Trinity Sunday (B)

I’d like to tell you about one of those moments where God met me before I even knew it. I mentioned that I grew up in what is now the Silicon Valley, and I went to Fremont School for kindergarten in Menlo Park, which was about a mile from my house. In those days, I used to walk home with my best friend Brad. It must have been early in the school year because the Fall had started and the leaves were coming down. After Brad and I turned the first corner - just a block from Fremont School - we came upon what seemed to be huge trees dropping beautiful brown, yellow, and orange leaves. But it wasn’t only their colors; it was their flight pattern as they fell that was marvelous and mysterious. They would swivel and dodge as they descended and Brad and I discovered they were impossible to catch. But we tried. We tried again. We tried but we couldn’t catch a single leaf. We were mesmerized. And while we were trying to catch these incredible, miraculous failing leaves, we saw a squirrel. And being five at the time, it was fine to talk with animals. So, Brad and I started chatting with him, “Hi, Mr. Squirrel. What are you doing, squirrel? It’s good to see you, Mr. Squirrel.” Between the leaves, Mr. Squirrel, the Fall, the friendship, time began to pass, in what the writer Anne Lamott describes as characteristic of childhood, in “big, round hours.” So, I was surprised - but now I realized I shouldn’t have been - when my dad arrived probably an hour or two later, worried about where his son was. “Greg, what have you been doing? You should be home by now.” You might think I was worried, but really I was still entranced by all the wonders of that autumn moment. I said, “Dad, Brad and I were just talking here to Mr. Squirrel - see him up there - and trying to catch the leaves. See, Dad, as they fall (and I demonstrated) you can’t catch them. Look.” And here’s the proof that my dad was truly the laid-back Greek. He wasn’t just the engineer who analyzed Coke glasses with a high center of gravity, he just let us try to catch leaves. And ever after that day, he always talked about how wonderful it was that I took some time in the midst of a day to catch beautiful autumn leaves and talk to squirrels...

I’ve read somewhere – I can’t remember where – that Nicodemus is the patron saint of curiosity. I love that. I think I’d also claim him as the patron saint of all those of us with an uneasy or restless faith. Those who aren’t satisfied with easy answers, those who keep questioning, those who want to believe and also understand, but at least to believe even when we don’t understand! Even more though, I think this story says a lot not simply about Nicodemus about also about God. God is patient. God doesn’t give up. If God keeps working in and on and through Nicodemus across three years and sixteen chapters in John’s Gospel, God will keep working in and on and through us...

("Our celebration of the Trinity is not only a credal affirmation that a community of persons is at the bottom of existence. It is also a remembrance of our source and goal: the personal God from whom we came, the God who calls us back home...")

("Florence Chadwick was a world-class swimmer, the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions. In 1952 named Florence attempted to swim from Catalina Island to the California coast. After about 15 hours a thick fog set in. Exhausted, she kept swimming, but finally she told her mother who was in a boat next to her that she couldn't go any further. When they brought her aboard she realized she was just one mile from her destination...")

"Our celebration of the Trinity is not only a credal affirmation that a community of persons is at the bottom of existence. It is also a remembrance of our source and goal: the personal God from whom we came, the God who calls us back home..."

("A poem by CS Lewis captures the practical implications of God's transcendence. It's called Footnote to All Prayers. 'He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou, And dream of Pheidian fancies and embrace in heart Symbols (I know) which cannot be the thing Thou art...")

("This is a beautiful story that illuminates the idea that one can enter into the heart of God through any of the "faces" of the Trinity. Three priests and a lay brother are the only inhabitants of the monastery. Yet it is known for the quality of spiritual guidance a pilgrim receives within its walls...")

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