Trinity Sunday is one of two things: it’s either the day on which preachers tentatively walk out on eggshells, praying that their sermons will not crack the Church’s doctrine. Or it’s the day that preachers allow themselves to be stumped. The task is not made any easier by the Scripture readings provided by the lectionary. We find ourselves threading out of Scripture a doctrine codified many years after Scripture was penned. And yet we can see glimpses of that doctrine in Scripture.
I, for one, will go with option two. I choose to let myself be stumped, and I hope you will, too. I don’t mean that we should cease exploring the meaning of this doctrine that’s at the heart of our faith. I don’t mean that we throw caution to the wind as we speak about the Trinity. I mean that we let the doctrine do precisely what it is: we let it be a mystery for us. And so, we let ourselves be stumped for a time.
But wallowing in mystery can frequently be an excuse to stay in our heads or spin vague generalities. For millennia, scholars and theologians have tried to muster up new images for the relationship of three Persons sharing one substance. But as important as this theological discourse is for trying to understand the nature of God, at the end of the day, words fail. Images fail. Ultimately, we are stumped. So, why not just start there? Let’s begin this Trinity Sunday by acknowledging that we are stumped. And if we can start with that honest acknowledgement, then perhaps we have something else to learn.
If we are stumped, could it be that we have spent too much time in our heads? Could it be that we have failed to recognize that the doctrine of the Trinity is not about intellectual gymnastics but about our lives on the ground here and now?
Now, being stumped, being slowed down for a bit in the fast race to know everything, is exactly where today’s Gospel reading picks up. For the umpteenth time in recent weeks, we listen in on Jesus’ Farewell Discourse to his disciples on the eve of his death. The last thing the disciples want to hear before their teacher and friend departs is this: I have many things to share with you, but you cannot bear them now.
The car has been moving along at a comfortable 40 miles an hour, gaining speed, and suddenly there is a speed bump. Hit the brakes. Slow down. You have been stumped. Maybe you should be moving at 25 miles an hour instead of 40.
Being stumped, being patient, and slowing down are not always easy. In some sense, the disciples were students. And most pupils do not like being told to slow down in the beginning stages of a learning process. Recall those moments in your own life where a teacher insisted that you take some time rather than racing ahead. I remember the first months of studying a new instrument. Practice the scales. Work on your chops. Hone your technique. But whatever you do, don’t plunge into the difficult repertoire that you’re just dying to play for your own satisfaction. If you do, you’ll be stumped. You’re not ready yet. You’ll be able to do many things as a musician, but not at this time. Your shoulders sag, along with your spirits.
Or imagine those first months of learning a new language. The page is simply gibberish to your eyes. The foreign characters mean nothing. New vowel sounds are indistinguishable. Your language teacher has many things to say to you, but you’re not ready for them now.
Even the most avid learners don’t like to be stumped. It’s a painful and humbling thing when we’re up against our lack of knowledge or ability, especially when we know that we have the potential to be somewhere other than where we currently are. But to be slowed down in our quest to move ahead is perhaps even more frustrating—or at least it’s frustrating until we realize that slowing down and waiting is precisely where we are meant to be and that we have been given the gift of time.
The gift of time is exactly the opposite of what we usually think it means. We usually assume that it means more hours in the day to accomplish the ridiculous amount of work that has landed on our plate courtesy of an overcommitted culture moving at breakneck speed. The gift of time allows us to speed ahead happily to the finish line of the race within our duly allotted span of hours.
But God’s gift of time is quite different. God’s gift of time is not extra hours in the day. God’s gift of time isn’t a gust of wind that helps us sprint to the finish line. God’s gift paradoxically seems like a frustrating moment in which we are stumped. And yet it’s really a moment in which we must allow the Spirit to guide us into all the truth. When we think we can race ahead of God, we are usually stumped.
When we’re stumped, and when we’re offered the gift of time by God, we experience the life of the Triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—at its fullest. When we begin to understand the gift of time and how it reveals God’s truth, we see God as Trinity most clearly at work.
Look again at what St. John tells us in today’s Gospel. It’s not yet full-fledged Trinitarian doctrine, but it’s a vivid glimpse into the life of God. In the power of the Spirit, Jesus has been revealed as the image of the Father’s love for the world. He is truth. But that truth can’t be swallowed at once like a magic pill. Its fullest meaning is only discerned over time. Over time, the Spirit guides us into all truth and lets us hear those things that we need to hear precisely when we’re able to bear them.
The Spirit doesn’t reveal new things so much as help us see those things that earlier we were not mature enough to handle. One more thing is true: the Spirit can only do this with the gift of time. The Spirit doesn’t speak alone in a bubble. The Spirit speaks what is heard in the life of God. And this requires the gift of time.
I dare say that many of us may be feeling stumped at this moment in time. Do you have any clue how to move forward as a Christian disciple when every road seems to have a thousand speed bumps? Are you stumped as to the most effective way to address heinous injustice or broken political systems in which truth is cheapened or ignored? How do we move to action wisely and compassionately when it seems there’s no time to lose because human lives are at stake? When is the appropriate time to act and speak? When should we simply listen? Or maybe, unintentionally, we find ourselves echoing Pilate’s question to Jesus: What is truth? We find ourselves incapacitated because we are stumped.
There are no easy answers here. But could this be exactly where we’re meant to be? Could this be God’s gift of time? Can we be honest that we are poor at letting the Spirit lead us into all truth? Accepting the gift of time means letting God take the reins and lead us where we are supposed to be, in God’s time, no matter how impatient or patient we may be. The gift of time dispels our pet projects. It humbles us. It allows for healing where healing must happen before truth can be borne. It tempers our impatience. It coaxes us where we need coaxing. It dredges up the honesty that must be embraced before we can truly swallow the truth. The gift of time enables us to be mature Christians. It invites us into the truth so that we don’t make up our own truth.
There are many things that the Spirit has to say to us. As of yet, we do not have the strength to bear them. But where we are, stumped though we may be, is precisely where God intends for us to be. And although the Holy Spirit will continue to guide us into all the truth, right now, there are things meant for us to hear and then do. At this moment, at this time, and in this place, we may be frustrated and stumped, but know this: God has given us exactly what we can bear. There are things for us to hear, right now, at this time. And for the present time, that’s just enough.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
Trinity Sunday: The First Sunday after Pentecost
June 12, 2022