Trinity Wall Street
Trinity Church has occupied Wall Street for 315 years. A witness to old New York and a not too small contributor to the life and growth of the city and nation, this church received its charter from the British Crown and became a cornerstone of American independence. It has coexisted, colluded, and collided with the financial powers on Wall Street and lower Broadway. It preceded those institutions and, I suspect, it will outlast them. Not because of its history, which is understandably prestigious. And not at all because of Trinity's own financial and real estate holdings. But because of its spiritual legacy and vitality.
I am not a member of Trinity, nor can I remember when I last attended a service there; but I did drop in on Veteran's Day after visiting the Occupy Wall Street encampment at Zuccotti Park. On that crisp Fall day off from work, I decided to see for myself what was going on. A couple weeks earlier, my wife went and had some engaging conversations with people there. I came looking for something of the same, since I too share with her a sense of the injustice and inequality of opportunities that mark our society. Instead, I found a squalid array of tarps and tents with people asking for money from the passersby. The need for hot chocolate, food, and basic supplies dominated the scene in the park. Makeshift banners and posters shouted: "THEY SAY GENTRIFY! WE SAY UNIFY!" "NO FRACKING WAY!" and "LEGALIZE MARIJUANA" with the iconic serrated, five blade leaf. All causes with their own arguments and counter arguments, but no one to talk about the thrust of OWS-the purpose behind the whole thing. I walked among the portable dwellings and felt like I was invading a private space. Food scraps, trash, and grime forced me to look for a way out of the maze of tents, clotheslines, tables, and booths back to the sidewalk. I came sympathetic and left disappointed, but still grasping for the right words to put behind the thoughts I share presumably with many there and in cities around the nation.
Walking down Broadway a couple of blocks, I went into Trinity Church and slipped into a pew to rest and read my book. The usual tourists gawked and snapped photos in Richard Upjohn's magnificent Gothic Revival building. Others reverently bowed or genuflected as they passed in front of the main altar; some of them entered pews to pray. A kneeling woman, illuminated by a shaft of light-her folded hands reflecting Albrecht Dürer's "Praying hands"-sung quietly but distinctly, "O come, let us adore him,/ O come, let us adore him,/ O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord." I then remembered. Unjust social and economic structures will not be changed by anger and protest alone. Neither will resignation to the status quo obtain anything but despair. Trinity Church stands as a testimony to another King, whose Kingdom is just and whose power can change the most selfish of hearts and give heart to the most desperate without class hatred or violence. It is this Kingdom that has been occupying Wall Street for 315 years and counting.
I am not a member of Trinity, nor can I remember when I last attended a service there; but I did drop in on Veteran's Day after visiting the Occupy Wall Street encampment at Zuccotti Park. On that crisp Fall day off from work, I decided to see for myself what was going on. A couple weeks earlier, my wife went and had some engaging conversations with people there. I came looking for something of the same, since I too share with her a sense of the injustice and inequality of opportunities that mark our society. Instead, I found a squalid array of tarps and tents with people asking for money from the passersby. The need for hot chocolate, food, and basic supplies dominated the scene in the park. Makeshift banners and posters shouted: "THEY SAY GENTRIFY! WE SAY UNIFY!" "NO FRACKING WAY!" and "LEGALIZE MARIJUANA" with the iconic serrated, five blade leaf. All causes with their own arguments and counter arguments, but no one to talk about the thrust of OWS-the purpose behind the whole thing. I walked among the portable dwellings and felt like I was invading a private space. Food scraps, trash, and grime forced me to look for a way out of the maze of tents, clotheslines, tables, and booths back to the sidewalk. I came sympathetic and left disappointed, but still grasping for the right words to put behind the thoughts I share presumably with many there and in cities around the nation.
Walking down Broadway a couple of blocks, I went into Trinity Church and slipped into a pew to rest and read my book. The usual tourists gawked and snapped photos in Richard Upjohn's magnificent Gothic Revival building. Others reverently bowed or genuflected as they passed in front of the main altar; some of them entered pews to pray. A kneeling woman, illuminated by a shaft of light-her folded hands reflecting Albrecht Dürer's "Praying hands"-sung quietly but distinctly, "O come, let us adore him,/ O come, let us adore him,/ O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord." I then remembered. Unjust social and economic structures will not be changed by anger and protest alone. Neither will resignation to the status quo obtain anything but despair. Trinity Church stands as a testimony to another King, whose Kingdom is just and whose power can change the most selfish of hearts and give heart to the most desperate without class hatred or violence. It is this Kingdom that has been occupying Wall Street for 315 years and counting.
Comments