Trinity?

Hosea 11:1-4; Psalms 130:5-131:3

by the Rev. Dr. E. Scott Jones

First Central Congregational Church

26 May 2024

               Earlier this week when I told one person it was Trinity Sunday, they responded, “Trinity?  What’s that?”  At least they didn’t think we were doing some Barbenheimer celebration, since the location of the first atomic bomb was the Trinity Test Site. 

            So I put “Trinity?” down as my sermon title.  Hoping that seeing that your eyes wouldn’t glaze over and your mind go numb.  Surely the question mark would inspire a little spark of curiosity.

            Christianity teaches that there is one and only one God, but that God exists in three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  The ordinary Christian layperson might be aware that there were early church Councils and creeds that tried to spell out all of the metaphysics.  With the resulting divisions, conflicts, and schisms when folks disagreed.

After I explained Trinity the person said, “I don’t really understand.”  To which I said, “Don’t worry, no one does.  Which is actually the point I think—mystery.”

So, today we won’t go on some historical discursus through ancient creeds diving deep into Greek metaphysics.  Instead, I want to talk about the revival of Trinitarian thinking about God as part of the explosion of new theology in the last half century.

Which, might be a surprise—that this incomprehensible, old idea would have new lease in an era of globally diverse and pluralistic theological voices. 

Earlier this year I taught in First Forum about the vibrant blooming of theological ideas and perspectives on God since the end of the Second World War.  Liberationist, feminist, queer, postcolonial, ecological, and more ways of thinking and talking about God have emerged and engaged in conversation with one another.

Long gone, at least in theological circles, are out-dated notions of an all-powerful, patriarchal deity, distant from creation, exacting judgement and punishment upon wayward people.  That such ideas still permeate the consciousness of so much of the public is sad.  And well out-of-step with the best ideas of the contemporary Christian Church.

The book I used to structure our adult education series was Quest for the Living God by the prominent Catholic, feminist theologian Elizabeth Johnson.  And yes, there are Catholic, feminist theologians.  That she has been able to successfully navigate those two identities throughout her career is to her credit and one reason her thinking and writing about God is so rich.

Elizabeth Johnson provides us three rules of thumb for our thinking and talking about God.  Three rules that I’ve taken to heart.  I’ve even suggested that we paint them on a wall somewhere in the building.

First, is that “the reality of the living God is an ineffable mystery beyond all telling.”  Meaning first off, that God is fundamentally a mystery that will transcend every effort we take to conceive it.  And also meaning that all of our words will always be inadequate. 

Which leads to the second rule of thumb—“no expression for God can be taken literally.”  Not only is every word we use about God inadequate, those words can never be literal descriptions, they are always symbols, metaphors, analogies, allegories, or something like that which only hints at what we are talking about.  This is one area that actually has often strained my atheist friends, when they ask about my “God-talk” and I respond, “It’s all metaphor.”

Johnson’s third rule of thumb, is that because of the inadequacy and limitations of all our thinking and talking about God, it becomes necessary then to give God many names.  No one perspective, voice, concept, creed, confession, description, word, or name can tell us who God is.  So we should hold our convictions with humility and the sense that our beliefs are that—ours.  Which means we need to listen to other people and their perspectives.  To be open.  To learn from them.  To expand our own ideas.  Or to hold gently a multitude of ideas at once, never settling into any firm foundations. 

It also means, we must listen not only to other Christians, but even to what other religions say about God.  For Elizabeth Johnson this openness to religious pluralism arises because of our Trinitarian views of God.  She quotes these ideas from the theologian Jacques Dupuis: “The expansiveness of God’s inner life overflowing outside the Godhead is the root cause for the existence in history of divergent paths leading to a unique common goal, the absolute mystery of God.”

So, instead of Trinity being some ancient notion that creates stumbling-blocks for us, it can be the opening to a religious pluralism and global diversity of voices about God.  How’d that happen?

Well, I think we must first understand the renewal of Trinitarian language as part of what was a radical shift in theology to think of God as open and relational.  Some of the origins of these changes lie in the extreme suffering of humanity in the face of great evil, especially in the Second World War, the Holocaust, the atomic bomb, the colonial wars for independence, which led to reconsidering what we believe about God’s power and goodness and how that connects to evil and suffering.

The result was an emphasis on a God who feels.  Like how God is described in Hosea or today’s Psalms.  A God who isn’t remote and distant, but is present, immediately and always, with creation, feeling what we feel, living in solidarity with us, and empowering us to respond to the trials of this world and our lives.  Such a God is not all powerful, at least not as that was once understood.  Instead, God also suffers and feels pain and hurt, and responds.  This God doesn’t endorse the status quo, but instead works with the victims, the oppressed, and the poor to undo the injustices of this world.

Another source of these changes was our new scientific understandings.  That the universe is very old, incomprehensibly large, complexly interconnected, and profoundly dynamic.  God is a part of this vast process, guiding it and inspiring it, but not in dictatorial control.  And this universe has its own agency and role to play within the creative process—God is open and responsive to the novel changes arising from universe.

God then works not through fiats and orders and extreme acts, but instead through relationships—luring, inspiring, drawing the world and us toward what God dreams for us.

And so we recover the idea that God is Trinity—mystery beyond our understanding—except that the one thing we do understand is that God at God’s core is a relationship.

Here’s how Elizabeth Johnson describes it:

To say that God is one is to negate division, thus affirming the unity of divine being: there is only one God.  To say that the “persons” are three is to negate solitariness, thus affirming that divine being dwells in living communion.  The holy mystery of God is not a single monolith with a rigid nature, an undifferentiated whole, but a living fecundity of relational life that overflows to the world.”

            God is fruitful and abundant life, fruitful and abundant relationship, so fruitful and abundant that they overflow into creation.  Or as one of my other favorite theologians describe it, God is an “ecstatic fellowship.”  Or, as First John simply puts it, “God is love.”

            So, when we talk about Trinity these days, we aren’t trying to spell out the details of a metaphysics.  We are trying to express, in inadequate words and symbolic language, what we feel in our religious experience of the love, compassion, and aliveness of God.

            And, we usually do so in a burst of contemporary idioms.  Like Sally MacFague’s Mother, Lover, and Friend.  Or Karen Armstrong’s drawing parallels with other religions in describing Nothingness, Ungraspable, Ultimate Innerness of Every Being.  Or Anthony Kelly’s Giver, Gift, and Giving.  Or Peter Hodgson’s One, Love, and Freedom.  Johnson herself likes to draw from our DNA and imagine a triple helix that brings forth, heals, and creates anew.

            The only way we know and interact with God, then, is relationally, as we live a life of communion and compassion.  The love that is God overflows into us such that, as she describes it, “the glory of God is the communion of all things fully alive.”

            I delight in her description of how we encounter God:

Wherever the human heart is healed, justice gains a foothold, peace holds sway, an ecological habitat is protected, wherever liberation, hope and healing break through, wherever an act of simple kindness is done, a cup of cool water given, a book offered to a child thirsty for learning, there the human and earth community already reflect, in fragments, the visage of the trinitarian God.

            And, so that we might hear various voices, and glory in our dynamic, adventurous, loving, mysterious God, I have invited three folks to come close out this sermon by reading a litany formed from the UCC Stillspeaking Writers’ Group book Stating Our Faith in Urgent Times:

How do we cultivate resurrection in community?

            This Easter season we examined Resurrection Stories.  And how these ancient stories give us spiritual insight to the obstacles we encounter in our lives.  Addiction, loneliness, cancer, mental illness, and injustice.  Whatever tries to hold you back or keep you down or lock you up—the power of the Risen Christ exists to set you free, so that you too might rise up in power to live the life of fullness God has dreamed for you. 

            On this Pentecost Sunday, the birthday of the Christian Church, when the power of the Holy Spirit descended upon the followers of Jesus and filled them with glory so that they might become the movement to change the world, let’s ponder how we cultivate resurrection in community.

            And we ponder this question at such a fraught time.  Living in this age of polycrisis with climate change, racial injustice, toxic politics, war, income inequality, attacks on trans people, assaults on bodily autonomy, rising costs, and epidemics of despair, loneliness, and adolescent mental illness. 

            As I’ve written before: These crises also present opportunities for the church, because we have values, qualities, and skills that can help humanity in this moment.  Our rich traditions, our spiritual practices, our commitments to care and community, our service to others, our work for justice and peace, even the beauty of our artistry, these are among Christianity’s great strengths. 

            In this period of crisis, church might just be even more important than it has been.  So, we’d better be cultivating resurrection in community.

            A few months ago I read the book Finding Yourself in Chaos: Self-Discovery for Religious Leaders in a Time of Transition by Jim Newby and Mark Minear.  I know Jim.  He and I were UCC colleagues together in Oklahoma City.  This good book is about ministering during this period of crisis, particularly for ministers as they experience crises in their personal lives as well. I found much of value for myself and my ministry in the book. The final chapters are less focused on clergy and more on what churches can be doing in this time of crisis.

            Because we live in an age of mistrust, incivility, and conflict, they believe that there are some key elements that churches ought to be fostering, particularly trust, listening, and vulnerability. 

            These elements are part of having a tender heart, which they argue is key to transformation.  They write, “Transformation is expressed in the tenderizing of one’s heart and issues in an increase of universal love to one’s fellow creatures.”

            In a society and an age that often wants our anger and ideological purity, it is a counter-cultural strength to cultivate a tender heart and the sensitivity, humility, concern, and vulnerability that come with it.

            What are some ways church helps us tenderize our hearts? 

            By fostering spiritual practices like silence, prayer, and meditation.  Promoting emotional literacy.  Through class discussions on the interpersonal skills we all need.  Through intergenerational opportunities.  By telling the stories of Jesus which lift up things like forgiveness, gratitude, mercy, and loving one’s enemies.

            A good question for you to consider today--what are some ways you personally tenderize your heart?

            We are all on a spiritual quest.  Newby & Minear outline four marks envisioned by the current spiritual quest.  First is a need to simplify our lives, to cut down on clutter and all that encumbers us.  Particularly to escape the rat race of consumer capitalism. 

            Second is our drive for diversity and inclusivity.  Our societies are rapidly becoming more diverse and multicultural.  You notice even here as you drive and walk around this neighborhood.  The variety of races, ethnicities, and religions that are visually apparent.  The twenty-first century world calls for our increased sensitivity to the pluralism of humanity.

            Third in the spiritual quest for transformation is a concern for peace.  In the midst of the world’s violence, war, and conflict, we should aim to be peacemakers.  And while we might have very little influence on geopolitical events, we can be peacemakers in our own homes, neighborhoods, and workplaces.

            Finally, the drive for justice animates the transformational spiritual quest.  They write, “The ways of the world encourage individualism, but growth in the spirit of Christ will accentuate the interconnectedness of all people and the care we should have for one another.”

            How are you personally engaged in this spiritual quest?  How are you pursuing each of these elements of growth and healing in your own life?  And, then, how are we as a congregation cultivating this awareness and the skills necessary for us to heal and grow?

            If we cultivate resurrection in our community through tenderizing our hearts and participating in the spiritual quest, what, then, are the marks of a thriving congregation, faithful to who God needs them to be in this time of polycrisis?

            First, a congregation cultivating resurrection is a place where people experience transformation.  Newby and Minear write that such a congregation aims to be a place where people can feel “the evil weakening within them” and “the good being raised up.”

            I sure hope you have that experience in our times of worship, study, service, and celebration.  One point they make is that such congregations—where people feel transformed—are ones where “the deadening crust of tradition and emphasis upon correct process and procedure” have given way “to the fresh winds of God’s transforming spirit.”

            One of the challenges for all congregations in this time of crisis is to learn flexibility, adaptation, and innovation.  How to live with more uncertainty and ambiguity, as we discern how to be the church that God needs us to be right now and in the future.

            The second mark of churches cultivating resurrection is that they nurture community.  Particularly communities that embody love in all it radical power.

            The third mark is that resurrecting congregations help people discern their convictions—what they believe and why.  Such congregations “become self-reflective and think critically.”  They are serious about Christian education that both informs the mind and awakens the heart.  We live in an age of thoughtlessness, so one of the ways churches can be counter-cultural and helpful to humanity is to encourage good thinking.

            The final mark is that such congregations have a vision toward ministry and service.  The authors write, “When religious leaders and the congregations they serve focus outward on meeting the needs of a hurting world, they surrender themselves to something outside of themselves, and new life is the result.”

            If we are to be set free from what holds us back, keeps us down, or locks us up, there is much we can do on our own to tap into the power of the Risen Christ and practice resurrection.  But all of that spiritual effort becomes easier and more effective if we are part of a community of people who are doing the same.  Who together are cultivating resurrection.

            On this Pentecost Sunday, let’s recommit ourselves to be such a community.  Where hearts are made tender and the transformative spiritual quest can be lived, because we raise up the good, nurture our connections, think critically and well, and live boldly with a vision of ministry and service to the world outside our walls.

            If so, then we too will be vessels of the Holy Spirit, radiating with divine glory and power, resilient and strong in this time of crisis.

Earlier, we read responsively today’s Gospel lesson.  Let’s pause to imagine what’s happening in this story—in that beautiful moment. 

               The disciples are fresh from Jerusalem where they watched their friend arrested, tortured, and executed.  They’ve cowered in fear and confusion.  Then had a series of what must have been bewildering episodes of seeing and talking to their dead friend.  Now, they’ve fled back home, to places and tasks that are familiar.  They are in Galilee, on the shore, listening to the water lapping and the breeze blowing and the fire crackling. 

And here is Jesus, their dead friend newly revealed to them once again, and this time he’s sitting here on the beach with them, helping to cook the fish, and then they eat it together. 

There’s both something strange and something simple about this story.  Nothing could be simpler than sharing food over a campfire with friends.  But this one is shrouded in trauma and mystery, because it is also a Resurrection story.  Here, are a few friends eating together after the worst violence that life could throw at them.

And it is in the strangeness and the simplicity of this moment on the beach that Jesus tells them, “Feed my sheep.  Tend my sheep.”

This Easter season we’ve talked about ways the resurrection stories apply to our current human needs from addiction and loneliness to fighting cancer.  And I’ve recommended some practical bits of advice—spending fifteen minutes in a phone call connecting with someone, eating together, walking the labyrinth, and dancing.

The task Jesus gives us in this story seems much bigger.  First, he’s inviting them, and us, to be more like God.  That’s one reason the Exodus story is paired with this Gospel today.  In the Exodus story, God hears the cries of the people suffering in slavery, and then God takes action to deliver them, to liberate them.  We are invited to be more like God—to hear the needs of those around us and to respond.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.

So this story sets us a spiritual task—to become better listeners.  And from that listening to take liberating action.

Jesus is also inviting them, and us, on a mission.  To share the good news, to make disciples, to spread this message and way of life.  And what’s going to happen when they do that is, they are going to help create a new world.  Feed my sheep.  Tend my sheep.

These resurrection stories invite us to change our lives.  They also invite us to participate in changing the world.  Joining in the new creation God has always dreamed of.  Our job is not just to do good, but to unite with God in the struggle for a better world, to fight the forces of evil, and help to set humanity free.

How do we, then, participate in the resurrection stories and experience liberation?

               In January I attended the annual retreat for United Church of Christ senior ministers, and our keynote speaker was the teacher, writer, and pastor Mary Luti.  Her talks centered on the ethical imperatives of the sacraments—baptism and communion.  When Mary talks there’s grace, humor, artfulness, and insight.  Here’s one insightful, ironic story that she shared about some colleagues:

Back in the 80’s some hip Andover Newton [Theological Seminary] faculty members decided to get off the hill and down into what was then called, forebodingly, “the inner city”. They got a sort of ministry school going in Roxbury, a predominantly Black neighborhood of Boston with real challenges and (largely bigoted) bad press. They spent hours on end consulting with area activists to learn what they could do to help address the neighborhood’s issues. One woman from the community listened patiently and politely as they nattered on, but soon she’d had enough. She stood up and began describing the richness of the community, the people who lived there, their beauty and accomplishments, their creative institutions, their courageous families, their struggle to make the neighborhood more than a frontpage horror story; and she demanded to know why smart theology guys seemed to conceive of Roxbury as a problem to be solved, not a gift to be received.

               We UCCers are so devoted to justice, to welcome, to inclusion, to doing the good, hard work of creating God’s community in the world.  But . . .

               Sometimes we are the ones who need to learn something.  We are the ones who need to receive a gift.  We are the ones who need to be set free from our own blinders and preconceptions.  Sometimes we need to be liberated from the ways we hold and use power.  Maybe we need to work more on that spiritual task of being good listeners before we act?              

               So, let’s listen to Virgilio Elizondo.  Elizondo served in the Archdiocese of San Antonio and was rector of the San Fernando Cathedral.  His lasting contribution to theology was to develop a mestizo approach in his book Galilean Journey.  I think he’s a a good teacher for us today. 

               Elizondo writes that God is often at work in the frontier regions, on the borders and the fringes, working to bring about God’s new creation.  And that the experience of pain and struggle of oppressed and excluded persons has given them insights into resurrection that the rest of us could benefit from.  He declares, “Society’s rejects—now reborn of God—begin to invite everyone to the new way that has been shown to them.  All are invited.”  They need only open their hearts to the working of the Spirit.

               What are the liberating gifts that the mestizo community has to share?  Elizabeth Johnson summarizes Virgilio Elizondo’s teaching:

First, the Galilee principle: what human beings reject, God chooses as [God’s] own.  Second, the Jerusalem principle: God entrusts the rejected with a mission, to confront the powers of this world in order to transform society.  Third, the resurrection principle: out of the suffering and death that this entails, God brings life, overcoming evil by the power of love.  These principles spell out the divine way of acting in the world made known in Christ.

               When God chooses those whom society has rejected, this choice is not just good news but is also “new life.”  A “profound rebirth.”  Because the experience of being noticed and wanted gives life.  Just as in the Exodus story, when God hears the cries of the slaves and works to deliver them.

               God chooses the oppressed, not to give them comfort, but in order to empower them in their confrontation with oppression and their efforts to transcend and transform.  The result will be the possibility of transformation for all of society.  They have divine gifts to give; if only we pay attention.

In this new self, revealed in Christ and his resurrection, we have the chance ourselves to be reborn, to rise again into new and better life as part of a transformed and better world.

               But, this doesn’t just come about magically.  We must feed the sheep.  Tend the sheep.  Or, as Elizondo states, this transformed self and society “must be worked at critically, creatively, and persistently.”

               So how do we receive these gifts and live this new life?  How do we participate in the resurrection stories and experience liberation?

               Virgilio Elizondo writes, “One of the greatest things the Christian has to offer our mixed-up and alienated world is that, while realistically facing the struggles of life, one can rise above them and experience and radiate authentic joy and hope, peace and serenity.” 

               Thus all those ordinary practices we’ve been recommending the last few weeks: spending fifteen minutes in a phone call connecting with someone, eating together, walking the labyrinth, dancing.  And today we are going to add to those Resurrection powers-- celebration.

Elizondo draws upon the mestizo traditions of fiesta and recommends that in the face of our human struggles, we claim joy, hope, and resurrection, when we celebrate with one other.

               “It is the prophetic-festive that keeps the spirit alive,” he proclaims, “and nourishes the life of the group.”

               In the fiesta we remember the past, but also get a foretaste of the future, when the fullness of God’s kingdom will come.  And the joy we experience empowers us to continue the struggle today.

So, we need to have parties.  Wide-open, multi-cultural parties that help us to transform into the people God dreams for us to be. 

Just imagine returning to the beach, this time not overwhelmed by trauma, fear, and confusion.  Imagine the disciples came to the beach with their families and friends, and this time they roasted the fish, while the children were swimming.  And then after dinner they danced, celebrating the new life they’d found in Jesus.  And the great opportunity and mission that lay ahead of them.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.

               Let’s claim that fiesta of newness for ourselves.  Whatever tries to hold you back or keep you down—the power of the Risen Christ exists to set you free, so that you too might rise up in power to live the life of fullness God has dreamed for you. 

Christianity as a Way of Life: A Systematic Theology by Kevin W. Hector
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

At times I wondered why he felt the need to give such an extensive argument for some point. Some times the understanding being developed was more traditional than I currently am. Some times it felt like aspects that should be left to metaphor and imagination were being over-analyzed. And then, some parts were profound, innovative, practical, preachable.

View all my reviews

Charge to the Pastor

by the Rev. Dr. E. Scott Jones

Countryside Community Church

5 May 2024

               Jenny, welcome to Omaha.

            Something strange happened to me in the last few years—suddenly I’m no longer one of the new guys, but am now one of the old farts.  I don’t feel like an old fart, but the reality speaks for itself.  Every local faith community we at First Central partner with, and almost every UCC church in the Living Waters Association, has a pastor, rabbi, or imam who has arrived here since I began my ministry in Omaha fourteen years ago.

            So, as the wizened old guy, I thought that for this charge to the pastor, I’d give you ten lessons I’ve learned from being a minister in Omaha, Nebraska.

• Nebraskans are nice and they don’t coast. And those were actually slogans the city and the state used a few years ago in advertising campaigns.  You’ll discover the folks who hold such ideas with irony and those who don’t.
• Sports is important. Which, you probably know already.  Sadly, football seems less important than it was fourteen years ago.  And I’ll make no further comment on that.  But volleyball, College World Series, and lately women’s basketball are HUGE.  And then we usually get cool Olympic trials every few years.  We even had Olympic curling not too long ago.
• Fall is (usually) our best season. The morning sun shines with golden radiance.  We are most likely to have our perfect, top ten weather days (and there are only ten).  And then everyone puts on their flannel and goes apple picking.  You also have to go to Valla’s at least once every autumn.
• Winter, however, is not our best season. Some aren’t too bad.  But some have repeat polar vortexes and fifty inches of snow.  Lately they’ve just been getting weirder and unpredictable.  But one rule of thumb is that at least once every winter you and your family have to go, at least for a few days, someplace warm, where the sun shines and nature still has some green in it. 
• Omaha is really like a big small town. It won’t take you long to start running into people you know everywhere you go.  The best part of this reality is the quaint charm to so much that happens here.  One of my favorites is the Fourth of July.  There are all these little neighborhood parades and people throw parties in their backyards.  Front porches are hung with bunting.  It looks like a completely different time.  And it will charm you, and you’ll fall in love with it. 
• You must have an opinion on the streetcar.
• Natural disasters. Get ready for them.  We’ve had two 500-hundred-year floods in the time I’ve been pastor.  And I think we are about due again for the next one.  Blizzards, droughts, and, of course, tornados as well.  What will astound you are the responses.  The ways in which this community musters to help people in need.  Omaha is deeply philanthropic and generous.  Filled with excellent organizations who do the hard work well.  The capacities exists.  Omaha has wonderful community spirit.
• Where we still have lots of work to do is in racial justice and class inequality, as we deal with the lasting effects of redlining and other unjust decisions from the past. The uprisings and reckonings of 2020 made all too visible our shortcomings and how much work remains.  Here too there are vibrant groups doing good, hard work.  And it’s our job to follow and partner so that we can manifest our Christian values on the ground.
• Omaha is a place where you can make real change. This is a small enough city still that a few well-organized people can have a major impact.  For instance, twelve years ago the LGBTQ community, alongside the progressive congregations, and younger business people organized to pass our Equality Ordinance.  And then successfully defended it from challenges.  And in more recent years it has been expanded with no controversy and unanimous votes of the City Council.  Last year we did face new threats against bodily autonomy, reproductive justice, and LGBTQ rights in the state legislature.  The vast array of civil society that organized against it was a glory to behold.  We lost last year, but this year we prevented most of the evil bills.  So welcome to this fight.  It is one we where you Jenny, leading your congregation, can make a real difference, real lasting change, that imagines more and improves the lives of people.
• And finally, number ten. As the demographic trends show that the world is undergoing deep, radical change when it comes to religion, church, and spirituality, you’ll discover that the most fun thing about being a pastor in Omaha, Nebraska is that here good preaching and dynamic pastoral leadership work. They are effective. They bear fruit. 
  
  And your setting, your congregation is just primed to take off.  To imagine more.  To cast a vision, organize your mission, manifest your commitments, engage with effective partners, and help to meet the needs of this community.  It’s fun.

So, again, welcome.  There’s lots of good, difficult, and rewarding work to do.  And you’re going to enjoy it.