Sermon for Trinity Sunday, Year C (6-15-25)

Trinity Sunday. Today we meditate on a great mystery. That the Father, Son, and Spirit are somehow one, but yet three, distinct but never separate. It's enough to make your brain leak out of your ears, especially if you try to find that perfect metaphor. And try I did, but when the best metaphor I could come up for the Trinity with was that of an egg salad sandwich, I decided to follow in the footsteps of the early church and take a few more centuries to think about it. Probably for the best.

But rather than how the Trinity works or what it's like, I discovered an ancient metaphor of how the Trinity is within itself. The nature of what it might look like to envision God in community with Godself. To be able to steal a glance at the beautiful idea that God loves Godself perfectly first, and then extends that love to us. The unstoppable motion of a triune God lilting here and there, spinning and swirling love as the engine of all creation.

The Trinity as a Divine Dance. 

Do you remember a time you were asked to dance?  Maybe it was in a dark, shabby school gymnasium decorated with as much teenage angst as it was decorated with crepe paper. Maybe it was at a wedding and you were dressed to the nines, and although it was a crowded dancefloor it somehow felt like you and your sweetheart were the only ones there. Swaying to the song you knew was written just for the two of you. Maybe it was at a party and the music was pounding, and you were jumping, and you took in the joy of that moment shining from the faces of loved ones dancing with you... at least in that moment you knew everything was going to be okay.

While of course there's nothing wrong with dancing alone, adding at least one partner really changes the experience into something else. It becomes something bigger than the sum its parts. Dancing doesn't make anything, or fix anything, and it doesn't even really say anything intrinsically. Dancing is connection for the sake of connection. Rather than reflect what we do or what we are as species that dances, I think it says something powerful about how we are that we dance.

And so, what does it mean that God dances, too?

Then God said, “let us make humankind in our image, according to our  likeness," we hear in Genesis' creation poem. Our image. In the beginning there was a we at the wellspring of creation. In the beginning there was a relationship which was contemplating how much of its own characteristic would be inked into the blueprint of all living things. And from the beginning there has been an invitation to be part of that divine we, that relationship that is being itself. A choreography of love that is perfectly complete in itself,  but that also calls us to partake of that relationship simply out of pure grace and a delight that we exist at all.

You may have seen the very famous icon of the Trinity painted by 15th century artist Andrei Rublev. The three angelic figures are said to represent specific persons of the Trinity via a rich symbolism. Gold for the perfection and completion of the Father. Blue brings to mind water and air, the mixing of two elemental natures as the humanity and divinity of Christ are found in Jesus. And the green-robed Holy Spirit suggesting her life-giving power. And the symbolism goes on and on layer upon layer, down to how the figures are seated and whether their wings touch or not. But one piece of lore about this icon serves us well today.

While being cleaned and conserved a large section of paint was missing near the opening of the circle. And many have suggested that was due to some kind of adhesive being placed directly on the icon in order to attach a small mirror. So that when praying with this icon, whoever looked upon the relationship of God with God's self - the Trinity - it was impossible to not see themselves also sitting at the table. Their face within this Divine circle. An invitation to the dance even while we still pray to understand it. No need to have figured it out before contemplating what it means to really live as though we believe there is perfect, balanced, active love continually pouring out for us from this Divine place.

"What is humankind that you should be mindful of them?" our psalmist asks this morning, "the child of humankind that you should seek them out?  You have made them but little lower than the angels; you adorn them with glory and honor." It seems that even before we knew what to call it, the faithful had always sensed God's invitation to be part of something bigger.

In his book, The Divine Dance, Richard Rohr reminds us: "You can go to church everyday for the rest of your life. God isn't going to love you any more than God loves you right now. You cannot make God love you any less, either - not an ounce less. Do the most terrible thing - steal and pillage, cheat and lie - and God wouldn't love you less. You cannot change the Divine mind about you. What we can do, however, is learn how to believe it, receive it, trust it, allow it, and celebrate it...accepting Trinity's whirling invitation to join in the cosmic dance."

So what will your dance with the Triune God be like? An elegant waltz, an energetic foxtrot, a slow sway resting your head safely in the nape of God's neck? Our triune God offers a hand - or maybe three hands - to join the divine dance. Don't worry about knowing the steps. Just accept the invitation to dance.

Amen.