The Poetry of God

Trinity Sunday; Isaiah 6:1-8; John 3:1-17; St. Paul’s, 5/27/2018

Jim Melnyk: “The Poetry of God”

Our journey begins with God.  For Jesus, like for all of Israel, it all begins with God.  It is God who creates.  It is God who longs for creation.  It is God who loves.  It is God who sends. For God so loves the world, John tells us, that God gives to us all God’s only Son.  

Our journey continues with Jesus.  The stories from John show us Jesus as the unique expression of God’s love.  The Word made flesh.  One who teaches with authority and relates to even the least loved with compassion and grace. 

Our journey carries on in and through the Holy Spirit of God, who hovers over creation at its birth and filled the first human creatures with breath, who blows where the Spirit chooses, and who ultimately connects us intimately with God. 

The story of Nicodemus ties all this together. It’s a story about what happens when the world of the literal and the world of metaphor and mystery collide.  It’s a storyline that is as real for us today as it was for poor old Nicodemus who had his literal world, and his orderly religion and faith, turned upside down and shaken out by a simple – or perhaps not so simple – preacher from Galilee.  “What are you saying, Jesus? Can a person return to his or her mother’s womb?”

It’s been said that “Nicodemus comes to Jesus expecting a dialogue in dogmatics, but what he gets from Jesus is poetry.”  (Nancy Hastings Sehested, Sojourners Online, paraphrased).  In other words, when the world of the literal and the world of metaphor and mystery collide, it’s the sure-footed, it’s the absolute-minded, it’s the Life-in-Control, and the I-Know-What-it’s-All-About, sorts of people who get swamped; and it’s the God-is-Beyond-Us, the Welcome-the-Mystery, the Don’t-Need-Proof, and the Don’t-Need-to-Know-it-All, sorts of folks who find themselves on a wild ride into the mystery of God, and therefore into the very heart of God.

Jesus and Nicodemus talk about being “born from above” or “born again” and Nicodemus can’t seem to get beyond the literal words of Jesus – though the story tells us he gets it later – that by the end of the gospel he is a faithful follower of Jesus. 

Isaiah talks about being transported into the presence of the Living God, who is sitting high and lofty on a throne with smoke and fire and awesome creatures serving and praising the Holy One.  Is it a vision, or is he really there?  Does it even matter?

Paul talks about Abba – the Aramaic word for “father” – a parent-like God who adopts us as God’s own children. 

The Psalmist tells us that God makes Lebanon skip like a calf, and Mount Hermon skip like a young wild ox!  Imagine that! Almost as cool as the Leviathan from last week!

As modern day human beings, many of us struggle – at least from time to time – with the same sorts of questions posed by Nicodemus.  Can a person return to his or her mother’s womb?  Can we really believe in a God who becomes human flesh and dwells among us?  Can we truly believe in a God who embraces death as a way to bring about new life?  Can we believe in a God we can take into ourselves in the sacrament of Holy Eucharist and who fills us with Holy Spirit – a God who fills us with the dream that through embracing and celebrating our diversity, we can become one with each other and one with God?

If it’s all about what we can prove we might as well fold up our tents and go home.  Understanding the idea of Holy Trinity – understanding the whole idea of our faith all boils down to a God we experience rather than a God we can explain.  We see the evidence of someone-something beyond us, and yet mysteriously within us.  We find ourselves transformed by a God who comes to us in so many ways, and through so many people in our lives.

In the end, it’s the experience of God that gets us – not the word pictures of ancient Scripture or even modern-day parables like The Shack.  The words may capture our attention – they may even get us to take a closer look at this whole God-thing – but it’s the experience of the Living God in our lives, and the experience of God in the lives of those around us, that actually captures our hearts, that actually captures our minds, and captures our souls.

If we get ourselves all flustered over where in the world – or beyond the world – Jesus meant when he said “born from above,” or how three persons can be one person, or one can be three, well, then we’ve left the world of metaphor and mystery behind and joined the ranks of all the literalists – those who in their minds limit the scope and power of God to only the words in the Book – and then seek to legislate those words for everyone else.  We find ourselves trying to calculate the speed of light rather than enjoying a sudden flash of lightning or the warmth of the sun.  We find ourselves wrestling over the scientific impossibility of things like two people in love becoming one flesh, rather than reveling in the dizziness of a lover’s kiss.

The truth is this: the Trinity is one of the best, and perhaps even one of the hardest, ways we’ve come to speak about a God who from the very beginning of time loves us; who from the very beginning of time calls us; who from the very beginning of time comes to us; who from the very beginning of time longs for us; and who from the very beginning of time lives within us.  The Trinity is about a God whose very personality – a God whose very genetic code (if I may wax metaphorically about God for a moment) a God whose very genetic code is that of relationship. The Trinity is about a God who creates us in love, it’s about a God who calls us in love, and it’s about a God who lives with us and in us through love.

The Trinity is a great dance of God with God – where God is the Ultimate Participant and the Ultimate Partner (Richard Rohr).  And we’re invited into that great dance wherein we become beloved partners with the Divine.  Can we allow ourselves to be lost in the wonder – lost in the music – lost in the fullness of God’s love?

Our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, has been front and center in the news since his powerful sermon at St. George’s Chapel in Windsor.  He’s been reminding the world that God’s call to us is all about love.  Love God with all your heart, and soul, and mind; and love your neighbor as one like yourself.  In fact, he’s always quick to remind us of the need to love ourselves as well. 

“Love the neighbor you like, and the neighbor you don’t like,” says our Presiding Bishop.  “Love the neighbor you agree with, and the neighbor you don’t agree with.  Love your Democrat neighbor, your Republican neighbor, your Independent neighbor and your Green neighbor.  Love your black neighbor, your white neighbor, your Anglo neighbor, and your Latino neighbor.  Love your LGBTQ neighbor, and your straight neighbor.  Love your neighbor.  That’s why we’re here.”

The Trinity is about a God of relationship who creates simply for the joy of relationship – who creates simply for the joy of love – and who creates us to live out that very same purpose in our lives.  Trinity Sunday, though our hymns often speak about awe and majesty, is simply about the love of God made manifest in the whole of creation – the love of God made manifest in us. 

As St. Julian of Norwich wrote so long ago, “Would you know our Lord’s meaning in this? Know it well, our Lord’s meaning was love” (paraphrased).  Our God says, “Who will go for us?  Who will love the world for us?  Whom shall we send?”  Here we are, Lord.  Send us!