Soon after my father died, my mother sat down with me to have a hard conversation. “Please,” she said, “when it becomes time for you to make decisions about my life, be kind. Promise to forgive me when I don’t like the choices you make and may become angry at you.”

It was important to my mother that I be willing to forgive her in advance and, moreover, that I fully grasped the love that she will always have for me no matter what, even when it might become unrecognizable.

Life is full of these profound Lenten moments. We live in regret for what we have done, for what we have left undone, and even for what we may yet do. Despite our best efforts and noblest goals, we sometimes fall short. Just as the sun comes up in the morning, we also know that we will most certainly fall short again.

I cannot recall another time when someone asked me for forgiveness for something that had yet to happen. As I wrestled with this conversation, I began to recognize the Gospel message. It is Jesus Christ who purchased forgiveness for us all—once and eternally—by his death on the cross, for those who had gone before and for those who were yet to come.

Jesus calls us to live in this state of forgiveness. His sacrifice was not only about restoring a just relationship with God but about maintaining a right relationship with our neighbors. Love of God cannot be separated from love of neighbor, and forgiveness is an essential part of both.

Living a life of forgiveness is about living a life of freedom. All too often we don’t recognize the gift of hope with which Christ has blessed us. Forgiveness becomes about failure, or guilt, or the anger we carry. I sometimes joke with my church friends that most of us want justice for others and mercy for ourselves. We frequently choose to use forgiveness as a weapon or even to hide behind it as a shield.

Our Christian reality teaches us that forgiveness is rather about a second chance, a clean slate, a restored relationship, and life everlasting. As my mother tried to teach me, forgiveness is about God’s overwhelming and unending love for us and about our own generous love for one another.

Fr. Simons recently told us that the church year could be reduced to two liturgical seasons: Easter and Easter’s-Coming. God calls us to get ready, to be ready, and to live lives of readiness. We are called to forgive as we have been forgiven, forever and forever more. The Realm of God is not far away, we are living in it now.

“And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” Ephesians 4:32

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

Feature image courtesy of Chad Johnson via Flickr.

My wife and I were in New Orleans this past week and were fortunate to share the Super Bowl experience. As the Saints went marching in to victory, it was indescribable. The entire town sat together to watch the football game before pouring into the streets to celebrate as one city. The Lombardi Gras Parade on Tuesday was a sea of black and gold, a party bigger than any Mardi Gras either of us remembers.

The unity of the Super Bowl, however, belied a tale of two cities. People celebrating as one at the parade were returning to very different homes. One afternoon as we rode the streetcar up St. Charles Avenue, we were captivated by a gated community of stately mansions. Of course, not very far away lay the destruction and extreme poverty of a city still recovering from a devastating hurricane and broken economy. This juxtaposition of the haves and have-nots is repeated in every community.

These disparities were central at the recent Trinity Institute, as we wrestled with “Building an Ethical Economy.” It was a harder conversation than most people imagined as we struggled to find vision, answers, and hope during very difficult times. Frustration began to show itself as no one seemed able to discern any obvious solution.

How can our capitalist economy be conformed to values of God’s economy? Is it even possible to apply Christian values in the marketplace?

Professor Kathryn Tanner observed that the strength of capitalism might be found in its very amorality. Because capitalism is amoral, she observed that we are forced to do business with those people with whom we would prefer not to have any interaction at all. She went on to observe that “any system based on love is by nature small.”

Wow, what a cynical thought! It seems more a reflection of our own sinfulness than a virtue of the capitalist economy. When did our love become too small? One conferee joked that unlike last year’s theme of “Radical Abundance,” this year’s theme seemed to be “Radical Limitation.”

Professor Tanner tentatively offered a different vision. What if our human economy was modeled on God’s economy of grace: an unmerited gift, freely given, to all?

God’s house has many rooms, Jesus reveals. It is a big house with enough room and enough love for everybody. It is a world with one neighborhood, not several disparate ones. It is a world where those who fall by the wayside are not left abandoned. As Jesus consistently demonstrates, it is a world where love of God cannot be separated from love of neighbor.

It is a hard sell.

A chaplain of an Episcopal school told us a story about her 5th grade class. They were discussing Jesus’ call of the 12 apostles. She quizzed her students as to why the apostles would simply drop their fishing nets to follow Jesus. Several children offered a disturbing answer. The only rational reason to leave your job to follow Jesus would be the chance to make more money. Making more money was the only “call” that made any sense at all to them.

We Christians still have a lot of work to do.

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

I’ve been around church for long enough to know that you can never guess where the next hullabaloo is coming from. However, I never anticipated that our Advent theme, Expect Hope, would cause a stir. Not only were a few eyebrows raised, but I have been included in well over a dozen conversations about it.

I guess as themes go, this one has ultimately been pretty successful. Anything that generates personal and theological reflection followed by a broader congregational discussion has more than done its job. Never being one to stand on the sidelines, I wanted to add my two cents.

I think that part of the issue is that, at their core, expect and hope mean the same thing. They are both synonyms of desire, and both words evoke a sense of longing and anticipation. However, in intent and usage, they are decidedly quite different. When put together, these two simple words can become confusing, as we are emotionally pulled in opposite directions. To some, the whirl of nuance forms a tesseract-like puzzle of meaning and innuendo, while to others the words lose their meaning altogether. I choose the puzzle.

In human terms, hope is a word that is far away from us and might even imply irrational desire. For example, we might hope to win the lottery or even hope for world peace. To expect seems the stronger of the two words and the surer bet. We expect the sun to come up in the morning, and we expect water will come out of the faucet when we open it.

Of course, one person’s hope can be another person’s expectation. Many approach nightfall hoping to find shelter and a meal, while the rest of us expect it. As part of a long job search, I simply hope that I can find meaningful work, whereas my wife still expects it. Perhaps, you get the conundrum or at least the sense of struggle.

In theological terms, expect and hope also have distinctly different connotations. If I had a nickel for every church meeting I attended where a clergy member pleaded with us to set aside our expectations, I would be a rich man. Expectations are frequently perceived as lavish and extravagant, and these unrealistic or unhealthy desires can stand between us and what we truly need.

Hope is the more basic and essential spiritual desire. As explained in the Episcopal catechism, Christian hope is living in confidence in the newness and fullness of life while we await the coming of Christ in glory and the completion of God’s purpose for the world. You see, Jesus is our hope. While we might be able to lose our expectations, if we ever lose hope we are done for.
Right or wrong, I read these levels of desire into the Christmas story. After a long journey with a pregnant wife in labor, I bet that Joseph was simply hoping against hope that they would find a place to stay. Despite the angelic proclamation, I wonder whether the shepherds trotted over to Bethlehem only hoping to see the Messiah or really expecting it. It is quite clear to me that the Magi fully expected to locate the Messiah by following the Eastern Star. Unfortunately, so did King Herod.

Expect Hope. How we understand this theme on any given day is all about our own perceptions. As we near the end of Advent and approach the Christmas manger, it is my fervent prayer that you will find Jesus waiting for you. Not only do I hope it, I expect it.

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

Miss Eunice was very old, very bed ridden, and very poor.  She did not live in a very nice nursing home.  But growing up, when we went to see her, her hands were always busy making corncob dolls to give away.  She used scraps of fabric and whatever else was at hand.  Despite her circumstances, which I recall as dismal, she was always one of the happiest, most joyful people I can remember. 

I learned from Miss Eunice that no matter where you are and what you have, you always have something to give.  The darker the room, the brighter the light.

Why then are we so scared of stewardship? 

I have been going to church for a very long time, and every year, when we get to stewardship season, people seem to cringe.  My father, a pastor, would annually gather his courage to find a fresh motivational message about giving and about how the very act of giving is connected to our spiritual health.  Sometimes he would tell it like it was: we needed the money and we needed more participation.  Sometimes we just needed to pay the electric bill.  Most of the time, nobody seemed to want to hear much about it, although somehow by God’s grace we always made it through.

God’s kingdom is different from all of the human ones, as God measures our worth and value very differently.  We all have gifts, and we all live in a world that needs them very badly.  Yet we can become so hung up about our material wealth that we live out of our own poverty rather than God’s abundance.  Just like Miss Eunice, though, we find that our spiritual health and personal joy is directly connected to how we give from what we have. 

We are at a transitional and transformational time in our history at Trinity.  We live in a big city of bright lights and dark corners, and that fact is no clearer than on Wall Street.  While many of the rich get richer, so many others don’t know how they’ll make it through.

In these tough times when many churches are pulling inward and reducing mission, Trinity is stepping out in faith.  Recently, we started a brown bag feeding program from the front steps of the church.  Plans are afoot to create a community center to welcome all, and in particular those who are homeless or otherwise in need.  We are working to strengthen our other community outreach and educational ministries.

Everyone has something to give: a prayer, a kind word, a helping hand.  And yes, we do need your financial support to make these dreams real.  The results of both the giving and the gift will be tangible and spiritual.  It’s not always about how much you have.  It’s about how much you have to offer.

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

We at Trinity have spent a lot of time discussing invitation, about how to include more people in our mission and work. Even when the pews are full, program participation always isn’t, and we need help. Of course, this discussion has led my sometimes warped mind to reminisce about one of my favorite childhood games: Red Rover.

If you don’t have a reference point for this game, it consists of two teams who join hands. The two lines stand opposite each other about 20 yards apart. Each team takes turn calling over, or inviting, members of the other team by singing “Red Rover, Red Rover, let (player’s name) come over.” That player then runs as fast as s/he can and tries to break through the linked hands of the other team. If you break through, you get to steal one of that team’s members to join your own team. If you can’t break through, you are forced to stay with the other team.

So what is this game telling me about our current discussion, and what lessons do I need to remember? Several things spring to mind.

1. Teams usually invite weaker players first. Jesus tells us that this is how God works. God specifically calls the weak and outcast. However, in our human logic we sometimes misinterpret God’s intentions. Sometimes we prefer the weak out of our own desire for control. We don’t want them to break through, and our arms remain tightly linked.

2. We like to choose who to invite. Carefully picking our own team can allow us to maintain control of the situation, the ideas, and the direction. We seek to create our own army of followers, though time and time again, Jesus seeks to teach us a different way. We are all brothers and sisters, but we do not always hear.

3. It’s nice to stand in a group of friends holding hands. This very coziness, though, can have serious implications. Newcomers can be kept out because people refuse to let go of each other. Despite any invitation that may have been made, and a tightly knit group can remain closed. The chain must break in order to allow others to join in.

4. As we grow older, sometimes we need to quit playing these games as we are all on the same team. To think otherwise can be exclusionary and demeaning. Invitation and inclusion is scary sometimes because it speaks to our own fears. Sometimes we are afraid of the other or the unknown. Sometimes we are afraid that we may not get our own way or that our own priorities or desires may be forced to change. It can become a hollow invitation, and many are surprised when no one actually comes over.

St Paul, our patron, writes that we are not called to boast of our own greatness or our own exploits. If we boast, it is of God alone. And God calls us to make room—for everyone.

We are working to create real invitation with open arms, open minds, open hearts, and open hands. We pledge to welcome and uphold all people, new ideas, and new perspectives. We are even calling you by name, not to break through but to join in.

“Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have--right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start--comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That's why we have the saying, "If you're going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God." I Corinthians 1:26-31 (The Message)

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

That transformational moment came about 15 years ago. I was having a particularly rough time and decided to go to confession and unload. I mean, I actually told the priest the whole truth. After a thoughtful pause, he delivered my penance: “Make a list of all the things that you’re thankful for, and celebrate everything that God has given you.”

Celebrate? To this day I remain surprised at his response, likely the hardest penance ever. I have never been one to possess that lightness of spirit. It is frequently easier for me to remain stuck in the familiar rut or even to point the finger of blame.

As I began to make my list, I heard the voice of Jesus. “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.” We all need to set aside time to give thanks and praise for who we are and what we have. We need to make a party and to celebrate.

For this reason, I sympathize with the Prodigal Son as he too was resistant to the celebration. He made his list of sins, prepared his confession, and worried about the potential outcome. When he got home, though, he found welcome in lieu of punishment. Of course, I bet he had some tough conversations in the weeks ahead as he worked to reconcile with his father and brother, but for the day it was all about thanksgiving.

We are making a list of blessings and thanksgivings at Trinity, and, yes, we are throwing a party.

Celebration Sunday is September 20. After the 11:15 a.m. service, we will gather in the north churchyard for a picnic and fellowship. We will have fun, and we will tell our stories. Each of our various ministries and missions will have tables set up to share information and to encourage everyone to participate in our common life. Joy will fill the air as we represent Christ to the city and welcome friends old and new.

Come home and celebrate! Whether you have been a way for a long time or just since last Sunday, God has set a place for you at the table, no reservations required and no questions asked. We’ll be happy to see you.

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards
President, Congregational Council

“The summer wind came blowing in from across the sea…” goes the Frank Sinatra classic.Maybe, rather, I should echo Judy Collins “In the Heat of the Summer,” given her Trinity-sponsored concert on Governors Island.At any rate, there’s a clear theme here despite the fact that it’s been a generally cool and rainy one here in the northeast.

Summertime in an urban church can be an in-between season, and it is squarely so at Trinity.Staff and congregation come and go in seemingly unrecognizable patterns as we all seek some refreshment from our regular lives.

In terms of our Christian Way of Life, we refer to this time as Holy Leisure.Despite everyone’s clear notion of this concept, it is my personal experience that Holy Leisure is the least understood of all our core values.Many of us understand it as our periodic right to check out, to disengage and to ignore our usual responsibilities.It becomes a generally accepted time for us to put off until tomorrow.

Understood properly, however, Holy Leisure means precisely the opposite.Richard Foster, in his book “A Celebration of Discipline” writes that “Holy Leisure is an attitude of the mind, an inward calm of silence, a time to absorb God's presence in reality.” It is our time to see clearly, to reengage, and to restore a proper balance in our lives.

Jesus models this balance for us throughout the Gospels, for it is in prayer and quiet that he finds the strength to continue in God’s mission of love, healing, restoration and reconciliation.
At the same time, I am smugly reassured by Sunday’s Gospel from Mark 6 that even Jesus himself occasionally had a hard time finding this balance and quietude.For when he seeks to escape the crowds, they decide to follow, and he cannot get away.However his response is one of compassion instead of anger, and I am once again humbled.

Yes, our Trinity summer has truly been an in-between time.Even as we wrap up programs from last season, we are up to our elbows in preparation for the next.We gather to make plans, find partners, prepare budgets, and create brochures.In the midst of our comings and goings, our homeless drop-in center was closed by the City, and we actively seek to find another way to serve those who are most in need.Not everyone gets to make an escape.

Yet it remains my fervent prayer that we remain able to maintain the right balance, absorb God’s presence and capture a bit of the eternal summer light to carry with us along the way.

Faithfully,

Emory Edwards

President, Congregational Council

By Emory Edwards, President of the Congregational Council.

As I drop down into my favorite pew in Trinity Church, I gain solace by gazing into the face of Jesus so beautifully reflected in stained glass above the high altar. It brings me peace for a few moments and then my mind begins to wander to other things. We are busy at Trinity, very busy. Sometimes it can be difficult to slow down even for a moment.

Jeremiah proclaims, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, God’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness.” As I reflect on this passage, it becomes clear. The fact that God’s mercies are new every morning is not only about our hope in God but about God’s expectations for us. Jesus, in John’s Gospel, tells us that we will do greater works than even he himself has done.

It’s a tall order. How do we renew Christ’s mission to the world every day, while doing greater works than even Jesus himself? I think we start one blessing at time.
At Trinity, the congregation is focused in five different areas:

• Reaching out in witness and outreach to a city and world in need.
• Creating an atmosphere of hospitality and worship to provide refreshment and blessing.
• Building up community within our own congregation, the neighborhood, and on-line.
• Offering cradle-to-grave opportunities for education and faith formation.
• Celebrating music, the visual arts and the lively arts.

There is room for everyone in this work. You are not only welcome, but you are invited. Yes, we are busy at Trinity building a world of good, near and far. Come and join us. I guarantee that you will see Jesus, not only in the stained glass, but in the faces of everyone we serve.