Peace be with you.
Friends, today we come to Trinity Sunday.
I know, I know, the preacher’s nightmare,
but as you probably know from previous sermons of mine,
I don’t agree with that at all.
I think every Sunday is Trinity Sunday.
The Trinity names what’s most fundamental and basic
in our whole theology and spirituality.
So we need and we should rejoice in talking about the Trinity.
Can I give you appropriately three kinds of scriptural grounds
or justifications for talking about
God as a Trinity of persons?
First of all, Jesus himself.
So Jesus speaks of a Father who sent him.
And you say,
“Okay, fair enough. But wouldn’t Abraham
or Jacob or Isaiah, Jeremiah, Moses, or Ezekiel
—wouldn’t any of them have spoken of God as their Father
who sent them on a mission?”
You know, so far, so ordinary.
But here’s where it gets really complicated:
even though he’s other than this Father
who sent him on a mission,
he speaks and acts in the very person of the God of Israel.
“You’ve heard it said in the Torah . . ., but I say . . .”
Well, who can claim that kind of authority except God himself?
“My son, your sins are forgiven.”
Who can forgive sins but God alone,
showing his mastery even over the elements of nature,
walking on the water and calming the storm?
“Unless you love me more than your mother and father,
more than your very self, you are not worthy of me.”
Well, no prophet would ever say that.
That would be the height of arrogance.
But only the supreme good in person could say that.
So that was their dilemma.
Okay, he’s sent by the Father,
but yet he seems to be himself the God of Israel.
Now, if you think that’s kind of abstract,
every single Sunday we state this truth when,
with the Council of Nicaea, we say that he’s
God from God, light from light,
true God from true God,
and remember, consubstantial with the Father.
That’s just the English version of “homoousios”;
that was the Greek for
“one in being, consubstantial.”
Well, that was the dilemma they faced.
Jesus is somehow other than the Father but yet
consubstantial with the Father.
That idea was bequeathed to the great tradition.
And then this:
“The Father and I,”
Jesus says in the Gospel of John the
night before he dies,
“the Father and I will send to you an Advocate.
We will send to you a Holy Spirit”
—listen now—
“who will lead you into all truth.”
Who will interpret for you the meaning of Jesus
and lead you into all truth.
What human figure or merely created power
could lead us into all truth?
The Holy Spirit, in other words,
is also one in being with the Father and the Son.
The Holy Spirit shares divinity
with the Father and the Son.
And then didn’t they experience this at Pentecost,
when the power of the Holy Spirit
came in a divinizing way to them?
So, these three biblical sources,
I think, give rise to this idea.
Here’s another one, in some ways summing it up.
We find in the First Letter of John
this very peculiar claim
that God is love.
I said to you many times before,
I think, that every religion, every philosophy of religion,
would talk about the love that God has.
That love is an attribute of God,
that God loves some, or he loves as a
typical activity, or whatever.
But there is no religion or philosophy
that makes the truly strange claim
that God is love
except Christianity.
Well, if that’s the case,
then God, in his own most nature,
must be a play of lover,
of beloved,
and of shared love.
See if God has love, which any religion
would claim to you, I wouldn’t have to say that.
I would just say the one God has this activity,
that he loves.
But the Christian claim is so much more radical.
Love is what God is, inescapably, always,
from all eternity.
It’s not something he just does;
it’s what he is.
Therefore, there has to be.
You can’t have love without a lover
and a beloved.
You can’t have love without the love that
the lover and beloved share.
And therefore we speak of the Father (the lover),
the Son (the beloved),
and the Spirit (the love that they share).
See all of this
—and I’ve just been staying within the Bible here;
these are all biblical references—
they’re bequeathed to the tradition,
and some of the smartest people in the early century
of the Church tried to make sense of this.
The one God of Israel
—and no Christian ever denies that.
Remember the “Shema” prayer from the sixth chapter
of Deuteronomy?
“Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord your God is Lord alone.”
The oneness of God, the unity of God,
is affirmed up and down the biblical tradition.
Nobody wants to deny that.
But what was bequeathed them was this puzzle:
that the one God nevertheless subsists as three persons,
as a play of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
of lover, beloved, and shared love,
of the consubstantial Father and Son,
who will send a Spirit consubstantial with them.
That’s where the doctrine of the Trinity,
everybody, comes from.
Now, one of the very best places to look if you’re
still trying to get a model for understanding
all of this is the great St. Augustine.
Augustine was, with Aquinas, the greatest theologian
in the history of the Church,
and I think his perhaps signal accomplishment
intellectually was this analogy he gave us
for the Trinity.
He spoke about mind,
self-knowledge, and self-love.
But I want to put this in more perhaps
contemporary language by giving an analogy that
we’re more at home with.
Anybody who’s ever been through counseling or
therapy or spiritual direction,
or even a profound conversation with a friend
when you’re trying to figure something out
in your life, what do you do?
Well with the help of a therapist or
spiritual director, you might
pose your own life as an object,
as an issue, as something to be examined.
You say, “Okay, what was I doing?
What was I thinking when I did X, Y, and Z?
Or when I was a kid what was going on in me?”
Now you see what’s happening,
maybe with the help of your spiritual director,
is you are looking at you.
You are examining as an object yourself.
Now, unless you’ve lost your mind,
no one in that process will think,
“Oh, I’ve split into two things.”
No one’s going to say,
“Hey, I’ve become two different persons.”
No, no, you are both subject and object.
The one person, one you,
is both subject and object.
Now take it one more step.
Because Augustine calls this third move self-love.
Having gone through that process,
you’re examining yourself
and you come to a deeper understanding.
You come to a deeper appreciation
of what you were doing,
or what pressures you were under,
or what friendships you had or didn’t have.
And in that process, you come thereby to a
greater self-acceptance or a greater love of yourself.
There’s a knower. There’s a known.
And now there’s a love that obtains
between the knower and the known.
And all this is going on in this ordinary process
of maybe conversing with the counselor
or the spiritual director.
You haven’t become three things.
You haven’t split into three.
But yet there is a kind of play,
a Trinitarian play, within you.
That’s what Augustine saw.
Go back to his language:
mind, self-knowledge, self-love.
That obtains in every one of us.
The Bible says we were made in the image
and likeness of God.
And Augustine said maybe that’s it.
Maybe that’s it.
When you go deep down into your own interiority,
you find indeed this remarkable “imago Dei,”
this remarkable image of God, in this Trinitarian play
that exists even within our own psyches.
Not bad.
The Father —that’s the great mind.
The Son —there’s the great self-knowledge.
The Spirit —the love shared
between the Father and the Son.
You know, following up on this,
I might have said this to you before,
but Fulton Sheen, one of my great heroes,
adapted Augustine’s analogy.
He said from all eternity, the Father looks at the Son,
his own image.
The Son, who is consubstantial
with the Father —he has everything the Father has,
he’s the perfect image of the Father—
he looks back, and he sees sheer perfection.
And the two of them looking at each other,
[exhalation]
they sigh their love for each other.
That’s the “Spiritus Sanctus,”
the holy breath.
Father, Son, Holy Spirit.
Okay, if you’re with me so far,
you might say,
“Alright, alright, I guess it’s all
kind of interesting, biblical and theological,
and yeah, these analogies.
Okay, I kind of get it,
but at the end of the day, so what?”
Here’s the so-what:
“God so loved the world.”
I’m quoting now from the Gospel of John.
When he says God here, he means God the Father.
“God so loved the world” —watch—
“that he sent his only Son into the world,
that all who believe in him might have life in his name.”
Now he sends the Son where?
Down into our ordinary humanity.
“Though he was in the form of God”
—this is Paul now—
“Jesus did not deem equality with God a thing to be
grasped but rather emptied himself
and took the form of a slave,
being born in the likeness of men.”
Now, further, he obediently accepted even death
—death on a cross.
The Father sends his beloved Son
all the way down.
Why? To get us
who had wandered far from him.
That’s what sin means.
It means wandering away from God.
So the Father sent the Son
all the way to the limits of godforsakenness,
so that he might, watch now,
gather all of us back in the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit is the love that connects
the Father and the Son,
even when the Son is all the way down.
The Son’s gone all the way into death itself,
but he’s still connected by the love of the Holy Spirit,
and in that love, the Father calls the Son back
in the Resurrection and Ascension,
bringing in principle all of us sinners with him.
Now do you see how all this abstract talk
about the Trinity
—Father, Son, Spirit, consubstantiality—
all that business becomes very viscerally real?
It’s because God is a Trinitarian play of persons
that we can be saved.
Not just outside of God begging for mercy
but now, through God’s grace, inside
the dynamics of God’s life,
gathered by the Son
into the power of the Holy Spirit.
There’s the whole Christian life, everybody.
That’s the whole spiritual life.
Let me close with this.
Think about this every single time you make this gesture.
You see what you’re saying?
God so loved the world that he sent his only
Son all the way down, that we might be gathered
into the Holy Spirit, the love that connects them.
That’s the Trinity.
That’s what we celebrate on Trinity Sunday.
And God bless you.