Trinity Sunday is widely regarded as a preacher’s nightmare. Unfortunately, it is often also a nightmare for those listening in the pews, especially when an attempt to cast fresh light on the mystery ends either in heresy or bathos or both. The fact is that the theology of the Trinity is so rich and deep we can only approach it on our knees, and many of us have forgotten, if we ever knew, the kind of reverence that seizes hold of every fibre of our being. Instead, we prattle on, trying to find words when really we need silence.
This morning at Vigils we sang the Athanasian Creed. I love the way it approaches the mystery of the Trinity from this side and that, never quite taking in the whole but making a valiant effort to express why it matters so surpemely to us who are Christian. It goes on and on, and then there is silence. In that silence there is nothing but adoration and, for me at least, that is the only way I can truly approach the mystery of the Trinity. All the brilliant words of the Fathers and theologians who have struggled to explain this profound truth of faith end in the silence of adoration. If, today, you find yourself baffled, wordless, know that you are one with the Church in every age, singing the silent ‘Holy, holy, holy’ of the heart before the God who made us.