Deer Park United Church
"One faith, One hope, One baptism." Ephesians 4:5

 

THE DANCE                                                               Trinity Sunday

                                                                                       May 30, 2010

 

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

Psalm 8

Matthew 28:16-20

 

 

          Today we find ourselves at a midway point in our travel through the Christian year—Trinity Sunday.  Since Advent, our focus has been largely on major events in the story of Jesus: his birth, death, resurrection, ascension and his promise of God’s gift of the Holy Spirit.  Until Advent comes again, our focus will be largely on what Jesus taught by word and action.  We will learn, by his example, how to live in the power the Spirit has given us—how God’s wisdom can be applied to our own living.  But today we pause for a moment to consider who God is and how we experience the wholeness of the divine in our daily lives.

 

          You won’t find the word “Trinity” anywhere in scripture but our earliest ancestors in the Christian faith wanted to find a way to explain how God comes to us in different aspects—as Creator, uniquely in Jesus, and each day as the Holy Spirit shines forth from and around us.  Some of the detractors from the earliest Christians said that they worshipped three gods.  But they said, no; we worship one God, whom we know in three distinct ways.

 

One of my favourite explanations of the Trinity is comparing it to Neapolitan ice cream.  Remember from our childhood, that nice, tidy block of pink, white and brown, strawberry, vanilla and chocolate?  I’m not sure Neapolitan ice cream exists any more—it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a brick of ice cream.  But if we look at the old brick of Neapolitan we can ask: is chocolate the same as strawberry?  No.  Is vanilla the same as chocolate?  No.  But are they all ice cream?  Yes.  Each with a different flavour.  A Trinity.  And, if you add chocolate syrup to the mixture, you’ve got a Trinity Sundae!!! 

 

But the Trinity is not static—it is active.  To experience its truth, we require something more than words.  God is not a picture painted with words that stays the same forever that we can hang on our walls.  God is not a piece of art which can only be admired and pointed to, and with which we cannot interact. God moves—in all God’s ways of being with us, God moves, God acts, God is in relationship with us.  And the Trinity tells us that God does not act in only one way.  God, Godself, is a community of action.  We need an active, community, relationship image to help us understand.

 

And so I offer to you the image, the metaphor of dancing.  A metaphor that has often been used, not so much as a description of the Trinity, but as an image of how the three natures of the Trinity relate.    

 

Jeff Paschal, a Presbyterian minister in Ohio, says, in the commentary, Feasting on the Word, “the Eastern Church [has an] emphasis on the Trinity as perichoresis, literally ‘dancing around.’  So we do not worship a stingy God who grudgingly gives gifts and who grants forgiveness as a divine grump.  Not at all.  The triune God is a joyous, dancing God who pours out overflowing gifts to humanity with gladness….[We are all invited] to walk, laugh, play, and dance into the light of God’s new day.”  

 

And so we consider the dance.

 

Now this is not a ballroom dance where couples travel the floor with arms around each other, wrapped up only in themselves; it is also not a dance where partners do their own thing, sometimes not even touching.  This dance is one where the three major dancers—the Creator, the Christ and the Spirit—dance in a circle with hands joined.  The dance is their life together, a dance without beginning or end, the three moving in a rhythm that encompasses each and allows each the support of the others.  But a way that also allows each to offer its own unique way of being divinity—creating, redeeming, sustaining—its own distinct way of dancing.

 

And the miracle of this dance is that the circle opens to all of us, the divinity that began the dance breaks open and offers a place for each of us in the circle, drawing us into the dance so that we may become partners with them, become one as they are one, participating in the dance of life that is really the dance of God’s love for all dancers.

 

Christians call this dance the church—the community that welcomes each of us and invites us to dance our faith with hearts open to one another and to the life of all creation.  Sometimes we join in this dance gladly, joyously, abandoning ourselves to the music that calls us to throw off our fears and hesitations, to leave behind our self-consciousness and our preconceptions about how others are dancing.  There are other times when the darkness of heartbreak and grief, of failure and uncertainty, of anger and confusion, makes us reluctant to enter the circle, fearful that it will not embrace us, almost certain that it will not help, not even sure that we want to be there.

 

But the dance is always there, the circle is always open.  The community of the Trinity and all who give themselves wholly to its dance will always have room for each of us.  Sometimes the circle will slow down and the music will become sombre until we can move from despair to vitality.  Sometimes the circle will pick us up and carry us until we can stand on our own, hand in hand with the others once more and slowly learn to move with the music again.

 

When you go to wedding receptions and observe the dancers, you usually find that they show different degrees of proficiency.  Some glide along with flawless form.  Others move with small, timid steps.  A few are downright clumsy.  But they are dancing.  The sad thing to see, is not the people who lack skill, but the many who never get up at all, people who don’t know that they can dance, because they have never tried.  And, most distressing of all, are the people who could dance, who know they can dance, but choose to remain on the sidelines, merely observing, and sometimes criticizing, the others.

 

There is a great circle dance going on in God’s community.  Part of that circle is dancing here, the Calvin/Deer Park section of the dance of God’s love.  That dance has, for almost two years, been, in turn, joyous, hesitant, uncertain, confused, dejected, and joyous again.  Some have found the dance exciting, some have found it strange, some have found it comforting, some have found it disturbing.  But the dance has gone on and everyone is welcomed to it—it has slowed for the sadness of those who are hurting but still want to dance, has borne up those who have no strength, has opened the circle to welcome new dancers, and has kept it open for those who are not sure that they want to join. 

 

Are you part of the Trinity’s circle dance?  I know there are times when the dancers seem to be moving with a rhythm that is not familiar to you.  There are times when you are too tired, too discouraged, or even too angry to dance.  And there are times when you want to remove yourself from the dance because you don’t feel part of it any more or because it is moving in a way that doesn’t fit the steps you’ve learned.

 

But the dance is never closed, never over, never even really alien because it is led by the God who knows and loves each of us just as we are and who wants nothing more than for us to dance with the three who are one.

 

So God says to those who hesitate, “Give it a try.  Dance your own rhythm until you begin to feel the one that is beating now or until the rhythm incorporates who you are and how you dance.  Lean on the other dancers until your energy, your heart comes back to you.  And those of you who left the dance because you were hurt or angry or discouraged, come back in; the circle has room for everyone.”

And God says to those who are already within the circle, “Open your space a little wider.  Dance alongside those who are outside until they can join in the dance with you.  Look at the dance they are doing, which may be different from yours, and see if there are steps that can make your dance more beautiful.  Especially welcome those who once danced but then did not and now hesitate to return.  And all of you dance joyfully and lovingly together, moving to the music and rhythm of forgiveness and hope.”

 

Today each congregation is being asked if they want to continue to dance with the other in a more permanent way.  Or if they want to find a new way of dancing alone.  There can be value in whatever decision is made.  But whichever dance you choose to join, you are invited to dance joyously, hopefully and lovingly, keeping the circle open to new dancers and new steps.  And, most of all, you are assured that you never dance alone.

 

Because we do not worship a Creator who dances alone.  We do not follow a Christ who moves to only his own drummer.  We are not given the breath of life by a Spirit that hears only its own music.  We worship, follow and breathe in, a community that we call God.  A community that dances and invites us to enter the circle and, in our own unique way, “to walk, laugh, play, and dance into the light of God’s new day.”  

 

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