HipHopEMass

Stumbled this morning into a Hip Hop Mass (actually a Hip HopE Mass). It was at St. Mark-in-the-Bowery, an Episcopal church known as a place for artistic experimentation. A student a few years ago (in Religious Geography of New York) visited and told me they gathered in a circle, as indeed they do, and that it was very touchy-feely, which indeed it was - the exchange of the peace went on forever. But it's also one of the first places where a hip hop mass happened, and I happened on a happy reunion of the first hip hopers. I'd really like to say it worked. The music was terrific, and having hip hop dancers spinning in front of the altar was kind of exciting in a way.) But, while diverse, St. Mark's is still led by a white guy, however hip, whose well-meaning efforts to read hip hop versions of various prayers predictably fell flat. Peeps, homies, hood? God's got our back? We're representin'? I can imagine this would be exciting in a community where hip hop lives, but here it was forced, however heartfelt. (But once we got the hang of it, the congregation did do well with responding to amen with Word!)

Here's an example, the Hip Hope Mass version of Psalm 23:

The Lord is all that, I need for nothing.
He allows me to chill.
He keeps me from being heated
and allows me to breathe easy.
He guides my life so that
I can represent and give
shouts out in his Name.
And even though I walk through
the Hood of death,
I don't back down
for you have my back.
The fact that you have me covered
allows me to chill.
He provides me with back-up
in front of my player-haters
and I know that I am a baller
and life will be phat.
I fall back in the Lord's crib
for the rest of my life.

The reason I was at St. Mark's had nothing to do with this mass. I wanted to get rush tickets to a theater matinee at the Public Theater, and St. Mark's is nearby. Got the ticket (and another for my friend C), but Stephen Adly Guirgis' new play, "The Little Flower of East Orange," was a bit of a disappointment. Too many different things going on, not always strengthening each other. You might recall that a play by Guirgis was the culmination of C's and my Religion & Theater class last semester, a work pitch perfect, beautifully structured, rich and witty and profound... and one which worked a nearly miraculous reconciliation between the various members of our class. Maybe "Little Flower" will end up as satisfying a piece of theater, but I'm afraid it's got a long way to go before it gets there.