Genocide and Atonement

We recently watched as thousands of people of Armenian descent marched to commemorate the systematic attempts by the Ottoman Empire to wipe out Armenians. Around a million were murdered.

Not too long before that, the world commemorated the more well known horrors of the Holocaust, where six million Jews were murdered under the rule of Nazi Germany. In addition, as many as a half million Gypsies, 250,000 mentally or physically disabled persons, more than three million Soviet prisoners-of-war, Jehovah’s Witnesses, lesbians and homosexuals, Social Democrats, Communists, and other undesirables were also victims.

We can, and should, remember these acts in an attempt to prevent them from occurring again.

Sunday, my husband and I visited a fabulous exhibit of artifacts from the Plains Indians at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We saw beautiful decorated robes, beaded clothing, carved figures and decorated drums and peace pipes. The exhibit began in the years just as Europeans were beginning to populate America and moved us through to present day Native artists who incorporate traditional and modern art. And, of course, much of that history involves the shameful European decimation of the native peoples of America.

The exhibit brought back many memories from our first year of marriage, when we lived in an Athabaskan Indian village 145 miles northwest of Fairbanks, called Minto. It was an amazing year that we treasure in our memories, because it brought us into such close contact with a culture of which we knew little. We experienced, first hand, people who still did the exact crafts and art that we saw in the Museum, and we both remembered the songs and dancing at Potlatches.

As I browsed the exhibit I also felt such sorrow. Many people criticized the Turkish government for not acknowledging the genocide of the Armenians. But, how much have we acknowledged and publicly atoned for our near genocide of the native people's of North America?

Exact figures cannot be known since we do not know the native population prior to the arrival of Europeans. A good portion of the genocide was inadvertent, when huge percentages of the population died from diseases brought by Europeans. A significant additional number we intentionally killed in skirmishes, battles, and massacres. Many more perished due to relocation and the destruction of the buffalo. People of European descent, many of them Christians, made many intentional efforts to wipe out the languages and cultures of the native people. Children were taken from their parents, sent to boarding schools, and punished if they used native languages. A friend of mine in Minto, and many others there, actually experienced this before the practice was stopped. Our government made promises to these tribes, only to break them, and relocate them over and over again. It is estimated that at least 200 tribes are now extinct. Many tribal languages are now extinct. It is, indeed, a trail of tears.

When does this become as much of a conversation as the ones we are having now about racism and sexism? In large parts of the country, those of Native descent are not even seen, let alone part of our consciousness. We tend to gloss over this embarrassing part of our past. One modern artist in the exhibition commemorated the conviction of 300 Native men who rose up against Europeans in Minnesota. The man in charge? Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln's administration, in particular, was pretty nasty to the Indian people.

History is written by the winners. It often glosses over the atrocities that were committed by the victors. Only a clear-eyed look at our own past, in all its good AND evil, will really bring us to the full promise of America as a land of the free that is for ALL people. Including those who were here long before my ancestors arrived.

Here's a recent reflection by Patricia Conover, who attended our gig at Tomi Jazz on March 17.   She asked me to post it on my blog.   Delightful!   Eileen

My Saint Patrick's Day 

by Patricia Conover

Last night, my boss had a gig at Tomi Jazz Restaurant (239 East 53rd St.) She's a hard-working content manager at an international company by day and a world-class jazz singer by night.

Tomi Jazz is a cool little place with an unmarked door on a busy restaurant street. I walked by it twice before I saw some people walking down a narrow staircase and realized that it was there. 

So there I was last night, wearin' o' the green, my once-a-year Claddagh earrings in place, drinking saki and eating sushi with a bunch of Japanese businessmen and a handsome doctor and his beautiful sister on St. Patrick's Day. We were all friends before midnight.

My boss, Eileen, was terrific and brave and funny. She has a sultry voice, sweet patter and smooth delivery and she is a spontaneous and joyful vocalist. She also conveys lyrics--her own and those of Nat King Cole, Cole Porter, and many others-- powerfully. She's living the dream of being a jazz singer in Manhattan. Last night, Nat Janoff dazzled on electric guitar, Eddy Khaimovich awed on bass, and Darrell Smith dazzled on drums. They are three of the outstanding musicians who perform with Eileen regularly. 

Eileen sings with her amazing and versatile band in venues all around New York. How awesome is that? Her husband George is her biggest fan. Eileen has written songs about him, and he clearly adores her. In short, they're crazy about each other and they've been married nearly 40 years. They're just darling together. 

And the music is great for the restaurant. Eileen's singing and the band's cool riffs set a lovely mood and attract customers and keep them in the house, buying drinks. Eileen and her band aren't earning the big bucks but they are showcasing their art and enjoying themselves while building a following. It's a win/win situation.

I sat at the bar and made lots of friends while I nursed my Sapporo. Suddenly I remembered that my last chance to return home departed at 11:40 p.m. I jumped up and leapt out the door without a sayonara, down the windy street to the subway at 53rd and Third Avenue. Took the 6 to Grand Central and changed to the 7 for Times Square. Ran to Port Authority and up three flights of stairs to the gate. Looked at my watch. It was 11:38 p.m. 

Phew!

Kirk was asleep when I arrived home. I didn't turn on the light. I didn't want the glow from my night to fade into the shadows.

The Richness of the Poor: What I've learned from people who have little.

The Richness of the Poor: What I've learned from people who have little.

This is one of several reflections about what I learned working and worshiping with people who are economically poor, during my years as Minister of Music at The United Methodist Church for All People (C4AP), and now doing a music ministry at Church of the Village. Names are changed to protect privacy.

#4. Messiness, Chaos and Imperfection.

Early in the years I was at The Church for All People, our worship services were held in the Free Store in an old nondescript building next to the Green Machine Laundromat. Basically we pushed back all the racks,set up folding chairs, and held worship while the dryer next door hummed a C# throughout the service.  A mouse or cockroach would frequently make an appearance.

One morning, an elderly man using metal braces suddenly, and inappropriately, stood up in the middle of the aisle and began singing.    It was a disruption, and one of many such incidents by people with poor impulse control, mental illness or who were high (or.. all three).  

As a certified control freak, it immediately sent me into discomfort and "problem solving" mode. But, as this crippled man began singing "He Touched Me",  suddenly the Holy Spirit was tangible in the room.  The lyrics go, "shackled by a heavy burden, he touched me and made me whole."    It was one of my earliest lessons that God can speak (maybe speak loudest?) when the orderly universe is suddenly unsettled.

In spite of this early lesson, I spent the first five years in an heroic attempt to bring things in the music programs under better control.   I tried every strategy I could think of to get musicians and singers to arrive on time.  People who were from the streets frequently failed to show up altogether.   I would pick people up, get to church even earlier, do every piece of set-up myself.  I prepared recordings AND lead sheets AND sheet music AND lyrics in an attempt to reach my team in the way that would make it easiest for them to participate.  I harangued without success.   If I could have cloned myself, I would have.  I became REALLY frustrated because, no matter what i did, the chaos just continued to swirl.  

Not only am I a control freak, but I'm a perfectionist and over-achiever.  No matter what I did, I failed to be perfect.  I thought if I became a better leader that I could control the chaos. If I were better prepared, a better musician, spent more time, was more understanding, was less understanding.... whatever.  Nothing really helped.

I remember another worship experience where, during sharing of joys and concerns, this guy said "I need prayer to overcome addiction.  Hell.. I'm high right now.  Please pray for me."   Wow.  Talk about laying it all out there!   Over and over I encountered people who were completely up-front about their failings and vulnerability.

People called me on my own shortcomings quite directly, too.  "How come you don't have time to say hello to me?  Are you too good for me?", as I rushed through setting up the sound system.  But they never stayed mad, they always forgave, and they expected that I was imperfect just like everyone else.   I learned my addictions to over-work and over-eating were just as destructive as my friends' addictions to alcohol or drugs.  I learned it was okay to be flawed and admit to being flawed.  

Then, I noticed that, no matter how many things went wrong, events (worship, Open Mic, concerts) always ended up being at least okay, but mostly great.  And, often, the chaos and imperfections were where beautiful things happened.

Two out of four singers didn't show up for Coffee House?  No big deal, it gave me a chance to invite other singers to fill their places.  They then had a chance to shine and felt like their gifts were appreciated.   Nobody set up the sound system today?  If I just ask, other folks will help out, and feel needed and helpful.  In fact, the more I was honest about my own vulnerability and shortcomings, the more people stepped up into leadership to rescue ME!   The more I surrendered control, the more I felt blessed and cared for.

The Down Side

I want to acknowledge that it is very difficult to walk the line between what truly is disruptive to the community and what can be allowed.   So, if someone took over worship by continuing to talk or shout or make a ruckus, we had to remove that person.   Our folks would (as lovingly as possible) take the person to another room, our outside.   If the disruption was abusive, or people felt unsafe,  it was simply not allowed. So, the challenge is to accept a certain amount of chaos while also respecting the safety and worship experience of the larger community.  

What We Can Learn

When we worship and work with people whose lives are chaotic and broken, we can expect worship and the life of the church to reflect that.   If our first response is to control or remove that chaos, or disruptive person, we lose the opportunity to find out what message God might be sending us. 

When our response to chaos is to try to be more perfect, more 'in charge', or superior to others, we lose the opportunity to let someone else shine or become a leader, not to mention learning humility. I learned that the Holy Spirit shines through the cracks in our armor.  

The Richness of the Poor: What I've learned from people who have little.

This is one of several reflections about what I learned working and worshiping with people who are poor economically, during my years as Minister of Music at The United Methodist Church for All People (C4AP), and now doing a music ministry at Church of the Village. Names are changed to protect privacy.

#3. Encouragement

This afternoon I'm feeling like the Queen of the World, all because I offered some music to folks at a 'soup kitchen'. 
  

I've been providing music at Daisy's Food Pantry on Tuesdays at The Church of the Village.   I sing a song, lead a sing-along, celebrate birthdays and then spin upbeat music while people wait for their number to be called.   It has been a transformative experience for all of us, turning the crabbiness and conflicts that sometimes plagued that event into a joyous party where we have a good time.    People nod and smile and dance and thank me.  I feel like a million bucks when I'm done.  

Today, I invited two of my band members to join me to entertain folks at the Community Meal that is served on Saturdays.  I wasn't sure what might happen.   We played music for an hour and a half for a couple hundred people as they enjoyed a meal prepared and served by dedicated volunteers.

Being an artist anywhere, but especially in New York, can be hard.   It is difficult to get gigs, and then people don't pay you much, or anything, and require you to bring in a bunch of people to their club.   It is disheartening and can sometimes make me feel unappreciated.  

Today felt different.  I didn't get paid in dollars today, but boy was I paid!   I cannot tell you how many people expressed their joy that we played some songs while they ate a meal.  They smiled, and sang; danced and came up and thanked us.   I felt such encouragement and happiness about this meager offering of talents. And, hey!  It was my biggest audience EVER in New York!

This isn't the first time I've felt this kind of support.  In the time we served at The Church for All People, I felt more encouragement than ever before in my life.  Folks who were down on their luck genuinely appreciated what I did there and let me know it every chance they could.   And I wasn't the only one.  I listened to the poorest people in our community regularly boost the spirits of volunteers and staff whenever they could. 

People who have the least seem to be the most likely to share what they CAN give:  appreciation and support. They don't care about little mistakes, they don't care if I'm not the greatest singer in the world.  They deeply appreciate anyone who willingly shares their gifts.

It occurred to me today that it is challenging to build an audience in New York, but I DO have an enthusiastic following of the destitute and homeless!  Aren't I lucky!?