TIME AFTER PENTECOST, YEAR B
Holy Trinity Sunday, First Sunday after Pentecost
Psalm 29
Isaiah 6:1–8
Romans 8:12–17
John 3:1–17
Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.
Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy splendor.
—Psalm 29:1–2
Beyond Two Men and a Bird
Once a year we Christians find ourselves gathered to celebrate explicitly what we mostly take for granted the rest of the year: the identity of God as the three-in-one, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, or, as we say, the “Holy Trinity.” I’ve sometimes used this occasion to focus on how this day is far more than an opportunity to hack away at the mystery of God’s triunity, using tried and true analogies like the three-fold character of water (liquid, ice and steam), three forms but at the same time chemically one substance, H2O. I’ve made fun of traditionally hyper-orthodox accounts that insist on “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” as the formal “name” of God, an almost magical kind of incantation that some insist be used invariably as the words into which we must be baptized (ignoring examples of baptism into the simple name of Jesus). I personally prefer and utilize the so-called “trinitarian formula” in baptism but regret the inference that only these exact words used in “naming God” somehow validate the washing.
This has led me to often take up the neuralgic issue of God-language as a fitting topic, insisting that the Holy Trinity is something more than the patriarchal “two men and a bird” straightjacket that some insist upon, as though “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” is a name for God like all other names, implying that the Holy Trinity is a name just like mine with a corresponding social security number and driver’s license as well. For me this is a critical blinding of ourselves to God’s utter refusal to take a “name” in the revelation to Moses in the burning bush when the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob “revealed” godself to Moses. In effect, to Moses’ pleading for a name by which to be able to identify the voice to the folks back in Egyptian slavery, God took the anti-name of “YHWH,” saying, in effect, call me “I AM WHO I AM,” or as some translate, “I’LL BE WHO I’LL BE.” From the burning bush the voice of God declares its independence from all conventional naming, wherein knowing someone’s name was thought to give one power over the other. And so, with scripture itself, Holy Trinity Sunday should be a day when we revel in the three-in-oneness of God that obliterates our efforts to name and thereby confine God to our naming but also encourages the disciplined use of our imaginations in discovering apt metaphors and images in describing God in relationship to us humans whom God has invited to be “created co-creators,” as Philip Hefner has suggested.
More helpful, however, have been my and others’ efforts to honor Holy Trinity Sunday by suggesting and demonstrating how God as triunity has been experienced both in my own life of faith and in that of the larger church. Sometimes, for example, when the rite of confirmation has fallen on this day I’ve resorted to a story sermon involving details from my own autobiography that bear witness to how I have experienced God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit well prior to my ever consciously reflecting on the trinitarian nature of God—that is, how God as three-in-one in our doctrine is subsequent to our own experience of God and then reflection upon it. Remember the old adage regarding how the dogma of the church is better sung than said. Therefore the liturgy of the church itself as well as its hymns are a great source for reflection as we begin in actual praise and worship of our triune God.
In a little book written well over half a century ago based on a series of radio programs he had done, C. S. Lewis said much the same in arguing for our experience of God as being the source of our dogmatizing the trinitarian nature of God. He wrote (and I’ll quote at some length):
Lewis goes on to offer this experiential analogy:
And that’s how theology started, Lewis concludes. People already knew God in a vague way. Then came a man who claimed to be God and he wasn’t the kind of person you could dismiss as a lunatic. He made them believe him. They met him again after they’d seen him killed. And then, after they’d been formed into a little society or community, they found God inside them as well; directing them, making them able to do things they couldn’t do before. And when they worked it all out they found they’d arrived at the Christian definition of the three-personal God.
The doctrine of the trinity, then, is a matter of experimental, experiential knowledge. Prior to dogma, an awful-sounding word that simply means doctrine or teaching, is the experience, an experience, Lewis maintains, that “spreads from person to person like a ‘good infection.’”
We, the church, are called to be a “contagious community,” a gathering of folks through time and space infected with the life-giving Spirit of God, called to “pass it on.” It was also Lewis, as I remember it, who once remarked that the problem with the “Christendom” mentality of the church of his day that still lingers on into our own, is that so many people have been inoculated with the weakest possible virus of Christian faith that they’ve developed an immunity of sorts and will never be in danger of coming down with a case of the real thing. And so our job as church, by the empowering Spirit, is to be viral agents spreading the trinitarian pandemic of salvation. It’s an inelegant metaphor, I know, but so is H2O. To the old standbys, like “Holy, Holy, Holy” (ELW #413) which at least is based on today’s text from Isaiah, try something both fresh and medieval as in the setting of Julian of Norwich’s “Mothering God, You Gave Me Birth” (ELW #735).
Lectionary 8, Proper 3 (See Epiphany 8, Year B)
Lectionary 9, Proper 4
Psalm 81:1–10
Deuteronomy 5:12–15
2 Corinthians 4:5–12
Mark 2:23—3:6
I am the Lord God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.
Open your mouth wide and I will fill it.
—Psalm 81:10
The Sabbath
Today’s Hebrew scripture reading from Deuteronomy and our Gospel reading from Mark collude in putting before us a curiously central but often ignored topic for preaching: the sabbath. Especially odd, perhaps, is to be commanded to rest—to “stop” as the Hebrew word for Sabbath literally orders—making a matter of law something we ought simply to delight in and find a wonderfully good piece of news, which it certainly is. “Six days you shall labor and do all your work,” the third commandment, by Lutheran and Roman Catholic reckoning, sa...