Empty Boxes

Many of out conversations seem to have had a dimension of space. There are the obvious reasons – space in New York City is expensive, hard to obtain, and difficult to maintain. But there is also the undergirding reason that space provides a powerful platform for ideas. Whether sustaining ideas of old or promoting new ponderings, space provides power.

Cathedral of Saint John

Last week’s visit to the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine is still  inspiring me even one week later.  While sitting there in such a massive space we experienced the Mill Sapp Valley Chamber Singers from the good old Mississippi.  The music complimented such an amazing specimen of human architecture. Their voices bellowed from their souls as the  singers  number about nine.  Their repertoire of music was indeed a great treat.  But  when they offered  a Negro Spiritual-my Lord.  As we say in the black Church- “I went in” meaning my heart sank, and God’s Spirit grew in me to a profuse cry.

“You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers!”

If you read the title of this post and are alarmed…don’t be, or maybe it is a good thing if you are…it is just Uncle Walt doing what he does best in his poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.”I read this line as being a moment where Whitman sees that perhaps the ministers have been waiting for far too long. The entire poem confronts injustices that Whitman sees and he uses poetry to create a variety of images for the reader so they too can experience inequalities in city life. He takes you on a journey and that journey evokes a feeling of justice as well as provides practical advice for society. In my reading of this piece Whitman suggests ministers can be conduits for radical change and I would argue that ministers must be at the forefront of change.

The bottleneck organization

Ever since last Friday I have been thinking about some of the ideas that Todd Lester shared. He started an organization, Free Dimensional, to help artists around the world who got into trouble with the authorities, because of the art they produced. What stuck with me is that he started this organization with the expressed intention to end it again after ten years. The organization is setting up a network around the world that artist can tap into when they are in need.

Commodification

Last Sunday,  (January 6th)  I attended the premiere Abyssinian Baptist Church’s 11am worship service.   The Rev. Adam Clayton Powell Sr. and Jr. were its former pastors.  Presently serving as Senior Pastor is the Rev. Dr. Calvin Butts, III.    Historically, the Abyssinian Baptist Church and ministries alike seemingly solidified themselves with greater capacities to support the physical, social, emotional, and mental needs within the Harlem community when its building was purchased in 1923 and physically moved to its present location: 132 Odell Clark Place, New York, New York.  (Harlem)  Nonetheless, as I found my way on a cross town bus Box 15 from 125th and Broadway to a connecting bus on Adam Clayton Powell Blvd, I stood waiting right in front of the Adam Clayton Powell State building until that connecting bus arrived.

Culture Workers

Over the past few days, we have been examine space, memory and culture from the lens of artists, writers and movement makers. Specifically, we have attended multiple events organized or facilitated by Todd Lester, from the Global Arts Corps.

In these conversations, we have begun to examine artists as culture workers. David Korten of Yes! Magazine, defines culture workers as people who, “have defining roles in crafting and propagating the cultural stories by which we humans understand our natures and the possibilities open to us.” Korten puts people who work in religion in this category, and I agree with him. And so I have to ask, how are we teaching and encouraging religious leaders to be cultural workers?

Amid the chaos, chairos

On the corner of 81st and Broadway stands the First Baptist Church. A sign welcomes us to stop in so Meredith and I climb the stairs and open the great oak door. We are greeted in the vestibule by Ruby, an elderly volunteer who opens the church to visitors on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“People get to see the building from the outside but most people never come in,” she tells us. But since 9/11 the church has been opening its doors to neighbors and strangers for prayer and meditation. Ruby’s is the smiling face those strangers see. “Outside it’s loud but in here they can get away from it. This place is peaceful.”

Historic Homes and Historic Churches

Yesterday, we met with Frank Vagnone, Executive Director of the Historic House Trust in New York City. He oversees the organization, working to preserve and present historic houses. During our conversation, we spoke about how to maintain the houses with dignity, while keeping them open to the public and relevant to the world.

Mr. Vagnone spoke of his own desire to turn the houses into think tanks, capturing people’s interest while turning out new insights about the world in relation to their own deep history. Historic houses have to find ways to connect and become financially viable institutions so that their work can continue.

I think that the same goes for the church.

Remembering Peace

You’ll have to forgive me. I take slightly longer to process experiences that my fellow travelers, so please step back in time with me to Monday.

In the morning we walked along Morningside Heights to the Cathedral of St. John of the Divine. If ever there was a building filled with collective memory it is an unfinished cathedral that has been under construction for over a hundred years. St. John of the Divine does not disappoint with a multitude of plaques, statues, stained glass, and inscriptions. everything from an FDNY memorial to a stone commemorating the choirboys who contributed to the construction of the cathedral from 1902-1906 (before child labor laws, so yes, 9 year-old construction workers.)

Among the many memorial objects two stood out to me. At first for their respective beauty and oddness and later for how they relate.

Cathedral of St John – how we care for space

Cathedrals always leave me in awe. Of course it’s because they’re vast space with great beauty, but it’s also because the practical upkeep of such a space amazes me. It takes a small army of people to just move chairs in and out of the space for special services and performances, plus many more to keep it clean, show people around, protect the space, and, of course, conduct services.

At the Cathedral of St John had all of these needs. But the practical came to mind at a specific instant. As I was walking around, looking at the different altars and spaces of remembrance, I noticed that there was a space to recognize the AIDS crisis. There was a book, with the names of those who have been lost, and next to the book there was a simple candle. It was what one may expect. Except that, in this instance, the candle had burnt out. It was extinguished.

Now, I know that this happens. Candles burn out. The wax life cycle. Yet, candles are important, their upkeep is key. When we light a candle in memory of those who have died, an extinguished candle sends a different message. There was no eternal light at the AIDS memorial.

And in a cathedral the size of St John, there are hundreds of candles to attend to.

The care of a memorial – the care of any sacred space – may mean just as much as the memorial itself. As faith leaders, we must not forget the responsibility that we hold for memorials that we erect in our own spaces. We must care to them, and not assume that they will take care of themselves. We must be attentive, because when we let the light burn out, we are sending a very different message.