Sunday: 1st Sunday after Pentecost: Trinity Sunday
Reading: John 16:12-15
Preacher: Adam Yates

When I was young, the very first theological construct I struggled with was the Trinity. Perhaps more specifically, the Holy Spirit. My sixth grade self could easily understand the more concrete "God the Father" and "God the Son," but I had no idea how to make sense of this "Holy Spirit" character. Luckily, in the sixth grade, my church assigned us mentors in preparation for confirmation. During one of those regularly scheduled meetings with my mentor, Bob Leggett, I popped the question, "what is the Holy Spirit?" Without missing a beat-something that I can only now begin to appreciate as I work with youth myself-Bob answered that the Holy Spirit was like a sunbeam. You can't really see it, but you can feel it, and even when your eyes are closed, you know that the sun is there by the warmth of the sunbeam. Half a lifetime and years of theological education later, this is still one of the primary metaphors that I use when I think of the Holy Spirit.

My sunbeam makes an appearance here in today's scripture as a part of a proto-Trinitarian formulation. We've got God the Father and God the Son, both sharing equally with each other, and then we have this Spirit of Truth. We're not really sure what to do with this one yet. The Spirit seems to share some in God's divinity, but also seems subordinate to the Father and the Son. If nothing else, we can take comfort in knowing that even early on in the Christian tradition, people weren't quite sure what to do with the Trinity.

Truth be told, the Trinity has been one of the more vexing problems that Christianity has had to deal with over the past few thousand years, and it hasn't gotten better with time. It has been the source of ongoing suspicion, from people inside and outside of the Christian tradition, that we are secretly polytheistic. For those who can buy into the three-in-one claim, there is still the issue that Trinitarian theology is famously obtuse, dense, and not terribly accessible. Perhaps it is not surprising that some Christians scrapped the whole thing and started the Unitarian Church.

One of the common problems people have with the Trinity is understanding why exactly we need it. Like the Trinity itself, the answer is complicated. On one side, it was philosophically necessitated. Take a moment and let that one sink in. There are very few things in theology or creation that we can claim are philosophically necessitated. The Trinity was a solution to a problem that began to appear as the early Christians began to flesh out what exactly happened with the Christ-event and how it was that God was able to become human.

On the other side, it seems that Trinitarian claims also arose out of real experiences of the early Christian communities. They witnessed things that pointed to an ongoing active presence of God among them after Christ had died, resurrected, and ascended. Sunbeams alighted on their heads and they began to speak in many tongues, sunbeams infused them with the ability to perform miracles, and sunbeams emboldened them to face terrible persecution, death, and diaspora across Babylon itself. The early Christians experienced God in a new way, and it is this very real witness that gets wrapped up with philosophical necessity, giving birth to the Trinity as we know and love it.

Truth be told, I have a love/hate relationship with the Trinity. At its worst, Trinitarian theology is obtuse and a barrier to those trying to deepen their understanding of the faith. As it becomes more complicated, erudite, and abstracted, it begins to lose touch with reality (like a song that doesn't quite scan), existing only for its own sake, and becoming of little consequence. I remember a paper I had to write for a systematic theology class that I took up at Seabury. The title of the paper was, "Whether it is the case that there is an Ontological Identity between the Economic Trinity and the Immanent Trinity." If you think that it sounds interesting, then I assure you that you misunderstand the title. I spent countless hours in the library writing that paper, slowly filling with a burning rage. The only thing that got me through it was a little mantra I repeated to myself over and over again, "it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter."

At its best, what I truly love about the Trinity is that it points to something vital, indefinable, and dynamic about God. The Trinity stands over and against attempts to make God monolithic and unchanging because God relates to us in new and novel ways, and God relates to God's self continually. The most exquisite description of the inter-relating of the three persons of the Trinity that I have heard is that of a dance. In God's revelation between the three persons, there is a constant motion as they move in and through each other, a divine dance. God is not stagnant and unchanging; God delights in moving, turning, and swaying across history.
What's more, history suggests that God likes trying out new moves. It was with particular flair that God dancing, turned and entered history as Jesus Christ. In Christ's life and work, God invited us into the dance.

When we executed him, God did not miss a beat, but still dancing, turned again and enlivened us through the Holy Spirit. And it wasn't just back then, it is now too! When our country enslaved Africans, God danced and bent in very close and whispered the Gospel of Freedom. When women stood up to fight for equality, agency, and respect in society, God danced, swinging her bra overhead. And when homosexuals were told that they were sinners in the eyes of God, God danced a fabulous and enticing number; swaying God's hips, beckoning with God's finger, God called us into the ministry.

Where is God dancing in this community? Working with children and youth, living and praying with you, celebrating and mourning, at lock-ins and staff meetings, over meals shared and songs sung, I have felt that deep rhythm. Have you? Truly I tell you, the spirit enlivens this place like the warmth of the sun drawing out the flowers of spring!

Where is God dancing in your life? Do you know? Take the time for stillness and quiet and feel for that rhythm, letting it warm you like the new light of day. We are called, each and every one of us, from the waters of baptism to learn that same dance and dance it in the world. Look for those places where God is dancing, and join in! And don't worry, when we stumble and fall, God will turn again and help us to start the dance anew.

This is the good news of the Gospel, my sisters and brothers! As Christ prepared his disciples for what would be their lowest hour, he promised them that God would leap high and turn towards them once again. "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. But when the Spirit of truth comes, you will be guided into all truth." This is the promise that God makes with us, my friends: God will continue to turn toward us in that divine dance as we lose our way, twisting to meet us where we trip.