We sought to capture the sun.
It did not work.
19 June 2013
Empire State Building
Manhattan, New York
For 27 years, Bob Smylie represented the United Presbyterian Church U.S.A. and its successor the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in the United Nations community. He served in several places in our structure; he held a variety of titles.
When the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) moved to Louisville in 1987, Bob remained behind to create the Presbyterian United Nations Office. Bob served Christ, served the church, served the people with profound intelligence, creative imagination, steadfast love, and deep integrity.
I met Bob in 1990 at a Presbyterian Peacemaking Conference in 1990. We worked on several projects through the years. He was an incredible resource and a great colleague.
I joined the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program staff in 2002. My first meeting with the staff was Bob’s last meeting. We talked now and then over the years.
Then, in 2010, I answered a call to serve as the director of the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. The name has changed. The mission has adapted to a new time. But we stand in the tradition started by Bob.
Last fall, the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board honored Bob by naming him the Director Emeritus of the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. A truly fitting honor.
Last night (June 18), I had the privilege of speaking for the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board as the Presbytery of the Palisades recognized the action designating Bob as Director Emeritus.
The opportunity to thank Bob and to acknowledge my debt to him was a true blessing. It is a unique moment when we can to express our gratitude to those who have gone before and paved the way for our work, our ministry.
Thank you Bob.
And Jennifer, Joel, Jessica, and all who have served the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in the UN community before me. Thank you Ryan and Ricky who serve with me now. Thank you Sara and Toni and Gary and all who have worked to keep the ministry vibrant and alive. Thank you all who have made financial gifts to support the ministry. Thank you Matt and Linda and Roger and the leaders and members of the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board who voted to name Bob as Director Emeritus. Thank you Marianne and Greg and Dave and Bruce and the members of the Presbytery of the Palisades who arranged for the presbytery’s act of recognition.
See you along the Trail.
On 17 June,
in the year 2013,
Tricia and I
had this view
on our way
back to the Shire
from the Massawa Restaurant.
See you along the Trail.
I am not sure I would have asked the question. Too many people have experienced abuse, abandonment, failure to love, and more from their fathers. Too many fathers have died too young. Too many wounds remain unhealed.
“What is your favorite memory of your father or your father figure?” Bob Brashear, pastor of West-Park Presbyterian Church, asked near the end of his sermon today.
My first thoughts went to those who had negative experiences of their fathers. I felt my heartstrings tightened as I considered the profound pain the simple question could touch.
Images of my father, gone too long, filled my head and heart. He was not perfect. None of us are. But he was a good, good man who loved me and my brother and sister well.
Memories came at me as thick as gnats on a hot, sultry night. When it came my turn to speak, I went with my first memories:
“Baseball. Playing catch in the back yard. Going to games. Baseball. In Pittsburgh.” I remembered, although I did not share, that as I child, when I would have to go to bed before a Pirates game finished, I would wake up in the morning to find a piece of paper with the score written in my father’s handwriting.
Memories. Blessed memories. As I rejoice in mine, my heart goes out to those who know pain.
Happy Father’s Day to fathers, stepfathers, grandfathers, and all, male and female alike, who have filled the role of fathers.
See you along the Trail.
P.S.:
Dodgers 3
Pirates 6
I stood today on holy ground. Of course all ground is holy for God creates all ground and entrusts it to our care. Still some ground bears special meaning because of what happened there.
My quest to visit National Parks took Tricia and me to the African Burial Ground in Manhattan today. It is a well done park that tells a significant story.
New York’s African Burial Ground is the nation’s earliest known African and African American cemetery. Enslaved Africans played a key role in building Manhattan as they played key roles in building this entire country. The Nation notes that:
In 1703, 42 percent of New York’s households had slaves, much more than Philadelphia and Boston combined. Among the colonies’ cities, only Charleston, South Carolina, had more.
From the late 1600s until 1794, both free and enslaved Africans were buried in a 6.6-acre burial ground in Lower Manhattan, outside the boundaries of the settlement of New Amsterdam, later known as New York. The National Park Service notes that “an estimated 15,000 men, women and children were buried here.
Africans resisted enslavement in countless ways: from rebellions to running away to educating children and more. The care they showed their loved ones was another form of resistance. Faced with the brutal dehumanization of enslavement, honoring those who died (or were killed) served to affirm the humanity and dignity of the individual and the community.
Lost to history due to landfill and development, the grounds were rediscovered in 1991 as a consequence of the planned construction of a Federal office building. The African-American community in New York led a campaign to have the remains honored and remembered. Their efforts, after some controversy and hard work, succeeded. The remains were taken to Howard University for analysis.
After the scientists finished their work, the remains were placed in new coffins and taken back to New York for reburial. The New York Historical Society reports:
The ceremonial journey stopped in five cities along the way, so that people in Washington D.C., Philadelphia, Baltimore, Wilmington, and Newark could pay their respects. Then the remains arrived by boat in New York City, at the same spot where slave ships had docked two centuries earlier. After days of rituals that included horse-drawn hearses, drummers in African kente cloth, singing, dancing, and prayers, the remains were returned to the earth in lower Manhattan.
The community’s efforts resulted in the designation of the African Burial Ground as New York City Historic District, a National Historic Landmark and, on February 27, 2006, a National Monument.
Today, the African Burial Ground National Monument includes a visitor center with four exhibit areas, a theater where a 20-minute video tells the story of the burial ground, and a bookstore. A short walk away stand the graves and a memorial.
Holy ground.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Antiracism, Human Rights, National Park, New York
At the 86th Street station, a woman left her seat and the car.
Woman #1 (to Woman #2): Go ahead, take the seat.
Woman #2: No thank you. I am getting off.
Woman #1: OK. I’m getting off, too. But I am going to sit.
Me: We’re all going to get off at some point. (pause) I mean that’s the idea, right? Sooner or later, we all get off.
Woman #1 and Woman #2 laughed. Then …
Woman #1 (to me): Would you like the seat, sir.
Me: No thanks. I’m fine. I’m not as old as I look.
Woman #2 and Woman #1 both laughed again.
They both got off before I did.
I still did not take the seat.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under New York
On the ride back to the hotel from the Henna Night Party for Joel and Roja last year in Dublin, the cab driver pointed out the window and said, “There’s the Five Lamps.”
We looked and sure enough, there stood a lamp-post with five lanterns. One of us asked about why the lamp-post had significance.
The cab driver said, “Because it has five lamps.” A true answer, but somewhat obvious.
We asked again and he replied, “It is the only one in Dublin.” Not so obvious, but hardly a significant increase in information.
We tried once more and learned no more. I for one gave up. It was dark so I did not get a photo. I guess that is a reason to return.
Tonight, because the 1 Train was crowded, I opted to walk part way home. On Broadway, where I have been before, I noticed the Five Lamps Tavern.
I figure there is a connection. Some Internet searching has proven about as helpful as our Dublin cabbie.
However, from the Dublin City Libraries, I have learned about the lamp-post in Dublin:
The Five Lamps were put up around 1880 as a memorial to General Henry Hall from Galway who had served with the British Army in India. They were originally a water fountain with four basins at their base. Water gushed from the spouts in the shape of lions’ heads. Cups hung from chains over the basins, so that the locals could have a drink. At that time people were poor and had no running water in their homes. The fountain was probably also used as a watering trough for horses to have a drink as well.
Some mystery remains:
Some people think that the name “five lamps” comes from the five streets which meet at this point; others believe that they commemorate five major battles fought in India during the days of the British Empire.
But I know more than I did before. And someday I can learn about the Five Lamps Tavern and possible connections.
See you along the Trail.
Here are a couple of photos of me preaching at the commissioning service for my friend Peng Leong. Thanks to Ryan Smith for this one:
Sera Chung took this one:
See you along the Trail.
Filed under New York, Photo, Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
