The early Christians who first articulated the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, that is, God, Jesus, and Spirit eternally co-existent and in relationship one with the others, were people who remembered the persecution of their sisters and brothers in faith in the not so distant past. For three centuries, Christians built community in secret, prayed in secret, studied in secret. Those who practiced their faith publicly were imprisoned, stoned, thrown to the lions, crucified. A few years after Constantine declared Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire, people of faith publicly gathered to debate and discuss the nature of God—a debate and discussion that produced, among other doctrine, the doctrine of the trinity. This was no ivory tower, no theological conference among professional theologians, no heady intellectualism. To those who gathered to debate and discuss, the nature of God mattered. The doctrine of the trinity mattered deeply. People—and not just a few people—had died to proclaim and pass on to the next generation the good news of God in Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit in the world. Perhaps most controversial, most powerful, most counter cultural was this: God did not deign to take a body. God embraced a body in order to be with us in Jesus.
Because the Greek ethos deeply influenced the Apostle Paul and other biblical writers, they articulated a Christian message that subjugated the body and lifted up the spirit, a dualism so ingrained in New Testament scripture and contemporary American life that we may not even realize there is a different way to view the world. But the people of faith who gathered to debate and discuss the nature of God cast aside this dualistic view and instead declared God incarnate in the body of Jesus.
God embraces a body, the body of Jesus who, like every other body, hungered and tired, yearned and ached. At the very center of Jesus’ story is the story of his body, that he, his body, is delivered into the world at Christmas, that he, his body, fasts 40 days and encounters the tempter in the wilderness, that he, his body, is beaten and suffers and is crucified on Good Friday, that he, his body, is raised and transformed on Easter. Christians disagree on many details of doctrine, but I think we all agree on this: that Jesus’ body matters. Upon the ascension of Jesus’ body to the right hand of God, God pours the Holy Spirit upon all flesh. On the day of Pentecost and in all the places and times the Holy Spirit appears in scripture, the Holy Spirit is incarnate, is embodied. The Spirit doesn’t blow aimlessly but roots itself in the body of Christ and God’s beloved creation. As Lutherans, we pray for and trust that the Spirit takes root in us on the day of our baptism, that the Spirit reveals itself through spiritual gifts and leads us in lives of faithfulness and love. The Holy Spirit, who on this Sunday in particular we remember is the very same creator God, takes up residence in us. Our bodies matter because God has poured out the Holy Spirit on our bodies, all bodies—according to the prophet Joel and Peter on the day of Pentecost.
In these troubling days, when we witness across our country what I hope will lead to lasting change, when we witness yet another black body murdered without a conviction, without a trial, I pray that the doctrine of the Holy Trinity inspires us and leads us to say: Black lives matter. Not that others’ lives don’t matter because, of course, every life matters, every body matters. But in our beloved nation that strives to be a land of equality and opportunity and greatness, we continue to live in the stranglehold of racism. I say stranglehold because racism is not just about what individuals say and do but about a system that is larger than any one of us. Unfortunately, racism is so deeply embedded in US history that doing something other than unconsciously perpetuating it is difficult and requires much of us. What exactly healing from racism requires, I’m honestly not sure, though I imagine it will be some combination of humility and listening, civic engagement and advocacy. In the healing process, we will put our collective foot in our mouths. I’m sure I will put my foot in my mouth. We will make mistakes. We will disagree about what constitutes racism and many other things. We will move one step forward and three steps back.
Some of us will be angry because we have been hurt for so long by racism, and some of us will be angry because we don’t agree with the analysis of the problem. Why single out black bodies? And what about good police officers, those who truly serve and protect? And some of us will be ashamed because we know we haven’t done all we could to unpack our white privilege, and some of us will be confused because we thought we did all our work just to be told we aren’t ‘woke’ enough. Some of us will be frustrated because we’ve been on the anti-racism train for a long time, just waiting for others to jump on board, and some of us will be sad because we just want all humanity to live in peace. Some of us will be tired, tired of the same fight, over and over again. No matter how much we stumble as we go about this healing process, no matter how we feel, today, I hear in scripture and in the theological tradition of this church God calling us to care for bodies because bodies matter. And the collective sorrow of our nation is that black bodies have never mattered, at least not in the way white bodies have.
I was in college when I first read the work of Audre Lorde, a poet who taught at New York University, an activist, a mom, a black women. In both her prose and poetry, she was a powerful, articulate writer. This week as we communally grieved the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and so many others, I have not been able to get Lorde’s words out of my head from a paper she wrote and delivered in 1980 about the different experiences of black and white women. She wrote: “Some problems we share as women, some we do not. You fear your children will grow up to join the patriarchy and testify against you, we fear our children will be dragged from a car and shot down in the street, and you will turn your backs upon the reasons they are dying.” Dear friends in Christ, as we give thanks to God for meeting us in the body of Jesus and in us, the body of Christ, through the pouring out of the Holy Spirit, let us not turn our backs on the reasons black bodies are dying.
On the only Sunday in the church year where we lift up a doctrine, the doctrine of the trinity surprises us with its relevance. Almighty God showed up in the body of Jesus, shows up in the body of Christ, and having met God in the beloved bodies of humanity, the doctrine of the trinity sets us on a path towards healing. Thanks be to God! Amen.