The Holy Trinity: 3 Persons in one God, like 3 leaves forming one shamrock, as St. Patrick taught! When I was very little, I blessed myself in the name of Father, Son and Holy Ghost.  Anybody else remember those days?  Then we progressed to Father, Son and Holy Spirit, which speaks more clearly to our modern minds.  The word ghost always made me think of the Casper cartoon – but at least he was the Friendly Ghost.  In grad school I heard the Holy Trinity described as Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.  This variation underscores the different roles of the members of the Holy Trinity, and also veers away from the male metaphor of Father.  God is not an old bearded white guy in the sky – God is spirit, neither male nor female.  God took on flesh in Jesus Christ, a male human being, but God Godself is spirit.  Another reason for the change in language was sensitivity toward those whose associations with “father” are traumatic, not tender, and whose father or father figures were abusers not advocates.  When I was a hospital chaplain, called to baptize very tiny or very ill babies in neonatal intensive care, I baptized them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Good thing – because sometimes the pastor of the baby’s family would call and ask what formula the chaplain used to baptize.  If it were not “Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” he considered the baptism invalid and performed a do-over.

I’m blessed to have had the kind of Dad who makes it easy and natural for me to call God “Father.”  There’s a beautiful redbud tree in our memorial garden that I call the Lee Tree, because when my Dad died the congregation came together and donated that tree in his memory.  In spring it’s a riot of tiny purple beads covering each branch.  As spring progresses it greens up, with leaves gradually replacing flowers.   It becomes a haven for birds and provides shade for the lovely plants growing under its canopy.  It’s a beautiful, life-giving tree, and my Dad was a handsome, life-giving man.  He endured deep losses, kept the faith, loved sacrificially, and gave generously of himself to family, friends and community.  Many images of him stay with me, but one of the most precious is the sight of him kneeling beside his bed at night, saying his prayers.  Unfortunately I have no idea what those prayers were, but seeing him on his knees each night and at Mass each weekend taught me that God was the source of his strength, resiliency, and resurrection hope, following the death of his wife when we 3 children were still young, and the death of my sister when her sons were still young.  He could have been bitter.  But he was grateful, faithful, and deeply devoted to those who remained.  I think our Father in Heaven would approve of what my Dad taught me, overwhelmingly by example rather than words.

Nobody’s perfect.  I know that not every way in which I take after my Dad is good.  For instance, the older I get the more I realize that I seem to have inherited his impatience!  (That’s why D.W. Winnicott spoke about “good enough parenting.”)  What did your Dad, or the father figure in your life, teach you that has stuck?  What lesson have you learned that would please our Heavenly Parent?  Another way to put it: what are qualities of your Dad or of a father figure in your life that could be considered a true reflection of our Heavenly Parent?  (And what does your parenting teach your child about our Heavenly Parent?)

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This weekend’s epistle and Gospel were chosen for Holy Trinity weekend because each includes Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Luther loved the passage from Romans:

…since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand.  (Rom. 5:1-2)

In other words, God’s love, incarnate and in-the-flesh in Jesus, ushers us into safe space, a holy haven of God’s forgiveness and acceptance.

“…[A]nd we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.”  Boasting here isn’t bragging.  It’s confidently expressing our deep trust, our bedrock belief that beyond this life with a small “l” there is amazing, endless Life with a capital “L.” 

And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.  (Romans 5:3-5)

That’s a lot to chew on.  To help us digest it, here’s Eugene Peterson’s “contemporary version” from The Message:

3-5 There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!

 

Life includes suffering, which Peterson calls “troubles.”  Faith involves even more suffering, because we are clued in that Jesus is present in the last, the lost, and the least.  So we hear the call to take the suffering of others seriously, to feel it within ourselves, and to do what we can to prevent and alleviate it.    

In reflecting on this, Martin Luther says that our own suffering is potentially a gift that gives us laser-like focus on God.  When money, health, influence, power, employment, perhaps even our relationships go belly up, there are only 2 possible directions to turn: either despair or God.  Thank Heaven we know we have a Heavenly Parent who loves us beyond all reason, into Whose hands we place our lives, and to Whom we are bold to pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”    Amen

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