May 26, 2024 — The Rev Canon Britt Olson

Trinity Sunday

Here we go again, it’s Trinity Sunday!  The only Feast Day in the Church year ostensibly dedicated to a doctrine as opposed to an event in the life of Christ.  Some of you who have been around the church for a few years may be aware that traditionally the newest clergy person or lay preacher gets this assignment.  The perks of being in charge include handing off Trinity Sunday to someone else.  But for a number of reasons, including the fact that our former Associate, Mother Hillary, now has her own congregation and is probably ducking out on preaching today, this will be the second year in a row for me to preach on this important day.

And I’m glad.  It has taken many years and hearing lots of different explanations for the Trinity to bring me to my current position.  I believe that the Holy Trinity is really not a doctrine but is entirely about loving and life-giving relationship – a relationship that is not just about the three persons of the Godhead but includes all God’s children, and indeed the entire creation. 

We get a glimpse into the power, presence and promise of this relationship in the experience of the prophet Isaiah.  His encounter with God encompasses his whole being.  He hears, sees, smells, touches and feels the mighty presence of God in his entire being.  He is overwhelmed by the sensations of awe from the encounter. 

Isaiah sees the Holy One along with angelic beings and all the hosts of heaven.  And he is not alone.  The Lord, who is the origin of the use of non-binary pronouns asks “Who will go for us?”  God is inherently in relationship within God’s self.  And God is interested, not just in Isaiah, but in all of humanity.  As Jesus proclaims in John’s gospel, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”  God cares for the entire creation and each for one of us. 

The joints of the temple shake.  The house fills with smoke.  The God of glory thunders.  The wilderness is shaken.  The oak trees writhe and the mighty cedars are broken by a powerful wind.  As the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins proclaims:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

Maybe you’ve had something similar happen to you, an experience of awe and wonder that transfigures and transforms you and the world about you, revealing that there is so much more to life than just the daily grind and mere materiality.  That there is meaning and purpose, grandeur and glory, the presence of the Holy beyond our own mortal understanding.

It’s more likely that, like me, your relationship to God has developed incrementally, over the years as you’ve prayed, loved, lost, forgiven, studied and tried, in our all too human, failed and flawed ways to believe in God, follow Jesus and be open to the Spirit. 

My first real commitment to belief came after an experience of transformative love in my late teens.  The awareness that there was more to life and love than just the material world and biological necessity was then shaped by the words and actions of Jesus in both the Bible and in the lives of his followers.  I fell in love with Jesus and the people he influenced like Martin Luther King Jr., Elisabeth Elliot, Corrie Ten Boom and C.S. Lewis.  Like many young adult converts, I was willing and excited to give my whole life to Christ, to be born again, to serve others sacrificially and to belong to a new family, the family of God.  Some of you may recognize that early evangelical fervor.

Later, I was introduced to the depth and breadth of prayer, devotion and mysticism through the richness of the liturgy and beauty and awe of worship in the Episcopal tradition.  My first experience of an Easter Vigil was a little like Isaiah’s in the Temple.  Every sense was filled with the glory of God and I was humbled to be in the presence of the majesty of God.  There was transcendent music, the exotic aroma of incense, ancient practices, water, wine and bread, monastic chants all combining to inspire wonder and touch mystery.  My adolescent faith in Jesus matured as I began to contemplate and pray with a God who was far beyond all human comprehension. 

And then I came to St. Luke’s.  And discovered the very real and active presence of the Holy Spirit.  The same Spirit that was always with me and with us but with whom I had not developed a strong relationship or awareness.  The Spirit, like the wind, blows and you do not know where it comes from or where it is blowing you.  Initially, I felt about my experience like I did when I was learning to solo as a sailor.  Alone in the boat, you search for the best position in relationship to the wind.  Often you are tacking and flopping around trying to get the boat trimmed and tuned just right to take advantage of the changeable breeze.  And then, suddenly, the sails are just right, the tiller has you pointing in the direction you want to go, the wind stiffens and you’re off like a shot, skimming over the water, both in and out of control at the same time, poised on the edge of exhilaration and terror. 

That’s kind of how life in the Spirit feels to me.  Sometimes you’re flowing with a creative power and presence as it takes you in fresh directions and other times, your little boat is overwhelmed and you’ve capsized into deep water.  The Spirit has the power to heal and the power to bring us to our knees crying, “Woe is me!  I am lost, for I am a person of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.”  To live into our baptismal promises is to be those who are born of water and the Spirit.  Sometimes the Spirit provides the water of refreshment, healing and renewal and other times we find ourselves flooded, overwhelmed and calling out to God for rescue.   One thing is for certain, with the Spirit, we’re not in control.

Ultimately this is what prevents Nicodemus from saying “yes” to Jesus’s offer of new birth, new life and a new Spirit.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night looking for answers and proof.  He wants to get a handle on this new teaching and make sure that he knows what Jesus is about.  He may not be ready for conversion and transformation.  He’s not willing to follow Jesus publicly and to have his life reshaped by Jesus’s priority for life and salvation for all people, regardless of their status, righteousness or identity. 

Nicodemus isn’t ready for the God who so loves the world that even through suffering and death God will redeem and save all who come to God.  Nicodemus can’t accept that universal, unearned love for all of humanity demonstrated by Christ lifted up on the cross. 

And Nicodemus is definitely not ready for the Spirit who might blow him in an entirely new direction and reveal things beyond his education and experience.  He relies on knowledge and on accepted wisdom.  He is not ready to rock the boat or take big risks.  He’s only willing to consider Jesus in the cover of darkness, rather than stepping into the light.  Nicodemus craves knowledge.  He wants proof.  He is interested in teaching and doctrine and learning.  He wants to know about Jesus but not follow him.  To learn about God but not be changed by God.  To explore the Spirit but never to lose control. 

There’s a lot of that going around.  Many are so interested in having the right belief or doctrine, the correct positions and politics that we forget or ignore what is really important.  We’ve forgotten the importance of relationship and the power of love. 

The Holy Trinity is not a doctrine to dissect or a confession to defend.  It is the relationship that exists between God, Jesus and Spirit and that we are invited into.  One of my favorite writers is Annie Dillard.  In her book, Holy the Firm, she reflects on the Isaiah 6 passage from today’s Old Testament lesson:

Angels, I read, belong to nine different orders.  Seraphs are the highest; they are aflame with love for God, and stand closer to God than the others.  Seraphs love God; cherubs, who are second, possess perfect knowledge of God.  So love is greater than knowledge; how could I have forgotten.

Dear Ones, we are invited into a relationship of love that makes us God’s children so we can sing as in our closing hymn: Come join the dance of Trinity, before all words begun—the interweaving of the Three, the Father, Spirit, Son.  Let voices rise and interweave, by love and hope set free, to shape in song, this joy, this life; the dance of Trinity.         
Amen.