Readings

Trinity Sunday: it’s the classic banana peel in the Church Year, tempting preachers to explain the Trinity. So: no explanation, but an observation. Between Isaac Newton’s Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy, published in 1687, and the Fifth Solvay Conference on Physics in Brussels in 1927, the doctrine of the Trinity seemed an embarrassment. Things were supposed to make sense, to be understandable. One God; Three Persons; doesn’t add up. It’s turned out that at Brussels Bohr had the better argument than Einstein: reality at the quantum level is strange. We’ve been able to write complex formulas, harness this strangeness in our technology, but—judging from the Nova episodes—no one’s claiming to understand it. That, of course, does not prove the doctrine of the Trinity, but it should make us less nervous about its strangeness. We’re talking, after all, not about the creation but the Creator.

Our readings opened with the creation account, an opportunity to contemplate the skill and glory of the Trinity at work: the Spirit hovering, God speaking (the Word). In recent centuries scholars have rightly pointed out that the Old Testament writers didn’t know the Trinity as such, so rather than “the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters” (KJV), we have “while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters” (NRSV). But it’s equally true that once Genesis and Matthew are in the same book, it’s hard to imagine the Trinity being completely offstage until, say, Jesus’ baptism. So, not a bad text for Trinity Sunday.

Genesis and Matthew are also connected in another important way. Genesis: “have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” We’ve rather made a mess of that. Matthew’s “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” is also about getting that back on track.

But preacher, you might be thinking, earth-keeping doesn’t sound like one of Matthew’s themes. True enough. But recall what Jesus does in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount. Arguing against anxiety: “Look at the birds of the air…  Consider the lilies of the field.” No point in talking about dominion if the audience isn’t paying attention to the created order. Learn from creation; then we can talk about dominion.

It is, as Psalm 8 celebrates, a glorious thing to be a human being. Jesus is about reclaiming that glory: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.”

Notice that the command isn’t “Go therefore and make Christians of all nations.” ‘Christian’ is usually simply a box to check in a census: “Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Other?” Disciple: a life-time learner. Other rabbis had disciples, but the goal there was to stop learning from that rabbi at some point and hang out one’s own shingle. Not with Jesus, certainly not Matthew’s Jesus, identified from the start as Emmanuel (“God with us”). It’s a life-long personal relationship.

That’s the implicit challenge in “Go therefore and make disciples:” are we still learning from Jesus? That, by the way, is the big downside to Confirmation, which can encourage us to think that now we’ve learned all we need. All those big words in the Baptismal Covenant that we regularly repeat: “evil, Good News, justice, dignity:” we need to keep learning from Jesus what those words mean.

“Baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Why does Matthew’s Gospel talk about baptism? That might sound like a strange question, but recall the Sermon on the Mount. “You will know them by their fruits.… Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.… Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock” (Mat 7:16-24). It’s what we do that matters. Where does baptism fit?

It’s back to the logic of being Jesus’ disciple. The other rabbis: folk decided which rabbi (if any) they’d like to be a disciple of. Jesus throughout all the Gospels chooses his disciples. Peter, Andrew, James, John at the lakeshore, Matthew at the tax booth. As we hear in John’s Gospel, “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father” (6:44); “You did not choose me but I chose you” (15:16). That’s what my baptism says: Jesus chose me; my vocation, to be Jesus’ disciple. Baptism isn’t so much about the Christian life being my project as me being Jesus’ project.

And, since we’re celebrating Trinity Sunday, the other thing to say about my baptism, your baptism, is that it’s the invitation to the Mother of All Banquets. Without something like the doctrine of the Trinity “God is love” is a non sequitur, for ‘love’ is a transitive verb, demanding an object. The doctrine of the Trinity: before creation, an eternal community of love, joy, celebration: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Scripture’s vision of the human destiny: entry into that community, an eternity of participating in the inexhausable mystery and joy of the divine life. Let us not be slow in continuing to respond to that invitation!