Transitions of an Episcopal Church: The Limelight

I have been thinking about the space that was once the Limelight club on 21st St. and Park Avenue for the past few months. In the ‘80s, my dad was a recent immigrant cab-driver, and would pick up all of its eccentric spill-over in the early hours of the morning. Whenever I act as the city tour-guide to his visiting Russian friends or family, it’s always a place that gets infamously mentioned as a symbol of New York’s gritty culture -- it’s always a shock to imagine what’s typically thought of as obscene occurring in a typically-holy and traditional place.

Its history can be summed up in short: it was a former Episcopal church, turned drug-rehab center, turned-club, turned high-end boutique and gym. Right now, the space is home to the Gramercy Vintage furniture store and to the Calvary Episcopal Church, and is covered in flyers that read:“If you’re looking for Candlelight, we’re over at St. George’s Church”, (Candlelight is a service that celebrates the Christmas season; St. George’s is a church on 16th street), and it’s adorned in wreaths for the holiday season. Though the architecture “fits in” with the surroundings of the Gramercy neighborhood, it looks beautifully out-of-place and anachronistic among its immediate Park Avenue counterparts, which include New York City staples such as Kinkos, the Duane Reade, cafes, and restaurants.

Such a mouthful of transitions -- church, rehab, club, boutique-- hints at the complex symbolism each stage holds. When understanding these transitions most broadly, I initially thought of it as a potent symbol of the West’s shift to secularism -- with a curious, later return to the church (the space currently holds mass on Sundays). The Limelight, however, also raises questions about religion (or more accurately, about religiosity -- as in the church vs. club scene), which can be analyzed through James’s Varieties of Religious Experience, and wealth (since it presently exists as a high-end vintage store, was a boutique, and once functioned as a cash-cow for the club-owners), which can be approached through the lens of Kerouac. It also raises ideas about obligations of charity and service, which can be thought of through the lens of Dorothy Day-- since the space had held drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs in the past.

It almost seems that the Limelight acted as a place where one sought refuge from a world that is uneasy and often corrupt, an escape from a feeling of what William James might call weightlessness (which is an odd idea, considering the corruption at the Limelight - - is it possible to completely escape such a feeling, and is club-going a less potent approach than religion to mediate the feelings?) Perhaps James’s ideas about mysticism in which “consciousness of illumination” is an essential marker, might shed more light. (James, 222) James’s mystical states are authoritative over the individual who experiences them, not necessarily accepted uncritically by others, and “break down” rationalistic consciousness. (James, 23) The mystical experience can be evaluated based on its fruits. It seems, then, that religiosity can entail an attitude or individual endeavor in James’s view. It becomes more difficult to operate on such an atomistic, individual model when we live in a social world. Kerouac, too, felt an oppressive sort of weight from middle-class America, with the sarcastic remark: ““...my domain of existence and my karma was to be born in America where nobody has any fun or believes in anything, especially freedom.” (Kerouac, 31) It seems that religion in these texts is thought of with the empiricist criteria based on personal, inner happiness and serviceability -- likely similar criteria to the club-goer. Of course, such ignores the impact one’s choices have on interpersonal networks and societies.

I initially believed that such a transition (from church to club in the ‘80s) might be negative, or at least a marker of some loss. James’s idea of religion, however, seems to encompass a broader array of personal experiences than ones that get “watered-down” in church life. It seems ironic, perhaps even irreverent (though the church was deconsecrated) that a once-holy place could lose its sanctity and become an infamous haven of drug-use and crime. My views have been nuanced after the tragic terrorist attacks in Paris. Cafes, sports arenas, and theaters -- these can safely be said to be tokens of the West in which individuals seek refuge from the bane of daily-life. In this sense, it is wise to not jump to the conclusion that the secular transition that once was (church to club) is necessarily a loss. Such reasoning seems to hold onto outdated ideals and can even take some nasty turns. Instead, transition can be embraced to a broader understanding of human religious experience. While the “loss” was once that of church to club, the loss of a famous club -- perhaps one memorable to many-- to a more anonymous collection of shops also may leave much to be desired. It also raises the question, one perhaps relevant to the readings of Moxley Rouse: what determines what is sacred to people -- how can we determine what has more meaning, without relying on dogmatic criteria?

References

James, William. The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. Oxford University Press, 2012.

Kerouac, Jack. The Dharma Bums. New York, NY. Penguin Books, 1958.