We went to the Anchor Bar tonight. It was not my first pub experience, but...I was reminded why I prefer quiet restaurants. The jazz, though, was phenomenal. I was thinking of the jazz musicians who have touched my life tonight, wishing they could hear the music.
On another note, my summer internship came through today. This is very exciting, not only because I can spend the summer in Buffalo, but also because I can finish my project. I reduced the number of churches to about twenty-four. But I still have background research and editing to do, as well as formulate further steps in the methodology.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Frazzle
This is the second to last week of the internship. I have gone through so much, learned so much, and done so much. And yet, even now I feel like I have barely made a dent in the historic churches preservation project as a whole. I have thirty-eight churches to go, which is not a lot. But there is so much research to get done, because each individual building has its own story.
And I can still here the voices of all those saints before me singing in all the churches. There is a historicity to wandering amongst these churches. The weight of centuries of belief sort of weights on your head, when you realize that the church before you is based on a church designed five hundred or a thousand years before, for Christians whom I meet in heaven. Age and reverence dominate the mood.
And I can still here the voices of all those saints before me singing in all the churches. There is a historicity to wandering amongst these churches. The weight of centuries of belief sort of weights on your head, when you realize that the church before you is based on a church designed five hundred or a thousand years before, for Christians whom I meet in heaven. Age and reverence dominate the mood.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Nice Weather
It was nice outside today, but I had so much office work I couldn't justify being outside. It was sad to sit in the Market Arcade and watch the sunlight dance on the buildings on the other side of Main Street, knowing I could not join the dance. And, what is more, I lost some pictures and that utterly dampened my morning.
Or did it? The office has survived the transition of executive directors. People are happier than before, joking and laughing. It is a fun, buzzing place to work. The atmosphere has changed dramatically. Management reminder for later in life: any situation can be overcome with a cheery attitude.
But those missing pictures remain elusive...
Or did it? The office has survived the transition of executive directors. People are happier than before, joking and laughing. It is a fun, buzzing place to work. The atmosphere has changed dramatically. Management reminder for later in life: any situation can be overcome with a cheery attitude.
But those missing pictures remain elusive...
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Apology for Vocation
Lately I have been struggling with why I am doing what I am doing. My work at the preservation board seems, frankly, to be a bit anachronistic at times. It is a very strong secular moral system, which says that the older the building or the more unique the architecture, the more virtuous the salvation of that building. Those who damage the oldest and most unique are the reprobate. However, as a Christian, I am often disturbed by this value system. After all, they're just building which will crumble into dust one day. I feel that I should be doing work that, instead of conserving the dead past, is making a brighter future. I should be fighting poverty, or increasing literacy, or making innovations and wealth. In short, I should not be wasting my time on stones and mortar and buildings that were built out of hubric pride.
This attitude at times extends into a much deeper part of my life. Why am I interested in history and theology, the story of dead humans and an invisible God? Why not do something practical, like chemistry? Or useful, like Psychiatry? Why am I wasting my time?
Because despite our fascination with the new and the dazzling and the high-tech, the ancestry of tradition still matters. True, I could be an architect of the brave new world. I could make a killing in business, with enough money to buy a country (actually, this is probably a delusion of some sort, but the point remains). I could investigate new theories, advance knowledge, build whole new universes of abstract thought. Or I could work to solve world hunger, sex trafficking, pollution and the thousand other social ills. I could make a name for myself, like the people of Genesis 10.
But who holds the hand of the mother whose son has just been shot? Who hugs the grieving, visits the sick and prays with the hurting? Who looks a poor person in the eyes, and says "I see past your rags and your smell and your casual attitude towards life. I see the pain inside you."
It isn't the investment banker. That is bad business.
It isn't the tech innovator. You can't reprogram the social structure with a few strokes of the keyboard.
It isn't the cop. The law only allows the police so much working space.
It isn't even the humanitarian. A humanitarian worker must set up limits and boundaries. They must set target goals, including who they will help and when and for what reasons. This is not selfish, it is part of prioritizing the need. It is part of the job.
Only the neighborhood pastor can look someone in the eyes and say, "God is working in your life even though your jobs are gone, your child is dead, and you have no hope.". By pastor, I am not necessarily referring to the ordained person. Rather, I am talking about the shepherd of humanity, the man or woman who is entrusted by God to round off the sharp corners of existence and continue to give people hope.
Hope. It is the type of capital missing from our city neighborhoods. It is what we seek to bring when we fight poverty and rescue girls from trafficking. It is the thing we desire when we fight against oppression and tyranny and injustice. And hope comes from God.
In a way, this is what all Christians should be doing. Evangelism and service are necessary duties, but the ultimate goal of Christianity is not to make converts or end squalor. It is to give everyone a hope that transcends death and suffering and mortality. This is the function of the church in the secular age. We must bring hope to all.
Get off soapbox, get back onto street.
This attitude at times extends into a much deeper part of my life. Why am I interested in history and theology, the story of dead humans and an invisible God? Why not do something practical, like chemistry? Or useful, like Psychiatry? Why am I wasting my time?
Because despite our fascination with the new and the dazzling and the high-tech, the ancestry of tradition still matters. True, I could be an architect of the brave new world. I could make a killing in business, with enough money to buy a country (actually, this is probably a delusion of some sort, but the point remains). I could investigate new theories, advance knowledge, build whole new universes of abstract thought. Or I could work to solve world hunger, sex trafficking, pollution and the thousand other social ills. I could make a name for myself, like the people of Genesis 10.
But who holds the hand of the mother whose son has just been shot? Who hugs the grieving, visits the sick and prays with the hurting? Who looks a poor person in the eyes, and says "I see past your rags and your smell and your casual attitude towards life. I see the pain inside you."
It isn't the investment banker. That is bad business.
It isn't the tech innovator. You can't reprogram the social structure with a few strokes of the keyboard.
It isn't the cop. The law only allows the police so much working space.
It isn't even the humanitarian. A humanitarian worker must set up limits and boundaries. They must set target goals, including who they will help and when and for what reasons. This is not selfish, it is part of prioritizing the need. It is part of the job.
Only the neighborhood pastor can look someone in the eyes and say, "God is working in your life even though your jobs are gone, your child is dead, and you have no hope.". By pastor, I am not necessarily referring to the ordained person. Rather, I am talking about the shepherd of humanity, the man or woman who is entrusted by God to round off the sharp corners of existence and continue to give people hope.
Hope. It is the type of capital missing from our city neighborhoods. It is what we seek to bring when we fight poverty and rescue girls from trafficking. It is the thing we desire when we fight against oppression and tyranny and injustice. And hope comes from God.
In a way, this is what all Christians should be doing. Evangelism and service are necessary duties, but the ultimate goal of Christianity is not to make converts or end squalor. It is to give everyone a hope that transcends death and suffering and mortality. This is the function of the church in the secular age. We must bring hope to all.
Get off soapbox, get back onto street.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Batman
The Superhero is almost always placed in a city. Why? Perhaps because the creators see cities as particularly needing superheroes. Or perhaps because there is a general sense that the battle for the future of our civilization will be fought out in cities. And the most urban of all the superheroes is Batman, the silent defender and guardian of congested street ways. He is master of the street fighting tactics so respected by criminals, to the point where he terrifies the mob. To add even more wallop, he can also handle the just as dirty trust fund politics as Bruce Wayne. If there is evil, he can fight it and win.
Notice, however,that his methodology is so deeply different from that of Christ or so many others of His followers. This direct confrontation is similar to Christ's blunt words for the Pharisees, but it is tough to imagine Christ beating up criminals with his bare hands. Christ somehow knew how to bring thieves and prostitutes and soldiers to Himself, without having to beat them up or answer them back or win a confrontation or vindicate himself. Those upsy, self-righteous Pharisees got the rough end of his tongue, to be sure, and once he made a knot of cords for extortionists making money off piety. But they should have known better.
If there is a hope for the modern American city, and while there is life there is hope, the overall strategy must be less Batmanesque and more Christ-like. To a Christians, this would seem obvious at first glance. But how, in particular, must this change in mindset be worked out?
It means not expecting people to cease to be single mothers, or welfare recipients, or homeless before they are accepted by the church. It means not assuming that Christian devotion is synonymous with middle class, suburban lifestyle choices. In the past two and a half months,I have met quite a few suburbanites trying to live out their faith in a new urban context. All have a lot to learn (perhaps I feel this kinship because I too have much to learn). Some, however, have yet to realize that the inner city of Buffalo is as different from the suburbs as parts of Africa. In fact, I have been to European countries more like the American suburbs than American cities are like American suburbs.
It is time for cross-cultural missions to happen in America's backyard. But, just as the foreign mission field is changing from crusade-heavy, evangelistic outreaches to development and educational work, so it is time for American Christians to decide to develop American communities and American schools for Christ's kingdom. It is what He would want done.
Notice, however,that his methodology is so deeply different from that of Christ or so many others of His followers. This direct confrontation is similar to Christ's blunt words for the Pharisees, but it is tough to imagine Christ beating up criminals with his bare hands. Christ somehow knew how to bring thieves and prostitutes and soldiers to Himself, without having to beat them up or answer them back or win a confrontation or vindicate himself. Those upsy, self-righteous Pharisees got the rough end of his tongue, to be sure, and once he made a knot of cords for extortionists making money off piety. But they should have known better.
If there is a hope for the modern American city, and while there is life there is hope, the overall strategy must be less Batmanesque and more Christ-like. To a Christians, this would seem obvious at first glance. But how, in particular, must this change in mindset be worked out?
It means not expecting people to cease to be single mothers, or welfare recipients, or homeless before they are accepted by the church. It means not assuming that Christian devotion is synonymous with middle class, suburban lifestyle choices. In the past two and a half months,I have met quite a few suburbanites trying to live out their faith in a new urban context. All have a lot to learn (perhaps I feel this kinship because I too have much to learn). Some, however, have yet to realize that the inner city of Buffalo is as different from the suburbs as parts of Africa. In fact, I have been to European countries more like the American suburbs than American cities are like American suburbs.
It is time for cross-cultural missions to happen in America's backyard. But, just as the foreign mission field is changing from crusade-heavy, evangelistic outreaches to development and educational work, so it is time for American Christians to decide to develop American communities and American schools for Christ's kingdom. It is what He would want done.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Warm Weather
Buffalo comes alive the moment the snow begins to thaw. True, snowstorms also bring people out to the streets to shovel snow, but the is nothing like the release of cabin fever when the sun finally begins to shine after the eternity of winter. People come outside and stretch in the sun. They gather in courtyards to eat, and walk the streets and smile and wave at passersby. Spring has come.
The church survey goes well. In fact, the preliminary survey is ending. It is weird to read Mark Goldman's book on the city or indeed any history of Buffalo and recognize all of the churches being mentioned. It gives a strange gleam of familiarity to a place that has been home away from home for a mere seven weeks. And yet these structures have become friends, signs of the mystic sweet communion my fellow Christians partake in every Sunday. For this, I am glad of the survey.
The church survey goes well. In fact, the preliminary survey is ending. It is weird to read Mark Goldman's book on the city or indeed any history of Buffalo and recognize all of the churches being mentioned. It gives a strange gleam of familiarity to a place that has been home away from home for a mere seven weeks. And yet these structures have become friends, signs of the mystic sweet communion my fellow Christians partake in every Sunday. For this, I am glad of the survey.
Monday, March 12, 2012
New Week
It was a long weekend at Houghton. Fun, relaxing, but long, like a cool drink of water.
I got back to my internship this morning to find that politics was finally working. Before, I had seen transitions begin to go very wrong. People were snipping at each other, disliking the change in routine. But now everyone was crowded around a table, talking and laughing and joking. How does this come about?
First of all, gentle guidance goes a long way. It is one thing to storm in and say how much everything is going to change. In a way, this is necessary. The parameters must be clearly set. However, once the parameters are stated, the new executive director, Tom Yots, went to careful lengths to learn how everyone's job worked. He wanted to know how to set up tours, and write grants, and organize the office. He is a master at delegating and respectfully enhancing the skills of his workers.
Second of all, honesty is the only policy. If you don't like something, say so but say it gently. Don't pretend everything is ok, because people can sense when it is not. And they are afraid when they don't know, because the unknown thing is frightening.
Finally, unify everyone around a legitimate but surmountable challenge at the very beginning. A good example is the current Trico plant reuse plan, which involves a polite fight between the preservation board and the medical campus. This unifies the organization and creates a new sense of teamwork and identity within the new power structure.
This is how to lead a transition.
I got back to my internship this morning to find that politics was finally working. Before, I had seen transitions begin to go very wrong. People were snipping at each other, disliking the change in routine. But now everyone was crowded around a table, talking and laughing and joking. How does this come about?
First of all, gentle guidance goes a long way. It is one thing to storm in and say how much everything is going to change. In a way, this is necessary. The parameters must be clearly set. However, once the parameters are stated, the new executive director, Tom Yots, went to careful lengths to learn how everyone's job worked. He wanted to know how to set up tours, and write grants, and organize the office. He is a master at delegating and respectfully enhancing the skills of his workers.
Second of all, honesty is the only policy. If you don't like something, say so but say it gently. Don't pretend everything is ok, because people can sense when it is not. And they are afraid when they don't know, because the unknown thing is frightening.
Finally, unify everyone around a legitimate but surmountable challenge at the very beginning. A good example is the current Trico plant reuse plan, which involves a polite fight between the preservation board and the medical campus. This unifies the organization and creates a new sense of teamwork and identity within the new power structure.
This is how to lead a transition.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Flashpoint
There are some moments in time that are more important than others. The moment when you realize that a puzzle that has been particularly challenging has finally been solved is one such moment. I imagine getting married is a similar moment, but I have never had the experience. Then there are the other times, when one knows by instinct that something should not happen. Do not turn down that street, do not say what you are thinking, do not forget your keys in the car.
PBN is in the middle of a major transformation. Executive directors are being replaced, new staff are coming on board, new projects are being started. Similarly, Houghton is in a time of transformation, with attendant administrative mix-up. The world seems topsy-turvy. So how do we handle times of change?
The first step is to stay calm. The world will not end if a certain project is abandoned, or a different person is heading up a department. Policy can be rewritten and the sun will not magically turn off. A relationship can end, or start, or grow apart, or grow together and the world keeps on ticking away.
But that being said, do not stop believing and caring. Transition is hard, but cynicism is worse. The world will not end, but that should not mean you should stop caring about it. Just because you are not god does not mean you are not important to the world. Hang in there, fellow traveler.
PBN is in the middle of a major transformation. Executive directors are being replaced, new staff are coming on board, new projects are being started. Similarly, Houghton is in a time of transformation, with attendant administrative mix-up. The world seems topsy-turvy. So how do we handle times of change?
The first step is to stay calm. The world will not end if a certain project is abandoned, or a different person is heading up a department. Policy can be rewritten and the sun will not magically turn off. A relationship can end, or start, or grow apart, or grow together and the world keeps on ticking away.
But that being said, do not stop believing and caring. Transition is hard, but cynicism is worse. The world will not end, but that should not mean you should stop caring about it. Just because you are not god does not mean you are not important to the world. Hang in there, fellow traveler.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Routine
There is something comforting about routine. It is familiar, and everything is expected. We are such creatures of comfort, this human race. By this, I prove I am human. I get up each day at the same time, eat breakfast at the same time, go to work (either data entry or site visits) at the same time, eat lunch at the same time and go to class. World without end.
And then something happens that stirs us out of routine. I find a beautiful church that isn't on my lists, and break routine and procedure to go visit it. Or I meet a friendly person and talk for fifteen minutes. Or, for some strange reason, I get almost nothing done but have a great time talking about religion and architecture with my boss. Variation in the midst of routine is what makes life interesting. If my life had no routine, I would panic. But if it had only routine, I would stultify. It is balance that keeps me alive.
And so, on Monday I went to Niagara Falls to visit churches. The depopulation has reached advanced stages in that former boomtown. Whole streets are deserted. Almost every house for blocks on end is boarded up. In some neighborhoods, all I could hear were the birds singing in their nests in the roofs. What had once been a thriving city was now a ghost town with a casino and a national park.
That was a sobering visit. Unlike Buffalo, where people are increasingly not going to church, in Niagara Falls there are not enough people for the churches that exist. Even if everyone went, the churches would still be half empty. It is a desolate place. Was this what the fall of Rome was like?
This is a different type of depressed area. Niagara Falls is not a slum town. It is hard to believe, but squalor is a sign of a healthy city. The city is alive and thriving enough for plenty of people to visit, and decide to stay, despite the squalor. It conjures up the thought that home is worse, so stay in the squalor.
But Niagara Falls is empty. It is wilderness despite the presence of roads and buildings. There is no such thing as a slum in Niagara Falle because no one is willing to pay them price to live there. And why should they? Supposedly, they had a job once in Niagara Falls, but I think the position has been filled.
There is of course some light in the darkness. It is not all bad. Tourism keeps a few restaurants open and a few kitschy businesses running. From the ashes, a village or a town will arise. But the boom days are gone. Forever.
And then something happens that stirs us out of routine. I find a beautiful church that isn't on my lists, and break routine and procedure to go visit it. Or I meet a friendly person and talk for fifteen minutes. Or, for some strange reason, I get almost nothing done but have a great time talking about religion and architecture with my boss. Variation in the midst of routine is what makes life interesting. If my life had no routine, I would panic. But if it had only routine, I would stultify. It is balance that keeps me alive.
And so, on Monday I went to Niagara Falls to visit churches. The depopulation has reached advanced stages in that former boomtown. Whole streets are deserted. Almost every house for blocks on end is boarded up. In some neighborhoods, all I could hear were the birds singing in their nests in the roofs. What had once been a thriving city was now a ghost town with a casino and a national park.
That was a sobering visit. Unlike Buffalo, where people are increasingly not going to church, in Niagara Falls there are not enough people for the churches that exist. Even if everyone went, the churches would still be half empty. It is a desolate place. Was this what the fall of Rome was like?
This is a different type of depressed area. Niagara Falls is not a slum town. It is hard to believe, but squalor is a sign of a healthy city. The city is alive and thriving enough for plenty of people to visit, and decide to stay, despite the squalor. It conjures up the thought that home is worse, so stay in the squalor.
But Niagara Falls is empty. It is wilderness despite the presence of roads and buildings. There is no such thing as a slum in Niagara Falle because no one is willing to pay them price to live there. And why should they? Supposedly, they had a job once in Niagara Falls, but I think the position has been filled.
There is of course some light in the darkness. It is not all bad. Tourism keeps a few restaurants open and a few kitschy businesses running. From the ashes, a village or a town will arise. But the boom days are gone. Forever.
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