Beginning to become real

9/10

Replacing the lights

David S is in working on getting electrical issues straightened out.

Anna drops in for conversation, as always, on many topics. 

RL has his crew ready to replace all the burned out lights under the scaffolding and rescuing us from the clutches of the Department of Buildings. And today my son Dan is with them.

Stephen is in to review our success with presbytery and to work  strategy for what happens next.

Mim comes in to take me to dinner to the B and to prepare for the Center Board meeting. She has been so faithful for so long. Finally, light is appearing.

The Center Board gathers. It’s been a long time. It was impossible for the Center to figure out what its role could be until we as a church had a sense of what we were going to do. We are happy to share with them our success with Presbytery and the lease now in negotiation that could bring our long longed for stability. The role of the center begins to emerge. To be a 501c3 to enable us to get the grants we would be ineligible for as a church. To provide the structure by which the community could finally engage and take responsibility for our landmarked exterior. As we have been declared a significant piece of our community’s cultural heritage, then those who sought that designation need to step up. And to create the kind of interfaith broad based programming we have always intended to create. That possibility stands now within reach. Katherine comments that there’s a brightness in my spirit she hasn’t heard for awhile. John H looks at Angelo’s art lining the walls, it’s like the dream you  had years ago, he says, it’s beginning to become real.

Marsha and Danielle and I stay after to talk church strategy. It’s primary election day. I’ve got political commitments to attend to. 

When I return, 86th street is closed off. Big machines are moving. Klieg lights blaring bright. Men  will work all night long, laying fresh, hot asphalt on the street. Tomorrow morning traffic will be flowing, filling the street. No one will notice they were here. 

Late night street work

The corner to be turned comes into view

9/9

The greatest joy yesterday was seeing Rachel in church under her own power. John R walked her home after services. 

A man asks if he can come in and pray. Hours later, he’s laid out, asleep in the pew.

The day begins with a visit from my friend Jon D. Former second chair bass player for the New York Philharmonic. Back from his work with El Sistema in Venezuela. That Freierian inspired music project founded by Jose Abreu that has produced musicians like Gustavo Dudamel, conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic.  We get Martin on the phone and talk about an exciting potential collaboration between Jon’s Very Young Composers’ program and Noche Flamenca. An idea begins to take form. Jon is also interested in working with Ethel who have just returned from their summer break. This is exactly what the center is supposed ti be about. 

A crew comes over from Barney Greengrass to borrow our long tables. It’s become an annual tradition as they prepare to face their annual avalanche of orders for the Yom Kippur breakfast that comes at the end of the week and people from the tribe all over the country ordering sable, lox and sturgeon from Barney to mark the end of the fast. The truck is there, ready for loading. 

We meet with Henry and Naomi from Presbytery’s Ministry and Nurture Committee to fill them in on our total strategy and pending lease. They are very impressed. Feel we’ve moved ahead light years since we first met and even since last February. The deal we have now is  far superior to what we had then. We maintain control of the building. Wind up with spaces developed for rehearsals and studios. Just like we planned. We talk again of our vision of everything working together. How it’s already happening. We mention the comedian Dion’s coming to services yesterday.

They’re a good pair: Naomi a classic church elder from 5th Avenue, Henry a feisty pastor from Queens who’s been through the mill and knows what the cost can be. They get it. They’re with us. Will give us their  support in the all important upcoming Presbytery meeting. Now of only we can have the same kind of success with the Trustees tonight.

Outside one of the holiness guys is hanging out with a man in a wheel chair. (Not Sean) he calls out, Hey, hey, he wants to know, are you the Pastor? I answer, Yes, I am. 

Stephen and Cara are in. Stephen to talk strategy about that Trustees meeting.

David S deeply involved in an electrical project.

Two young Koreans are in. Back, I should say. Still looking to lease the entire building. It’s been months since their last visit. They've managed to raise up some serious money. And are surprised when we tell them we are almost ready to roll with another project. They were convinced that if they could just raise enough, all would be well. God’s plan. Not so simple. Nothing like downcast bright shining faces.

Of to a reading of Ludovica’s latest play.

Later, Jamie, Stephen and I go to the B to celebrate our outcome with the Trustees. Hard to believe the turn around. We face the possibility in  a month or so of actually being able to not just hang on but to  begin moving forward. To have achieved stability. And an opportunity....Can we shift our mind set, our way of looking  at things? Can we believe in possibility? A Do the hard work necessary? It’s been a very long time. It’s taken a lot of hard work. We never count our chickens before they’re hatched. But....I’m ready.

And ready to finish up my work and head down to 78 Below where I’ll meet son Dan and do a few songs. 

Remembering, Angel of 9-11, Every day counts

9/8

Angel of 9-11

Lots on our minds today. It’s the Jewish New Year. Congress is going to debate bombing Syria. A primary election is coming up. And the 12th anniversary of 9-11.

We begin with Jeremiah 18: 1-11. The potter and the clay passage. John comments as to how sometimes God has to throw out what doesn’t work and start over. I comment as to how in Genesis, we were created from earth, from clay. And the Holy Spirit breathed into the clay and life began. But we remain earth and to earth we shall return. And it takes fire to turn clay into pottery.  I have a visual aid. The baptismal font cover thrown by Dan’s mom Sheryl. How hard it was to be able to throw a ceramic lid 18 inches across. And how it cracked. How she thought maybe she should start over and then decided, No, this is what we do. We heal the cracks in people....And so the crack remains  preserved in the beautiful ceramic cover. And then we sing Change my heart, O God...

And after fire we have....

Change my heart oh God,
Make it ever true.
Change my heart oh God,
May I be like You.

You are the potter,
I am the clay,
Mold me and make me,
This is what I pray.

We talk about Philemon 1: 1-21. How Paul’s letters speak  to a particular issue at a particular place and a particular time. Or as in Hebrews (not necessarily Paul) general moral exhortation. Or, as in here,  a letter to an individual. The shortest letter in the New Testament. 

The topic is a slave named Onesimus. Was he a runway? Or (more likely)sent by his owners to tend to Paul in prison? It’s not clear.But what is clear, Paul is sending him back to his owner as a brother, a full partner in the faith. His name, Onesimus, which meant useless,  shall now be useful. And we note that when the church split over slavery this passage was used by both sides. It can be read as support for slavery as a natural condition or a critique of slavery.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         What is undebatable is Onesimus is now to be accepted as a brother.

Finally, the gospel. Luke 15: 1-10. The seemingly radical  saying that one must hate mother, father, brother...Followed by the strategic, calculated assessment of the need for a strategic plan for building or battle. Don't start what you can’t finish. Good words for us. As we near the end of our journey. Or at least this phase of it. Stephen says that Jesus has  been very angry lately. As a man, he has to feel that. It’s part of being fully human. And that radical discipleship requires radical choices. But Luke also calls us to strategic thinking, no romantic martyrdom here.

We finish by reflecting on 9-11. Last year, Marsha challenged us to think forward. It’s too easy to fall into American exceptionalism. Other countries have suffered so much more. I think of my Serbian friends. The 78 consecutive days of NATO bombing. But still, we need to remember, because what we did as a church  is part of who we are...

1. We gathered that afternoon and called every church member
2. We had a prayer service that night for the community. A reporter from France showed up and wrote home about being with us.
3. That weekend,we made 1500 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
4. We went to Ground Zero and served food all night to workers
5. A man from Tennessee who’d previously been with us in a summer work group came back and joined us as did a student from Ohio
6. We peeled onions  all night long at Boule and other first class restaurants serving the workers
7. We received letters and banners from all over the country
8. We had a social worker with us for 18 months to work with those whose needs  fell between the cracks.
9. We hosted two dozen work groups from around country

Remembering

For all this, New York City Presbytery names us an

 Angel of 9-11

We share out memories. Pat wanted to donate blood but was told there was no point. Others recalled tear stained faces of workers. Jamie seeing the burning towers fall from New Jersey. And my son Dan remembers a day of play, extended recess in his school. And I feel a twinge of guilt. Everyone else’s parents came to pick them up. His teacher mom and minister dad left him there unti the end. And so it was. So it is.                                                                

We light candles to remember.

Following services, session meets. Approves the contract for a lease with a long term partner. We prepare to start again. Begin again. 

We learned: every day counts....

All the doors are full

9/7

All alone in the church. RL drops in. We review last night’s open mic. He’s got some business of his own to attend to.

I’m back at the church after trying and failing to get in to a performance of a friend of mine at the 59E59 theatres. I hear a knock on the door. It’s my son Dan. I tell him to come around to the side. Let him in. Ask him how many he had to walk through on the steps to get in. Only one, he says. We head down to Island Burger for some food. When we come back, all the doors are full.

Open Mic 9613...a gallery by Marc Stager

Open Mic Friday September 6th by Marc Stager

David Smythe

Pat O'Connell

Dan Jessie

Dan Jessie

Bob Brashear

Aaron

Aaron

Bob Brashear

Every Friday is different

9/6

Open Mic Nght 

Every Friday is different. Every Open Mic different. At a certain point, I’m amazed to look out and see that about half the crowd is black and Latino. Damn. New York diversity. Doing something right.

Of course there’s Joel back again with another of his beat poetic improv journeys. Call it monologue. Or poetry.Or spoken word. Or performance art. It’s a lost art and it’s his own unique voice.

And later Dion will be back with his own old school comedy. We know what’s coming, but we laugh anyway. Every week his timing improves. Still needs to work on his timing, slow down a little, but it works. 

banjo and harmonica

And surprises. The young Lantigua brings his banjo and an old OWS fellow traveller, call him MR,  with a ghetto haircut, pulls out his harmonica and joins him. How’d a young Latino guy decide to pick up the mantle of St.Pete? And takes it all kinds of crazy places as well. When they finish, RL says Well that was a good example of world Appalachian delta work song raga blues...and some of you are too young to remember the ’70’s when that was a genre...

And Aaron who brought his sax and knocked us out solo.

Aaron

As for me, it’s strange. Sometimes, like last Monday at 78 Below, you just feel like you suck. Don't like like your voice in the monitor, the right hand begins to spaz on you...nah. So I bring the set I wanted to do there,  here. My substance abuse set. Explain each piece. By the time I get to my Johnny Walker Red, I’m killing it. I finish. Pat O’ says, good set, you were scaring people...And I smile, wait for the adrenalin to calm down. 

RL finishes with his Crazy Queasy but this time brings up Piano Dan and Marc on guitar and Aaron on sax. A bit loose, but it works, RL directing the impromptu band as he goes.

impromptu band

OK. I hope what follows does not offend any of my friends who are intentionally not church people or Christians. But I’m beginning to remember what I should bot have forgotten about regular Open mics. Why they are much loved.

I’ve always loved the non-church communities that for me witness to what the church callled to be, desires to be.

The inclusive neighborhood law office I worked at in the New Haven ghetto. Black, white, Latino. English and Spanish. More inclusive than any church I’d ever been in up to that point. The Friday afternoon debriefing sessions with beer and pizza were a liturgy of true community. Beer and pizza as Eucharist to celebrate a week on the edge shared. 

Or that time in New Orleans my national church welfare organization (PHEWA) was giving it’s highest award to my young protege, Matt English When he was nominated, I said, Now Matt’s doing fine work down there in Texas but this is supposed to be a lifettime achievement award.

My friend Rob, from San Antonio said, It is a lifetime achievement award. And I learned my young friend, at somewhere north of 30 still a boy, was dying from AIDS.

In is acceptance speech, he delivered a jeremiad against straight white male privilege.  Including how the Board of Pensions had denied his medical claims leaving him destitute. The right wing press excoriated him for advancing the homosexual agenda not because of anything  he said, but simply because of his  AIDS. His own church, which I love and hate and can’t leave, had cast him out to the margins.

After the ceremony, we headed to the House of Blues. In a special cab, Matt with his two canes. By chance, Dan Akroyd was there when we arrived. He saw Matt. Asked us what was up. When  he learned matt’s story, he escorted him to the VIP box. 

The walls were filled with indigenous art. The band played beneath portraits of saints  Meir Baba and Bessie Smith. It was the Texas Swing band Asleep at the Wheel.They dedicated Miles and miles of Texas to our Texas boy Matt, and at intermission came up to see him. 

On the club’s wall is written Help ever, Hurt never. the House of Blues put the Presbyterians to shame. As the man Jesus once said, Who then  proved neighbor?

OK. This open mic. It’s a space of openness, acceptance and welcome. RL,the host, makes every performer feel important and valued. Everyone encouraged to share whatever gift they have in an atmosphere of mutual support. There is gentle critique. You watch people grow week by week. It is a community, floating, permeable, but community nonetheless. What each singer, poet, player, comic, does is to share themselves. A peice of soul, even if a little hidden. What each does is to try and make sense in, not of the world. And there by stay alive.   Don’t need to talk about Jesus to make soemthing a sacred space. (He’s probably warming  up on  the harmonica, out back...)

The  banner says West Park Presbyterian Church and RL Wintides Productions presents....

Let me simply say yes. 

Work to do

9/5

Call from Stephen. He’s got an important walk through with a contractor and Sean is spread out on 86th again. I tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can. When I get there, I ask him gently to leave. He needs me to bring him stuff from his bag. Clothing. And he’s trying to locate his meds. So I go to get him clean clothes. Ask him to come around front for the meds search  because his bags are too heavy.

Inside, Danielle said she didn’t want to speak to him because he was so upset yesterday. I hear him calling outside the door. Bob, Bob...so I drag the bags out. Feel this strange sense of being tied together. 

Back inside, Martin and Mitchell have tired of waiting for Stephen who’s still tied up wit the contractor who arrived late, so they’ll take off. Maybe Martin can come back later. 

While we’re talking, an older Italian guy, Michele, walks in. Just wanted to see what’s inside the church. (Yes we're open. Yes, it's stil a church. Yes we have services. Every Sunday...) He lives in a boat down at the Boat Basin. Wants to do some film screenings. We talk about the Boat Basin. The old Japanese guy who used to spend every day carving long tikis. Placed them on other boats. Attached them to the fences at the ball fields. Had a constant struggle with the city who kept removing his stuff. Seems he went back to Japan and could never get a new visa. Some tikis remain.

I hear Karen playing and singing in the sanctuary.

Two visitors from Germany come in to look at the Sanctuary. I talk about my son who lives there.

It’s late afternoon. I go outside. Sean is still there. Against the scaffolding railing. The stream of people leaving Rosh Ha Shana services flow around him like currents around a grounded, wrecked ship. I see Elle, the elderly retired fashion designer from next door, coming down the street dragging her oxygen tank on wheels behind her. She sees Sean, feels intimidated. I walk out, help her get home safe.

RL drops in. Hungry for Chinese take out. We go down to Kam Lai, get our lo mein, go our separate ways. I’ve go more work to do.

By the time I get up to leave, I go outside. Look around.  Sean is gone. The cardboard remains still there. I go inside, get my yellow gloves. Go outside. Work to do.