Scripture:
John 3:1-12
June 3 was Trinity Sunday. < YAWN > .
According to scripture’s narrative flow and the logic of
the church seasons, the Holy Spirit descended upon us the Sunday prior, the Day
of Pentecost. Now that the third member of our heavenly trio has been formally
introduced, shouldn’t we be able to explain our faith in the context of the old hymn, “God in Three Persons/Blessed Trinity”?
Perhaps
– but maybe not. For trying to “explain” the Trinity is not unlike the exercise
of the little boy who announced as he settled down in his Christian education
class that he was about to draw a picture of God.
His
teacher admonished him, “But no one really knows what God looks like.”
The
boy’s response: “They will when I get through with this picture!”
June 3 was Trinity Sunday.
Celebrating the "Three-in-One" of God, Christ, Spirit. Not a theological problem
to be solved. But a relational mystery to be lived.
It seems in our scripture that Nicodemus wishes to engage Jesus in theological debate – trap him, some may say –
by slipping out under the cover of night and slipping Jesus some of the most
unctuous words of flattery this side of the Apostle Paul.
Nicodemus
pours it on: “Teacher, we know you’re from God. No one could perform these
signs otherwise.”
Jesus
is not impressed. True to his general m.o., he turns the attention away from
himself and toward the kingdom – the commonwealth – of God. He frames matters
not in terms of theological certainty, but in a living, breathing, mysterious
way: “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”
To
Nicodemus, this scenario presents an unsolvable problem. “How can anyone be
born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb
and be born?”
To which Jesus responds, in
effect: “It is not a question of how. It is an answer of yes.” From solving the
problem … to living the mystery.
British theologian Jane Williams paints us this picture:
All through the
sharp-edged conversation, Nicodemus is trying to get things back on track, back
into normal conversational and debating mode, and Jesus won’t let him. The
activity of God cannot be ordered by your little checklists, he says to
Nicodemus. You have to tear them up and be prepared to start again.
Nicodemus,
like all religious people throughout the ages, believes, to some extent, that
God is love. But he believes that God’s love is measured and sensible, and
follows a set of rules. He believes that Jesus’ healings are largely consonant
with the activity of God, but he has some worries about them, which is
presumably why he is here, to get Jesus to fill in the proper forms.
(Nicodemus)
does deserve some credit for this: many of his colleagues couldn’t or wouldn’t
see even this far into the love of God. But it is not far enough, because all of
Jesus’ replies to Nicodemus suggest that he has to let go of all the measures
that he has been using, and launch out into the unfathomable reality of the
totality of God’s love.
“Launch out … into
the unfathomable reality of the totality of God’s love.” For Nicodemus approached truth as fathomable:
a problem to be solved. Jesus, on the other hand, approached truth as the
unfathomable: a mystery to be lived. It couldn’t be explained, being “born from
above.” It could only be expressed. For it could only be experienced.
This is what the activity
of the Holy Trinity is all about: three perspectives of God’s love communing
together, in an unfathomably real way. A
three-fold communal, relational model for us all, mysterious in its power: God
for us (the Creator), God with us (the Christ), and God within and among us
(the Spirit).
Early Christians, when attempting to describe the Trinity,
describe it not as a stale doctrine but as an alive activity. They used the
descriptor epichoresis: Greek for
dance. In other words, these first Christians depicted the Trinity as a dance
together throughout eternity, these Three: God for us, God with us (Christ),
God within and among us (Spirit).
Later, the great medieval mystic Juliana of Norwich would
speak of the Trinity in sort of a proto-feminist fashion. She wrote, “The deep
wisdom of the Trinity is our mother, in whom we are enclosed.” Again: God for
us … God with us … God within and among us. “Our mother … in whom we are
enclosed.”
Can’t explain it.
Can’t define it. Can’t “solve” it.
But we sure can live it. A mystery, to be
lived.
God for us: means,
I must act on behalf of someone. God with us – in Hebrew Immanuel, the Christ:
means, I must stand alongside of someone, be in solidarity with them. God
within and among us – the Holy Spirit, what Jesus tells Nicodemus has been birthed
from above: means, I must act like I really am created in God’s image and
become aware, at least, of its evidence all around me.
How many times in our lives have we attempted to solve or
resolve a problem? Perhaps we have arrived at a perfectly logical solution to
the situation. Perhaps the light bulb had gone off in our head – “a-HA!” we
said. Perhaps we had then written an email with just the right words and just
the right emphasis and to just the right person or persons.
Perhaps our solution comes off well. Or … perhaps not. Or,
perhaps, not what we had hoped for.
And yet, how many times have we reached out – perhaps not
willingly, or freely, or lovingly even – to someone who asks for our help?
Reaching out, to do something for them, or standing with them, or even finding
the divine spark within that person – within ourselves – or among us both?
We might think we have found the right solution to a
problem – have figured it out, have defined it, captured it, got it licked, nailed
it down. And, sometimes, we do!
But the type of satisfaction
we get – and the quality of contribution we make to God’s kingdom – that
generally matters the most to us and to our world does not come when we rationally
and passingly solve a problem ... as significant as that solution might be. Our
greatest satisfaction and kingdom contribution both generally come when we live
out the relational mystery of the Trinity: doing something for, with, and among
someone. Perhaps, even, tapping into the holy lying deep within God’s created
splendor – namely, us.
What brought me back to church – back to this healing
place where I am slowly learning to live the mystery of the Trinity in my life,
and ours – was the spiritual experience I received in the process of sobering
up in my twenties.
Jim was my first recovery sponsor – that’s Alcoholics
Anonymous lingo for a spiritual director. Jim was the first who taught me to utilize
a few key spiritual tools the AA program offered me.
Sitting in his living room in The Fan district of
Richmond, VA, Jim discussed with me how AA provided a place and program for
healing where he could experience – and where I could experience – as I
understand it now, God for me, God with me, and God within and among me.
I looked at the Twelve Steps he laid out before me that
outlined mysterious relational connections with spirits I could not find in a
bottle. These Twelve Steps, I learned, traced their origin to a Christian
renewal movement decades before.
I looked these steps over. “How does this program work?” I
exclaimed. “How does it really work?”
To this day, I can see Jim’s face. With a kind and knowing
smile, he responded with words we could still use today at this church for
those who seek a place for healing among us.
Jim said, “How does it work? It works very well, Chuck.
Keep coming back. It works very well.”
Whoever has ears to
hear … let them hear.
Charge & Blessing …
How does the
Trinity work among us? Very well, thank you. Very, very well.
God is for us – and we, for others.
God is with us – and we, with others.
God is within and among us – and so we shall
be.
We need not know
how. We need simply to say yes.
The grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ is with us now …
The love of God
surrounds us, each and every day of our lives …
And the Holy
Spirit is ours: anytime we name it … anytime we claim it!
Thanks be to God!
