A 25-year-old student at Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, Paul Bailie grew up at St. Paul in Davenport. Paul is serving his internship year (the third year of a four-year theological program for ordained ministry) at Trinity Lutheran Church in Manhattan, New York.
Tell us about the church, its neighborhood and its people.
My internship site is a multicultural, bilingual congregation on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Started by German immigrants at the turn of the last century, Trinity still welcomes many different types of people of many backgrounds, races, and languages. Trinity’s membership is about one-third white, one-third African American, and one-third Latino. The congregation really reflects the diversity of the community.
The inscriptions engraved on the baptismal font are in German, but the paraments are of African kente cloth. Music is an exciting blend of Bach chorales on organ, Gospel piano, and Latin rhythms. I’ve had casserole, soul food, and tacos at the same potlucks. Trinity is a wonderfully diverse expression of the Body of Christ.
What’s it like for an Iowa boy who lived on Division Street in Davenport to navigate New York City and get to know its people and culture?
Now I’m on a different sort of division street. Trinity is located on West 100th Street in Manhattan. Some tourist websites warn people not to go north of 100th Street. It really is a division street. On one side is a major public housing complex. On the other is upper-middle-class housing. With luxury apartments in the works next door, the neighborhood is on the cusp of being gentrified. Trinity is at a crossroads in its ministry.
I intentionally don’t have a car in New York, and I’ve learned to get around by public transit or on my own two feet. Even though eight million people are in New York, at times it seems like a big small town. I buy coffee from the same corner vendor almost every day, and I see people I know on the subway or walking up Broadway.
My hope is that I am more than just a spiritual tourist, but rather someone able to make connections and build relationships. I strive to know people as they are. I’ve found that I don’t need to travel far away to have an adventure. Through listening and conversation, I can enter the sacred space of people’s lives and journey with them through pain, sorrow, celebration, and joy.
Trinity proclaims a mission to “share broken bread” and the Gospel with neighbors. How do you see the church living out that mission?
“Sharing broken bread” certainly happens on Sunday mornings during the Eucharist. Each Sunday, we sing the eucharistic acclamation “Jesus Christ has died, Jesus Christ has risen, Jesus Christ will come again” — but here it’s to the tune of We Shall Overcome. It’s really a powerful witness, singing the song of the whole Body of Christ in a gospel style.
Breaking bread happens in other ways, too. Several hundred people attended our community Thanksgiving Dinner. It’s been an annual tradition here for more than 30 years. One elderly member made over 30 sweet potato pies. We keep groceries on hand for when people drop by needing some help. The church also serves as a site for Momentum, an organization that provides meals and support for people living with HIV and AIDS.
Trinity seems to be quite intentional about the church’s welcome for all. How do you live that out?
If there is one characteristic that marks Trinity, it is a spirit of welcome for all people. We live out intentional acts of welcome for people who aren’t always welcomed in other places — undocumented immigrants, LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and trans-gender) youth, all people.
Trinity Place is our shelter for homeless LGBT youth. Many of the youth have been rejected by their families and churches, finding their way to New York City with hopes of finding employment and housing. That does not always happen.
Up to eight youth can stay in our shelter. They sleep on cots in our basement. The shelter has become a strong congregational project. Members volunteer by cooking dinner, staying overnight, or getting to know shelter guests. I’ve slept overnight at the shelter twice. The first time I visited the shelter, someone asked me, “Are you trans?” Shocked, I responded, “Um, no.” “Well, you must be gay.” “Um, I’m not gay, either.” The young person couldn’t believe that I, as a straight person, would care about the needs of LGBT youth.
Do you speak Spanish, Paul? How do you connect with the church’s Hispanic ministry?
At Trinity, we worship in both English and Span-ish, with one bilingual service every other month. Besides worship, the parish also has a resource center for immigrants, a Latina women’s support group, and English classes.
I got halfway through a Spanish major at Augus-tana College, so I feel somewhat confident using Spanish. I preach one Sunday a month, in both the English and Spanish services. I taught a Bible study session completely in Spanish. And though confirma-tion is taught officially in English, I have to clarify major portions of my class in Spanish.
How might you compare life in a New York City congregation with your growing-up experience at St. Paul in Davenport?
With less than 100 members, I am truly amazed at the amount of ministry that happens at Trinity. I have tried to replicate activities that I did as a confirmation student at St. Paul, but games and lessons that Eric Elkin and Nancy Ingelson did with nearly 70 of us do not work with my four-person confir-mation class.
I’m getting a taste of the administrative side of parish ministry too. Our church building is nearly 100 years old. Right next door is a planned construction project. Six stained-glass window experts have said that the lovely windows with Bible scenes will not survive the pile-drivers and jackhammers of construction. After a four-hour-long council meeting, the council voted to remove them. It will be a painful and expensive experience.
It’s so easy to point out differences between Trinity and St. Paul.
Perhaps more striking are the similarities. The Gospel is proclaimed and the sacraments are administered. Both parishes seek to reach out beyond the four walls. Without a doubt, I would not have ended up at Trinity had I not grown up at St. Paul.
Do you have some anecdotes to share?
My first day, I showed up wearing a coat and tie. Pastor Heidi said, “You can’t wear that. You’re a white male. If you walk around the projects dressed like that, people will think you are either a cop or a social worker coming to take their kids. You need to wear a collar.”
We pray for peace. Since October, we’ve been reading the names of people killed in Iraq each week during the prayers. It has been a very powerful witness. I’ve been maintaining a bulletin board in the back of the sanctuary with all the names of people killed in Iraq since 2003. The board is taller than I am, and filled with names in 12-point font. Our hope is that it is a visual reminder for people.
How are you being shaped for pastoral ministry?
I teach confirmation, preach once a month, visit people at home or hospital, and provide pastoral and administrative support to many of Trinity’s programs. Right now, I’m planning a summer program on ecol-ogy for neighborhood children.
I’m learning that evangelism is a pedestrian activity. An urban pastor needs to walk around and meet people. My first week, Pastor Heidi Neumark and I walked around the neighborhood putting up flyers about Trinity’s after-school program. I was surprised how many people called out, “Hola, Pastora.” They weren’t members of the congregation, but knew the pastor because she had been reaching out to the community.
I’m discovering that there’s more than one way to be Lutheran. I’m finding ways to help people praise God in ways that are comfortable and familiar to them. I’m learning how to listen, how to be a pastoral presence, how to find grace in everyday life.
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Learn more about Trinity Lutheran Church of Manhattan
"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was 'thank you,' that would suffice. " ~Meister Eckhart