Just haven't found it yet

7/19

The new piano

I carefully remove Edward’s cardboard bed from the north door. Then the recyclable shopping bag with random items and newspapers.

Eleanor is first today. Buy iced coffee at Barney’s and head to the backyard. I bring her up to date. She’s struggling with vocational issues. Domesticity vs. calling. We talk about Katherine's idea about a forgiveness series. The ongoing idea of the King James Version marathon. Neither of these is exciting her. We talk of her Jewish study group of Americans and Israelis who just finished a season with the New Testament. Her interfaith women’s group, and finding their way into prayer. Her joy in the litutrgical work she’s done as chaplain at the Jewish home where most residents aren’t and most workers are black and latino pentecostals. I share my joy in weddings and funerals. There’s something she is supposed to do here, we just haven’t found it yet. 

An independent location scout working  for Bert and Ernie Productions (I like that) comes by looking for holding area space. I give her the grand tour and she’s blown away by the space. Woodshed's presence will probably make this not work. But I want to establish a relationship, keep us on the radar. 

Sarah stops is on her way to talk with Stephen, one more look at the PR blurb to go with Stephen. 

Deacon James stops by again. In a few weeks he’s headed to Tennesee where they’ll essentially remove his blood, clean it and put it back in. It’s necessary. But not without anxiety. 

Out on the steps, there's Tony and a (now) aging yuppie, just talking, shooting the breeze.  He looks up from the steps and says, Excuse me pastor, what's going to happen to the church? (He's another 86th Street neighbor.) And I sigh. Explain the long road ahead. And just how damn much money to will take. Would he actually help?

A man, Indian or Pakistani comes in. Hajee. Seeking assistance. Money of which I have none. Says he's been living at SPSA, sleeping in the youth room.  That he was kicked out because he opposed ordaining lgbtq people. (I doubt that.) And I have no church money, and damned little of my own. None with me. He'll be back tomorrow.

Stephen stops by to talk about contract issues. We’re pretty close on this.  Danielle and I work on closing the books for the concert series, working on the budget, other financial and organizational issues.  And then it's time to lock up, go home. Woodshed still hard at work.

Unfortunately he refused services

7/18

A new piano! One of Javier’s students played one of the pop-up pianos on Make Music New York Day a few weeks ago. And sent in a  You Tube video. And won. A piano. To be donated to his school, the New York Jazz Academy. And Javier sends it to us as part of our evolving relationship. It’s painted, but in good shape. We bring it into the sanctuary. Now Jed can move ahead in planning his 8 hand piano series.  


While outside waiting for the piano, Kathy walks by. Lives in the condo north of us. Works for Human Rights First. She was one of the first Friends of West-Park. Broke away from that group and supported us in the development plan that would have restored the sanctuary. Though somewhat weary of  the process, still interested, still wants to help. I share what's been accomplished. Where we see ourselves going. She's feeling drawn to Jane's church. Something could happen here.

Trina Zelle comes through the door. I’ve known her for 43 years. Back to College of Wooster days. Part of our circle whose lives were unalterably changed by those years so we work in low paying jobs pursuing dreams that don’t change in circumstances that do. Who believed that the world could, would change if we believed hard enough, worked hard enough. And now, graying, we still do. 

She’s the new Lead Organizer for the Presbyterian Health Education and Welfare Association,  the ministry of networks that keeps me connected at the national level. The people doing grass roots justice work across the country. The last time she was here was when we did an urban minstry symposium the fall of 2001. That fall.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl 

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

Bob Dylan

How could we do urban ministry in a 9-11 world? 

We sit outside, in our backyard, drinking coffee. Today we are dealing with different issues. How to use community organizing practices  to develop grass roots justice networks that can live independently of a dying national structure. Our goal is not that we recruit them to do our agenda but that their agenda, the grassroots agenda,  will be ours.  And our advocacy will grow out of our work, not our ideology. It’s where we are today. Can we find 100 West-Parks out there to make a three year commitment? And live with integrity and engagement whether any national structure survives or not. To live as if those structures no longer have ultimate meaning. Because the time has already past. After many years of work on the US-Mexico border, she understands how work with the Latin and Chinese workers of the Justice Will be Served campaign, the effort to create a sweatshop free Upper West Side,  energizes me and ecclesiasitcal politics drains my spirit. On the national level, and here at West-Park, it’s the same struggle. 

She’s become a grandmother. As she proudly shows her pictures, Danielle lets out a gasp, the father is Caleb, an old friend from Iowa. That happens a lot around here. 

Bob and Trina

Stephen stops in. Nagging issues. The paintings in Mc Alpin, the contract, the press blurb. Think its done and it all slips away again. Trina smilles as a church full of Woodshed twentysomethings scurry around like an army of worker ants. 


Deacon James stops in. It's the spook who sat by the door, he says.  No, we've already been there, I say. James is, to say the least, not excited by our marketing venture. Sees no need for anew logo, the old one's good enough.

I’m coming past the church in a taxi. See Edward on the steps. Call the 24 hour outreach team. They promise to reach out to him. At 11 pm, they call back. 

Rev. Brashear? 

Yes?

We want to report back to you. We went to the church. We spoke to Edward.

And?

Unfortunately he refused services. 

This is how Sunday morning begins

7/17

This is how Sunday morning begins.  I get to the church and find Edward on the steps.  I walk over, say gently, Edward, we’re going to have church here, you’re going to have to go now... And he looks up at me and says, I can’t get up. I woke up earlier and can’t get up. Will you do me a favor and call an ambulance? I feel sick. Sick to death. Like my stomach’s gonna come out through my eyes...So I tell him sure, and I call 911 and we begin to wait. 


And to make it interesting, a circle of young fashion designers are waiting to come in and check out the space. I let them in t get them out of the way.

Andre arrives with a hearty greeting, Well, I may be woozy but I’m here,  I note the irony of that and  tell him what’s going on.  He agrees to stay with Edward as I go to unlock the doors.  I find the ambulance on 86th Street and direct it around the corner. When I get there, Edward is scambling around, trying to clean things up. I tell him to stop, that I’ll take care of it, and he’s wobbling unsteadily above the garbage can. 

The EMT guys get out and approach. Edward tells them he wants ot go to the hospital. They ask some questions. As they’re leading him to the ambulance, he looks back at me, tears streaming down his face. Thank God for that man there, he says. He gave me $5. I bought a coffee and then, and then...oh shit...thank you, thank you... I say, that’s okay, Edward, you get better, you get better...He enters the ambulance and it pulls off. 

I tell Andre I’m going to pick up the bulletins. When I return, there are two teenage girls sitting, talking, eating snacks right where Edward was.  That’s how it goes.  Andre is sitting in the sanctuary with Deacon James.  Andre’s crying. Bob, he says, I had to come inside. I couldn’t take it. I saw myself in him there...I say, It’s not hard and James said, been there. And then tells me that Edward's lady friend lives in his apartment building. She comes by to drink beer and do their thing.  Hope arrives next and we fill her in. And slowly others trickle  in. 

Just before services, I get notice that Amy won’t be here so Andre and I will have to handle it.  

I tell them that there’s lots of things running round through my head this morning. Hard to focus. I ask,  Who believes in angels? a lot of hands go up, nearly all of my Latino members. I say that the whole of Jacob’s life could be seen as a  journey of acceptance thay God really loves him. ( Not always easy, I know that). 

And I speak of the importance of dreams. Joseph and his dreams in Egypt, Joseph in the gospel of Matthew and his dreams.  I hear Kermit Ruffin in New Orleans playing his trumpet and singing:

you have to have a dream, if you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?  (from the Flower Drum Song.)

Jacob’s ladder. The ladder....a connection between heaven and earth...angels going up and down on it...the Latin tradition of los angeles de la guarda, guarding angels......and then I wonder, what if we are the ladder, between heaven and earth?

It’s about nearness, the accessibility of God. When Jacob wakes, he says to himself, surely the lord is in this place and I did not know it..How many times have we missed where God was? Where God is? Do we sometimes forget?    When he awakes, Jacob is afraid....recognizing how close God is can be scary...

Then that word, AWESOME...How we use that expression.  I spoke of hearing the Woodshed people talking about what they are trying to do....creating  a sense of wonder. What is truly awesome? And he says of this place, truly this is the House of God...Gate of Heaven.. When I was a little kid back home, the local Roman Catholic church, Immaculate Conception, had postcards with a picture of the church on the front and these words in the back. So that’s where it is, I thought.  But really, it’s  any/every church...or more...What Katherine calls places where the veil is thin.

This is a holy place, an awesome place...God’s house, the gate to heaven...

Romans 8: 12-15. Among other things, it’ about families. We’ve got all kinds, good ones, bad ones, healthy ones, dysfunctional ones. Our families of origin, our families of choice. Here, we are all Children of God, and so siblings.  Including those who sleep on our steps.

I think about Paul’s words: these sufferings are not worth comparing to the coming glory... I want to believe that...and that the whole creation is groaning...Two weeks ago I saw the movie  Tree of Life...with Sean Penn and Brad Pitt. Well, it’s  a bit ponderous, pretentious, but nonetheless stunningly beautiful. It is, insome part, about a family facing a tragedy. Looking for the meaning of life, meaning of the universe, creation..that all of life is  contaned in one little midwestern family, struggling with the tragic death of thier 19 year old son.  Questions. His younger brother’s question of God: why should I be good if you’re not? I think about Edward, and I wonder. 

Church people like to say:

God is good, all the time

All the time,  God is good

I wonder.

But I do always feel that at funerals...that all the universe is contained  in one life....it’s networks, connections, realtionsnhips, joys, sorrows..a whole universe dies when one person dies.  

The Bblia de las Americas says:

24Porque en esperanza hemos sido salvos, pero la esperanza que se ve no es esperanza, pues, ¿por qué esperar lo que uno ve?25Pero si esperamos lo que no vemos, con paciencia lo aguardamos.

And in English:

24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 

Remember this: patience is hard...and this is tough...patience is not passivity

We saw Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure last night. In the first act we hear these words: Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt- ( Quote Act I, Scene IV). Doubts keep us from accomplishing the good that we could, we can.  We have to have the courage to try. 

And so finally:

Matthew 13: 24-30, 26-43

It’s about how we grow togtether. All that about wheat and weeds. It’s almost counterintuitive. What does this parable mean? The weeds and wheat grow together. No one of us is all one or the other. It’s what we do with it. 

Two examples. First, Chuck Colson . He used to say that he would run over his mother for Nixon.  After he got born again and got into prison ministry, it was said he would run over his other for Jesus. On the other hand, there is Betty Ford, who died recently. She used her own struggles with alcohol to connect with, help others. And the same with her breast cancer. It is never ours to judge, wheat and weeds. 

The issue is not about weeding out. The issue is transformation.....That’s what our church, our center, is trying to be about. 

We sing together My hope is built on nothing less and then He is King of Kings...and then it’s time for an Amen and church is over. 

I give a volunteer interested in fund raising a quick tour of the church.  We will meet later in the week. The Session meets with Marc and Sarah. They want to get to know us better. The here the stories of generations in ths church. of our persistence.  But there’s also openness to cahnge. Renewed  commitment to lgbtq issues. Economic justice, labor and immigrants. And sustainability. Everything we do needs to reflect these values. I’m impressed by how well they have listened. I’m anxious to see where this will go. 

My cousin Nancy is sitting on the steps. Hasn’t been here since Christmas Eve. Come to help me sort out issues around the gala. She works for the Comptroller, John Liu. Used to do advance work for Tipper Gore. She knows her stuff. She helps me out together a timeline. 

I head home to see the Women’s World Cup championship match between US and Japan. (Hard to feel bad about Japan winning, not this year.) Then return to do a tour for Jane’s new board. They ask tough questions. I give honest answers. There’s an openness. The collaboration could happen. We’re all out on the street talking. Woodshed people too. And that’s the way Sunday ends. 

Funny the difference that name makes

7/16

There’s a cardboard bed, but nothing else. Though a few yards down the sidewalk, there’s  dog poop and the human variety as well. But I’m not mopping any sidewalks today.

Meet with Marc and Satrah in the sunny backyard to review the gala, upcoming meeting with session and  overall strategy.  We talk over the politics of gay marraige in the Presbyterian Church.  How sad it is that the government is way ahead of us on this one.  Marc and Sarah’s plans for a festival. And the music of Sufjan Stevens. 

As I see them out the door, I see that Edward is back. Asleep on the steps. I walk over to him, feeling more empathy than anger this time.  I say his name, Edward, and he looks up. Funny the difference that name makes.  You know you can’t sleep here during the day, right man? He looks up at me, Yeah, I know. I’ll be going now.  You wouldn’t buy me a cup of coffee, would you? Sure I say. I look for a one. All I’ve got is a five. I give it to him. Will he use it for coffee? For a St. Ides 40? What diffence does it make?  Edward, how long have you been here?  In the city,  he says, all my life. I’m 53 years old.  And how long has he been  homeless? Since 1988. Damn. Twenty-three years. Twenty-three years.  He looks at me, eyes welling up with tears. I feel like I’m dead, he says. As I look in his eyes, I know what he means. 

I work on the Sunday service. My writing. Late in the day I come back to do some business with Stpehen. Contracts, press, paintings. The Prophet is on the steps again.  Stripped to the waist again. Raising both arms heavenward, his eyes looking up, the sun shining aross him. He raises and lowers his arms three times, staring skyward as the traffic passes. 

Creativity is resistance

7/15

Jane and I meet at Starbucks (adjunct office 2 or 3). We like the sense of a growing shared ministry in the neighborhood.  Talk about the service she and I and Jeremy could create for Wednesday nights.

Back at the office, just a short break before heading to talk to a couple about a wedding. Then, back again, way too much to do in way too little time. Press blurbs, contracts, church growth strategy, Sunday service....


Deacon James walks in. How's he doing? Better than yesterday. Another day at the hospital. More chemo. Says he needs a senior legal specialist. Why? After 50 years, a medical DNA test for his son revealed that he is not the father, biologically speaking. 50 years made him the real father. A shock to his sense of reality. Doesn't change love, but there are Social Security implications. Who can help? Tough question. Legal Aid came up short. Maybe WSSFSH can help? See you Sunday, he says, and is gone. 

An issue. Leila has come in. She and Berik filled the walls of Mc Alpin Hall with art from their New York Realists group, to add beauty during our concert series. Hoping for an exrtended run, a real opening, etc. Now Woodshed has converted the space into a work shop. The hall will soon be converted into a Parisian cafe and courtyard.  Lack of communication re. expectations, needs, etc. Not good. Will have to work this out.

I go to look for Stephen. He’s in the backyard. A young woman from the Times is interviewing he and Teddy. Stephen introduces us. She asks me why the church would want a secular theatre group to take over so much space, for so long a time. I talk about how we were closed. The beauty of the counterintuitivity of urban homesteading in your own home, raw urban space in a gentrified neighborhhood. The vision of the Center, reintroducing the space to the community, the city. It’s four sectors of intersecting activity: arts and culture, intergenerational education, social change and spirituality. How the church always worked to live at the intersection of beauty and justice, ethics and esthetics. 

She says she doesn’t see much social content. Teddy speaks of wonder, bringing awe back to a deadened culture. The spirituality of that task. Stephen of the interaction between audience and physical space, what this building is ontologically, a church. And I speak of 9-11, my experience of the power of negation, destruction, death, non-being. And my realization that creativity, participating in the ongoing work of creation, of re-creation is an act of resistance against those powers. 

Back upstairs, Leila has been joined by Hope. We talk about where communications broke down, what we we need to do better. We can work this out.  Enough for today.

He has a name

7/14

Danielle is upset as I arrive at the office. Hb was there when she arrived. Along with his ladyfriend. And an open beer bottle. She called Project Reachout. Turns out he’s got a name. Edward Green. They are not encouraging.  A little while later she looks out the door. There’s a police suv across the street. Later, she looks out again. No Edward. No lady friend.  Only an empty beer bottle,which she removes. She’s feeling guilty about not warning him first, asking him to leave. I don’t expect her to do that. Not alone.  He looked so sad, she said, like he was about to cry. (Maybe I added that.)

I came to work after breakfast with David Michalek. He’s just opened, Portraits in Dramatic Time,  his latest installation on a 45 foot screen on the plaza at Lincoln Center as part of the annual Lincoln Center Festival. 40 films, real time 6-8 seconds, stretched out to 8-10 minutes on the  screen. Famous actors, off Broadway actors, off-off Broadway, Thai and Chinese Theatre, Theatre of the Deaf actors...actors of all kinds. You see how much can happen in 8 seconds, how much we miss going on around us all the time. 

portraits in dramatic time

We’re catching up. David did the 14 Stations, the traditonal stations of the cross as experienced, interpreted  and staged by homeless and formerly homeless participants in the Interfaith Assembly on Housing and Homelessness community. That show opened and hung in West-Park at least six months. It later showed at Dia and then the Brooklyn Museum of Art.  We still have our set. I would like to reprise that exhibit next Lent as part of our Centennial celebration.  And would love to help with David’s vision on Mary’s Book of Hours. 

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The 14 stations that hung on the walls of West-Park
http://www.davidmichalek.net/14stations/about.php


A woman walks in. Tells me that she worked for Riverside Shakespeare Company for 8 years. That her office was right where mine is. I take her in. Show her the archival exhibit on the back wall, with the large RSC picture. And she gets choked up. Oh my God, she says. All those years,  all those years. We talk some more how in the 70’s -80’s the church proudly resisted spending anything related to the building. It was  all for people, members or not.  She harrumphs. I invite her to come on Sunday. Ah, I’m not religious. My mom was Jewish, dad black. A sixties thing you know? But I’ll be back. It’s beautiful to see this place open again, you breathing life back into it, and then she’s gone. For now.  

Christian comes in to talk more about his chamber music orchestra, he’s up to 30 members now.  I would love to get them involved in a Sunday morning service. 

RL and David come by to check out the bathrooms and keep that project moving forward.  David takes him downstairs to look at the transformation in the basement. RL comes back up, chuckling.  Blue eyes crinkling beneath his flowing white hair and cowboy hat. This place looks more like me all the time, he says, laughing. We talk of his friend Jack Hardy, who died this year, his weekly  pasta and songwriters event at his Greenwich Village apartment. Mentor to Suzanne Vega,  John Gorka, the Roches, Lyle Lovett, on and on; and more recently Jeremy. Well, sorry we’re taking so long with the bathrooms, he says, but that’s what you get when you leave an alcoholic Indian in charge, he laughs  again and he and David go for one more look. 


There's loud noise outside. We run out to look. The Prophet is sitting there, stripped to the waist, shouting at the street. I ask if he's alright. I can't understand his answer. Every conversation with him is like Pentecost. And then ohyesohyesohyesalrightalrightalright, then iwannbeagoodfathergoodfathergoodfather then igonowgonowgonowgonow.... he gets up, slowly dresses, wrapping his colorful sheets around him, carefully wrapping the red bandana around his head before carefully tying it on.  He stands up, looking at the church, extends his right hand, bows his head three times.  Looks back at me, says thankyouverymuch picks up his walking stick and starts down the street again.  What is his story? Where is he from? Is this a real religion he follows or only his private invention? 

John Hudson has come in to check on things. We talk about his own upcoming production. And Woodshed.  And then Marsha comes in. To keep working on the thank yous we still owe eafter the concert series. We end the day with gratitude.