolution in China. In March was the first international women’s day march.  Musical hits of the day included  Oh you beautiful doll, and Alexander’s Ragtime Band. Meanwhile, WC Handy is writing the Memphis Blues and calling it, for the first time,  jazz.  Max Sennett started his studio. And signed Charlie Chaplin. And at 86th and Amsterdam, a church was born. One former church had money and few people and the other lots of members and was almost out of money. A shared commitment to compassion, if not justice. 

How many came? I don’t know. Maybe some day, looking through boxes, we’ll find  report of that day.

You can look around the church an see the history: the rainbow flag that has hung here for 33 years, the balconies where the 1982 march against nuclear proliferation was planned by SANE and FREEZE. The plaque renaming and rededicating thre Tiffany Window as the Steven Window, in honor of Steven Festa. The theatre designed by Joe Papp where right before the Iraq war a group of formerly homeless and formerly incarcerated people put on a production of Lysistrata as part of the Lysistrata Project, international theatre against the war. Trying vainly to stop it in its tracks. 

As I preach, I explain how my 1911 predecessors wore black preaching robes like mine, with their doctor’s stripes and  ties. I change into m white alb and my red stole from Guatemala, as Presbyterians rediscovered liturgy, color, the senses. Then, with a nod to  my friend Bruce Reyes Chow, the first tieless moderator,remove my alb, my stole.Two years later, Bruce’s style had become the new norm. In a nod to the most recent trend, I tell them I’d change into jeans if I could.  

That is who we have been. Who we will be is rooted in that legacy and finds expression in our vision of a center for spiritual and social transformation. The scriptures give us some direction for how the message of the Pentecost story helps get us there...

First, in Numbers we read of Eldad and Medad. Found to be prophesying in the camp. Joshua objects. And Moses finally says, Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets and that the lord would put his spirit on them. No leader, can, or should, stand alone. We need people to find their own prophetic role, take on their own responsibility. In the book about Johnny Ray Youngblood’s East Brooklyn Church, Upon this Rock, we read how he started the Eldad and Medad Society to help African-American men to find their own prophetic role. A role that ultimately takes some of the burden away from the leader.

A similar thought is found in the Corinthians passage. .... Many gifts, the same spirit... We each have our own gift, it is important for us to honor, to offer, our own and not seek to be anyone else’s. 

We recently were the home of the play As It is in Heaven, by the Three Graces Company. It’s set in a Kentucky Shaker community of the 19th Century. (They were the first religious group to use the phrase Mother/Father God.  Full equality of men and women, full acceptance of all races...) Their original ecstatic expression had been tamed and ritualized. New members are finding it again. Older leadership is unsure. Is it of the devil? Angels? The special qualities of each are known as gifts....’tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free, tis a gift to come down where we ought to be... Can we shake out of our ritualized, calcified expressions? Rediscover the spirit within us? Rediscover our gifts?

Amanda must sing her song, not someone else’s. If it’s another’s song, make it her own.  When Andre chants the psalm, it is his song. It’s our call to help each person to find their own song and add it to the chorus...when brothers and sisters live together in harmony...

That Pentecostal miracle was one that took the church from a small committed band to  global empire, one that is crumbling,still  somewhere between death and being reborn. All you have to do is go to a presbytery meeting, a synod meeting, a General Assembly Council meeting to see the signs of death. What was is passing. We have the opportunity to be part of, helping to birth, what will be. It will take the power of the Holy Spirit, of Pentecost to get there. 

The miracle of Pentecost was of hearing, not so much of speaking. Everyone who heard, heard in their own tongue. And not just languages like French,English, Urdu...The language of rich and poor, of deaf and hearing, of wheelchairs, service animals, canes, sign, immigrants with and without papers, those hurt by the church, those of different faiths and no faith...everyone hears and says they’re speaking my language, they’re singing my song...we must learn to be multilingual in every way...

Some people call it the Risen Christ, the Holy Spirit, the inner voice, the inner light...it doesn’t matter...it comes from the same place...  

We’re called on to uncover that, to get in touch with that, to claim and celebrate that power...that is how we will become what we are to be...

We take up the offering. Sing the Doxology. Then, adapted from the 1929 Celebration of the 100th birthday of West  Church and 75th of Park, we pray this litany of reconsecration:

Act of Reconsecration

In 1929, celebrating the 100th Anniversary of West Church and the 75th Anniversary of Park Church, the service included an "Act of Reconsecration."   On this,our 100th Anniversary, we claim that at as our own. This litany has been adapted from the original by Pastor Robert Brashear

One:  To Jesus Christ, our brother, our companion, our savior

All: We reconsecrate our lives

One:  To the sustaining of the life, worship and purpose of the church, seeking together to be the Risen One, living for the Beloved Community

All: We reconsecrate our lives.

One:  To a faithful and earnest effort to understand and exemplify the principles of Jesus, especially the principle of love, in all our actions, conversations and relationships

All: We reconsecrate our lives

One: To the building of a more just, humane and sustainable world

All: We reconsecrate our lives.

One: To a steadfast and generous support of the life and mission of the church through time, talents and treasure, 

All: We reconsecrate our lives.

One: To the mission and witness of  the church, at this time, at this corner of creation where God has called us to be

All: We reconsecrate our lives.

We sing together Canto de Esperanza, then receive the benediction. Then we form our circe of blessing  and do a call and response Every time I feel the Spirit, with Andre. And the worship service is over.

We share a beautiful cake made by Lily. I meet the friends from Ohio, one of whom has read my blog. Share my stories from Wooster, where I went to college. Where they’re celebrating my 40th (!) year graduation this weekend.

Throughout the afternoon, we greet visitors, neighbors. There’s Louis, who’s been an intern for our city council member. He completely understands  the social  issues involved in forced landmarking. The power of the state imposing its will, the impact on poor and working class families. The rhetorical invective against developers, with a crypto liberal voice to it, masking the displacement of those without money. Few people really understand the complexity  of this issue.  No clean liberal vs. conservative lines. 

Amanda and I head to the street festival over on Broadway. Stop first at council member Brewer’s booth. Why hasn’t she sent out an e-mail about our concerts? She promises t do it that night. A year ago she won the landmarks vote by convincing her colleagues she could raise all the necessary money.  Even 20 million. We’re still waiting. Still waiting.  Who really cares? Landmarking West-Park did not save West-Park. But no one has figured that out yet.

We go to where Matt Turk is performing. Matt takes our flyer and gives the concerts  a good shout out.  After his set is over, we talk about the difference  between self-promotion and community building. And he invites Amanda to go with hi to a meeting of independent artists.

Back at the church, there’s Mig and a friend. Mig remembers working upstairs helping people fill out  forms for housing She led the campaign to turn the SRO Capital Hall around the corner into supportive housing. She’s interested in our future. It’s been a long day. 100 years to remember, to honor.