Imagine that we’re standing before an abstract painting. If we didn’t already have some knowledge about the painting, it would look like a swirl of colors, with three amorphous shapes emerging from the texture of the canvas. But because we’ve been educated about this painting, we already know that the three splotches are supposed to be musicians. Without this knowledge, we would only see three blobs, but now we see that they do resemble musicians.
And we also see that what appeared to be an extra limb on one of the musicians is actually a cello. Oh, and there’s a violin on another oval-shaped blob, and that funny looking shape in the far left is a viola attached to the third blob. And the way the three amorphous shapes are oriented on the canvas makes it clear that a string trio is being performed. We can almost hear the music being played. It all makes sense because we have some knowledge of this painting.
Trying to pull the doctrine of the Trinity out of Scripture feels a bit like making sense of an abstract painting while already knowing something about it. Of course, the doctrine of the Trinity wasn’t properly formulated and expressed in its fullest form when the Gospels or epistles were authored. But living on this side of the Nicene Creed a few hundred years after the last Gospel was written, we can look back on the New Testament corpus, and even on the Old Testament, and say, yes, of course it makes sense now. Yes, we can see the presence of God the Father. We can see the work of God the Son. We can see the movement of the Holy Spirit. Yes, we know that while they are three distinct Persons, they are one God, an undivided Unity, sharing one substance. We know that because the Church has told us so. And knowing what we now know, it’s clear that when we read Scripture, we can discern glimpses of the Persons of the Trinity at work. And then words fail us, and if we try to say too much, we’re teetering on heresy. We’re once again looking at an abstract painting, three blobs on the canvas, and the story that is told is much more complex, creative, and dynamic than we can fathom.
This seems to be where the eleven disciples are at the very end of St. Matthew’s Gospel. They’re on a mountain, in a liminal space, having heard from the women at the tomb that Jesus was now alive, but some are also stewing in their doubts. In short, they’re confused, and can you blame them? And so, they settle on the only proper response to mystery; they worship. I suspect that the disciples are rather uncertain about their future and that they doubt whether they even have a future. And most certainly, they have no concept of a triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. They are still trying to figure out who Jesus is.
And then in their place of transcendence, removed from the valley below, balancing their giddiness and their uncertainty, the risen Christ comes to them. The disciples are looking at an abstract painting and trying to figure out what’s next. And blessedly, the risen Christ appears to them and begins to interpret.
He doesn’t explain the doctrine of the Trinity, but he tells them something very important. He doesn’t retell Scripture to point out the presence of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. He doesn’t formulate a creed for them. He simply gives them a clear command that ends up saying everything we need to know about the doctrine of the Trinity.
Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Forget that this Trinitarian formula was placed in Scripture after decades of reflection on the nature of God and after the earthly ministry of Jesus and the visible gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Rather, take it for what it is: a specific command that puts flesh on what it means to worship one God in three Persons, sharing one substance.
As the disciples stare at the abstract painting and then hear Jesus’s words, they begin to understand what they need to do. Without expressing it in tidy doctrine or creeds, the disciples can start to comprehend what’s happening in the painting. They can see the musicians. And most importantly, they can hear the music.
But they’re still on the mountain. No matter how much knowledge and insight they have, they’re only looking at the painting with a clearer perspective. It reminds me of an experience I had some years ago when I had gone home from college to a family reunion. I was studying music at the time, preparing to be a church musician. And one of my uncles asked me what I was studying in college. I explained that I was studying music. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what this might look like or how studying organ could have any concrete application in the world, and then he said to me, “But what are you going to do with it?”
How could I explain that my study wasn’t limited to a practice room? How could I explain that my vocation at the time was to try to talk about God through the language of music? How could I begin to articulate the power of music to draw others to God in worship? On the other hand, did I really know what my study would look like on the ground?
And so, too, with the disciples on that mountaintop. They’re looking at the abstract painting that Jesus is interpreting for them. They’re lost in wonder, love, and praise, despite their doubts. But the real question that Jesus poses to them is this: what are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with this knowledge you now have? What are you going to do with the mission I’ve just given you?
It’s the same with us. Here we are on Trinity Sunday, with our doubts and confusion about life, worshipping the Unity of a God we know as Triune. We’re part of a worldwide Church that’s fumbling to articulate her mission, even though that mission has been clearly stated by Christ himself. We have the advantage of creeds, Church councils, and Church teaching to help us make sense of the abstract painting before us. We are, in that sense, much better off than the eleven disciples so many years ago. But steeped in all this knowledge and perspective, what are we going to do with it?
Indeed, that’s the million-dollar question. Because at its heart, what we’re going to do is what the doctrine of the Trinity means for us. It means that what we know and experience on the mountain, here in our worship and always in our prayer, spills over into the rest of our life. We’re called to move from the dizziness of the mountain height into the valleys below, where many know nothing of the glory we have experienced. And they need to know it.
But there’s something more. As we let Jesus interpret the abstract painting for us, we hear his reassuring words that we have a future. The Church has a future. For too long, Christians have been worshipping a God whom they envision as no more than a clock winder, a static, aloof entity who sets things in motion and then steps back for a nap. And if we believe ourselves to be made in the image of such a God, then we have become just as static in our inaction and just as vulnerable to randomness. We’re stuck on the mountain while millions are starving below.
But through the Church’s tradition, we’ve also been told that there’s more to this painting. Through God’s grace, we can begin to see the blobs form into persons. We see that the persons are musicians holding instruments. And we see that they’re playing together. And then we hear the music, and the most astonishing thing happens. It suddenly dawns on us that we are in that musical trio, too. We’ve been invited into the piece that has been playing eternally among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We’ve been invited to listen with heart and soul and mind and to know with utter conviction that we’re also being asked to do something with the musical piece that is sounding in our ears.
So, we do something. We pick up our bows, and we play. Before long, we’ve moved down the mountain, and soon, millions down in the valley are picking up their bows, too. They’re playing. And with time, this glorious, heavenly music has reached to the ends of the earth. And it plays on and on, forever.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
Trinity Sunday
June 4, 2023