Twenty-sixth day of Lent: It's who we are

4/7

Gray, raw day. The pit the city is digging has grown, turning around the corner onto 86th Street. The bus stop sign has been taken down. The stop completely cordoned off. Like a medieval castle, we are being surrounded by a moat. 

First up are two plumbers from Watson Plumbing on assignment from the Landmarks Conservancy. They’ve come to examine the broken drains, the standing water. We start in the storage room in the basement. Clogged broken drain. Standing dirty water.

Then through the boiler room and out to the back yard. The pool has been drained but underneath, another broken drain, just waiting for the next rain. The last will be the  hardest. 

The water is visible from a ground floor window. At the northeast corner of the sanctuary building. How to get there? It’s in a mini yard I didn’t even realize that we had. On  the first visit, the plumber and John gained entrance by going to the apartment building on 87th, talking to the super, going out through their yard, climbing over a small fence. A door was visible. How to get to it?

The only way is to take flashlights and enter into the crawl space behind the boiler room under the sanctuary. This is truly the stygian darkness of the church. Years ago, some former super laid out a path of planks and broken doors across the water. Clearly this is an old issue. I’ve never been here before.

We reach the door. There’s no lock, but it won’t open. Rusted shut. We’re going to have to bust that open, they say. Whatever it takes, I say. They will write up a report. Be back. 

I’m outside sweeping when I see another plumber outside the door. He’s been there half an hour. Rang the buzzer. Well now, that’s broken, too. He’s here to check the boiler. I’m having trouble keeping all these plumbers and their assignments straight. It’s like all plumbers, all the time. 

He checks out the ancient boiler. Opens the doors. Takes pictures. Marvels at its over a century old brick walls. The former coal box converted to oil. Then gas. It’s real dinosaur. The hot water tank is separate. Do we need to replace  it? Just turn it back on? Is going tankless cheaper? He too will write up his report. 

This morning I have seen the bowels of the church. The underground brick and stone walls. The dark, earthy wetness. Those who wax romantic about these old buildings have no idea. No idea.

Later I meet Hope and Jim and Ted and Norm at Popovers. We’re planning an archival exhibit for the centennial. Norm has volunteered to head this up. We talk about themes. Eras. How we want to show how a classic whitebread church with ushers in morning coats and catered picnics in the park turned into the feisty cutting edge vanguard community of the eighties. And now a committed, multicultural circle with its allies striving for a future. A vision. 

We go back into the church. Look for the best place to mount the exhibit. Talk about next steps. Assignments. I like this better than plumbing. I take Norm and Ted outside to see what remains of the quote that has been the watchword for this church since its birth.

Above the door, only a few letters remain. But its message is clear: Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit”, says the Lord God of Hosts. (Zech. 4:6) Both feel moved. That this should be the theme of the exhibit. Of the entire celebration. 

I recall how this was our theme the Sunday after 9-11. The banner with these words our intern Chris from Union created that hung down from the balcony. The dramatic musical setting Bill created. I look up at the words again.  Bits of the intricate carving remain under the worn letters. Perhaps a metaphor. It’s been weathered. Worn down. But still there.  It’s who we are. 

Twenty-fifth day of Lent: Needs work,but a start

4/6

A large yellow caterpillar digger is chewing up the earth and making a pit right beyond the cut  lines Tom showed me yesterday. Right in front of our steps.

I meet Rochone at Popover’s to talk about the June week, our 100th Anniversary, an open house, the concerts Amanda is planning. We’ve got two months. Time is short. Anxious to see what she can do.

Three blocks north of the church, I drop by the apartment where Samir lived.  Leila shows me the Beckstein he brought from the church when we moved out. A beautiful instrument. Formerly the rehearsal piano of Jens Nygaard and the Jupiter Symphony all those years they rehearsed in our sanctuary. 

Jens was a great musician who had struggled with bipolar disease and had even been homeless for a time. He never forgot those days. And was always ready to support our work with the homeless. I’ll never forget his surprise for me when I turned 50. He drew me into the rehearsal. Then the whole symphony played Happy Birthday. When Jens died, his wife, Mei Ying, donated the Beckstein to West-Park. I’m honored to have known him, had him as a part of our life. 

So Leila and I are trying to work through the process of getting the piano back to the church. I look around. Haven’t been here since the day Samir was found dead. I remember the salons  he used to hold with music, poetry, food and drink. I see a flier from Perimplin, the opera he had worked on for decades before he finally produced and performed  it at West-Park. Yet another part of our story. 

Head back to the church where Jane Galloway is waiting with her advisor and  friend from southern California, Angel Perreia. He sees my Forbes Field groundskeeper jacket and says, “Bill Mazeroski,” yes, Maz who hit the homer in the bottom of the 9th in the 7th game of the 1960 World Series to defeat the invincible Yankees and imprinted my young life with the dangerous idea that anything can be possible.

We do the litany of the 1960 Pirate lineup:                                                                                          “Smoky Burgess behind the plate..”                                                                                                          “Backed up by Hal Smith, who hit who hit  should have been the winning homer in the 8th...”                                   “At first base, Dale Long?”                                                                                                                       “No, he was earlier, it was Dick Stuart and the pinch hitter supreme, Rocky Nelson..”                                     “I saw Stuart play for the Hollywood Stars...and of course  Maz at second...”                                                           “And Dick Groat at short...”                                                                                                                   “Don Hoak at third...”                                                                                                                               “The Tiger...and Bob ‘the dog’ Skinner in left...”                                                                                     “Bill Virdon in center...”                                                                                                                         “Yes, ‘the Quail’....and utility man Gino Cimoli...”                                                                                  “Bob Friend and Vernon ‘the Deacon’ Law on the mound.”                                                                  “And in the bullpen...”                                                                                                                                           “El Roy ‘the Baron’ Face..”                                                                                                                          “With his..” Angel holds up his hands, separates his first two fingers widely.                                                            “Forkball”                                                                                                                                                “Yes, forkball...”                                                                                                                                      “And the greatest of all, the Great One, el incomparable, Roberto Clemente...”                                                     “Ah yes....”                                                                                                                                                    “I would sit in the right field grandstand, you could almost reach out and touch him..that was my childhood...” I think of Marty. The unique configurations discussion.

Jane looks at us and smiles.."I knew you two would connect...”

I prepare them for the raw space they will see. Tell them the story of the water damage, the failed vision. We tour the church. Jane sees several spaces she would love for an office. 

We talk about what true collaboration might mean. A covenant relationship of shared values, not just rental space. The new thought religious movement has always been hard for me to warm up to. Too ethereal, too...spacy? Yet Jane strikes me as authentic. A groundedness that comes from struggle, experience, life in the world. I feel we could work together.

It’s raining harder. After a late afternoon visit with Jack, I’m back to open the doors again. To go back into Belhar. Uli with us one last time. Reading its words, we think of its birth in the midst of apartheid. Uli wants to know why the Presbyterian Church felt the desire to consider this as one of its official confessions. I realize I don’t really know.

Hope suggests it may have to do with the history of division in the church. We talk of the segregated church that came from the civil war split of northern and southern churches. The almost absurd specificity of twentieth century Jim Crow laws in the South. How that legacy affected the church. What was left unresolved in the 1983 Reunion. Reconciliaiton without reconstruction... 

Belhar’s witness against division or discrimination  of any kind. As being antithetical to the gospel. A denial, in advance, of reconciliation. We reflect on these words:

...that God by his life-giving Word and Spirit has conquered the powers of sin and death, and therefore also of irreconciliation and hatred, bitterness and enmity, that God, by his life-giving Word and Spirit will enable His people to live in a new obedience which can open new possibilities of life for society and the world; 

How can we believe this based on what we still see around us? “It’s a statement of faith,” Hope says. I say, "Like when Tutu said, we have already won...” “This is even harder,” Hope replies.

We realize that in our own context, reconciliation that does not engage seriously the divisions of not only race, but class, can only be another false reconciliation. Liberals can be just as elitist as conservatives. 

Walking up the street, I’m thinking, maybe this is our mission as a church:

To be a community of global discipleship, lived out locally. Where our community is not just context but calling. Where we celebrate our city, our cultures, questions. Where our differences create both an obligation and an opportunity for blessing. Where, as followers of the path of Jesus, we welcome as partners all who would join us in the work of building a more just, humane and sustainable world.

Needs work. But a start.


Walking home up Amsterdam, the Saigon Grill workers are on the picket line again. Uli flashes his No Sweatshops button. I raise a fist in solidarity. They smile and cheer. Beside the doorway of the restaurant, glaring at the pickets, at us,  two large, ominous looking men, like extras from The Sopranos or a Scorsese film stand silent sentry.

Twenty-fourth day of Lent: It feels like we have a plan

4/5

A subwoofer cover. An empty St. Ides 40 bottle. And one lean, silent, angry prophet (see 2/18), sitting hunched over, writing furiously with red ink in his notebook.

Tom meets me on the steps. As I expected, he’s wearig shorts already. It’s just starting to rain.  Under the scaffolding. We go first to Barney Greengrass. They’d called me. Thought they smelled gas. Con Ed has come. We go around to the 86th Street door. Hope is there, reading. Waiting for the phone guy. It’s warmer out here, she says. She tells me the Con Ed guy says that everything’s ok.

Tom and I inspect the sidewalk. The cuts the city has made. The rough asphalt put down over regular sidewalk. They’ve got to fix this. Could be dangerous.  May need to remove some of the scaffolding. (Hope wants to know if the scaffolding comes down, isn’t that a public safety hazard from falling stone?) Again, their responsibility. Penny Ryan, District Administrator, contacted Tom as a Community Board member who contacted me as pastor...

It’s raining harder. We go into Barney’s for coffee. Talk through the sidewalk. Then on to the more serious issues. Like boilers. Bathrooms. Hot water. Elevators. Accessibility. Slowly, step by step, a comprehensive program begins to emerge. It has to begin the bathrooms and boiler. And it requires around $3800 to get started. That’s all. And its time for the community to come through. Not about politics. About what’s right. How we can work together here, step by step. This will create its own reality. Time to really draw the old Friends.... in. It feels like  we’ve got a plan. 

By the time we go out, it’s truly pouring. And cold. We each know what we will do next. The prophet is sprawled out asleep. When I walk around  the corner, Hope tells me that the phone guy has arrived! Went out to check some outside things out. Looks like we may actually get out of here in an hour. Danielle may not have to relieve us. 

Soon enough, walking down 86th, the phone guy. Hope introduces him. Pedro. As we walk back inside to my office, it’s very clear, Pedro cares about us, our church, our story. More than a phone guy, he comes across as a good man, a man of faith. Who cares about his work. And sees people on the other side of phone lines. 

The fire alarm line? Back on. The main church line? Back on. Dial 212-362-4890, you actually get the church again. Wi-fi? On its way. Pedro shows us around the phone system. Makes sure that we’re comfortable.

We see him  to the door. Thank him. He wishes us well. Blesses us. We may not have heat. But we have phones. And a plan. Outside, the rain has stopped. The sun is coming out again. The prophet is gone.

Twenty-third day of lent: Now all I have to do is figure out how to use it

4/4

An airplane pillow. An airplane blanket. And a pair of jeans.

We have decided to hire Danielle. We go to the church where John is waiting for us. The woodshed Theatre collective will be coming by later.  It’s a sunny and mild day. And warmer outside than in.

We go to my office. Find the almost new mac Eleanor brought us last December. This will be the new computer for the church, for the Centre. Danielle’s first job will be to pursue all these plumbers with their boiler estimates until we have them in writing. That’s where it begins. 

This will free me. It’s the first administrative help I’ve had in three years. Now all I have to do is figure out how to use it.

Fourth Sunday in Lent: Seeing in a new light

John's cup (inside)

4/3

John's cup (outside)

Walking up the street, I’m thinking about Jed. Katherine and I planning the memorial service for his wife Celia. Died after a six year struggle with ovarian cancer. It’s good planning this service with Katherine, her art with liturgy. Jed gave  us two amazing  years as an artist in residence. Helped create the perfect palms to passion Sunday service. Among many others. These events, with Katherine  and Jed, made going to church something to look forward to for me. 

Holly is waiting at the church when I arrive. And we both wait for Hope, who has the keys today.  A young man comes in, heads to the back. So many wind up missing today. We remove our temporary tables. Return the communion  table to the front.  Dress the table and pulpit in Lenten purple, at last.  I look up and see that Jane Galloway has joined us. Glad she’s there but wishing more of us were here. 

Today we’re looking at light. More like an Epiphany theme. But maybe there’s a difference.Maybe it’s not like getting in a flash of light.  Maybe it’s more about  seeing things in a new light... a process.

We begin with Samuel’s call of David. Deals with  leadership. Quality . Value. 

“⁷But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 7)

How we look at things. There’s been alot of discussion this year about a Presbyterian Church “white paper”.An analysis, critique, plan by conservatives. See our church as dying. In need of reform. But for them, back to  a past that can be no more. 

More recently, a group of liberals held what they called the Next Church conference, offering their analysis. Critique. Plan. They too see the church as dying. Know what needs to be done. 

Here in New York City Presbytery, a group of self-selected clergy and elders have brought the same analysis. Critique. Plan. To our presbytery. They want us to vote on it in May. And if they lose, they essentially want permission  to secede. 

It’s a mistake to perceive the basic fault lines in our church as right versus left. In New York City,it is not conservative vs. liberal.It’s more complicated. But what is consistent in every case is the assumption  that  money and size and power add up to quality. Add up to wisdom. The sense of we know  better. Let us tell you what you should do. And if you don’t do it, we’re taking our money and leaving. Our whole presbyterian system was based on the principle of equality of insight, vision, inspiration...That big and small, rich and poor, red and yellow black and white, by listening together for  the leading of the Holy Spirirt, can discern what God’s will is for us. 

Maybe it’s the little guy. The red headed little shepherd. Maybe it’s David who God wants. The little churches. The ones at the margins. 

In all of this I have heard not a word, about peace, justice, reconciliation. We’re back to Belhar again. How can we continue to maintain a hierarchical corporate form of ecclesiology and at the same time honor Belhar with its call to reconciliation,peace and justice? And even more specifically, 

*  that the church must therefore stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that the church must witness against and strive against any form of injustice, so that justice may roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream;

* that the church as the possession of God must stand where the Lord stands, namely against injustice and with the wronged; that in following Christ the church must witness against all the powerful and privileged who selfishly seek their own interests and thus control and harm others. (Belhar Confession, 1988, South Africa)

I want to know: How can we pass Belhar, unanimously!, and think its ok to have a self-selected group who will decide?

Can we see things in a different light?

But there is a personal aspect of this as well. We are called to be children of light...

I’m drawn to Eugene Peterson’s translation of the Bible, the Message. In his Ephesians we read:

 8-10You groped your way through that murk once, but no longer. You're out in the open now. The bright light of Christ makes your way plain. So no more stumbling around. Get on with it! The good, the right, the true—these are the actions appropriate for daylight hours. Figure out what will please Christ, and then do it.

 11-16Don't waste your time on useless work, mere busywork, the barren pursuits of darkness. Expose these things for the sham they are. It's a scandal when people waste their lives on things they must do in the darkness where no one will see. Rip the cover off those frauds and see how attractive they look in the light of Christ.

   Wake up from your sleep,
   Climb out of your coffins;
   Christ will show you the light!
So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!

Have confidence in, trust the Lord...

What he’s talking about is no hiding. If we do what we do in the light, it robs the power of that which frightens us, controls us, weakens us. If you feel you need to hide, maybe you need to think about it....Not only see it in the light do it in the light. 

Finally, the gospel lesson. Dangerous ground here again.  If you’ve learned anything over the the years here it is that Biblical connections between  disability and spiritual infirmity are just plain wrong. Jesus makes this clear by rejecting the presumed connection between blindness and sin. You have to see things in a new light. 

But still. There remains this ...was blind but now I see... business. As one of my friends in the disabilities concerns network used to say, I once was blind, but still am. And you can’t say well we’re all handicapped in one way or another....that robs a community of its own particularity, God given uniqueness. 

Nor can you duck behind metaphor. Discussin gthsi issue once with an African-America music director, he said, but its just a metaphor. And I said, yes, like wash me and I shall be whiter than snow. And he said, oh....

Beware metaphor. the power to control the meaning if a metaphor is the power  to control the meaning, the quality of another’s life. We know what’s best....it’s a form of psychic violence... you have to see things in a new light....

So much better in the Spanish translation, La Gracia Sublime, 

...tu luz me rescato....

Your love has rescued me.

When I read the passage from John 9:3, 

“³Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

Hope responded that she preferred the translation ...so that God might be glorified in him...(just as he is) Later she woud tell me she looked for that translation and it doesn’t exist. It’s the way she hears the passage. God can be glorified in me as I am. I do not need to be cured. 

That’s what this time, this season is about...learning to see in a new light...We have quality, value, just as we are..may we continue to grow towards what we will be...


Just before the offering, we discuss the growing movement to fast in solidarity with the hungry. It's grown like a wildfire, crossing denomination, faith tradition and secular political boundaries. We decide to join. To reflect on our experiences fasting in worship. And to challenge our presbytery through its Social Witness Council to join in.  (see http://hungerfast.org/)

It’s time for communion. And now our unique communion cups are back. The cup John created with our church on the outside, Katherine, I and the people  on the inside. Though the cold and health keep her away, she is still there, in the cup. With me. With us. And the other, a cup made by Andrea’s mother Pat, her pottery. She, a daughter of a Spanish Catholic woman and a communist Jewish musician, she made us a cup.

We finish the service. Sing our Amen. And as always, share Anna’s cafe con leche. The young man introduces himself. He’s from Wall Street. Looking for a way back. Here in our own home, doors open, there are visitors again. Outside, there’s Andre.When he got here  at 10 and no one was here, he left and went to SPSA. We missed him. Better communications next week.  

We leave bread and juice on the steps.A man comes forward, takes the bread. Asks for more. Arcadia goes to the table, brings him the rest of the loaf. Communion.

The Table

Twenty-first day of Lent: Follow the light, not the lantern

4/1

Cold rain falling. Walking down Amsterdam to the church, my head is still swimming from my travel from  Louisville to Cincinnatti to Philadelphia to La Guardia today. But more so the the General Assembly Mission Council meeting I just left. It’s clear that the sense of crisis has truly been absorbed by this national body of decision makers. Words like radical change, risk taking,boundary crossing have become the working vocabulary. Programs like New Directions have been launched to help congregations assess where they are and envision a a new future. Or death and rebirth. Of course we all agree that strong and healthy congregations are the base for all else must grow. But what is, who defines, a healthy congregation?

Yet our goals and priorities remain general, non-specific and mushy. (Except for a pledge to add 1001 new faith communities. But how?) Although a New Form of Government, ending the exclusion of lgbtq leadership and approving the Belhar Confession all will add up to a new church, what does that new church actually look like, feel like? How do we bring it about?  It’s one thing to talk about coffee shops and tatoo parlors. But what will we do there when we go there? Does anyone know what radical change really is? How we actually  connect with those who have  been hurt, wounded by the church? Our own children? 

How can we continue to maintain a hierarchical corporate form of ecclesiology and at the same time honor Belhar with its call to reconciliation,peace and justice? And even more specifically, as Belhar states:

*  that the church must therefore stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that the church must witness against and strive against any form of injustice, so that justice may roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream;

• that the church as the possession of God must stand where the Lord stands, namely against injustice and with the wronged; that in following Christ the church must witness against all the powerful and privileged who selfishly seek their own interests and thus control and harm others.

In a world where both conservatives and liberals continue  act as if those with money and numbers know best for everyone, where specifics of budget and program are always to be left to the executive branch, we are living cognitive dissonance as the church that was collapses around us. My guess is that what God wants to be done is already happening . It’s our job to discern  and foster, nourish, support. 

That’s all in my head as I meet Jane Galloway at Popover’s. My own age, she has the shine of a professional actress, which she is. First production of Vanities off Broadway.  She smiles when I say Go MEAT, and she knows I know the play well. Yes, that shining quality, but also a toughness that comes from walking a long journey. With  years engaged in all the struggles that  have defined our years. Which ultimately are the same struggle. 

We share Pittsburgh roots. That reoccurring connection with Portland. And more. She has lived her life as a Presbyterian child and as an adult minister in the African Methodist Episcopal Church  (that’s right) and the United Church of Christ. Her mom still a Presbyterian in Portland, a brother who has been barred from called PCUSA ministry by virtue of Amenment B. Tried to create and live out a vision like mine in Long Beach, California and now has been called as Spiritual Director of the Sacred Center, a new thought congregation that worships at SPSA, where  we lived for three years. 

She shares their story birthed by a charismatic leader. Quickly attracting lgbtq folks wounded by traditional church.  You are amazing, you are beautiful, just as you are, was the much longed for message.  And their children. And African-American women blocked out of leadership in traditional churches.  And a vibrant gospel choir. Now in their second stage of life post founder, they called an actual seminary educated ordained pastor see if they can become a real congregation.

Our visions are very much the same. Especially as to what our centre could be, the kind of place it could be.  From my left wing reformed position, I agree when  she quotes the Bahai idea that we should worship the light and not the lantern. How often do we make that mistake? 

I am excited about the idea of collaboration. But have questions. How does a new thought congregation and a community committed to following in the path of Jesus collaborate?  She speaks of Howard Thurman, Martin Luther King, Jr.‘s mentor, who combined mysticism and social activism. Who said that following  the path of Jesus  was ultimately more important than believing any  doctrinal theological propostion. What do we have to offer that they don’t? To those wounded by the church? Would we be overwhelmed by their size? Are such communities a witness to what we have ignored around us?  How can we be partners in a common  vision, if that vision is a common one? More questions than answers. But worth pursuing. 

Seventeenth day of Lent: The plumber came. The phone guy didn't

3/28

Sunny and cold again. I meet Hope outside of the 86th Street door. Waiting for the phone company to come and install phones and wi-fi. One of those annoying deals where they give you a four hour widow and you just have to wait. Have to see how it goes. 

I sweep up, make my rounds. By 3, no phone guy has arrived and I head down to French Roast on 85th to meet Mim and interview a candidate for our administrative position. She worked as a coordinator for the Religion and the Arts course at Union. Wants to be a teacher. Take time to fully explain all that needs coordinating in our project. She seems up to it. This could work.

Back at the church, Deacon James has come over to help us wait. He’s still a bit weakened by his first chemo treatment. Long journey ahead. I take our candidate on a tour of the whole building, show her all my favorite spaces. Spaces she will help fill if she takes this job. 

In the middle of the tour, Maxwell Plumbing arrives for another look at the boiler. He’s puzzling over how to separate sanctuary from church house, what kind of new affordable boiler he might recommend. Just hope he makes his recommendation soon.

The plumber leaves.  I have to leave. No phone guy yet. Deacon James has gone home. Hope will stay awhile longer. The phone guy never comes.