Summary
In this week’s service, Rev. Dylan Parson explores the profound mystery of the Holy Trinity through the joyful metaphor of a wedding dance. Moving beyond confusing doctrines and historical debates, the sermon introduces the concept of *perichoresis*—the idea that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist in a dynamic, rhythmic relationship where each person makes space for the other. This “divine dance” serves as the ultimate model for community and perfect relationship.
The message further connects this Trinitarian movement to the creation story in Genesis, where God’s collaborative nature is revealed from the very beginning. As humans created in the image of a relational God, we are called not to be mere spectators on the edge of the dance floor, but active participants in God’s work of love, care, and creation. Through the life and example of Jesus, we are invited to learn the “steps” of faith—learning to make room for others through service and grace—until we are finally united with Christ in the eternal celebration to come.
If you’ve been to a wedding reception, which pretty much everybody has at some point in their lives, you know the moment when the energy of the thing shifts. The ceremony’s done, dinner’s over, you’ve managed to slog through all the trappings and traditions, you know, the cliched maid of honor speech, right? For those of you who don’t know me, I’m the bride’s sister, best for whatever. And then the sometimes moving dances with the bride and groom and their parents. Various other speeches, right? The cakes happened, probably. And then knowing that it’s time to shift gears, the DJ plays one perfectly targeted song to try to get everybody going. These days, maybe it’s the Cupid Shuffle or the Wobble, right? 20 years ago, it might have have been the electric slide. Changes generationally. But the evening with this song has moved into its final act, the one that everyone’s been waiting for patiently. The dance floor starts to fill up, which is the whole goal right here. People who hadn’t moved all night, who were starting to maybe drift off, get up out of their chairs. And there is this collective sense of joy and rhythm that takes over.
There’s this collective flow, this shared movement of community. And now you might perceive me as graceful and elegant, which I appreciate, but I am not myself much of a dancer. Still, by this and the point in the reception, even people like me, with a glass or two of wedding champagne, can usually get into the flow of the wedding dancing, maybe the Macarena, right? But even if you are sitting on the perimeter of the room or you stay in your chair, there is something that’s really joyful, that really catches you about watching this crowded room swirl and step and laugh in alignment. You know, the line dances are cool to watch, even if people aren’t good at it.
And this is an image that the early church used to describe one of the deepest mysteries of faith, and that’s the Holy Trinity. It’s Trinity Sunday. I don’t like Trinity Sunday because I don’t want to talk to you about doctrine for 20 minutes, but dance makes it a little bit different. The ancient Greek theologians used a specific word to describe the way all the persons of the Trinity related to each other, and that word was perichoresis. And if you break that word down literally, what that means is to make space around. There’s this idea that each person of the Trinity is active and dynamic, and each one of them moves to make room for the other one to move. And the word is related to choreo, you know, the root word of choreography, you know, planning a dance, right? And so whenever the early church theologians looked at God, they didn’t see an equation or something they had to write out as a proof. We get this image instead of this ballroom dance of flowing where everybody knows all the steps, everything just flows perfectly. Each footstep, each movement of the hands is organic and natural, but precise. And these early theologians argued that God existing as three in one, three equals who comprise one God, is perfect relationship. That’s what perfection and community looks and looks like.
But if you’re like most Christians, if someone were to come up to you after church and ask you to explain the Holy Trinity, you would find yourself feeling very uncomfortable. And I think pretty much every pastor would tell you the same thing. I told you I dread Trinity Sunday. And whenever we get questions about the Trinity, you know, how is it that God can be both three and one? How could the Son have been there from the beginning when Jesus wasn’t born until 2,000 years ago. What exactly is the Holy Spirit? All that stuff. We start to sweat a little bit. And there’s a joke among preachers and theologians that Trinity Sunday or really any kind of discussion about Trinity in general, always dangerous because you’re always skirting the edges of accidentally saying something heretical by trying to make this mystery explainable. And the moment we try to break it down into a nice little analogy, you know, a children’s sermon kind of thing, we usually end up accidentally repeating some ancient heresy that a church council condemned over a thousand years ago, right? Oh, the Trinity is like ice, liquid water, and steam. Nope. Modalism, condemned by the Council of Rome in 382 AD. Not like that.
And there has been so much wrestling and fighting about this throughout the history of the church with good reason. This is what’s important. Because is there a whole lot more important for faith than knowing who we’re worshiping? And the early church, recognizing that God had taken on flesh in Christ, and that God is one being in three persons, they had all these mind-blasting puzzles to try to get a handle on. And they hashed it out over the centuries, with dozens of bishops and theologians wrestling over it via letters, going back and forth across the Mediterranean. They’d have councils where the church leaders from across the whole world would gather to figure it out. And it took centuries to arrive at consensus, and a lot of the time this could get literally violent. There’s a famous story about Nicholas of Myra at the Council of Nicaea, who slapped a rival in the face for arguing that the son was created by the father. Nicholas of Myra, this guy who slapped him, was later made a saint, Saint Nicholas, who became known later as Santa Claus. So the story is literally that Santa Claus once literally punched a guy at a church business meeting over the doctrine of the Trinity.
And later, the Roman Catholic Church’s addition of one little line in the Nicene Creed has been this key factor in keeping us out of communion with the Eastern churches for over a thousand years. And this notorious phrase known as the filioque, we heard it in one of our hymns earlier, but in the Western church, we say that the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, proceeds from the Father and the Son. And in the Eastern church, they leave out that and the Son. And that’s been enough to keep the church split in half for a thousand years. That’s how important this is, because so much of what we understand and worship about God comes out of who God is, and especially in the way in which not just the Father, and also the Son and the Spirit are also God. And it can seem silly, but this is why they’ve spent thousands, hundreds of years hashing this out.
But some of these minute details probably don’t feel all that immediately relevant to you, do they? To the Christian who’s not teaching and preaching, let alone to the Christian who is. And yet so many people, and so many people do wonder, so what on Trinity Sunday. Eyes glaze over. Why would a historical debate over a single Latin word ever possibly matter to your life? And the key is exactly what we see in Genesis 1. That the Trinity is not some external abstract concept, it’s God. It’s not a philosophical discussion, even as we get bogged down in the words of the creeds or defining what it is and what it isn’t. It’s a relationship, that old cliche, it’s not a religion, it’s a relationship. Well, Trinity literally is. God is community. God is outpouring love.
And today our scripture shows us that from the beginning of time, human beings were never just meant to stand on the edge of the dance floor and watch, right? We are products of God’s love. We were always created to be pulled into it. And so, to help us understand what that means today, we look at Genesis 1, this description of the very beginning of creation. And believe me, I racked my premium brain to try to figure out how to shorten it, but what was I going to do? Skip days two to four? But right from the opening, from the opening notes of the universe, this of love is already happening. In this chapter, God is referred to by the title Elohim, which in Hebrew is plural. Not singular, but plural. And we, always this we, God begins to create the heavens and the earth. And God’s wind, which is the same word as God’s spirit, sweeps across the dark waters. So we already see the Father and the Spirit here. And the words from God’s mouth, Let there be light are spoken, and there’s light. Creation starts.
And there’s this sense of just collaboration here from these very first verses. All one God, all working together, and yet distinct. You know, you have the Spirit hovering over the water, the Word is spoken and is there, and the Father is the one speaking the Word. And over and over again, for seven days, we see this cycle. Elohim, God creates the sky and the waters, then the earth, then the plants, then the sun and the moon and the stars, then the birds and the fish and the sea monsters, and then land creatures, livestock, bugs, and then us, humanity. Listen to verse 26. God says, let us make humanity in our image to resemble us so that they may take charge of the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, the livestock, all the earth, and all the crawling things of the earth. Humanity is created in this plural, in this diversity of all genders, races, kinds in God’s image, us, God says. And while the rest of creation is called good, when God finishes with people, God says it’s very good or supremely good, we just heard in the Common English Bible, which is pretty generous, if we’re honest.
And so the persons of the Trinity, the three-in-one God, look at humankind, newborn, and see themselves in us. God turns to God’s self and smiles warmly at what God’s done, and we were created out of relationship for relationship, and then appointed to function as God’s servants. We’re this kind of bridge between creation and creator, ruling over creation with care. And we’re given this special position, and it’s special because it’s like God’s. We’re to create. We’re to take care of everything else. We’re to help cultivate in creation that same harmony that exists within God. And our job, too, is to make room, to make space. So from the beginning of the universe, we’re given this honorary place just below God. And from the beginning, we’re invited as creation to be part of creating, to pour out love on all the world, just as God has always done.
And we know, across these next few chapters of Genesis, that a lot happens in these familiar stories. You know, humans decide they want to be the choreographers of their own life, right? We want to march to the beat of our own drum rather than dancing to God’s music. We give up our place in the Garden of Eden. We forfeit this supreme goodness that God has created us with. And we spend the next couple thousand pages of Scripture bouncing back and forth closer to God, further from God, one step forward, two steps back until Jesus is born. And now God is with us again, just like walking in the Garden of Eden. And now that dance for the first time is not just in heaven, but it’s on the mountaintops of Galilee, in the Jordan River, on dirt streets that are built with human hands.
Jesus shows us what perichoresis, what this dance looks like in human flesh. And God makes room. Jesus makes room for outcasts, for healing the broken, liberating the oppressed and the possessed, pouring out love. He makes room for people. Jesus is crucified. He dies. He descends into hell and he brings the life of the Trinity even to the depths. And he lifts those who are trapped there to be set free. And on the third day, he rises, here’s the Spirit with the Son and the Father again. And then one spring day, Jesus ascends into heaven, body and all. I remember the first time I ever realized this, that whenever Jesus ascended into heaven, that means that there is a human being sitting next to God the Father in heaven, praying for us even now. Don’t miss that when you think about Jesus, fully divine, fully man, has gone to be with the Father before sending the Spirit with us. So we’re up there and God’s down here. And we’re incorporated into the Trinity, literally. And creation itself has been lifted up into God.
John Wesley, the founder of our tradition, loved this concept of humanity being pulled into God. And he taught that God’s grace isn’t the kind that just looks down on us, kind of pities us, forgives us from a distance without really touching us. Instead, it transforms us. This love does something so that we can actually participate in what God is like. And that’s where we find ourselves now. That’s our role now. we’re being drawn into God until the glorious day when God is all.
And that’s the promise that we get in our gospel reading this morning, a restatement of the Great Commission. Jesus pours out his authority on his disciples. He orders them to make disciples of all nations. He says, baptize them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. And he’s sending us out once more, just like we were on the sixth day, to be servants of God to creation, like we were created to be, calling everything back to God.
So think about this whenever you think about the Trinity. Not philosophical questions, not some distant abstraction, but that you and I and all of God’s world are being embraced in love. That’s the point. And so through Jesus, you have the opportunity right now to draw nearer to God, offering yourself each day to be made more perfect, to fall more in love with the Creator, the Redeemer, the Sustainer. Christ came to us because God wants us to be part of this dance of perichoresis, not just to stand back and watch what God’s doing, but our primary task in this life is to learn the steps to invite others to join us in the movement.
Again, I can’t claim to be a fine dancer, but it’s a good metaphor. A Christian life of sanctification, of moving closer to the heart of God, is like learning a dance. At the beginning, you know, I was in a lot of plays in high school. We had to do all kinds of dancing in elementary school. Awful. But at the beginning, you learn the steps to the point where you kind of have to like quietly say them to yourself while you do them, maybe slow down the music. But over time, it becomes pure muscle memory. I don’t have to think about the Macarena anymore. And at first, you’re clumsy. You know, you step on toes, you trip, you constantly look at your feet. You have to remind yourself, right? In faith, you’ve got to forgive, you’ve got to serve, you’ve got to love, you’ve got to make room for other people. You have to think about it. Think about the steps first. But the more you do it, the more natural it becomes. That is what Christian faith is like, Christian life is like.
And there’s just such a good reason that the New Testament is littered with this wedding imagery from the Gospels all the way to Revelation. Because the day is coming at the reception when the champagne toast will be poured at the great wedding feast of Christ where the church and Jesus are finally fully united. And that Trinitarian dance floor will be open for everything, people, bugs, fish, birds, to swirl and step to know the dance together. And who knows, maybe the angelic choir there will sing the Macarena. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.