I don’t remember the first time I came into this building. 40 E. 35th street, the current location for The Community Church of New York, was the center of UU life in the Metro NY District for decades. Our District, which went south half way down the state of NJ, almost as far north as Albany and east into CT, found a home in these buildings. I was here often, to do the business of our minister’s association, or to participate in workshops on how to do whatever it is we’re supposed to know how to do, or to attend task force meetings on all kinds of topics to move the district or the denomination forward. This was the hub. We’ll meet at Community Church. We’d be in the gallery or the Assembly Hall, places I came to know so well they felt like a second home. I was rarely here, in the sanctuary, but the few times I was, it was for an auspicious event, important moments that live on in my memory. And what a gorgeous, and perfectly Unitarian space this is. I was always in awe, and often a little jealous, of the magnificence of this room.
Which is why, on my very first day as Senior Minister, I snuck up to the building hoping no one would see me, so I could take a selfie with the sign outside that says Community Church of New York. It wasn’t for posting for texting; it was for me. It was a private moment of pride and a little bit of a pinching of myself so I knew this was real. I’m here. And the first time my name was on the board with the name of my first sermon here – A House of Prayer for All People – I took a picture of that too.
I know I’m not alone in loving this building. The thought of taking it down breaks my heart. These bricks. I know not everyone feels the same way about this room, but I love these bricks. I love the height. I love the balcony. I love the flags declaring religious diversity. I love that corridor which reminds me of ancient European monasteries. I feel silly sitting in such a decadent chair, but the size of this chancel is wonderfully luxurious. That I’m the Senior Minister overseeing the destruction of this building is painful to me, and not a task, frankly, I thought I was signing up for.
Learning that there was a committee designated by the board to look at all the ways to leverage our wealth was fascinating to me. I loved the intentionality of it. So many big, old churches just keep going along doing the same things over and over as if the world around them wasn’t changing, but that’s not the spirit of Community Church of New York. I dug in to find out what they’d learned and where their thinking was. I got all the numbers, met experts in a lot of different fields, did my best to take the stand of an outsider who wasn’t attached to any particular outcome. I just wanted the information.
And, I was skeptical. I wasn’t sure I liked our broker. At least one engineer bugged me. I was dismissive of some of the lawyers and an entire architectural firm. There was no rush and I felt the luxury of asking questions and asking questions about the questions.
And the leaders on that PET Team were really good. They were also suspicious. They also asked questions. They bickered with each other some, but always because they were so committed to creating the best possible outcome for the church. I never doubted anyone’s desire for a healthy church and a strong future.
And we were thorough. For every hire, we got recommendations, interviewed at least three people or firms, made careful, informed decisions. We followed the information as it was presented, making decisions based on the best advice you could find in New York, which, I’m here to tell you is really good. These are the experts. We learned that our buildings are in such disrepair after years of neglect that there’s absolutely no way we can afford to fix them. There’s massive asbestos. The staircases in the brownstones are pulling of the walls. The entire electric system is covered in cloth- hundred year old cloth, turning to dust and covering the wiring in 4 of our buildings. The total renovation costs added up to nearly $25 million dollars, and that’s before the recent price hikes – far above anything we could ever afford. And yes, we had multiple estimates from multiple people and companies. The numbers and the information were always the same. And, it included this building. This gorgeous sanctuary where important people have debated the hottest issues of the day. Where babies have been dedicated and couples have been married and where a few people are even buried – a little tidbit here on Halloween.
The information was clear. We ran all the numbers. We’ll have to sell the buildings to someone who can take them down safely and build something else in their place. We learned that we couldn’t get enough money for the brownstones alone to cover the cost of the sanctuary. Of course, that would leave us without any meeting or office space, so we’d be broke and too small to function, anyway. But there were other problems. We had tenants in rent controlled apartments. No one is buying this space as long as we’re obliged to those people, so we had to find an alternative. We made them a few offers they rejected. In NYC, they have the right to refuse to leave. It’s on us to make leaving more interesting than staying, and then like manna from heaven, the brownstone right next to us went on the market. We asked the congregation to authorize the purchase of that buildings and after a lot of negotiation haggling over details, we were able to move our tenants into newly renovated space. It was a bonus that we could move our shelter in as well, untying another knot.
After years of investigating our options, accepting some very difficult truths, facing some painful realities, taking many steps in the right direction, we were ready to move forward with the decision by the congregation to sell to the highest bidder. It was sad, but necessary and we were ready.
The thing making this all OK was the idea that we were building something better. We were designing a glorious new church. Nearly 30,000 square feet of state of the art space with a massive, but flexible sanctuary, plenty of meeting space, classrooms, art rooms, a dance studio, a place for broadcasting and research and, really, everything a modern, alive, vibrant, relevant church could possibly imagine. I accepted the loss of something beloved because what was next was going to make this all worth it. Community Church was coming alive again. After so much turmoil, after decay of more than one kind, we were looking at a revival in a space worthy of our legacy and exciting enough to launch us into a new age.
Learning that wasn’t going to happen was a massive blow. I went through all the stages of grief. Denial. No, there has to be another way. A lawsuit? We didn’t even do anything. Everything is by the book. We’re going to get this dismissed and it’ll all be fine. Anger. How did this happen? Why didn’t we know about this? I thought this wasn’t a possibility because YOU told me that. Bargaining. What if we settle the lawsuit? Can we just give them some money? There has to be a way to make this go away. Depression. This is so sad. All that work. All those dreams. And there’s nothing. Acceptance. OK. What’s next. This is what’s real, and I hate it, so what can we do to move forward?
First, I recognized for myself – and this might be true for you too – that I’m not mourning the past but an imagined future. First, that future was to happen here. Then, after accepting it wouldn’t be here, I thought it was someone even more wonderful. Now, it’s not those things. The past that I’ve loved, still exists. No one can take from us what we’ve had. So, we have to imagine a new future.
People have been asking a lot about that. I can tell you that there are 2 buildings for sale within a block from here that are quite wonderful, bordering on perfect. They aren’t expensive. Once this vote happens, we’re going to get the information we need to make an informed decision, but knowing we have those options is very hopeful. It would actually mean that we could find ourselves in new space in a year rather than the 5 years we were preparing for. We’d have even more than 30,000 square feet, and we can bring it all up to the standards we were dreaming of before, making ourselves both a center for art and spirituality and a center for justice grounded in faith.
And we can do that because this sale will give us more than 60 million dollars. What small non-profit or NGO or church has that kind of money? We’d have options. Lots of them. Far more than we have right now. And we have ideas. What about a building dedicated to children and youth with classrooms and a nursery and a youth art gallery and an LGBTQ after-school program? I’d like to start a lecture series for the entire denomination focusing on Black UU History and Theology. Maybe we can host gatherings focused on a theological renaissance or the spiritual benefits of climate transformation.
When I started here, I said this was a ministry of YES. Today, I’m asking us all to embrace that vision. Let’s say yes to our future, yes to an alive and relevant church, yes to our leaders, yes to congregational health and yes to hope for what’s to come. For more than a dozen years, a need for change has been apparent. Groups have been formed to investigate options and make recommendations, but none have been taken. This time, is different. I’m confident that we’ll vote yes to this contract because I have to believe that this church will survive and will thrive. To vote no would be catastrophic. I’m not telling you that to frighten you; I’m saying it because it’s true. We’ve come this far, have spent a lot of money to get here, not to mention the good will of our leaders who have poured themselves out for to get us here. We have put it all on the table which is how it should be. For something this big, it should have taken a lot of time and it’s not unexpected that those of us who have been doing this for these last few years are feeling depleted. It’s OK. It’s a sign of seriousness and dedication. Now it’s your turn to meet us in this place of hope. The work is done. All we need do is to say yes.
This church has moved 4 times, has survived two fires, changed names three times, been part of two denominations. We’ve been broke before, dead broke, the kind of broke that lead us to talk of closing. And each time, leadership thought big and acted with courage and love. And, I’m sure there were naysayers with each big move, people who organized to stop the change, who acted up and walked out. But, the core of the church, the thing, frankly that I think defines Community Church over so many other churches, the core of the church knew it was time and took a bold step into an unknown future.