(a draft of the homiletical moment)
I speak to you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sharing these words with you before I preach centers me and brings me to a sense of presence that I know I don’t have on my own. This Trinity Sunday, it gives me extra pause to contemplate how grateful I am that we have a Triune God–God in three persons–and what it means to me in practice of my faith.
If you want to know what we mean by the Trinity, you could flip back to the back of The Book of Common Prayer (pages 864-865) to the Historical Documents section and read through “The Creed of Saint Athanasius.” From the first lines you see that one’s very salvation depends upon adherence to the “Catholic Faith,” the universal faith, which is “That we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity, neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing the Substance” (BCP 864). There’s also a bit about believing rightly in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, most of which we convey in our Nicean Creed. Fortunately, we’re not tested over this. I don’t even recall an incident of someone returning from a near death experience asking what was meant by the true Catholic Faith.
Am I grateful for the Athanasian Creed when I say I’m grateful for a Triune God? I appreciate that people have wrestled with what it means, its implications, and have tried to make sense of 1+1+1=1. Mainly, I am grateful for a God whose very being is relational–our God in three persons, blessed trinity. The God who in the beginning said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness” (Gen 1:26). The God who visited Abraham, manifest as three strangers, and inspires what I consider one of the most inviting icons, Rubliev’s Hospitality of Abraham.
There’s so much about God that we can’t understand. Abraham and Sarah didn’t understand how they would have a child in their old age. The disciples didn’t understand everything Jesus was telling them about the kingdom, about the Advocate, about the Father in whom he said we all abide.
Thank goodness we’re justified by our faith and not by our complete understanding, yes?
We believe in a relational God who values love above all else–a selfless, rich, all-encompassing love. We believe in a God who defies all boundaries, despite our attempts to draw lines around what God is/isn’t. When for so long we call God “He,” we might be inclined to forget that God is so much more than any masculine image we might conjure.
I appreciate what our transgender community is teaching us about getting outside our solely binary way of thinking. At the parade this weekend, a friend drew my attention to a child sitting in the back of a truck like royalty, the mother tending to the dress, face, and hair. She told me, “I want to go over and talk to the mom, but I’m not sure what pronouns to use.” Watching the two, smiling admiringly at them, I suggested she tell the woman, “What a beautiful child. What pronouns does the child use?” With such a simple question, we immediately empower the child and the mother, too, who is probably more often than not made to feel weak and other rather than uplifted. And in this situation, again, we have a beautiful trinity–of mother, child, and neighbor–dancing together in a loving relationship.
Richard Rohr calls his book on the Trinity The Divine Dance for a reason. With only two, we can get caught in either-or thinking, becoming polarized and at a stand-off. I think we’re entirely too familiar with this end result. But with three, there’s something more. There’s another way; there’s motion. It’s a dance. There’s a fulness of relationship. There’s God.
Rohr shares this poem:
God for us, we call you Father.
God alongside us, we call you Jesus.
God within us, we call you Holy Spirit.
You are the eternal mystery that enables, enfolds, and enlivens all things,
Even us and even me.
Every name falls short of your goodness and greatness.
We can only see who you are in what is.
We ask for such perfect seeing–
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.
Amen. (So be it.)
–Richard Rohr, “Trinity Prayer,” 2005
In our lives, love, and relationships, may we always leave room for the other, especially allowing space for us to dance with the Holy Spirit.