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Trinity Sunday

Matthew 28
16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. 18And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’*


This week I finally asked my brother the question that’s been on my mind since the beginning of racing season: “Andrew, what have you done with my brother Andrew?”

Andrew, it seems, has mellowed. Now this, in and of itself is not a bad thing. He has always been wound a bit tight, the yin to my yang, the anxious presence to my non-anxious presence, the guy I am pleased to give my anger work because he does it so well.

Then this new guy got on the boat. There is no swearing. There is no shouting “Starboard” or “I need room” or my favourite “I have rights.” It’s like someone nefarious switched out my brother and gave us a Zen master instead. I don’t like it.

In racing, you see, the object is to press your rights right up to the moment the other boat threatens to cut you in half, shouting all the while, then taking great pleasure as they are forced to tack away. The word Schadenfreude comes to mind, taking pleasure in the misfortune of others, but only in Humber Bay, and only on race nights.

If there were a Father’s Day message in all of this, it would be that little Jacob, at age 2.5, has done the seemingly impossible, and turned a sailing Pit Bull into a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. And in the spirit of the day I will accept our finishes to date, a third, a third, a fourth and a third, and celebrate the gift of fathers.

***

If we were to get our minds off sailing for just a minute, we might reflect on the lessons for Trinity Sunday. It’s a minor holiday in the liturgical calendar of the United Church, right up there with Reformation Sunday and Christ the King Sunday. It will be marked, I expect, in many of our churches, maybe even celebrated with clover and Neapolitan ice cream, but it will always remain in the minor league of liturgical occasions.

If only we were Anglicans, if only for today. Back in March I had the great pleasure of visiting The Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, known locally as Downpatrick Cathedral, a church that shares the very same name with cathedrals in Bristol, Carlisle, Ely, Norwich and Waterford. It seems the Middle Ages had no trademark law, or it simply points to the popularity of the doctrine.

Now, note the phrasing. The Holy and Undivided Trinity is much more than a cathedral name, it expands our understanding by adding the word ‘undivided.’ God-in-three-persons, the triune God, is always and forever undivided, something that our medieval forbears want to emphasize, and something they found in scripture.

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” Jesus said. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. And teach them,” he continued, “to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

The first reminder is authority. The earthy realm, the heavenly realm, each lives under the authority of the Risen Christ, governed with the Spirit’s help, and perfectly reflecting the threefold nature of God. God came into the world in Jesus to save us, and remains present to us in the sacraments of the church and the Spirit that moves in and among us now. It is a theological system that rests on the authority of Jesus to lead us and intercede for us.

The second reminder is to make disciples. Here again is where the United Church becomes exceedingly shy, or at least cautious, at the command to make disciples of all nations. Some of the caution is appropriate, particularly when we confess that in the past we too often forced our culture on others while we were sharing our religion. It would be sad, however, to allow the mistakes of the past to deter us from sharing the Good News of new life in Christ with so many in our midst who are crying out for meaning.

The third reminder found in this rich little passage is obedience, and concept that can only be fully understood by returning to Humber Bay.

But before I return to my happy place, I will note that obedience is a tough sell in 2011. It is a tough sell among Canadians generally, among young people for sure, and a maybe the baby-boomers most of all. It’s just a tough sell. And of course, it is a tough sell in the church. Sermons on obedience are rare bordering on endangered, and the most popular hymn on the topic is more often mocked than sung:

Trust and obey, for there's no other way
to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

So whatever happened to obedience? How did it go the way of prudence and temperance? How did it become so unpopular that rejecting obedience seems to have become the higher virtue?

Sailing is all about obedience. First you must obey the wind. The direction, the intensity, the variability, every aspect of the wind effects whatever wish the sailor may have. You are not in control of the wind. If you have a powerboat I salute you, because you have achieved a level of mastery over the wind. That is, until there is a storm, then you are back in the same boat (pun intended) as everyone else.

Then you must obey the limitations of your boat. Like everything that is manmade, it is strong and purposeful, but can suddenly become fragile. Shallow water comes to mind first, but also equipment failure or simple mistakes like choosing the wrong sail.

Finally, you must obey the Racing Rules of Sailing, which are really just a fancy way of saying you must share the water. There are literally hundreds of rules, governing every aspect of the sport, but the real action is in Part Two, under the rather prosaic title “When Boats Meet.” From experience, I can tell you that ‘when boats meet’ there is shouting, scraping, and the sudden smell of fiberglass. Better to obey the Racing Rules of Sailing than find yourself in the protest room when you should be upstairs telling tall tales over a pint.

If we were really candid about the structure of our lives, we would quickly see that obedience is pretty central. We obey the rules of the road, not just to avoid punishment, but to protect our safety and the safety of others. We pay taxes, not with delight, but generally with the recognition that the common good is served when our taxes support the things have come to depend on, such as health care and schools. And we obey social conventions, for the sake of maintaining relationships, like answering yes when the question demands yes and answering no when the question demands no. It puts me in mind of my colleague Robin, who has a sign on the door of her office that says “Tell me, does this pulpit make my butt look fat?” The answer is no.

Jesus said “Teach them to obey everything I have commanded you.” Teach them to be obedient to my teachings, and to follow in my way. Teach them to pick up their cross. Teach them to forgive seven times seventy times. Teach then to turn the other cheek and walk the extra mile. Teach them to visit the sick and the prisoner, to offer cup of water and the clothes off your back. Teach them to have compassion for broken people. Teach them to pray for the living and the dead. Teach them to love one another and never cease to add to their circle. Teach them to remember that they are always a child of God.

Some of these come easily to us, and some, not so much. Some of these come with an obvious reward, and some, no reward at all. Some are deeply counter-cultural and some are just good advice if you want to live with other people. Some we know, if we are really candid, we may never achieve, and they take us back to the forgiveness prayer. No one said obedience would be easy, or popular, or even feasible in this day and age, but try we must.

Maybe the most helpful conclusion comes from Julian of Norwich, in her hut across the town from the Cathedral Church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, who wrote:

God did not say,
‘You shall not be tempest-tossed,
You shall not be weary,
You shall not be discomforted.’
But God did say, ‘You shall not be overcome."

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:40 AM