Baptism of Jesus Sunday:carefully, completely sweeping

As I start to push the front doors open, they won’t budge. I hear a stirring. Push some more. Someone is asleep in front of the doors. Senor se necesita moverse. Vamos tener un servicio de la iglesia, una misa....por favor....

I go to leave by the side door. Steve is awake and there. I tell him I’m heading out to pick up the bulletins. And that someone’s got to move. When I return, Steve tells me, He’s a good guy. Said  thank you very much, he just overslept. And I  begin to relax. 

The candles are lit. We’re ready and waiting. The congregation is slowly arriving. Teddy’s friend Tina has come in from New Paltz with her friend Gerry.

Anna has brought a white candle surrounded by a wreath. perfect for Baptism of Jesus Sunday. 

I begin the service with the Blind Boys of Alabama singing Wade in the Water. And then I lead us in Take me to the river, take me t the river, take me to the river, to be baptized.... And when we’re done I say, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a theme today....and begin to explain that this is the day we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus.

After our scriptures are read (Isaiah 43:1-7, Psalm 29, Acts 8:14-17 and Luke 3: 15-17, 21-22), I begin my reflection. 

There’s a lot of flu going around. More than I remember ever before. People getting shots, Inoculations. Bee thinking about that myself, and I never do. Been thinking about  inoculations, vaccinations. Things we do for infants to protect them And how there;s this sense of baptism as being another form of inoculation. My father always felt a little concerned about the fact that my brother’s twin girls weren’t baptized. Like they’s missed their spiritual vaccination.

The font

I’m remembering that this this day last year was the last one our baptismal font  was intact. Before the lid went missing in the midst of Occupation. I point out its symbolism, the waters of chaos at the base, the water lilies, the lotus...for the Egyptians sun and rebirth, for the Buddhists enlightenment as the beautiful bloom that rises from the mud and for the  Hindus, rebirth as it closes ever night and opens every morning. And its hidden inlaid stones from the Holy Land...

I’m thinking of images of water...summers at the beach...watching sunset on the Hudson..boats parked up the River waiting to head out to the harbor then out to sea...the Three Rivers in Pittsburgh, the Allegheny, Monongahela, Ohio ...coffee overlooking the bay in Seattle, ships docked ready to head north to Alaska and beyond....the vastness of the ocean..you could wind up in Hawaii or Japan....We ourselves are about 57% water ...and it’s 75% for infants...and how can we live now without the images of tsunami or hurricane, Katrina, Sandy...constant reminders that the great sea monster from the chaos of the deep Tiamat, is aways just below the surface...the Babylonian version of our tohu v bohu, ....without form and void.....

In the Genesis creation myth, the separation of waters comes right after the setting of the lights... the waters from above separated from the waters below.....there’s an old legend that the rain is the tears of the separated waters ....longing with the desire to be reunited...we needed the separation to know ourselves, to know existence...but that arc towards reuniting is there from the beginning, Genesis through Revelation...

And so today we celebrate Jesus’ baptism..because we baptize babies, because it comes so close to Christmas, we have a tendency to think of  Jesus baptized as a baby...just as in some places like New Mexico, el santo nino is seen still wandering the high desert hills, barefoot and vulnerable,  performing milagros for the poor...wandering still.......

But Jesus‘ baptism is as an adult ...and here comes his  John again....there in advent at the beginning and here at the end...with Christmas in between...

So why do we baptize children? Because it’s a gift not earned...a gift not a reward for certain behaviors or spoken words...that it’s about grace an every child is  born onto grace....it is also an  act of community, accepting responsibility to stand with the parents in support as they raise a child....

It’s the only sacrament  mutually recognized by protestants and catholics alike ...so long as it is  in the name of the father, son and holy ghost...it is recognized ...why we believe we are baptized into the holy catholic (universal) church...

But why Jesus?  If this season has been about incarnation, God becoming human, then God must be with us in every way...and if baptism is in recognition of our human nature, our need to live our lives in anew direction, then Jesus is baptized with us as an act of solidarity... that he will be human in every way...knowing our lives in every way...

There’s john again...those images...speaking of the one to come...Winnowing fork in his hand...separate wheat from chaff...burning the chaff with unquenchable fire... sounds like good old fire and brimstone preacher  stuff..typical old school....BUT...here’s the thing..it’s not like some of us are wheat and some are chaff...all of us  are BOTH...it’s about finding the chaff inside of  ourselves and being willing to let it go...burned away...the old Catholic idea of purgatory. was not so bad...a place where all the chaff could be taken away....tossed in the air...separated..in the end, this day is about our openness to letting it happen..to letting go of what stands between us and being who we’re supposed to be...have been created to be...that is what is ours today...

And after the offering, I pour a pitcher of water into the metal basin, hearing the sound of water as it hits metal...this basin that was part of our identity during our exile at SPSA...and I pour drops of water fro the Jordan River into the water and say the words of Thanksgiving over water...remembering the spirit of God brooding over the waters, the separation, Noah’s flood, the children of Israel passing through the waters, Jesus coming to the Jordan...giving thanks...and then inviting everyone to come forward to receive a blessing, remember their own baptism..and one by one, I lay on hands...something that always frightened me before..I could do it with Katherine...then finally alone...sometimes feeling the power, sometimes almost...

We finish by singing Baptized in Water, to the same tune as Morning Has Broken, which Stephen was playing before  the service..We finish with a  circle, with our sung Amen...Cara gently playing the piano...

Of course the man who rose and gave a moving testimony of his recovery from the steps approaches me after and asks for just a little help, transportation for the week...

 Cara and broom

We meet to review a request to join our friends at Jan Hus in asking the Boy Scouts to welcome scouts without regard to sexual orientation...and our session adds and with regard to safety for all and appropriate response to accusations of harm...

And Jamie leads us through an update of where  we are real estate wise...we feel the pressure of time...the anxiety of needing resolution..of keeping us safe....

As I leave, Tina and Gerry are upstairs cooking chili for the crew.  Cara is outside carefully sweeping the length of the building. Carefully, completely, sweeping....

Continental Shoemakers and the Red Planet

1/12

I’ve spent the morning in an Occupy Open Space meeting in Washington Heights. Lots of conversation about police community relations and developing relationships and establishing stronger connections with community based organizations. And then an afternoon meeting in Harlem with Presbyterians continuing to struggle with race and class based issues. Not an easy Saturday.

Glen is waiting for me with two theater friends, John from Continental Shoemakers (a homage to Tennessee Williams) and Lisa from Red Planet. They’re looking for a place to produce a new play. I give them the full tour. I tell Lisa about our recreation  of Orson Welles’  Mercury Theater of the Air’s War of the Worlds. And they fall in love with the place. Glen will help them pull together a proposal. 

While we’re touring upstairs, I see Stephen in the  sanctuary. Good to see him back from a holiday visit to his family.  I need his help.

We’ve got to get the place ready for tomorrow. Glen sticks around  to help out. They roll the 800 pound late Victoriana Tiffany baptismal font to the front of the sanctuary. I remind Stephen that it was this service last year when we last had our baptismal font intact. Later that week, in the midst of the Occupation of West-Park, the cover disappeared. Which became its own dramatic story. Murdoch, Fox news, the whole thing. The consuming intensity of those days feels like it was years ago, not just last year. 

We place the cover on the communion table. Bring the candles out and set them up. When all is ready, there’s still time for Stephen and i to go catch a half of the Ravens- Broncos playoff game before going to Jonathan’s opening of his Andy Kaufman installation in the Village. A moment to catch my breath.

Jonathan's exhibit   http://www.artlyst.com/articles/andy-kaufman-resurrected-in-ny-performance-art-exhibition

first baptismal font story   http://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/search?q=baptismal+font

see also http://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/2012/01/martin-luther-king-jr-day-im-doin-gthis.html and other stories from that week and "What Sarah wrote...." under popular posts

A One Love kind of place and that's another film....

1/11

My friend Marcel drops by. I appreciate that he shares my perspective on the impact of race and class issues in the church at this time. And gets what we’re trying to do here. And also cares about my fate.  We talk about the struggles of the small urban church he's moderating at the moment. And what it will take to get West-Park across the line. 

Enid comes looking for space for her Afro-Brazilian worship group to perform their rituals. She’s pleased that I have a basic understanding of how the variety of Afro-Caribbean religious groups have amazing similarities. And how effective they have been in preserving indigenous West African  Yoruba religion within the outer trappings of Christianity. I remember how Pueblo friends explained how  Catholicism with its saints and calendar of celebrations had enabled them to maintain their ancient traditions. It was the purity of Protestantism that threatened to decimate the religious expression of their culture.

I also recognize an accent. And soon figure out that Enid is from west Texas. And I share my Oklahoma stories. And ask how she got to Afro-Brazilian. The answer was by way of Tibetan Buddhism. Uh, alright, then. She’ll come up with a proposal for Daniel. 

The ballet dancer from Sanctuary has all kinds of ideas for classes and performances and schools and...I’m sorry but I’m worn out of ideas. I need a firm deal finished. This trying to bring things to conclusion is difficult. Easy to see things from different perspectives. More financial, more security but separation as opposed to uncertain and collaboration. (That’s oversimplification...) I think back to my conversation with Alexis. I don’t know, she said, you have to hold onto what you truly want as long as you can. West-Park always seemed to me to be, like they say in Jamaica, a One Love kind of place. 

                             * * * * 

In Zeljko’s film of Teddy, he asks him about love. You mean between a man and a woman? Yes...there’s this one woman...it’s been 30 years...me and her? That’s another film. And he laughs...somehow fell out of touch...

She has come to visit and talk. Misses him profoundly. He was, as she says, the love of her life. A before, during and after everything else that happened in their lives kind of love. And there has been a lot. But I can see immediately how they were drawn to each other. An unstoppbale force and an immovable object she says. 

She has a beauty that shines through years of experiences. Somehow tough and gentle and warm at the same time. With experiences saving lives as a medic. And sometimes seeing other lives wasted around her. Rough language and laughs. She was a match for everything he was. Through it all, a survivor. And despite a justifiable streak of anger, a passionate lover of people.When she tells her story, their stories, I understand why Teddy said, But that’s another film... And they are her stories to tell,not mine. 

We go see where he lived. Meet his roommate Christopher.  And Stephen. 

We’re back in my office, talking about, well, after. I don’t know, I say. I know that people who come close to dying describe a similar experience. Being greeted and welcomed. I believe we go from our own tear drop back into the cosmic sea. But somehow something that is uniquely our spirit stays around. Continues. I mention Jamie’s dream of Teddy coming to her with a message for his second wife. And our joking that he would take care of the restless ghost people keep seeing around. 

Someone wants to come in. I don’t recognize him. Hey, it’s me, Gregory, he says. And I say, Oh my God... I remember him from the steps. But he looks robust, healthy. Good haircut. Teddy kicked my ass, got me sober. I’ve kept it going. For him. Nah, for me. I went home. Back to my life. Back to my wife. 

I can’t believe how good you look, I say. And introduce them.

Just had to drop in. He told me to look in on you. He laughs. And yeah, thanks for noticing the difference. It means a lot. I’ll be back around, OK?

I’ll be here. I look back to Teddy’s friend. That was not a coincidence....

She smiles, yeah, I know... She’s been haunted by not having been able to say goodbye. Not being able to tell him she loved him. You saw the film, I say. You saw the look on his face when he spoke about  you. He knew. You were the love of his life. 

Maybe we ever just get one, she says. And a lot of people, not even that...It was good what we had. 

It was love, I said. 

That's another film.....

It’s getting late. I’m done in. Anxious to Meet Jamie at the B. A cold rain is falling. Crossing the street, Rachelle accosts me. Pastor, pastor, I am coming to help you, she says. I look at her. I m shivering. Thanks, but I’ve got to get out of the rain. 

Oh yes, oh yes, it’s cold, it’s cold...

I have to get out of the rain, but thank you...

From outside, the B looks warm and cozy. And there’s a vacant stool....

Maybe only we can take our wounds and use them to create a new reality.

1/10

Alexis comes in for a visit. She hasn’t been here since we came back. I met her first when she and her husband came to talk about  interfaith marriage. He later died of male breast cancer. I admire how she has taken her grief and used it for life, for organizing for education and action around male breast cancer. How she has grown as a woman and a mother. How she has reclaimed and recreated a life using her eye as a designer, her artist’s heart. We talk about wounds, how we have to claim them as having made us who we are,part of our identity yet not defining us.How we transform them into something new.  I am thankful to have been a part of her journey. 

She noticed cardboard and other things on the steps. I hadn’t looked yet. I feel somewhat embarrassed. She remembers when the doors were always closed and people camped out here all day. I tell her it’s not like that now. That we’ve taken the steps back and our doors are open. And as she leaves, I put on gloves, pick up all the refuse. And sweep the steps. 

I only see Martin for a minute. There is much to talk about, but Noche is in the middle of a long rehearsal before heading out on tour. They’ll be in Arizona tomorrow. 

A man is in the sanctuary looking around. I come and ask him if I can help. He says he’s been here before. I don’t suppose the organ still works? he asks. And I explain that I don’t know.That the man who used to play it died and we haven’t bee able to turn it on. Thaat it’s an Austin hybrid. That there’s an article about it online. (http://www.nycago.org/Organs/NYC/html/WestParkPres.html ) My visitor tells me he was the former organist at St. John the Divine Cathedral. No longer there but still an organist. I tell him I’d love to find out if it can still work. We’ve seen the bellows. I would like to know too, he says. 

I’ve got meetings to race to. The Interfaith Assembly on Housing and Homelessness. And the Presbytery’s Council on Witness to Society and the World. (CWSW). And then I will return. My friend Beppe will stop by.We’ll head to the B. He’s coming to believe that it is creativity that sets us apart as a species. And I agree. That creation makes us partners with the creator. He sees his call as helping people access and activate their creativity. And I’m trying to create a place where that can happen. 

Maybe only we can take our wounds and use them to create a new reality. 

I may get lost, but God loves me anyways

1/9

An organization that is very seriously interested in along term lease for our church house comes in for another visit. They are good, decent people. But they would want a clear separation in order to create a distinct identity for themselves. They would be not partners, but in their words good neighbors. My vision of what I truly want could be, is still very clear for me. I will hold onto it until the last possible moment.

A woman comes in.  Wanting to know where the food pantry is. I explain to her how to get to SPSA. Three times. She has an almost childlike demeanor. She goes out. Comes back in. I still don’t understand, she says. I start to explain again, then stop. Let me show you, I say. She looks up at me, Mister, I may get lost, but God still loves me anyways. And I seriously relate. I walk outside with her. Walk to the corner. Point to the west. Go two blocks that way. You can’t miss it. That way? she says. 

Yes, that way. And she heads off crossing the street. 

I’m almost ready to go. Marc comes in with a friend. A singer/songwriter in his own rite. Used to be part of the Speakeasy project. Starts talking about the category of almost famous. Those who were almost there and fell short. Or who had brief moments in the spotlight. Or lots of achievement right under mainstream radar. Former Bluesproject’s Danny Kalb. David Massengill. The Roches. Every name he names, I know. I played the Speakeasy myself back in ’82. I mention my uncle in law, David Sear, who has manged to make a career.

I loved it, but just couldn’t make a living, he says. Marc has played me his Jerusalem. A good song. He has an idea of a concert series. I’m all for it, but also painfully aware how hard it is to pull off.  Write me up a proposal, I say. We’ll talk about it.... and we walk out into the night together. 

I may get lost but God loves me anyways. 

We're still waiting

1/8

The day begins with another visit with friends with friends who could bring everything together.  Another time of sharing a sense of vision of....It’s easy to be seen. “I wish we were having this conversation a year ago...” We are where we are when we’re there. We believe the big picture is coming together.  And we are waiting...

RL’s story about Dylan and his cover of One More Cup of Coffee sent me on an Internet journey. The original....I had forgotten that Emmy Lou Harris sang the harmonies.( RL knew the fiddle player...) Dylan’s live version from a concert in Buddokan, Japan...(see 1/5)...a decent cover by Steve Earle....and lots of others not naming. Took me down a gypsy road. Winding up with Ste. Sarah of Egypt, a new one for me. RL said that with people who do Dylan covers, they are doing their own interpretation. Never realize how the words, the sound of the voice and the color and texture and movement of the accompaniment all go together. Miss any of it, you miss it all.

When Jeremy comes in, I give him a copy of the new Beck album, Song Reader, which exists only in the form of sheet music. Beck fascinated by the idea that before recording, popular music circulated by buying sheet music and inviting friends to make it come alive. And almost every middle class home had a piano.  With a book of sheet music, with classic graphic illustrations and song teasers on the back, it’s like a different era is being recreated. Simple, well structured songs. 

We head off to the new hole in the wall Oaxacan restaurant called, well, Oaxaca, to talk about it and to talk through Teddy’s memorial service. Of course, I’m hoping a project will come out of this. 

Continuing the  music theme, Cara is back helping Danielle again and ready to the play the piano. She thanks me for bringing Emmy Lou Harris back to her last Sunday. That’s the second time today her name’s come up, I say. Another completed circle. 

Henry is upset that I don’t remember him from 17 years ago. When there was still a buzzer system and a full time security person. He’s been on a long odyssey since then. And now....but this time, I’ve only got a few dollars in my pocket. But we work on connecting him with the Interfaith Assembly and Marc. And after I leave, Danielle makes several other phone calls. He doesn’t want to go into the shelter system. Understandably so. But we need to get him somewhere before he can start employment readiness.  

I meet Jane for coffee. She'd been with Teddy almost until 10pm the night before he died. Still helping people. More work on Teddy’s service. Jane said that of course we know he was not perfect. But when you watch the video, he seems to have reached a Buddha like place, no need or desire for accumulation of things  or  need for attention. An acceptance of himself and the world.  (This won’t go away anytime soon...) A place to sleep,food to eat, people around  who he cares for and who he cares for. And that his babies be ok...

We need to stay true to that in planning his memorial. 

Jane and I walk back the street to the church. Danielle has gone. And I’ll be going soon

And we’re still waiting...

Russian Christmas and doing Bible study

1/7

Russian Christmas. The local newspaper in my hometown always ran a special greeting every January 7th. There was a big Russian community in our neighboring mill town, Canonsburg. I always liked that one last day for the season. I see January 7th, I feel mills, steel gray skies and a smoky dusting of snow on the ground.

Welcome back Danielle! Finally back from the holidays. She has been spending the morning cleaning up the office. Start the New Year afresh. Damarius and Cara are both here. They each take a broom and set out sweeping steps and aisles and....people who were touched by Teddy’s life, who knew what he did, keep coming forward to do their best to fill in the gaps. All out of thankfulness for what they had received.

Jobie is surprised I don’t remember him. I vaguely remember calling the ambulance, him being taken away. It’s been months. He’s got a place to live and assistance on the way. Feels blessed. Is thankful. Sooner or later I know it’s coming. And sooner or later I’m out $20. He wants to sing a song. Somewhere between a work song and a gospel praise song. Like a subway singer. He’s praising God as he leaves the building. At least I got a song.

RL on his daily pass through welcoming Danielle back on his way to visit Harvey. We all need a better New Year.

Bible Study. Tonight we’re back into Mark. Continuing the journey. Deep into chapter 11. Jesus has just cleansed the temple. The chief priests, the scribes and the elders come to question his authority. In other words, the sanhedrin. In other words, those who control the country on behalf of the Roman occupation. 

They are trying to trap him. He answers by raising the issue of John the Baptist, who they had killed. As they answer the question about John, they will answer the question about him. And he knows they have no answer. 

And then he brings the parable of the Wicked Tenants. (12: 1-12)He clearly is implicating them. The don’t own anything. It all belongs to God. And they have refused to give back. And have done violence to Gods messengers, the prophets. Jesus is clear in his judgment:

He will come  and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others...

I have to get us past the idea that somehow this is about Jews. Ethnically. Or even religiously. This is about illegitimate and self important dominant powers and authority. And the others Jesus speaks of are not Gentiles or even Christians, they are the poor, the marginalized and excluded of the community. 

The powers  are threatened because they understand their own vulnerability and their own illegitimacy and that their power comes from outside, not inside. Therefore, they acknowledge the power of prophetic witness and the power of the people.  And leave Jesus alone. For the moment. 

We have just entered into the debate about taxes and Caesar when Hugo arrives with a load of food. Chicken and rice and beans and vegetables. We immediately swing into action dividing the food up into portions. 

I find two men on the steps. Se quieren comer algo? Tenemos arroz y pollo y frijoles...

Gracias, si gracias...comes the response. By the time I get back with the plates two more men have arrived and John and I feed them. A white middle aged man has arrived. I get him a plate.  And before he eats, he bows his head, crosses himself and gives thanks. 

Marsha calls SPSA and Capital Hall. John and Damarius head for the streets. Food going out into the night. That is doing Bible study.