Onward—and Welcome to the Rev. Stephen Connor

Dear Friends,

I am overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude for the outpouring of kind words and support since last week’s announcement of my upcoming retirement. I am profoundly thankful for your encouragement, appreciation, and love.

But, dear ones, there is still much to do — nine more months to serve together as the people of Trinity Church. As we enter this time of transition, we will not be idle, but rather this will be a season of reflection, discernment, and preparation.

With that in mind, it is my great pleasure to introduce our new Associate Rector, the Rev. Stephen Connor. Stephen is already part of our Trinity community. He and his husband, Ron, have been members of our church for many years. He will be joining Kara and me as a much-needed third priest on our staff.

Onward, dear ones! There is work to be done, prayers to be lifted, songs to be sung, love to be shared, and Good News to be proclaimed.

Peace and Blessings!

Paul+

The Gift of Joy and Wonder

Dear Beloved of Trinity,

Thursday was “Take Your Child to Work Day.” For those who could, it meant a day away from school and an adventure alongside a parent—getting a glimpse into their world. I remember going to work with my dad during the summertime. It was always such a joy to spend that time with him. I was “Little Paul” and entrusted with my own special tasks, helping with whatever project was at hand.

This week, we were blessed with the presence of Lily McCarther, whose mom, Alicia, serves as my administrative assistant. As it happened, the day of her visit was also the ninth anniversary of her baptism!

We prepared a “Letter of Agreement” for her first official day in the working world. (See below!) For those who know me well, no further explanation is needed.

Her presence was truly a gift to all of us. Throughout the day, I found myself returning again and again to the prayer we say at baptism:

Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon these your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised them to the new life of grace. Sustain them, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen.

I have long held this prayer close to my heart—not only for my own children, but for all of us. This is who we are called to be as the people of God at Trinity Church: sustained by the Spirit, inquisitive and discerning, courageous and persevering, always growing in our desire to know and love God—and one another—more fully.

And alongside all of this, we are invited to keep our souls open: open to the abundance of God’s joy, open to awe and wonder, open to the sacred gift of creation and of life itself.

For me, Lily embodied that beautifully.

Thanks be to God for the gift of our children, who so naturally and generously reveal joy and wonder to us. Perhaps we really should have more “Take Your Child to Work” days—we might all be better for it.

Peace and blessings,

Paul+

P.S. This Sunday, there will be a special surprise in the bulletins—courtesy of Lily!

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Dear beloved of Trinity Church,

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

What a glorious Easter it was! The church was filled, the music was beautiful, and the vibrant, joyful spirit was palpable. I could not have been more proud of our beloved community. Thank you to all who made our Easter celebration so meaningful and radiant.

Now we enter the Great Fifty Days of Easter, leading us to the feast of Pentecost. In these days, I invite us to live more deeply into the fullness of Easter’s power. While the liturgical calendar names this a season, Easter is far more than a moment in time—it is a way of life. It is the defining truth of our faith: that love is stronger than death, and life will have the final word.

Inspired by St. Augustine, Pope John Paul II reminds us, “We are an Easter people, and alleluia is our song.”

I invite you to prayerfully consider how you might embody Easter in your daily life. How might resurrection take shape in your words and deeds, in your intentions and desires? Where is God calling new life to emerge in you?

Our world is in deep need of Easter—not only within the Church, but for all people. We long for hope, for renewal, and for the assurance of God’s never-failing love.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Easter blessings,

Paul+

Jesus Christ is Risen Today—Alleluia!

Dear Friends,

“Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!” With these joyful words, we awaken once more to the song that has echoed through the centuries—the song of life stronger than death, hope stronger than fear, love stronger than anything that would hold us back.

Easter is not simply a day we celebrate; it is a reality we are invited to enter. As the hymn proclaims, “our triumphant holy day” calls us to lift our hearts and voices, to join creation itself in praise. The stone is rolled away. The tomb is empty. Christ is alive—and because he lives, we are given new life as well.

Easter joy is not shallow or fleeting. It is born out of the depths of Good Friday and carried through the silence of Holy Saturday. And so our “hymns of praise then let us sing” are not naïve, but courageous—rooted in the promise that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God.

I invite you to join us this Sunday, as we gather to celebrate the resurrection. Come and hear the Good News again. Come and sing “Alleluia.” Come and be renewed in the life that the Risen Christ offers to all.

Easter Blessings,           

Paul+

I’m Sorry, but I Don’t Understand.

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

As I write this letter, I’m sitting in the teachers’ lounge at the school where Sophia is working in Madrid, Spain. My Spanish is elementary at best. The teachers come in and warmly welcome me, but after a brief exchange most conversations quickly and politely come to an end. If we continue, we both have to work very hard because we are, quite literally, speaking different languages with very limited fluency in the other. Two phrases I do know are : “Lo siento, pero no entiendo.” (I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.) “Hablo solo un poco de español.” (I speak only a little Spanish.)

So…it takes work—real work—if we want to engage in conversation. It takes patience, creativity, and a willingness to explore different ways of communicating.

This can also be true at times even when we speak the same language—it can seem as if we don’t. Even if we understand every word being said, we may not truly comprehend one another. We see the world through different eyes. We hold different perspectives and opinions about what is true, or right, or good. We may be speaking the same language, but we still fail to understand—and sometimes, even when we do understand, we simply no longer want to engage.

It takes work and commitment, especially in our current reality, to truly communicate with one another—to genuinely seek understanding and to discern a way forward. Many of us are tempted to take the easier path: to throw up our hands and walk away. After all, it’s so much easier to be with people who speak the same language and think the same way we do.

We must resist, however, that temptation and do the hard work to keep the conversation alive. Only then do we have any real possibility of finding a way forward. And perhaps that way forward, precisely because of our differences, will be richer and more vibrant for everyone.

Peace and blessings,
Paul+

Olga y Marta (Two of Sophia’s co-workers)

Lent: A Journey of Recovery

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

There are recovery programs for almost every struggle imaginable because we have a tendency to lose our way. We drift. We fall. We forget who we are. Because our lives are fragile and fallible. We get ourselves caught in messes, tangled in confusion, knotted up in habits and hurts, and we often find ourselves wondering: How did we end up here?

Julian of Norwich, the 14th-century mystic, once wrote, “First there is the fall, and then we recover from the fall—and both are the mercy of God.” She names a fundamental truth of the human story: ever since the fall, we have been in a continuous state of recovery. Life itself is a soulful journey of remembering and returning—to the truth of who we are as beloved children of God.

Though we are forgiven immediately in and through the love of Jesus Christ, that does not mean we swiftly comprehend or easily live into that forgiveness. God’s renewal is given freely, but it often takes time for our hearts to receive it, trust it, and embody it.

So, I invite us, in this holy season of Lent, to accept with grace and humility the reality that we are in recovery. Not as a sign of failure, but as a sign of being human. The whole cosmos is, in some mysterious way, in recovery—groaning toward redemption. Though we continue to wrestle with sin and temptation until our final breath, God invites us to live gladly “because of the knowledge of his love.”

When we anchor ourselves in that love, recovery becomes reconciliation. Struggle becomes renewal. And we learn to trust, even in the midst of our healing, that “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

Lenten Blessings,

Paul+

Addendum:

Though we are forgiven immediately in and through the love of Jesus Christ, that does not mean we swiftly comprehend or easily live into that forgiveness. God’s renewal is given freely, yet it often takes time for our hearts to receive it, trust it, and embody it.

So I invite us, in this holy season of Lent, to accept with grace and humility the reality that we are in recovery—not as a sign of failure, but as a sign of being human. The whole cosmos is, in some mysterious way, in recovery—groaning toward redemption. Though we continue to wrestle with sin and temptation until our final breath, God invites us to live gladly “because of the knowledge of his love.”

When we anchor ourselves in that love, recovery becomes reconciliation. Struggle becomes renewal. And we learn to trust, even in the midst of our healing, that “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

Peace and blessings,

Paul+

A New Year’s Blessing

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

As we begin this new year together, I am drawn to the words of the Irish poet and priest John O’Donohue, from the introduction to his book To Bless the Space Between Us:

“There is a quiet light that shines in every heart.
It draws no attention to itself,
though it is always secretly there.
It is what illuminates our minds to see beauty,
our desire to seek possibility,
and our hearts to love life.
Without this subtle quickening,
our days would be empty and wearisome,
and no horizon would ever awaken our longing…
We enter the world as strangers,
who all at once become heirs
to a harvest of memory, spirit, and dream
that has long preceded us
and will now enfold, nourish, and sustain us.
The gift of the world is our first blessing.”

In the days and months to come, I invite us to open ourselves to the sustaining, guiding, comforting, encouraging, and healing light of Christ—a light that is indeed present in every heart. A light set ablaze at the beginning of creation, the light from which all other light has come to be.

As the true light, it does not burn for its own glory or for praise or attention. Rather, it burns to break through the darkness. It burns to help all living things flourish. It burns to set us free, to show us the way home, to keep us warm, to give us courage, and to remind us that we are not alone. It is the light around which the cosmos revolves, and the source from which all of us find our life.

May we, this year, find ourselves illumined and blessed by this holy, subtle, sacred, blazing flame of life and love.
May it shine within us and through us—
with each breath,
each word,
each act.

Peace and blessings,
Paul+

CHRIST THE KING

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

This Sunday, we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, the final feast of the liturgical year. It is a day that proclaims Christ’s cosmic reign and gently ushers us toward the season of Advent—a time of longing, expectation, and hopeful preparation for the coming of the King.

Yet our human imagination often struggles with kingship. We picture power wrapped in grandeur: thrones and jeweled crowns, palaces and pageantry, subjects bowing before a distant ruler. We imagine hierarchy, dominance, and the wide gap between those who reign and those who serve.

But Christ the King redefines kingship entirely. This feast—also called The Reign of Christ Sunday—invites us to consider the day when God’s world is set right, when divine order and justice are restored. In Christ, power is never about coercion or control. It is always about freedom, healing, and liberation. As Rowan Williams reminds us, “Christ reigns not by taking power, but by giving it away; not by domination, but by self-offering.” His is a kingship shaped by humility, mercy, and sacrificial love.

Fleming Rutledge adds, “The day Christ comes in glory will not be a day of triumph for the powerful, but liberation for the captive.” It will be a day when the last are lifted up, the broken are restored, and the forgotten are brought home.

Christ the King Sunday invites us to look beyond the crowns and kingdoms of this world and to imagine a different kind of rule—one where love is the law, service is strength, and every captive heart is set free. May this vision prepare us as we enter Advent with renewed hope and holy expectation.

Peace and Blessings,

Paul+