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,

The Place God Calls Us

Dear Friends, 

This morning at 7am, I hit the send button and submitted the first complete draft of my Doctor of Ministry Thesis from General Theological Seminary for review. Why Church?: Understanding how the next generation perceives the purpose of the Church. I conclude my thesis with a reflection on an art exhibit currently on display at the Bainbridge Art Gallery. This reflection is an edited version of my thesis conclusion.

While looking at the paintings, I was fortunate enough to meet one of the artists, Khalilah Sabree. Sabree was born in Macon, Georgia, and raised as a Southern Baptist, who, after moving north to Trenton, New Jersey, converted and became a devout African-American Muslim. In describing her collection of paintings, Destruction of a Culture, Sabree says, 

I explore how devastating changes disrupt world cultures and impact human relationships, societal structures, and the global landscape…The series began with a single image: a photo I took in Mecca of two African women gazing over a fence, as if peering into the future. The intensity of their focus captivated me; I envisioned them as bearers of a unique power able to foresee a changing world that remains hidden from others. As this photo became a series of paintings, imagination was my guiding force. I engaged in dhikr, allowing the remembrance of God to infuse my work with spiritual depth and resonance.

In conversation, Sabree shared with me that within the intensity, struggle, destruction, and truth of each painting, she intentionally put an element in clear focus, which was to draw our attention and invite us to enter into a place of spiritual refuge - a portal through which we could find safety and rest.

      When Things Fall Apart           Breaking Point     Lost

https://www.khalilahsabree.com/destruction-of-a-culture

Later that evening, I learned of yet another death of a Princeton University student. This is the eighth Princeton University student in three years to commit suicide. Princeton is supposed to be Mecca, the Promised Land, the pinnacle of the American Dream – an Ivy League university and one of the premier universities in the world. Yet with all the resources, student services, people, professors, programs, opportunities, buildings, money, reputation, and connections … eight young people in the last three years have been unable to find a safe refuge, a portal through which they could find safety and rest. They felt the only way forward, the only way to survive was to die. 

We live in a world that could be described as the destruction of a culture, and this isn’t creative destruction; it’s just destruction. Destruction of our environment. Destruction of opportunities because of economic disparity and unequal access to resources. Destruction of dignity and our humanity by acts of racism, xenophobia, transphobia, and simply plain old hate and indifference. Destruction comes in all shapes and sizes - sometimes vengeful and violent, harsh and arrogant, brash and bold, external and obvious, and other times internal and soulful, emotional and relational, hidden and subtle, deceptive and disguised, yet just as destructive.

There is a tremendous calling and need right before our eyes. There is a world of people, young and old alike, longing for a portal through which they can travel and find a place of refuge - a place of safety and rest from a world that can be daunting, damning, and destructive. I believe our primary calling as the people of Trinity Church is to show the way to the portal through which people can find rest, healing, and hope – in other words, salvation. God save us from ourselves - from our sin and arrogance, pride and ego, misguided pursuits and blindness, insecurities and vanities. The Church only survives if we do – and far too many people have no idea that the Love of God, as revealed to us in Jesus Christ, is a portal through which we find more than a place of refuge; we find life - life in the fullness of God’s intention for all of God’s beloved children.

Peace and Blessings,

“The place God calls [us] to is the place where [our] deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

— Frederick Buechner

The Moment We Cease to Hold One Another

As we journey through the richness of Black History Month, I'm reminded of the profound wisdom of James Baldwin. In his essay "Nothing Personal," Baldwin concludes with a powerful statement: "The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out."

We must NEVER cease to hold each other. So many forces in the world tell us why we should not be in relationship with others, why we should be suspicious, and why we should be fearful. So, many voices tell us to look out for ourselves and ourselves alone. We need to be very careful with new faces, new voices, new people, new ways of being and believing. Be very careful, for all of these threaten our way of life. And that's the heart of the issue … a threat to OUR way of life.  

This fuels an US versus THEM mentality. Which then breeds distrust and suspicion, self-interest and exclusion, prejudice and hate. We must recognize that our collective well-being hinges on our ability to stand together in solidarity. We must NEVER cease to hold each other, for without each other, we will not make it. Without each other - the sea engulfs us, and the light goes out.

Forward in faith that we all may be one!!

Sacred Spaces, Sacred Places

Seeking Justice

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about how we as a Church (both big C and little c) see ourselves and our mission in the world. The world is on literally and figuratively on fire and what are we supposed to do about it?

I recently took the General Ordination Exams (GOE) for The Episcopal Church. Writing the GOEs are a requirement for the priesthood in The Episcopal Church, as well as a rite of institutional passage. There are 6 essay questions taken over 3 days, with 3.5 hours allotted for each answer. It's grueling, but it can also be illuminating, fun, and a bit dangerous.

The first question of the second day was the Church History question, and we were instructed to profile 2 Episcopal Bishops, one modern (consecrated after 1945) and one historical (consecrated between 1810-1880), and to reflect on how our 2 examples could inform a newly elected Bishop today.

As a relatively new Episcopalian, I was excited to dig deeper into our history, and decided to research and report on an anti-slavery, abolitionist Bishop. Imagine my dismay and distress upon discovering there wasn't a single one. Not even one. I already knew that The Episcopal Church was the only major Christian denomination that did not split during the Civil War. I already knew that The Episcopal Church's complicity created deep wounds that we are still healing. And I know it’s quite possible that, given my research limitations, I might have missed something or someone. But for some reason, finding not a single Bishop who was courageous enough to speak out against the horrors of slavery stunned me into silence and sadness and rage. And into a writer's block that lasted an hour, before I managed to cobble together an answer that wasn't, by my own standards, sufficient.

צֶדֶק (tzedek), the Hebrew word for justice, appears over 400 times in the Old Testament, and it is crystal clear that God requires us to "Do justice and love mercy." Even when it's not convenient; perhaps especially when it's not convenient.  When Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated in 1968, he had a disapproval rating of 75%. His disapproval rating was even high among African-Americans, partly because of his increasing outspokenness against the Vietnam war. MLK paid the price for the courage of his convictions with his life. And so did Jesus.

"My Bishop '' ended up being Bishop William White of Philadelphia, who was the first and fourth Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church. Bishop White ordained Absalom Jones, the first Black man ordained in The Episcopal Church, in 1795, and was committed to the American Revolutionary cause.  And although Bishop White was a bright light in my sea of despair, I was unable to use him in my essay because his consecration did not happen during the stated rubric of the exam question. But he gave me hope.

This is my cue to ask myself, and to ask you to ask yourself, "What do I believe and what or who am I willing to stand up for?" Our passions, our beliefs, our truths are required. Whatever the issues, whatever the needs, be they local, national, or international, we are the hands and feet of God in this world.

Jesus said "The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed." (Luke 4:18)

We as a parish, as a beloved community, have everything we need to make a difference in the world. Our Eucharistic Prayer says that we present our entire selves as a living sacrifice to God. My prayer is we all, in every way we can, continually seek out and do צֶדֶק