I typically consider it luck when all tables in a room are taken, and I have to take a seat with a stranger. This time, I hit the jackpot.
As I spun around the convention center searching for a perch to people-watch, Edmund Freeborn, a 66-year-old pastor with eyes that crinkle like Santa Claus, invited me to join him.
After a minute or two, I realized the conversation had morphed from pleasantries into a sort of makeshift therapy session, with each of us vying for the clipboard.
As I divulged the history of my soul, I managed to learn some of his.
Presbyterianism is a Freeborn family affair. Edmund’s father was an elder, while his mother was a professional opera singer. At age 16 she joined the chorus of the Metropolitan Opera Company, and Edmund could vividly remember her singing the Lord’s Prayer in church.
Edmund isn’t a time-waster. He was ordained at age 24 and has since observed 42 years of Presbyterian politics. When I asked what’s changed since his ordination, Edmund answered “positive influence by women in leadership” and “continued concern for justice issues.” Then, ever-true to his optimistic streak, he declared: “I consider the future very great. … I’ve trained 300 to 400 clergy, and the future is great because they’re magnificent.”
Perhaps a reason Edmund is so confident is because two of those people marching us into the future are his sons, Thatcher and Teddy. Both have been deacons, and Thatcher Freeborn managed to persuade his father to have one last go with him at General Assembly.
Edmund seems unperturbed in passing the torch (in fact, the two joke considerably about Edmund’s habit of falling asleep in public places) and Thatcher is a dedicated bearer of the family tradition. In the past, Thatcher was moderator of the Presbytery of Boston, and he is presently a ruling elder at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Boston. Additionally, unable to reserve his faith and goodwill for church, he is a loan officer specializing in nonprofit funding at Boston Private.
Unlike many people of faith, Thatcher is able to pinpoint the moment in which he discovered a passion for his religion. As a young child, he and Edmund had been visiting a hospital, as they often did. Thatcher was sitting with an ailing older woman – she’d been jovially pinching his cheeks and chuckling when she was overcome with an incomprehensible sorrow, and began to cry. Outside the woman’s room, Thatcher insisted, “Dad, I don’t want to go with you to these places anymore.” But as he wept in a shared melancholia, a formative moment was born.
The Freeborns’ faith has flourished through three generations, which was no surprise to me after witnessing Edmund and Thatcher’s kindness and openness with each other. They aren’t so transparent all the time, however.
Sunday, for Fathers’ Day, Thatcher surprised Edmund with an enviable Cardinals-Cubs ticket. When Edmund slyly noted that he was curious as to the price of the ticket, Thatcher responded just as I thought he would, with a wide grin and an “I’ll never tell.”
by Devin McCormick
