Delivered 18 June 2000, the Saturday service based on the readings for Trinity Sunday.
Welcome
This is a prayer for the help of the Holy Spirit attributed to Saint Anthony of Padua, who's feast day was earlier this week:
O God, send forth your Holy Spirit into my heart that I may perceive, into
my mind that I may remember, and into my soul that I may meditate. Inspire
me to speak with piety, holiness, tenderness and mercy. Teach, guide and direct
my thoughts and senses from beginning to end. May your grace ever help and
correct me, and may I be strengthened now with wisdom from on high, for the
sake of your infinite mercy. Amen.
The Lectionary
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The Sermon
Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from his son Jesus the Christ, and from the Holy Spirit. Amen
Contrary to what Hallmark would have you believe, this is Holy Trinity Sunday. I've known a lot of pastors over the years, and one of the things that looks really appealing to someone who only writes two or three sermons a year is that a pastor approaching retirement probably has a dozen sermons for every Sunday in the three-year cycle of the lectionary and can just go back three or six years and dust one off. With my occasional sermon it seemed unlikely that I would ever get the same day of the church year more than once.
To my surprise, although the lessons are different this year, I brought the message last year on this day. Larkin often chides me that my sermons sound more like history lectures than sermons, and in rereading the message from last year it was certainly the case. We talked about Athanasius and the creed that is named after him. I read the entire Athanasian Creed, which is several times longer than either the Apostles or Nicene Creeds. I'm going to try not to do a history lesson today.
As we go through life we find that there are times of confusion and times of certainty. We move from one to the other either by careful study and growing understanding, which is the process of education, or by sudden moments of clarity, the "Aha!" moments. Moments that may be inspiration, perhaps revelation. But we suddenly get it.
One day we can't buy a clue, the next day we understand in such clarity that we wonder how we could have ever been confused.
Do I expect that after this sermon you are suddenly going to get it? No, even I don't have that kind of arrogance. I'm not saying that you don't already "get it," although I certainly feel that there are things that I don't get. And the essence of the Trinity, our focus this weekend, is certainly one of those things that rational beings are likely to not get. But, and I think this is of crucial importance to us and an important part of the Gospel for today, we don't have to get it.
Let's look at Nicodemus. John tells us that he came to Jesus "by night." Scholars tell us that when reading John we should expect that any time a word has two possible meanings we should suspect that John meant both of them. On the other hand, this could just be the over-analytic rational Van trying to dig a meaning out of nothing, it may have just fit Nicodemus' schedule to see Jesus after dinner.
Of the two likely meanings, the first is that the meeting may have taken place because Nicodemus didn't want to be seen. At this point it isn't likely that he would have had a problem being seen with Jesus, the Pharisees were constantly probing Jesus anyway, but if he was starting to see something important in this rabbi he may not have wanted to have doubters around, he might not have wanted to risk "losing face" in front of other Pharisees. So it's quite possible that "at night" meant a desire for privacy.
But it's also very likely that what John means is that Nicodemus didn't get it, he was "in the dark," one of the children of Israel who walked in darkness.
And Jesus certainly responded as if Nicodemus didn't get it. "I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." In the other Gospels this is the more familiar "born again" rather than John's "born from above." Musicians should appreciate John's choice of words, it's a concept known to every music teacher, any band leader, every choir director. "OK, let's take it from the top." We can't hear the tone of voice Jesus is using here, I think he's gently telling us that we don't get it.
I've been in the choir with both Larkin and Carl in charge, and it is rare that either has anything other than a patient and encouraging tone when the anthem collapses in wreckage - every member of the choir is singing a slightly different interpretation of the notes. But my father was a choir director, and he never on his best days had the level of patience that Carl has, and I can hear the exasperation in his voice saying, "OK, let's take it from the top."
Because Nicodemus did come at night, seriously seeking the truth from this rabbi, without bringing a crowd along to challenge Jesus, I think we can hear the patient voice of the shepherd here, not the angry voice that the Lord used with the money changers. And he's saying "OK, let's take it from the top." Let's take your life from the top. Come with me and you can take your life over again, be born from above.
But inherent in that is the other message - "You just don't get it." It's also inherent in this message that we don't have to.
Jesus goes on: "The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes." As a rational person with a scientific bent that verse has always bothered me a little, because now we do know where the wind comes from and where it is going if we choose to. The analytic part of me always wonders if we no longer need to worry about this lesson now that we know so much about the wind, where it comes from, why it blows so strong, and where it goes.
But the folks that Jesus spoke with most of the time were fisherman and shepherds and farmers, they lived in tiny houses and therefore lived most of their lives outdoors. They didn't go to Payless or Costco under those giant roofs, they shopped outdoors. They could read the clouds and they probably knew a lot more about the weather than Harry Wappler. So maybe the story is on two levels again, it's the wind of the Spirit that we're hearing about, the wind of the Spirit that we're supposed to hear.
Doppler radar isn't going to show us the wind of the spirit, but there are times that we can see the wind without all that technology. When can we see the wind? When the wind picks the leaves from the trees and carries them along, or lifts the dust from the ground.
This suggests that without some incredible "spirit radar," a tool that isn't likely to be developed in our lifetime, that even without it we can see the spirit moving by what it carries along. What will we see? Will it be dust in the wind? Leaves blown before the storm? I hope it's me. I hope it's this church, Trinity Lutheran Church on Whidbey Island. I hope it's you. When we are carried along on that wind it will be visible. When we look around at this community I think we can see the spirit moving, I think we are being carried along on the wind of the spirit.
There simply is no other explanation for what happens in this place. And the best part of it? We come here "at night" like Nicodemus. We come here without a clue! We're in the dark! We don't get it!
And this is the Gospel of the Holy Trinity: We don't have to. We take it from the top, we are born from above, and we are borne on the wind of the Spirit. The invisible part of the Holy Trinity that becomes visible when we move with that wind.
In the name of the one Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.