Trinity Stories

Dear Friends,

This coming Sunday, January 12, will be my last one as your Interim Rector.

When I was a kid, the Mickey Mouse Club was one of the few programs we were able to get through our rooftop antenna. The original run featured a regular but ever-changing cast of mostly teen performers. ABC broadcast reruns weekday afternoons during the 1958–1959 season, airing right after Dick Clark’s American Bandstand. Each Mickey Mouse Club show ended the same way, with the song that began, “Now it’s time to say good-bye to all our company . . .”

Siblings in Christ, now it’s time for me to say goodbye to all of you after fifteen plus months at Trinity Toledo. Thank you for the opportunity to serve Trinity during this time of transition! It has been a privilege and a joy. I will cherish this season of ministry and rejoice always in the people with whom I’ve had the privilege of working.

I am grateful to have been part of a team whose combined efforts have helped strengthen the parish in preparation for your next rector – Bishop Anne Jolly, Canon Jessie Dodson and the Diocese of Ohio; your Wardens, Donna Steppe and Jeffrey Albright, and those who now serve and have served on the Vestry; the people who lead the various ministries of the parish; those who make Trinity’s extraordinary worship possible – especially the Choir and the Altar Guild; and, of course, the staff whose gifts and dedication will continue to support and bless you as you await the arrival of your next rector. Until then, Father Robert and Deacon Meribah will provide spiritual leadership and pastoral care.

Above all, I am grateful for the Holy Spirit whose gracious presence has sustained us through this time of transition. I’ve ben reminded again and again that God’s power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. (Ephesians 3:21, 22)

I look forward to watching from a distance as Trinity Toledo goes “from strength to strength,” and I will keep you in my prayers. As is always the case when I leave an interim assignment, I will miss the relationships formed and the friendships made most of all.

After leading five congregations in a row through their transitions, I’m moving on to a sixth – St. Paul’s, Cleveland Heights. Because I’ll still be serving in the Diocese of Ohio, I’m sure I’ll see some of you at the Winter Convocation at the end of the month and at other diocesan gatherings.

Please continue to show up, to say your prayers, and to support your next rector. The people of Downtown Toledo need a progressive, inclusive, creative Episcopal Church – one that welcomes everyone – no exceptions! Trinity is that very special place. But then, you knew that already . . . .

Blessings,
Stephen Applegate

Dear Friends,

“O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright – “ so begins the refrain to the well-known Epiphany hymn, “We three kings of orient are. . . “

This coming Sunday, January 5, we’ll observe the feast of the Epiphany. Although Epiphany is actually on January 6, Bishop Anne has given us the green light to celebrate Epiphany a day early.

The church has long celebrated the feast as the day the Wise Men found Jesus and his parents after following the star. Christmas cards and pageants often depict the creche with shepherds and their sheep AND Wise Men and their camels at the stable in Bethlehem all at the same time. But tradition has separated the two visits, with the Magi arriving at the end of the twelve days of Christmas.

Epiphany isn’t a word we use much anymore. It means “revelation” or “manifestation.” The Magi’s visit to Jesus was seen as the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles – since the Wise Men were not Jews. The event foreshadowed how Christ would be the Savior of the whole world, not just the Jewish Messiah. For a long time, the celebration of this Epiphany was a much bigger deal than Christmas because the growing Gentile church was so grateful to be included in God’s plan of salvation.

But Epiphany is more than one day – it is an entire season that stretches all the way to the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday. During the Epiphany season, the Gospel readings contain little revelations or manifestations – unveilings, as it were, of who Jesus really is. One of the hymns for this season – #135 in Hymnal 1982 – contains a list of many of these unveilings:

• manifested by a star by a star to the sages from afar; (the Epiphany itself)
• Manifest at Jordan’s stream, Prophet, Priest, and King supreme; (Jesus’ baptism)
• and at Cana, wedding guest, in thy Godhead manifest (changing water into wine)
• Manifest in making whole palsied limbs and fainting soul (healing miracles)
• Manifest on mountain height, shining in resplendent light (the Transfiguration)

To highlight the Epiphany season, the Adult Spiritual Formation Committee will give each of us the opportunity to receive a “star word” to reflect on – a word that has been chosen for us by the Holy Spirit.

We’ll also chalk the front door of the church at the end of the service. The chalking will include the new year’s date – 2025 – with 20 and 25 separated by C+M+B – in the center. C+M+B can represent the first letters of the names of the Magi – Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar – or the Latin words Christus Mansionem Benedicat, which means “May Christ bless this house.” We’ll pray that Christ will indeed bless Trinity this coming year.

Whether you plan to travel by camel caravan or by modern horsepower, I hope you’ll join me and your fellow parishioners on this first Sunday of 2025.

Blessings,
Stephen Applegate

Dear Friends,

If you are reading this week’s Topics on its publication date – Friday, December 27 – happy third day of Christmas. I’m in Granville for a couple of days enjoying time with our family. It’s been joyful chaos since I arrived home late on Christmas morning.

Yesterday, as I walked Bernie downtown for a “leg-stretcher,” we passed several Christmas trees already put out to the curb. These are the same trees I saw freshly-cut tied to the tops of cars driving into town the day after Thanksgiving. Their special time indoors has come to an end.

Christmas is already over for some people. The radio stations that converted to an “all Christmas – all the time” format have returned to their regular programming. Amazon, the US Postal Service, and brick-and-mortar stores are all handling returns. And we’re on the brink of a New Year.

Not so fast, I want to say. Christmas is twelve days long. We have at least one song that reminds us of the tradition – The Twelve Days of Christmas – the 18th century English carol celebrating true love, gift-giving and birds.

Originally published in 1780, it was a children’s memory game, and the words were chanted as each player attempted to recite the lengthening list of gifts. The melody was added in 1909 by Frederic Austin, who presumably gave the middle line its elongated flourish, “fiiivvve gooollld riiinnngs”— a detail best left off the composer’s resume. If it had never become a song, the multitude of leaping lords and milking maids might have disappeared completely right along with the traditional twelve days.

Some people love the song, and there are terrific versions of it – the one sung by John Denver of the Muppets is a classic with Miss Piggy claiming the five gold rings – and Straight No Chaser’s send up of the song still makes me smile every time I hear it, even though it’s been around since 1998. Others describe it as the Christmas equivalent of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

One year (2013, in fact), the independent writer Pamela Forsythe “wondered about the preponderance of fowl [in the list] – six of the 12 days feature gifts of birds: partridge, turtle doves, French hens, colly or calling birds, geese, and swans.” She asked, “Aside from the hens and geese, which could provide eggs, what was the recipient to do with all the rest? Stock an aviary?”

And then she went on to compose her own fresh set of lyrics. Here they are:

The Twelve Smart Days of Christmas

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me:
Twelve consoling kisses,
Eleven geeks-a-helping,
Ten friends advising,
Nine coders weeping,
Eight teens-a-texting,
Seven new devices,
Six thrilling e-books,
Five ibuprofens,
Four “Downton” downloads,
Three apps to save time,
Two tiny earbuds, and
A smart phone delivered by drone

If you were to write your own list of gifts for the Twelve Days of Christmas, what would the list include? Fowl? Electronic devices? Experiences? Something for you to ponder in these days between December 25 and January 5.

Blessings,
Stephen Applegate

Dear Friends,

In a few days, it will be Christmas once again. This year, everyone is coming home to Granville for Christmas – everyone except one son-in-law whose work in the New York financial world requires him to be in the city as 2024 comes to a close. To keep track of all the comings and goings, Terry and I have put together a color-coded calendar. If I read it correctly, everyone will be together for at least a few hours on December 26 – adult children, grandchildren, dogs . . . all in one place filled with happy chaos.

Our third child, Kate, and her husband, Mike, are expecting their first child in April. I haven’t seen Kate in person since her pregnancy began, but the photos she’s sent leave no doubt that she is “with child” as they used to say.

The Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Advent – this week’s Gospel – is the story of not one, but two pregnant women – cousins – meeting. One of the women is Elizabeth, who will give birth to John the Baptist. The other is Mary, whose son, Jesus, will be born in humble circumstances in Bethlehem. I’m grateful that we acknowledge and honor Mary now in The Episcopal Church. It wasn’t the case when I was growing up – probably a resistance to seeming “too Romish.” Restoring her as an important figure during Advent is just right, it seems to me. Birth is inevitably preceded by a time of preparation, and the birth of Jesus is no different.

Just as a “pregnant pause” is a moment of hesitation that creates a sense of anticipation, so does a human pregnancy create a sense of expectation. Such is the case for Mary, who is known by many titles: Madonna, Theotokas (God-bearer), Star of the Sea, Queen of Heaven. The simplest and most profound of them is Our Lady – or in French, Notre Dame.

The Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris recently reopened after the catastrophic fire of 2019. One of the stories that came out of its re-opening was of Thomas Weinbeck, a land and environment manager from Bourgogne. His family had come to Parish to celebrate a friend’s birthday and had made it to the cathedral after visiting the city’s catacombs. “We didn’t even know there would be a Mass!” he said. I was particularly taken with what their friend, Annabell Kasynski, had to say about her experience, “To be honest, I also came to pray a little, even though I don’t really believe in it. There’s always hope that there may be someone up there, and this is not just any place, so maybe in here He’ll hear me.”

I suppose you could interpret her statement in many different ways, but the way I choose to read it is that there may be something waiting to be born in her. “There’s always hope that there may be someone up there. . . “ That hope, however tiny, has the potential to give birth to a full and rich faith.

If you see yourself at all in Annabell Kasynski, then this coming Sunday, with its theme of waiting for someone or something to be born, is especially for you. Please join us as we make our final preparations for the coming of Jesus.

Blessings,
Stephen