“To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation,” says Pi Patel, the syncretic narrator of Yann Martel’s novel “Life of Pi.”
On a Friday night in June, in the parking lot of Wesley Union AME, a church at the corner of 5th and Camp, spectators at varying levels of doubt and faith sat still and were transported. The pastor, Willie Dixon, had bought a 12-by-17-foot inflatable Gemmy screen, which stood by the church’s east wall, its air pump blowing. It was the first night of Wesley Union’s free movie series, which will take place Fridays at sundown through Labor Day.
“We wanted to offer the neighborhood an alternative to just hanging out and waiting for something to happen,” said the Rev. Michael Stanley, who was manning the projector.
The movie—the screen adaptation of “Life of Pi,” about an Indian boy stranded by the wreck of a freighter carrying his family’s zoo—sat in the drive of a laptop, ready to play. But, first, an audience would have to gather, and the sun would have to set.
The reverends looked at the sky and looked at their watches. A family appeared at the end of an alley, toting white, plastic lawn chairs and pushing a stroller. Another caravan, all children, paraded down Camp Street on foot and on scooter, hauling collapsible chairs.
”Is it starting yet?” An adult came over and picked up a seat while two girls asked if they could help. While the man unfolded the legs, the girls grazed its canvas backing with their fingers. “I did it,” one said. “Me too!” said the other.
A man named Charles, with pale, thick arms and a stubbly beard, wearing an Iverson jersey and matching shorts, milled around doing whatever needed doing. “Pastor turned my life around,” he said. He gave a tour of the church’s new garden: five rows of plywood boxes filled with soil, sprouting cabbage, broccoli and peas.
“Guess which ones are mine?” said Pastor Dixon. Two of the boxes flourished noticeably with thicker, advanced vegetation. The pastor nodded.
More people arrived. There was a seating shortage. Someone tossed a Dora the Explorer blanket on the macadam, giggling. “Y’all can sit on this thing,” she said.
Nevin Mindlin, the mayoral candidate, arrived and shook hands with the pastor. Mindlin, who has collaborated with Dixon on various neighborhood projects over the years, was fresh from a two-week vacation in Barcelona and Provence. “These cities have public spaces, where people can gather and converse,” he said. “People want to do this. This is what Harrisburg needs.”
A crescent moon rose in the sky, but the daylight lingered. Dixon spoke into a microphone, thanking everyone for coming. He announced that next week’s movie would be “Courageous,” an independent Christian film about fatherhood. (Later, this selection would be swapped for “Madagascar,” a DreamWorks blockbuster in which David Schwimmer plays a giraffe.) “You need to bring your own chairs,” he said. He quieted the crowd for prayer.
“We ask, Lord, that our neighbors will embrace this and that we may be a blessing to one another. Amen. And remember, bring your own chairs.”
A rendition of the gospel song, “He’s a Keeper,” took over on the standing speakers. Kids lined up at a buffet table, and came away with hot dogs, Capri Suns, sodas and cookies.
A man in a brown beret brought chips to a woman and child bundled in a clamshell seat. “Look at you two. Look at you all. Can I come in there?”
The crowd in the lot swelled to more than 70, most of them children, excluding a handful of neighbors lounging on porches across the street. In a row near the front, a girl peered into a bag of trail mix, shook it and skimmed the top for M&Ms.
The sky grew darker, the moon more sharply defined. Purple clouds sailed past the steeple. Suddenly the music faded, and the fanfare sounded for Twentieth Century Fox. Then came the sound of a sitar and drum, and the screen filled with scenes of animal life in a zoo in Pondicherry.
