What Mark wrote about Teddy

by Mark Koenig from http://graybeardtrail.wordpress.com/2012/12/20/on-the-steps-in-the-streets-with-the-people/

On the steps, in the streets, with the people

Ministry comes in a variety of forms.
Followers of Jesus do not all look alike nor do we all do identical work.
Pillars of the Church come in many different shapes.

On December 12, 2012, Cynthia Bolbach died. A former moderator of our General Assembly, Cindy was well-known and loved by many across the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).

On December 17, 2012, Teddy Mapes died. The sexton at West-Park Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, Teddy was known and well-loved by the West-Park community and by many in the neighborhood of Amsterdam and W. 86th Street.

A gentle bear of a man with a heart overflowing with compassion, Teddy came to West-Park a little over a year ago as the congregation connected with the Occupy movement. He quickly fit into the community. He took part in Bible study and worship and became a member.

Teddy cared for the physical building of the church. More importantly, he cared for the spiritual building – the community – the Body of Christ. He helped negotiate the creative chaos that the Spirit so often stirs at West-Park. Teddy became one of the public faces of the church.

I had only met Teddy a couple of times – but in those brief encounters, I could tell the significant role he played in the community. So today, I walked to West-Park to talk to my friend Bob Brashear, pastor of the church, about Teddy. Teddy’s biggest contribution, his most profound ministry, Bob noted took place “on the steps, in the streets, with the people.”

On the steps. In the streets. With the people. What a ministry, what a legacy.

Teddy’s death has ripped a hole in the West-Park Presbyterian Church community. I cannot imagine how painful the tear is – nor how challenging their ride through the ragged reality of grief will be – nor how long the rebuilding process will take.

But this I know: God who loved Teddy Mapes in this life continues to love Teddy Mapes and has welcomed him home. I give thanks for Teddy’s life and love and witness and faith.

And this I know: it will take time, it will be challenging, there will be tears, there will be fits and starts – but somehow, some way, some day, “every little thing gonna be all right” for the people of West-Park Presbyterian Church. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.

See you along the Trail.

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Then we have to take care of each other

We wish you a Merry Christmas

12/21

Sarah Z arrives with us to go to Teddy’s funeral, She remembers him arriving a year ago. And all the many times when she was in Manhattan when she would just swing by for a hug and a good word. Soon enough Jamie swings by in her car and we are off to Suffern for the funeral.

It was a classic Irish Catholic funeral. Pretty full sanctuary. His children and sister both spoke of how his last months were his happiest and how they felt like West-Park had given him their father and brother back.  It all ends in the church yard with flowers tossed on the casket while the Irish piper plays. It has gotten very cold...

Back at the church, there’s little time to get everything done. Hope has arrived soon enough to  start the hot mulled cider for our carolling on the steps. I close the door so I can get some work done.

ready for carolling

Don is back from China at last with a box of pears and candy. Anna has come with puppy. Jamie comes with wine and Santa hats. Stephen has his voice warmed up and ready to go. Jamie’s longtime friend and colleague, Nancy. Even Rachelle is there.  Marsha knows a surprising number of words. I’m leading and throwing in harmonies. 

Jamie and Martin

People on the street stop and smile. A little girl applauds. A man adds his own harmonies. Buses come and go. There is a feeling if warmth in the cold air. When we come  inside for a warm up, Martin and his daughter Stella and nephew Juanito join us. And Christopher too. Three young adults from Brazil in New York for holiday stop in for conversation and quickly learn of our historic connections to Brazil. 

Soon enough we’re back on the steps to finish our carolling. I lead a small group across the street with wine and hot cider for Dominc and les merchants de les arbres de noel. We sing for them. Share our refreshments.  As they say thanks, Jamie swings into full negotiation mode. They offer a small wooden reindeer. We wind up with two Christmas trees...one for the church and one for a Puerto Rican lady passing by with her cart. With her dog, esparky. She takes off her watch cap to reveal badly singed hair from a gas burner. Dominic seems to be well acquainted with her. We head back across the street to finish our time of fellowship, bringing our tree with us. 

Later at the B, Ellen and Jamie and I will smile as Dominic strikes up a conversation with Carla the Brazilian bartender.  A night in New York, getting close to Christmas.

I’m remembering Teddy’s review of Dzieci’s Fools’ Mass.  No references to Marat/Sade or Peter Brook. Just straight out: What I see is like when the one who takes care of us isn’t there anymore, we have to take care of each other. Like with God. When you pray and there’s no answer and it feels like no one’s there. Then we have to take care of each other. I need to remember that. 

You wake up in the morning....

12/20

You wake up in the morning and he is still dead...

Tim and his associate from the Bowery Residential Community come in their  orange jackets for  conversation  with  Christopher  and me. This is hard. I can feel in Christopher the reluctance to live anywhere except West-Park. On the other hand, there  is the reality that the  fire department does not really  want anyone living in our building. On the other, I know that long term  Christopher needs to live somewhere where nevertheless, he can be  moving towards an independent  living situation where he could be  responsible  for his own future. Tim outlines various possibilities for Christopher even wile  I just want to say , no , just stay here as long as you want...knowing that is not realistic. Knowing that what it would take to make it  fully fire proof is virtually impossible, Christopher  just wants to go out and raise the money, But I know  long term what he actually  needs. The options  are all out there. They’ll  be back in touch with Christopher tomorrow.

Martin stops in wanting to help any way he can. 

Stephen and Jay are going through every inch trying to figure out how to extend Internet service to  the church house building.  How many feet of cable needed? Under the church? Through the basement? Over the floors? How?  

Mark from the United Nations Ministry walks in.  He’s on one of his long walks and just wants to know  how we’re doing. He is aware of what Teddy meant to us. Just wants to know how we are. And as a friend, as part of our extended family, I let Mark know It’s hard. It hurts. Mark is a quintessential example of what it means to be a Presbyterian witness in this world. And yet he can look back on the last couple of weeks and see the loss of  Cynthia Bolbach, former  moderator, the highest elected position in our church and the loss of Teddy and see them both as expressions of the same faithful ministry. I am thankful for Mark’s being part of our extended ministry. His visit means a lot to me.

An Icelandic couple comes in just to look at the church. Here to celebrate the holidays. I share that the amazing Icelandic women’s  chorus Graduale Nobili had performed at West Park. The  appearance of Icelandic political  and cultural officials. And Nate’s comment that these are the  whitest women he had ever  seen. Ethereal, precise and on the line  singers.

Graduale Nobili

Another  couple comes  in simply wanting to find the right place for  a memorial service for someone they love. 

Long talk with Marc. We want to send  his recording work on to Shannon in Seattle. And also the work he did with Catherine Feeny’s concert  at West Park. Marc has done amazing  things capturing the music that has been performed at West Park, all with care and respect for those  who  have performed here. 

Danielle and I are working very hard to prepare for her  going home  for the holidays. 

My friend Beppe arrives, mainly to talk with me about Teddy.

Later I will have a vegan dinner and catch up with Katherine.  

Look...for the record. Teddy was not a saint anymore than any of us are. He knew me. Knew what my vision of what the church should be  and decided to live it out as if it were real.Through a very difficult and painful year, he helped keep  the church, and me, together. He protected me from the chaos. Was my right hand. Helped me to be who I wanted to be and so found who he wanted to be. I loved him. And he is irreplaceable.

RL's poem for Teddy

TEDDRICK

It Was His Time.

There is never enough Time.

There is wasted Time, Faithful Fruitful time,

Best of Time, Sadness & Tear Time.

Time of challenge, of loss, of great gains.

There is never enough Time.

It Was His Time.

It was a Time of Life.

There is never enough Time.

Good Days and Dark days.

Slept Nights, Raging Dawns.

Water Times of movement.

Wave Times of Ocean & Moon & Sun

Stagnant Times of doing.

Joyous Times of Believing and Giving.

There is never enough Time.

It Was His Time.

Time has no Master.

There is never enough Time.

Time will take its Time.

Give its Time.

Speed and Harbor its time.

Yet every Time must PASS.

There is never enough time.

It Was His Time.

IT WAS HIS TIME...

Having Given & Loved & Laughed & Cried His Time.

We mark That Time, through all Time.

With the memories of All His Time with All of us.

There IS NEVER enough time.

So we take the Time, His Time, to mark the Passing into All of Time.

There is never enough time to waste memories and Love.

There is never enough Time.

It was His Time.

Now His Time becomes All Time.

And, so marking his Time,

It, truly becomes,

His Time.

12/18/2012 RL.H.

So what are we going to do?

12/19

The candle is still burning

Martin is meeting with director Lee Breuer of Mabou Mines when I arrive. They’ve been hashing out Martin’s vision for his Antigone. Lee says, not easy, but possible..... As Mabou Mines has to leave PS122, there is interest in West-Park.

After that discussion, Martin is intent. So what are we going to do? What?

I make clear that there are two job  descriptions. One, the set ups, the cleaning, the making things ready, that’s relatively easy. But the other, the human relations management, the theatre people wrangling, the advocacy for the homeless and marginalized, the management of the steps and all that involves, the calming of crazy souls....sorry. Don’t know where to begin. 

He looks at me. OK, we know where to begin. I’ll be back to you.

Actually, I realize, my Occupy chaplains are trained. Battle tested and ready to roll. But it’s always so random....you can’t exactly say crazy people, please show up between these hours and you can’t just keep people on call. And even seminary students deserve to be paid. 

Stephen has been up since 6 AM managing the Comedy Central shoot.  All seems to be running smoothly.

Except no one has checked the steps. I find a large man with long hair and wide wild eyes sprawled on the steps. Large bags of food surrounding him. I’m sorry sir, you can’t be here during the day. You’re going to have to move. 

He looks up at me with burning eyes. My church, my church... he says, and after that, nothing more. Well, not exactly, I say, more like mine, but there are still rules... try different ways of opening up a conversation.No luck.  No response.

I feel the frustration mounting. Goddamn it Teddy, where are you? I need you. 

As I’m contemplating this, I see Anna and puppy approaching. She asks what’s up? I tell her. She tries striking up a conversation. No response.Maybe he doesn’t speak English... She tries speaking Spanish, worse than my multiple accents in the same sentence  version.  Anna, I could do that, I think. I need coffee. If he’s not gone by the time  get back, I’m calling 911, I say. Anna tries translating that into Spanish and I walk off. Pure frustration. 

And head to Barney Greengrass, for coffee. Back outside, I see little change so call 911. Go through the typical dance.  OK, EMT’s on their way. When I’m fully back, I see that Anna has engaged him. Got him moving. He’s starting to move. Amazing. When he’s got his stuff, he steps off the stairs. And standing up, seems less wild eyed, calmer, he seems more normal. 

What’s your name? she asks.

Michael he says. And as he starts through his litany of loss, I hear the sound of a Cali/Mex accent. Of leaving California to find his wife, stranded on Staten Island, EMT visit to St.Luke’s Roosevelt where they lost his ID and...cops won’t help, churches won’t help,  just wants to get back to California.  And I’m looking for Teddy again. 

He begins gathering up his stuff and Anna spots a bag of food and says, Say do you want all of that? He shakes his head begins to walk away. So, I can have some?  She heads for his open bag. He offers his food to her.  Say, what’s your name? she asks.

Michael, he replies. And talks about the distributorship he ran with his brother. And losing it all. And what is my name? Bob I say. When he’s sure that there was nothing more to come here, he starts off. Waves and says, thanks anyways. You saw me. And we wish him well. 

There’s stuff remaining to clean up. Anna’s back....I go inside look for my broom and long handled dust pan. Nowhere to be seen. Damn it, chaos will takeover. Danielle finds both, quietly hands them to me. I’m outside on the steps sweeping. Just where I began. I look at Anna. Realize that I couldn’t have done this without her. And smile. As she shifts from grounded to full speed  criminal gang conspiracy report mode. And I sweep.

There’s a tour to lead. Another school. As we hit RL's room, he comes out. Offers to have Poet Tim read. Offers as I’m an alright guy even though he’s a Christian. Encourages them to give generously. Tells them he’s there to contribute to the restoration of the building,  none of that religious stuff. As they look at each other incredulous, inside I am chuckling. 

The St. Agnes boys have arrived. No Teddy to direct them. Danielle has arrived and gives them a list of tasks. 

I go upstairs to visit RL. He can’t get through it without breaking up, so has Poet Tim read his poem about Teddy. Just as he recited it to me at the Gate. Only better. And then  goes to the poems that they just rediscovered. Dating back to 1954. On an old floppy disc. One a clever poem about a drinker of Paul Bunyan proportions including a contest with the devil decade before Charlie Daniels  in a jaunty rhyming meter and one about a lost first love with all the romantic anguish teenage love brings. It is good to have him here.

It’s time to go visit Rachel. And Martin, I still don't know....just don't know...

Sometimes damn is just not enough

12/19

from Jamie's collection

Kimberely stops by on her way home for the holidays for one last visit. As we’re finishing, Teddy’s sister, father and friend have just arrived from Suffern, up the Hudson.

The family resemblances are striking and clear. 

The tell me that in their culture, no one should die alone and that they are comforted  that Teddy died surrounded by people who loved him. I tell them that not only that but that he was accompanied by people who cared for him throughout the day. That means a lot. 

There’s lots to talk about. Family history. the struggles and strains that every family goes through in its own unique way. And how above, beneath and through all, even when we don’t see or can’t say it, love remains.  They are comforted that he had found a place where he felt accepted and loved and good about himself. And having struggled with God ever since his mother died at a young age, Teddy could be at peace with God again and join the church. be part of the church. I try to tell them just how much a part of us he had become.

We go into the sanctuary. Pause at his candle, still burning. His sister Dorothy places her hands around it, closes her eyes. We stop at Martin’s studio. Martin and Soli come out and embrace the family. Talk about how much a part of their family Teddy had become. There are embraces all around as they look at the beautiful dance studio Teddy had helped to build. 

Stephen and Christopher come down. They’ve bagged and brought everything of Teddy’s down for them to look at. More clothes than anything.Christopher says, he was the best man I ever knew.  More embraces. And tears. I show the the kitchen in Mc Alpin where he prepared so many meals for himself and for others. Then we go to the fourth floor, where he lived. The carefully look over every inch, trying to imagine him there. 

We finish our visit. They will wait until the body is released form the morgue and send it to Suffern for wake and funeral. His sister says that the last time she saw him, at his son’s football game was the happiest she had ever seen him. I told his father, who has the solid look of a man who after years of struggle has come to peace, that there is much he can be proud of. He says, Teddy always felt like he had to do something to make me proud of him. I always wanted him to know that I loved him, just as he was. I wait a minute, then say, I believe he knows that. They leave, on their way to the morgue.

My friend David arrives with his wife, Wendy, the prima ballerina of the New York City Ballet. And David, another friend. As soon as Jamie arrives, we go for a tour of the whole building, seeing possibilities. Their friend has a particular passion in and interest for the organ. 

I am excited about the possibility of what  working together with David again might be like . They say they’ll be back to us in 2-3 days. 

As Jamie and I are wrapping up, Fire chief John walks in. Jamie says, Oh no. The chef says, Well, what a way to greet me. You don’t even now what I’ve got to say. And then laughs.So does Jamie.  The chief has been studying up. He’s found another way to help us. The fire department, especially this chief, has helped us from the first day we moved back in. They want to see us make it. I thank the chief for all he’s done. It is sincerely appreciated. 

Kara flies in. Bubbling over with Blessyouyousavedmylifeteddysavedmylifethe womensavedmylifeblessyougodisherejesusishere....The words come out in cascades. I thank her. She continues on with the story of her life. Birth mother. Adopted mother.  Abuse.  God father who, well...She wants to play the piano awhile. I say sure. Her playing has that same manic quality as Sunday. 

I noticed that the hem of her dress was embroidered front and back. The front said, Hope in  spirit and the back, truth in love. 

Later she will come back in. Tell me she’s been trying to call Teddy. Hemustbesleepingahsleeepweallneedsleeepblessedsleep....She takes my hand, wehavetherestofourlivestogethertherestfourlivesiamaprimenumberonlydivisiblebyoneyouarethepatronsaintofprimenmbersofoutcastsofisntthatexcitingI’msoexcitedaren'tyouexcitedwhere’s Teddy? No way I’m telling her Teddy’s dead. I’m not ready for that. I’d need Teddy to help me deal with that. Damn it. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoutherestofourlivestherestofourlives....Finally she lets go of my hand. Whirls and swirls out the door. From out on the street the I love you’s keep working their way through the door and inside.

Later in the day, Rachelle swoops in. Pastor! I was here Sunday for the holiday sing along. Where were you, you weren’t here. You weren’t here. It was so beautiful. And afterwards there was food. And everyone was so beautiful. Even that man, that man, he offered me food. Offered to introduce me to that woman. That man....

I can’t take it any more. Rachelle, that man is dead. 

Oh no Pastor, oh no...evil or not he...

That’s his candle burning in the sanctuary.

She sinks into the empty chair.

Oh no, Pastor. 

I’m sorry, Rachelle. Yes, it’s true. 

She looks at me. Shakes her head. Leaves.

I do some more work. E-mails to get out. Facebook announcements. People to inform.

You never know what's going to happen when you wake up on any given day. We think we do. But we don't. Maybe you send your kid to school and a madman comes and blows them away. Or maybe your friend drops dead.

I walk home in the cold and dark. The minute I get into my door, I collapse. I feel like I’ve been hit with a bag of bricks.  There are days, you find yourself, when you’re alone, just walking around saying, fuck. Over and over. Sorry. Sometimes damn is just not enough. 

Teddy died today

12/18

Teddy Mapes

I see it’s Martin calling and pick up the phone. Teddy passed away, he says. WHAT? I say. He’s dead. You need to come here.

 I’ll be there right away. Nate on the couch looks up and says what happened? Not wanting to believe what I heard, hoping there’s a chance it’s wrong, I say, Something happened at the church, I need to go check it out. 

When I get there, there’s an ambulance. A firetruck. Lights flashing. Martin, Soli, Martin’s daughter Gabriella, Teddy’s roommate Christopher, other dancers all standing around.

What Martin tells me: Teddy was supposed to work with him this morning. He kept calling. No answer. Saw Christopher. Sent him upstairs. Chris came back, said he was scared. Martin went up, found no pulse. Called 911. The paramedics say they don’t now for sure, looks like a heart attack. Christopher tells me he saw Teddy at 6 AM tossing and turning in bed, asleep. He left. And when he came back and Martin sent him up.....

I say to Martin, Emotions aside, we have to deal with this. How do we start making contact?  Gabriella reaches Teddy’s son at his high school. Puts me on the line. I have to tell him his father is dead. And I need numbers for his ex-wife, his sister, wife in Texas....Soon the numbers are called back to Gabriella and I start to work making calls. 

His ex-wife is concerned mainly for his children. His sister is shocked. But will be the point person for the family. Will  call his father. Despite their differences, he loved him, you know? He’ll be devastated. 

Then I call Jamie. She’ll be here as soon as she can. Stephen. I notice Christopher has taken off. My concern turns to him. Teddy was his roommate. Connection to the world. 

And we begin our vigil. The police arrive. The EMT’s leave. I ask for permission to do last rites. I consecrate oil, get water from the Jordan and head upstairs. Martin, Soli, Gabriella and the dancers follow. Stand beside me as I step forward. Teddy looks at peace. As I knew he was. At peace with himself. I say the prayers. Anoint him. Make the sign of the cross on his forehead. As I touch him, iI keep feeling that he’s waking up. Together in Spanish and English we say the Lord’s Prayer, el padre nuestro... and leave the room.

Jamie arrives. Asks if i’ve done last rites. Tell her I just have. She wants to go upstairs. I take her up. Asks the police if she can stay. Doesn’t want him to be alone while we wait for the coroner. Can she have a chair? You can’t touch anything, move anything, this a police site now. After an hour, they’ll relent, get her chair as she keeps Teddy company.

I’m glad I’ve got Stephen. I’d forgotten that Comedy Central was coming to finish arrangements for using our building  as a holding space tomorrow. I send them with Stephen.

I see RL in Mc Alpin. What’s up with Tedrick? 

He passed, RL, I say.

We look at each other. Sucks. 

What can I do? he asks.

I’ve done what I do. I say. Do what you do.  (He knows I’m referring to the Native American tradition.)

I will do that, he says. 

Mim has arrived with something for Kimberely before she heads home for the holidays.

I explain to her what has happened. I realize I’m still in my torn jeans and crocs and want to change. 

On my way out, Marsha has arrived. I catch her up. While we’re talking John R arrives with a supply of batteries for Sandy relief. I explain what has happened.

When I got back, I had forgotten that Bread and Puppet Theatre was coming. Jonathan B is there with several company members and Peter Schuman their founder. I tell them I’ve seen their work for decades, all the way back to my anti-Vietnam days. I tell them the social history of the church. Expecially the 1982 March Against Nuclear Proliferation. We were there, they say. They’re thinking about performing here. Possible logistical problems. It’s my experience that if something’s right, we can work out the logistics. I say. They like that. Jonathan knows what’s going on, understands as I leave.

Marsha is wrapping up negotiations with Comedy Central. Only needs my signature. I sign. Stephen and Danielle and Jamie have gone across the street to the Bean to talk about Christopher. I tell them I need to look in on RL. Find him at the Gate. Mandola Joe and Pat O share their condolences. RL orders me a shot of Jameson’s and a Guiness. To Teddy....

The Medical Examiner is upstairs. I had been expecting to lead an Advent Lectio Divina. Never had time to let people know what had happened. Inivte people to sit in a circle. Martin’s family and dancers join us. They’ve brought a candle with  el santo nino on it. 

I explain that a funeral, a memorial service will come later.  This is a service of commending, prayers for the journey of the spirit. As I look up, Anna and puppy join us as well. I lead our prayers in English and Spanish. Finish again with the Lord’s Prayer, padre nuestro. And we light the vela de memoria. Hugo has arrived now as well. I am happy he is there. His being there is a comfort. Now who will I deliver my chicken to? he asks with a gentle smile.

Just as we have finished, the coroner has finished his work and the ambulance has arrived to take Teddy’s body away. We go outside, stand in two rows as he is taken out. I say a final prayer, people crossing themselves. The ambulance takes off. A police officer wants me to sign a release so they won’t have to seal the building. 

We have held our vigil from beginning to end. We all depart. Teddy’s candle will continue to burn. His spirit will remain long after. I need time to let myself feel. 

                               * * * * 

Comments: I have included everything about the day as I experienced it, even what seems mundane or extraneous because that is how death happens...in the midst of living...even as we experience a time out of time, life goes on around us.

There are a lot of theological reasons why Protestants stopped doing certain practices.  But that leaves a big hole. We need rituals, acts, for spiritual and emotional and cultural reasons. (Which I imagine assumes a theology of its own.) The first time I was asked to do last rites, I responded that was actually Catholic, not Protestant. To which the response was It’s not about that, we’re Latinos. So I went to my friend Father John who told me just to do it. And taught me how. So now I do. Goes deeper than doctrine. We do what we need to do.

The fact is I will miss Teddy more than I can even say.

At the May Day rally