Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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This is Trinity Sunday, and the scripture for today is, actually, the last paragraph of Matthew's Gospel, which I just read. It's the reading for Trinity Sunday, I suppose, because in it Jesus uses the traditional Trinitarian words, telling his followers to "disciple" (it's a verb here) - to disciple all nations, "baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." And there it is. The Trinity. But, the word "trinity" appears nowhere in the New Testament, and the full blown doctrine of the Trinity (one substance, three persons, and all that) is not developed until the fourth or fifth century (three or four hundred years after Christ). That is true. But it is also true that all three persons of the Trinity - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - are in the Bible. They are clearly foreshadowed in the Old Testament, and they appear frequently, and importantly, in the New, where they are given God-like status. Also, long before the formal doctrine is developed, in the earliest days of the church, the words "Father, Son and Holy Spirit," and the Trinity's symbol, a triangle, appear everywhere - in prayers, in inscriptions on tombs, in pious writings, and especially in the liturgy of baptism. Even today we baptize people "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." So, the history of the idea of "God in three persons" is not exactly simple. In short, the formal doctrine was developed at the end of the process, systematizing and clarifying what the church had already been doing and saying for several hundred years

But here's our problem. In a modern, mathematically-based world how can Christians assert (absurdly) that something - even God -- can three and one at the same time? We don't have mental categories for that. And a more devastating, more honest question might be, "Who cares?" Modern men and women have little patience with medieval-sounding discussions about the nature of God. We are comfortable only with a highly generalized God. We really don't want to know the details. We want a God who doesn't bring us into conflict with our neighbors' faith or behavior, one who makes us feel good about ourselves, and who gives us a vague sense of right and wrong without putting too sharp a point on it. And that is all we want from God. Please. Do not disturb.

But, look: here are the facts for us Christians: The New Testament (which we believe) clearly speaks about three ways of existing as God, or three modes of God's presence, if you will. It speaks of God approaching man, and man apprehending God, in three distinct ways: as God the creator and sustainer, as Christ the redeemer, and as the Holy Spirit the comforter. But the New Testament also says there is only one God. And we need to deal with that, as best we can, remembering always the limitations of the human mind. (John Wesley pointed out that, in order to live at all, "we must believe more than we comprehend.") That's why we have Trinity Sunday: to remind us to ponder the nature of our God. Ours is not the only god out there.

Over the years church people have devised many analogies to illustrate the trinity. The most famous, of course, was St. Patrick who, when asked by the pagan kings of Ireland, how something could be both three and one, held up a shamrock - pointed out the that the three leaves are separate but form one cloverleaf. This past Thursday morning, at communion, Sharon Couch said, "It helps me to think of myself: I am a daughter to my mother, a wife to my husband, a worker to my boss - and yet I am one person." John Wesley marveled at the mystery of light, how "the rays of a candle brought into a room instantly disperse into every corner." "Here," he said, "in the trinity, are three candles yet there is but one light" And a modern analogy, by Sara Maitland, which I really like: she says the Trinity is like a pigtail braided of three equal strands of hair. The three make one, but if the strands are of unequal size, or if one strand is removed, the braid is ruined. Norman Macleod described his Trinitarian faith in such a simple way: "There is a father in heaven who loves us," he said, "a Brother/Savior who died for us, a Spirit who helps us be good, and a home where we shall all meet at last." Ways of thinking and talking about God, based on the ways God has revealed himself to us, and continues to do so. If the doctrine of the Trinity helps you, good. If not, it's not in the Bible, so you can lay it aside.

While we are in this passage I want to point out another thing. This is the Great Commission, Jesus' final charge to his disciples. Baptize. Teach. Convert the world. He appears to them in Galilee, at a pre-determined rendezvous, and Matthew says "when they saw him they worshipped him; but some doubted (according to the Revised Standard Version), which might suggest that some other people (not the eleven) doubted. But the phrase can also be translated, "but some of them doubted," suggesting that some of the eleven believed and some did not, or even, simply,"but they doubted," suggesting that they all had qualms. I think that last option makes the most sense. Not that they doubted the resurrection - he was standing before them, talking to them - but that they doubted they could possibly live up to his expectations. Not, "Is it real?" But, "Can we do it?" "Does this enterprise make any sense?" Peterson, in his paraphrase, catches that meaning: "Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally." Face it. From an earthly perspective Jesus had been a failure. He had not enjoyed a great deal of success, and he had died in disgrace. At this point, only his followers knew of his resurrection, and they understood instinctively that the whole world would ridicule that idea. Why would anyone think that this poor carpenter's message, carried by a handful of undistinguished men (who had already proven themselves to be cowards) - why would anyone think this message would make it to all the world, much less prevail?

It is a picture of the church in all ages. Full of self-doubts and second thoughts, truly sinful "in thought, word and deed," as the ritual says, yet doing amazing things in Christ's name. In his Gospel, Mark tells the moving story of a desperate father who, brings his epileptic son to Jesus, and tells the Master the whole sad tale of a child who would often go rigid, and fall, and foam at the mouth, and whose convulsions would sometimes threaten to throw him into a fire, or into a river, and do him in. This man, this father, is a tired care giver: We have to watch him every second, Lord! "…if you can do anything, have pity on us and help us." And Jesus says, "If you can! If you can! All things are possible to him who believes." And the father cries out, "Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief." That's us, isn't it? That's the church. "Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief."

I have always been suspicious of religion that is cocksure. Better to say, "I don't know," than to say "I know," when I don't. We are simply on a pilgrimage. We've come a ways (in our knowledge and in our faith), and we have a ways to go. And God knows that. As with our understanding of the nature of God: we develop ideas, like the Trinity, to help us, but our knowledge of such things is never complete. Like that desperate father: he was neither nothing nor everything, he had belief, but needed help with his unbelief. That's us. That's the church. We know "in part" and we prophesy "in part." When that which is perfect is come, that which is partial will pass away. But not yet. In the meantime, we have our beliefs and doubts, our knowledge and foolishness. Those disciples, saying goodbye to their Lord, stood between Jesus and the general, uncommitted population of the world. They were not angels, nor perfect believers, and they didn't pretend to be. But they got the job done. The risen Jesus came to his wavering, fearful church and gave it power. We don't have to have perfect faith or perfect knowledge to be something, or to do something for God.. It's a poor excuse to say we're not worthy. None of us is worthy. Trust God. Step off into the unknown. God has only sinners to do his work. He will consume our dross and refine our gold.