In the gospel for Trinity Sunday, we have a vision of a departing Jesus and a promised presence: something better.
For Sunday
Trinity Sunday
Collect
Almighty and everlasting God, you have given to us your servants grace, by the confession of a true faith, to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity, and in the power of your divine Majesty to worship the Unity: Keep us steadfast in this faith and worship, and bring us at last to see you in your one and eternal glory, O Father; who with the Son and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
Reading
From John 16:12-15
“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”
Reflection
I like to refer to the farewell discourse in John as Jesus’s long goodbye. It’s him, standing by the car, telling his people he really has to go, but here they are, still chatting an hour later.
It is, however, rich with connection. He’s trying so hard to communicate an idea that still tangles us in knots.
How to say “I am going away, but we aren’t going anywhere.” There’s a sense of wrap-your-heads-around-my-leaving in this and yet also don’t-act-like-I’m-going-to-be-gone. It both makes perfect sense and no sense at all.
Even this now/not yet is being lived out in Jesus’s speaking. He’s telling them that there is so much they need to know and yet they can’t know it yet. How he’ll be gone and yet he’ll be right there. We can certainly make sense of it, but we’re not 100% confident, right? Like, we all smile and nod and say “I get it” but if somebody said “so, explain it to me like I’m 5,” we’d go “hey, look at the time!”
And yet, we can all relate to this feeling, can’t we?
“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”
We know what it’s like to know truth that cannot be said. Ideas that cannot be appreciated. Life that we are not prepared to experience.
We know what it’s like to learn before we are ready. To be exposed to life that should not be for us to know. And what comes immediately to mind are my children suffering through active shooter drills. Babies having to prepare for a nightmare scenario long before they are developmentally ready.
There is more that needs to be said, but we aren’t ready. Not yet. And I won’t be here to say it. But someone else will.
There’s something comforting in Jesus’s message. Something we’re inclined to just nod and rush through. A promise of wisdom and truth. Of participating in the bigger story when we’re ready. Of dialogue and understanding.
Like going out for coffee. Chatting for a couple of hours. Getting caught up on the latest. That is to come. Soon. Not with me, of course. I’m taking off. But with another advocate. One that will always be there.
A promise that this Spirit is just as good as Jesus.
Problem in the Text
This week’s video notices that being guided by the Spirit can feel pretty sus