Where history and philanthropy meet

It is a place of worship for the faithful of the Episcopal tradition. Tourists coming from the New York Stock Exchange building only have to hike a few steps to admire the imposing façade of Trinity Church, a mighty icon facing Wall Street in New York. As a cultural landmark, its towering spire and stained-glass windows function as iconic backdrop for captivating photos.

Its handsome churchyard serves as a resting place for both the living and the dead. As the gravesite of Alexander Hamilton, statesman and one of America’s founding fathers, and Robert Fulton, inventor of the first steamboat, the comfortable seats sprawled around the verdant grounds are also quiet spaces for anyone who needs a place of respite. On that day, I arrived earlier than the appointed time and sat on one of the benches for silent contemplation.

“We take care of our neighbors,” sounds like a clarion call resounding from the belfry of Trinity. The Reverend Michael Bird, vicar of the 327-year-old church, echoed these lines as he walked us through an illuminating tour of the Gothic monument. We, the UN delegates’ spouses, anticipated a visit that would center on the history and architecture of the church. What we grasped was beyond the cultural dimension of the edifying symbol in the middle of Manhattan’s old financial district.

For starters, I was drawn into the intricately carved door and the vestibule, which we later learned was built to remind people about hope. The stained glass window above the main entrance along Broadway Street is lighted from the inside and depicts “The Parable of the Talents.” It was rendered as such to represent what the church wishes to convey to people viewing the artwork from the outside, particularly its affluent neighbors along Wall Street. The resplendent kaleidoscopic window, Rev. Bird explained, symbolizes the material resources, titles and natural gifts God has given us, and how they should be used to exalt him and draw our neighbors toward God.

In a first world and highly polarized society like America, I think of how Trinity Church looks after its neighbors and how its advocacies serve as an inspiring and attainable template if we are to build more caring and just communities. Because the physical church itself has survived wars, was burned thrice, was rebuilt anew and constantly undergoes restoration work, I see how it could be likened to the indomitable human spirit. Trinity is the physical embodiment of the ideals of the men and women, mostly wealthy and aristocratic families, who helped build a place for nourishing the soul. Over time, it has developed into a vibrant community center, especially for the displaced and the weary.

Rev. Bird said that since the land where the church and the center now stand was donated out of the goodness of the heart of New York’s earliest philanthropist, building the church, physically and metaphorically, comes with a huge responsibility. This accountability reached its ebb in times of crises like 9/11 and the Covid pandemic. Perhaps it was no coincidence that Trinity, along with its affiliate, the nearby St. Paul’s Chapel, remained unscathed when the Twin Towers were bombed in September 2001. It endured the disaster in order to fulfill a larger role of serving its ever expanding, evolving and inclusive community.

At the height of the pandemic, it had become their mission to distribute ready-to-eat meals for the homebound and elderly neighbors. Referring to “our newest New Yorkers,” Rev. Bird spoke of how “we have a God-given responsibility” to address the needs of migrants and refugees. On a daily basis the center prepares around 400 microwaveable food packs. Distribution of so-called “compassion meals” is complemented by more far-reaching efforts to help newly arrived migrants as they start a new life in the city. They come in the form of ESL (English as a second language) lessons, educational activities and skills training programs to help people avail of jobs.

I could not contain my admiration for how the needs of the homeless, incarcerated individuals, teenagers suffering from mental illness and the most vulnerable in society are at the center’s priorities. Remarkably, I ponder on how the beauty of such compassionate endeavors merge perfectly with the exquisiteness of the church’s grand architecture, majestic interiors and charming gardens.

“What was old has become new again,” is how Rev. Bird describes the vigorous restoration and preservation works being done for the centuries old church. Once regarded as the highest building in New York, a record it held for 23 years, millions of dollars are spent to rejuvenate Trinity. From the columns to the pews, including building three new pipe organs after the original one was destroyed during 9/11, every detail matters.

I feel a pang of envy at the thought of how historic churches and art deco buildings in New York and elsewhere in the world are sensibly restored and preserved instead of being torn down. I remember dining in a stylish café, an erstwhile monastery in Ontigola, Spain, made into a restaurant with its architecture, interior and artworks retained, while a convent in Piedra in Spain’s Aragon region was refurbished into a “parador.” “Paradores,” my Spanish friend explains, are government-operated hotels, aimed to preserve historic and heritage sites for the future generation. Such zealous undertakings remind me of what I read about a certain Joseph Pell Lombardi, a preservationist architect, featured in The New York Times. Now 84 years old, Mr. Lombardi is said to have “devoted his life to restoring beautiful old buildings” because, as the NYT piece cites, he is steered by “the magic of the past.”

The “magic of the past” is what I think deeply connects Trinity Church to its current community. In the very words of Rev. Bird, who speaks passionately of his church, “We have to own the history (of Trinity) and look at the horizon because we are responsible for the needs of the future.”