Today is Trinity Sunday, the day when theologians have traditionally dragged
out every $5 word they've ever dreamed up, leaving us wondering what the
hell they're talking about. Truth is, they don't know what they're talking about
either. If you have any doubt about this, listen to how one theologian explains
the Trinity:
In this Trinity of Persons, the Son is begotten of the Father by an eternal generation, and the Holy Spirit proceeds by an eternal procession from the Father and the Son. Yet, notwithstanding this difference as to origin, the Persons are co-eternal and co-equal: all alike are uncreated and omnipotent.
So, now that we've cleared that up, let's move on, shall we?
Back in an earlier time, before everything became so wordy and obscure, the Greeks used a simple but beautiful word to describe what's going on here. Perichoresis. Dancing around. God is like three persons caught up in one big joyful dance. Their life and work are bound together. They are what they are only in relationship to each other. Perichoresis. A joyful dance.
In Jesus, the second person of that Trinity, you and I are brought into the dance, into the relationship. Perichoresis. It says as much about us as it does about Ultimate Reality.
Trudy the bag lady understands this great mystery.
She is a character in a play from the 80s by Jane Wagner and Lily Tomlin called
the Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe.
Trudy is crazy. Much of the time she's waiting on a street corner for her friends from outer space to show up. One night, she looks up at the stars, and she is in awe. She has what we would call a religious experience. She realizes how vast and glorious the universe is, and perhaps even more importantly, that she, in some small way, is a part of it all. About that moment she says:
...as usual,
I felt in awe.
And then I felt even deeper in awe at this capacity we have to be in awe about something.
Then I became even more awestruck
at the thought that I was,
in some small way,
a part of that which I was in awe about.
And this feeling went on
and on
and on...
My space chums got a word for it: "awe infinitum."
"Suddenly I burst into song: 'Awe, sweet mystery of life, at last I found thee...'
And I felt so good inside and my heart felt so full, I decided I would set
In this Trinity of Persons, the Son is begotten of the Father by an eternal generation, and the Holy Spirit proceeds by an eternal procession from the Father and the Son. Yet, notwithstanding this difference as to origin, the Persons are co-eternal and co-equal: all alike are uncreated and omnipotent.
So, now that we've cleared that up, let's move on, shall we?
Back in an earlier time, before everything became so wordy and obscure, the Greeks used a simple but beautiful word to describe what's going on here. Perichoresis. Dancing around. God is like three persons caught up in one big joyful dance. Their life and work are bound together. They are what they are only in relationship to each other. Perichoresis. A joyful dance.
In Jesus, the second person of that Trinity, you and I are brought into the dance, into the relationship. Perichoresis. It says as much about us as it does about Ultimate Reality.
Trudy the bag lady understands this great mystery.
She is a character in a play from the 80s by Jane Wagner and Lily Tomlin called
the Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe.
Trudy is crazy. Much of the time she's waiting on a street corner for her friends from outer space to show up. One night, she looks up at the stars, and she is in awe. She has what we would call a religious experience. She realizes how vast and glorious the universe is, and perhaps even more importantly, that she, in some small way, is a part of it all. About that moment she says:
...as usual,
I felt in awe.
And then I felt even deeper in awe at this capacity we have to be in awe about something.
Then I became even more awestruck
at the thought that I was,
in some small way,
a part of that which I was in awe about.
And this feeling went on
and on
and on...
My space chums got a word for it: "awe infinitum."
"Suddenly I burst into song: 'Awe, sweet mystery of life, at last I found thee...'
And I felt so good inside and my heart felt so full, I decided I would set
time
aside each day to do awe-robics. Because at the moment you are most in awe of all there is about life that you don't understand, you are closer to understanding it all than at any other time.
Trudy is in awe realizing she, seemingly so small and insignificant, is connected to something big and grand.
This is what the mystery of the Trinity is getting at: that we are not rugged individualists charting our own separate ways through life. No, like the One in whose image we are created, we are in relationship, connected, caught up, like Trudy the bag lady, in a joyful cosmic dance.
What Trudy describes happened in a different way to the great Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. After several years in the monastery, he had come to think of himself as some kind of spiritual rock star, someone set apart from other mortals, in a different jet stream from the rest of us.
And then one day, on a trip to downtown Louisville to see the dentist, as he waited on the corner, he was overwhelmed looking around him at all the passersby. And he realized that he was not separate from them at all, that he was a part of them and they of him. He realized he was connected. It was a joyful revelation, and he cried out,
I thank you God that I am like all the rest. That I am a human being among other human beings. It is a glorious destiny to be member of the human race.
A moment of being caught up in the dance. Perichoresis.
Where did we Westerners ever get this idea that we are each rugged individualists, locked in competition with each other for things and for status and for love and recognition. How did we get so mixed up about this, when the reality is that we, like the God in whose image we were created, are all wrapped up in each other.
The hands of other people welcome us from our mother's womb into this world at birth, and they feed and bathe us and teach us to walk. Other people teach us to speak, to hold a pencil, to read, to solve an equation in algebra, to learn the skills for a job. Other people awaken our bodies to exquisite joy, care for us when we are sick, and hold us close in times of sadness and struggle. And one day the hands of others will lower us back into the earth.
Like the one in whose image we are made, we are at our core, all wrapped up in each other, all caught up in the great cosmic dance. Perichoresis. It's what we celebrate on this feast of the Holy Trinity.
It's what we remember every time we come to this table. You may be Bill and Melinda Gates or you may be homeless, Mother Theresa or Kim Kardashian, Albert Einstein or a high school dropout. You could even be a Republican. When we come to this table, none of this stuff matters. What does matter is what lies much deeper, that all of us are connected, caught up in the same joyful cosmic dance.
aside each day to do awe-robics. Because at the moment you are most in awe of all there is about life that you don't understand, you are closer to understanding it all than at any other time.
Trudy is in awe realizing she, seemingly so small and insignificant, is connected to something big and grand.
This is what the mystery of the Trinity is getting at: that we are not rugged individualists charting our own separate ways through life. No, like the One in whose image we are created, we are in relationship, connected, caught up, like Trudy the bag lady, in a joyful cosmic dance.
What Trudy describes happened in a different way to the great Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. After several years in the monastery, he had come to think of himself as some kind of spiritual rock star, someone set apart from other mortals, in a different jet stream from the rest of us.
And then one day, on a trip to downtown Louisville to see the dentist, as he waited on the corner, he was overwhelmed looking around him at all the passersby. And he realized that he was not separate from them at all, that he was a part of them and they of him. He realized he was connected. It was a joyful revelation, and he cried out,
I thank you God that I am like all the rest. That I am a human being among other human beings. It is a glorious destiny to be member of the human race.
A moment of being caught up in the dance. Perichoresis.
Where did we Westerners ever get this idea that we are each rugged individualists, locked in competition with each other for things and for status and for love and recognition. How did we get so mixed up about this, when the reality is that we, like the God in whose image we were created, are all wrapped up in each other.
The hands of other people welcome us from our mother's womb into this world at birth, and they feed and bathe us and teach us to walk. Other people teach us to speak, to hold a pencil, to read, to solve an equation in algebra, to learn the skills for a job. Other people awaken our bodies to exquisite joy, care for us when we are sick, and hold us close in times of sadness and struggle. And one day the hands of others will lower us back into the earth.
Like the one in whose image we are made, we are at our core, all wrapped up in each other, all caught up in the great cosmic dance. Perichoresis. It's what we celebrate on this feast of the Holy Trinity.
It's what we remember every time we come to this table. You may be Bill and Melinda Gates or you may be homeless, Mother Theresa or Kim Kardashian, Albert Einstein or a high school dropout. You could even be a Republican. When we come to this table, none of this stuff matters. What does matter is what lies much deeper, that all of us are connected, caught up in the same joyful cosmic dance.
Here we celebrate what Trudy the bag lady and Thomas Merton both
understood, that despite our apparent separations, despite the boundaries
erected between us by our culture, we though many, are one—just like the one
who made us.
It's time for some awe-robics.
It's time for some awe-robics.
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