The Faith of Thomas

Last Sunday we heard the story of Thomas’ encounter with the risen Jesus. Recall that back in John 11, Thomas was ready to follow Jesus back to Judea and into danger. “Let us also go, that we may die with him,” he says. Thomas is ready to run towards death, but in his meeting with Jesus in that fateful room after the resurrection, he needs to hear an invitation to new life. He needs to hear the word of peace for himself, and not second hand. 

We know all too much about death. We know all too much about preparing for the worst. But it can be a terrifying thing to trust that things might just work out better than we expected. It can be a terrifying thing to believe that in Jesus, it actually can’t work out any better than we trust it will. 

Thomas responds to that invitation to life with worship: “My Lord and my God!” Thomas ascribes to Jesus the name that is also the name of the God of Israel, making a bold confession of Jesus’ divinity. Only God can bring that kind of life, hope, and peace, and Thomas would be so compelled by it that he would become the messenger of the Gospel far outside the Roman Empire - as tradition has it, as the apostle to the people of India and south Asia. 

In each of our lives, we find there are times when we struggle to trust that Jesus is there, alive and active. Yet we still believe for each other until we can see and trust again. That’s one reason that we say the creed on Sunday: we believe – and we believe together. 

In the Gospel for the Second Sunday of Easter, Jesus says “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” This is how we come to faith, 2000 years after the risen Jesus met his disciples. At the same time, we do have the chance to see, to touch, to taste Jesus. We have that chance to encounter him face to face at the altar, every time we come to Trinity Church where Jesus shows up in word and in sacrament. He shows up because he promised to do so, and because he is faithful to the promise. Every time we come to church, Jesus invites us once again to hear the word of life and peace, to feel the breath of the Holy Spirit, and in response to exclaim in worship – “my Lord and my God.”

I AM the Alpha and the Omega

Dear Beloved Ones,

Earlier this week, I had the chance to be in New York for the morning, and I took the opportunity to go by The General Theological Seminary. I sat in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd and turned back the clock 28 years. As the weeks draw ever closer to the beginning of my sabbatical, I found those few moments in the Chapel to be profoundly meaningful. I sat in the same spot where I would sit for Morning and Evening Prayer during my Anglican Studies year in the fall of ’96 and spring of ’97. I walked up and stood in the pulpit where I preached my “Senior Sermon” and sat in the officiant’s seat, where I led Evening Prayer for the first time.

As I was sitting there, I couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone. I remember as if it were yesterday, the day that Christina and I drove into the city in a U-Haul truck that was much larger than we needed, but it was the only truck they had. I remember our excitement as new friends helped us move our belongings into the apartment on a scorching day in August. 

On our first night, we slept on a futon in the front room because we wanted to look at the Empire State Building, which we could see clearly from the window. We couldn’t believe that we were living in New York. What an amazing year it was!

During the spring term, I was tired and needed a break. A friend who had studied at Princeton Theological Seminary invited me to “get out of town for an excursion to Princeton.” I had never been and immediately took her up on the offer. We got off the Dinky and walked up Alexander, and our first stop was Trinity Church. The doors to the church were open for all to enter, just as they are today. We walked in and sat for a time of quiet and prayer. After looking around a bit, we stood before the central altar and then left for a walk around town. I had no idea that 11 years later, I would have the sacred gift and privilege of being your rector. What an amazing and blessed journey it has been. I still can’t believe it. 

All of this is merely an introduction to what may seem like a rather insignificant insight. As I sat in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd, I looked to the wall above the altar and saw what I had seen a thousand times before - Λ and Ω with a beautiful stained-glass window in between. 

All of our lives, all of our beginnings and all of our endings, and everything in between are held within the embrace of the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Every second, every breath, all of our days and nights, all of the seasons, and all of the years of our lives are part of the ongoing story of God and God’s people. We are a part of the sacred tapestry, song, poem, painting, sculpture, and story that is the artistry of the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End of all that was and all that ever will be. How fast it goes! How fragile it can be. How precious it is! How sacred a gift!

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.” (Rev. 22:13)

Easter Blessings to all!

Paul

He is risen, He is risen!

Dear Friends,

This Sunday, we will gather to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. We celebrate the truth of God’s love. A love that created the universe, a love that holds us and sustains us, and a love that will not leave us in the darkness of the grave but breaks the chains of death and sorrow to set us free to Easter life and joy. 

Our closing hymn, He is risen, he is risen!, beautifully articulates our Easter hope and our Easter call.

He is risen, he is risen!

Tell it out with joyful voice.

He has burst his three days’ prison;

Let the whole wide earth rejoice.

Death is conquered; man is free.

Christ has won the victory.

Trusting in the truth of the resurrection and the victory we have in Christ, we are to “Tell it out with joyful voice” so that all the world might know the Easter message.  

I look forward to seeing you this Sunday as we gather with our siblings in Christ from around the globe to celebrate the victory over death and our freedom from the bondage of sin … for Christ has won the victory

Easter Blessings,

Good Friday Anthem

Hello dear Trinity family,

Back in college I came across this painting above: Jesus on the cross, juxtaposed above Abraham and Isaac at the scene of near sacrifice. The text at the bottom reads, “Gen. 22:8 - God will provide the lamb.” I was so moved by this painting that I felt inspired to create in response to it. The result was a Good Friday choral piece called Elahi, from the Aramaic phrase, “Elahi! Elahi! Lema sebaqtani?” (“My God! My God! Why have You forsaken me?”) I invite you if you are interested to listen to this piece as part of your meditation on Christ’s sacrifice for us this Good Friday.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RJf5FzDHLUtDMwhx-A0oF877RaSvusat/view?usp=drive_link.

Peace,

Char

Palm Sunday

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

As we prepare to begin our Holy Week Journey, I share with you excerpts from a reflection by Fred Buechner, originally published in A Room Called Remember.

When Jesus of Nazareth rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his followers cried out, "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord," the Pharisees went to Jesus and told him to put an end to their blasphemies, and Jesus said to them, "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out."  

King Jesus, we offer all churches to you as you offer them to us. Make thyself known in them. Make thy will done in them. Make our stone hearts cry out thy kingship. Make us holy and human at last that we may do the work of thy love. 

We live in trying times. We live in a season when the church and the prophetic Word of God are desperately needed. We live in a time when church attendance is declining, and its relevance is questioned. We live in a time when many say, "put an end to [the] blasphemies." But the message of the Gospel cannot be silenced, and even if we lose heart and find our voices muted, the very stones will cry out with praises and shouts of joy! They would proclaim a word of liberation and Easter life.

As we walk these holy days, may we offer ourselves fully to the redemptive story of God's love shown to us in Jesus. May God be known through us! May God's will be done in us! May our stone hearts cry out the power of God! And finally, may we be made holy and human to do the work of LOVE!

Peace and blessings to all,

Paul

All In

In my office there’s a little sign that says, 

O priest of God,

say this Mass 

as if it were your first Mass,

your last Mass,

your only Mass. 

That little saying is a traditional reminder to priests about the dangers of complacency. Sometimes, if we aren’t careful, we can take for granted what we do each time we encounter Jesus Christ in the Sacraments – and especially each time we receive Him in the Eucharist. Sometimes, if we aren’t careful, we can start to take the Church for granted. 

Four years ago this week, Bishop Stokes sent out a message closing our churches for public worship due to the COVID-19 pandemic. That Holy Week was one of the lowest points for me, personally, in my 10 years of ordained ministry. There’s nothing I love more than walking with the parish through those momentous days of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. During those days in 2020 when we proclaimed that Christ’s death and resurrection are still conclusively, unalterably true, I resolved anew never to take this time of year for granted. I resolved to live each moment of Holy Week as if it were the first time, the last time, the only time, I would be able to observe those liturgies and share the Good News of Christ’s resurrection. I resolved to be “all in,” all the time, every time. 

Holy Week is coming soon, and we have so much to celebrate here at Trinity Church. Our attendance continues to rebound to almost pre-COVID levels, such that our current average Sunday attendance puts us in the top 2% of Episcopal churches nationwide. Our stewardship campaign was a smashing success. There is a wonderful spirit in the parish, with so many people joining us for the first time, getting involved, or deepening their involvement in our many ministries. These, too, are gifts we can never take for granted. 

This year, I encourage you to join us for Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, and Easter Sunday. I especially encourage you to come to this year’s Easter Vigil as we welcome Bishop Sally French as our celebrant and preacher. 

I’m “all in.” Are you? 

In Christ,

Kara

Don’t forget – Move your clock forward one hour!

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church, 

This Saturday evening, while we rest, like magic, time will dramatically move forward one hour, and we will lose an hour of sleep. We play this little game twice a year, falling back and springing forward. As if somehow, we had control over time. Yet we all know better. We understand that no matter how we set the clock, time is what time is, and all that we have is the moment in which we live and breathe this very second. And none of us are guaranteed one more breath nor one more second.  

The only thing we do have some control over is what we do with the time that we are entrusted with. Every morning, we wake up, if we are so blessed, and we are gifted with another day. How we spend the fleeting and precious seconds of each day is what defines and makes the totality of our lives. Our lives are fundamentally not formed around years and decades, but rather seconds and moments, each of incalculable worth. 

This morning, I officiated at a graveside service, and the family requested the timeless words from the book of Ecclesiastes:

For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance,

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace. 

I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. 

As we turn our clocks forward this weekend, let us remember the precious and sacred value of time -  each second, each moment, each breath, each heartbeat - and that through the love of God these endure forever. 

See you Sunday! And don’t forget to move your clock forward one hour!

Peace,

Paul

Slow down, you move too fast

A few weeks ago, when I went to Kentucky for my retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani, I cut it way too close to catch the train to the airport. We pulled up to Princeton Junction as the train arrived. In a flurry, I jumped out of the car, grabbed my bags, gave a hurried goodbye, and off I went – literally running to make the train. I was awkwardly carrying my bags and glanced over my shoulder for one final goodbye, and I tripped. Not once, but twice!! And the second time, I just caught myself, preventing what would have been a full-out face plant. 

I scrambled to my feet and barely, just barely made it - hand bleeding, knee throbbing, out of breath, and thoroughly embarrassed. Here I am, a full-grown man running and tripping, flustered and frustrated in an incredible rush and hurry to get to the Abbey … so I could slow down and find some peace. A rather ironic start to my retreat!

I settled into my seat on the train and attempted to calm myself and regain some composure. I thought I would listen to some music. As I was scrolling through my Apple Music library, a song that I had used for a funeral popped up. I listened and laughed out loud! 

It was Simon and Garfunkel’s, The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy). The opening verse says, “Slow down, you move too fast. You got to make the morning last.” The final verse says, “Let the morning time drop all its petals on me. Life, I love you, all is groovy.”

In his book, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, Thomas Merton writes, 

“There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence ... The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence … It destroys our own inner capacity for peace.” 

There is a violence from the rush and running, the hurrying and busyness of modern life. This inhibits our capacity for peace. It holds us captive, preventing us from enjoying the gift of life and, as Simon and Garfunkel put it – feeling groovy. 

Here’s to slowing down, loving life, and … feeling groovy.

Lenten Peace and Grace be with you,