Then I prayed:
O graceful fall–out from the Lord,
Covering us, getting inside of us,
with the flavorful nutrition of
amazing love.
O graceful fall–out from the Lord,
spilling over the barriers
of our doubt and fears
with the fruit of divine favor.
Spirit of the living God, fall on us.
I had a hard time living down my promise of a great weather day for a picnic—May 18, 1980.
Easter Day in the Queens
When one says New York City, the name refers to five boroughs. If listed in terms of notoriety, in descending order, we name Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Staten Island, and then Queens. Unfortunately, many people know Queens for a tragedy—the site of a horrendous rape and murder of Kitty Genovese while, as it is alleged, thirty–eight persons in neighboring apartments might have come to her rescue but failed to do so.
As of February 25, 1968, Rev. James H. Ameling had resigned as Associate Minister of Union Church, a formerly Congregational, now UCC, in the Richmond Hill section of the Queens. I was to assume that position as an Interim by the end of March.
Easter Day dawned on Union Church on April 14, 1968. A couple hundred persons or families bought flowers for the day in honor or in memory of a loved one. The choir offered up the anthem, “Lo, the Tomb is Empty,” by Edward Broome. Then Rev. Arnold W. Tozer, the Senior Minister at the church since 1961, mounted the pulpit. As someone said, “If a Christian minister has nothing to say on that day, he/she should be quiet for the rest of the year.”
The denouement of Mr. Tozer’s message claims a fixed place in my memory. His title for the day, “Celebration,” gives a clue that what ensued, though seemingly spontaneous, in reality grew out of his plans for the proclamation.
I recall with clarity that Tozer suddenly said something like this: “This is Easter. The day of Resurrection. Christ is not dead. He is risen. Why do you just sit there? Stand up on your feet. Shout ‘Hallelujah!’ Say ‘Amen!’ Give God praise and glory.” As he spoke, his voice rose, his arms shot up, his whole being exuded animation.
Now this was no Pentecostal church. We were not in Baton Rouge with Jimmy Swaggert shouting, “My! My! My!”, and then breaking into tongues. No, I refer to a staid and proper United Church of Christ in the heart of Queens.
What happened? The Easter congregation rose out of their gravely pews, all the while looking about for assurance. In a way there seemed to be no alternative, given the pastor’s urging. But I can attest that from my seat in the chancel I saw not proforma obligatory obedience. There before my eyes, this old–line, main–line congregation stood en masse and shouted, “Hallelujah! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.” I too joined the celebration.
Not long after my Interim at Union Church ended, I, my wife, Dianne, and our young son, Kirk, moved on to a permanent situation in Michigan. But if someone asks me, “What’s your most memorable Easter?”, I suppose I might say, “Back in Queens when Tozer persuaded that congregation to stand up and shout, “Hallelujah!”
2. Berrigan, Testimony, 174.
3. Speratus, Evangelical, 314.
4. Lyte, Lutheran, 549.
5. Barth, The Word of God, 186.
6. Hazelton, Roger, Christ and Ourselves, 8.
7. Vahanian, The Death of God, 147.
8. Vitz, Psychology as Religion, 66.
9. Based on personal notes at the occasion.
10. Gearhart and Johnson, Loving Women, 92–93.
11. Berrigan, Love, Love, 114.
Engagement Beyond the Sanctuary
I simply argue that the Cross be raised again at the centre of the market–place as well as on the steeple of the church. I am recovering the claim that Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves; on the town garbage–heap; at a crossroad so cosmopolitan that they had to write his title in Hebrew and in Latin and in Greek (or shall we say in English, in Bantu, and in Afrikaans?); at the kind of place where cynics talk smut, and thieves curse, and soldiers gamble. Because that is where He died. And that is what He died about. And that is where churchmen should be and what churchmanship should be about.
George Macleod, Only One Way Left: Church Prospect12
12. Macleod, Only One Way Left, 38.
Protest in the Heart of Grand Rapids: Baez and Harris Come to Park Church
By 1968 intense opposition to U.S. involvement in the Vietnam conflict spread across the land. Some of my colleagues and I found ourselves counseling young men concerning their relationship to military conscription, known as “the draft.” If the local draft board proved sympathetic, a young man might escape being “called up” to this ugly war, especially if he could show evidence that his religious views led him to oppose war in general.
One young man in Park Church, experienced conscientious objections to the war but he had no personal record of conscience toward war. He felt it ethically dishonest, in face of an imminent draft, to lay claim to pacifism. He was the son of a mortician. His assignment? The mortuary on the battle field.
One day, Park Church received a request from folk singer, Joan Baez, and her husband, David Harris, to hold an opposition to the war concert in the sanctuary. It happened. I well remember the two of them walking into a packed house, she physically diminutive and he a towering figure.
But the decision to host the event at Park Church, across the street from Veterans Park, came only after much conversation and disagreement.
This account is based on my recollection of events. Maybe a recent conversation with Loyd Winer, Chair of the Board of Trustees at the time, is likely closer to the facts. He says that after the Trustees said “no” to the overture, the Custodian, Mr. Brodien, came to him saying, “I’m a black belt in karate. If there is any trouble I can handle it.” So, Mr. Winer approached an agent for Joan Baez. It was agreed that if the agent would write a $5,000 check (no small change in 1969) to cover any property damage to Park Church, the protest concert
