Trinity Sunday is here again. It’s unique in the church calendar. The other 51 Sundays are devoted to pieces of what the old German theologians called Heilsgeschichte—Heil meaning “salvation,” and Geschichte meaning “history” of “story.” The old Germans were referring to the narrative of God’s redemptive acts. The Revised Common Lectionary that we follow at FAB is a tool that helps us tell and retell that “salvation story” Sunday to Sunday, year after year. But Trinity Sunday is the only Sunday devoted to a doctrine rather than to a piece of our Heilsgeschichte.

“But Pastor, isn’t Christmas devoted to incarnation, Easter to salvation, Pentecost to sanctification?” Perhaps. These seasons and Sundays tell the stories theologians gather up into these doctrines, but the Sundays themselves tell the stories. Trinity Sunday has no story to tell. Each year, the Lectionary reaches for Bible passages that mention (or seem to mention) “God in three persons.” This year, that’s the first creation story in Genesis 1. This is theologically correct, but biblically, a stretch. We also get 2 Corinthians 13:11-13, because of the letter’s beautiful benediction: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” The Gospel Lesson is Matthew 28:16-20. Like the Corinthians lesson, it has less to do with the Trinity than it does something else, but Jesus says as he commissions the disciples, “…baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…”

A lot of pastors punt Trinity Sunday to a guest preacher. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll preach Trinity Sunday. I’ll preach it if you set aside any expectations that the preacher is going to settle “same substance” vs. “similar substance,” explain “consubstantial with the Father,” or set up an ice maker, a water dispenser, and a hot plate on the chancel. Deal? 

I like the doctrine of the Trinity. I like it not because it explains God or because I can explain it. I like it because it doesn’t and because I can’t. In trying and coming up short, it says God is larger than words and ideas, like so much of life. I can’t explain to you what’s happening within me when I breathe out over the ocean and see with my eyes the subtle curvature of the earth. Or how the earth embraces me when light spring rain kisses my arms and face. How it’s my whole world when Elliot says I’m his “buddy.” Or how learning and laughing with you on Wednesdays and Sundays makes me feel at home. I can’t explain it. I believe God is like that.

I’ll preach Trinity Sunday this year. Y’all come prepared to leave with fewer words and more wonder. The sermon’s thesis statement is: “Wow.” Deal?

~ Rev. Zach Bay