Trying To Understand the Holy Trinity

Today we celebrate both Father’s Day and Trinity Sunday.  Many preachers, including me, feel quite uncomfortable trying to preach on the Trinity.  It’s like rushing in to where angels fear to tread. The Holy Trinity is such a mystery; who can understand it even a little bit? In forty-seven years as a priest I don’t believe that I’ve ever given a truly satisfactory sermon about the Holy Trinity, which is probably a good thing for one’s humility!

There’s a story about an Asian gentleman to whom a well-meaning missionary was speaking about God the Father who created us, about God the Son who died and was raised up for us, and about the Holy Spirit of Love who appeared as a dove over the head of Jesus when He was baptized.  After the Asian gentleman had listened politely to the explanation, he said:  “Honorable Father -- ah, very good.  Honorable Son -- also very good.  But Honorable Bird -- I do not understand at all.”  So, I suppose I could also say: “Honorable Holy Trinity -- that I do not understand at all.”

If we look closely at today’s readings from Scripture, we might notice that they help us understand better the most important truth about the Holy Trinity: namely, that to know God as Three and, at the same time to know God as One, has to do with responding to God’s invitation to be in relationship with Godself: and not simply about having information about God.

Let me tell you two stories:

First, there was a man who lived in a city in the Eastern United States.  When he was young he decided to devote his life to God with the religious Brothers of the Sacred Heart in New Jersey.  After awhile, he decided that God wasn’t calling him to this vocation, and so he left the order of the Brothers.  He later married a woman and they had two children, a boy and a girl. A few years later his wife contracted  tuberculosis and died. The man’s circumstances forced him to put his two children in the care of the nuns at a local Catholic orphanage.  

After a few years he married a second time and this wife bore him a son.  By this time the man had set up shop as an orthopedic therapist, and began treating peoples’ ailments.  Though no one seems to know exactly what happened, the man disappeared one day, leaving behind his young wife and his son, now two years old.  For 11 years the wife and her son didn’t know where the man had gone.  Eventually he was found, arrested and jailed for failing to provide  support for his wife and child all those years.  He paid for a short time, but then disappeared once again.

The second story is about this man’s only son from the second marriage.  This boy grew up fatherless, without ever knowing or remembering his father.  He had only a few pictures of his father from long ago: some photos of his father in his white therapist clothes and shoes; several pictures of the boy sitting in the car with his father on the day when the boy had his first hair cut; another picture, a happy one, at a lake, showing the father, the mother, and the boy, holding up a string of fish; and finally a picture, also, of his father when he reappeared after 11 years: in prison clothes.   

The boy grew up to be a man, and as the saying goes: “Like father, like son.”  The man also married and had two children,  just like his father: a boy and a girl.  He loved them both, and when they would ask him, “Who do you love the most?”, he would say: “I love you both the most because I love each of you differently, just as you are.”  

The man’s relationship with his own son was particularly unique, in that he could be for that boy the father whom he never knew.  He made sure to say to the boy “I love you” and to hug his son.  The man enjoyed it when his son asked to do things with him and for him,  things which the man had not be able to do with his own father.  Just to be called “Daddy” was so magical!

This man in the second story, when he had his own daughter and son, experienced a love which eventually turned his loneliness and separation into wholeness.  His experience taught him about creativeness, expressiveness, and oneness.  And so you might say that this man was taught in a rudimentary way what the Holy Trinity is.

+   +   +

Now, the first story which I told was about my own father, Robert.  The second story was about me and my own children, particularly my son, Andrew.

For many years it bothered me how very little I knew about my roots, my ancestors, and especially about my father.  Since my father left us before I was aware, I never really had the opportunity to call anyone “Daddy”. Luckily, I did, however, have two other very significant male “father” figures as I grew up:  my grandfather, Harry, for whom I was named; and my stepfather, Tom, who became my friend as well as my parent, until he died much too early at the age of 44.

My son, Andrew, had a great career as a professional ballet dancer and choreographer for 22 years, performing with some of the finest companies all over the world, and once even on Broadway.  So many times I stood and watched in awe as he danced on stage. In him I’ve been blessed to see fatherhood from the other side.  In my son I’ve been able to see what comes forth from the depths of a person and is expressed when that person creates with dedication and love.

I’ve also had some intuitions about the gift of love which binds people into one through relationships.  In 1988, fifty years after my father disappeared, I found my oldest stepsister, now 85, and she was able to tell me much that I didn’t know about my father. The most exciting thing I learned from her was that my father really did love me, and that he carried with him a childhood photograph of me for all those years that we were separated, and that he knew that I’d been ordained a priest. More exciting still, my sister told me that my father had married twice more, and that I had a total of 4 stepbrothers and three stepsisters: one who is now deceased, the others ranging in age from 85 to 43! Unfortunately, I also learned that my father had died in 1973 at age 69.

Through the years, I discovered that, though I didn’t know my father, I loved him and was very grateful that he had given me life, allowed me to exist. Without that I wouldn’t have had the chance to express all the potential goodness which he himself possessed.

I love my son, for in generating him and enabling him to go far beyond my own capacities and potential, I am, so to speak, “glorified”, and affirmed.

These very characteristics which have marked my personal story, and which, I’m sure, mark most of your stories, flow from the very life of God the Holy Trinity which today’s Scriptures proclaim: divine creativeness, divine expressiveness, and divine love which makes one.

The passage from Genesis (1:1-2:4a) for this feast affirms that the life-giving Word of the Father, by which the world and all creation came to be, is no other or different Word than that which was embodied and expressed in the human person of Jesus of Nazareth, and is now made continually present in the Mystical Body of the Church by the Holy Spirit.

St. Paul, in his second Letter to the Corinthians (13:11-13), concludes with a blessing proclaiming God’s creativeness, expressiveness, and unifying love.  “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

Blessing is, perhaps, the most unique way of proclaiming the Good News.  It reminds us that we have life and faith only because God is committed to us and is with us always: in Jesus and in the continuing self-gift of the Holy Spirit.  The late Catholic Bishop of Tanzania, Christopher Mwoleka, once said:  “The mystery of the Trinity is not a doctrine dealing with a division of power in the Godhead, but a statement about the way in which God shares [God]self with the creation and calls us who believe not so much to explain as to imitate that sharing by sharing our own lives with the creation.” That’s really the core of the “Great Commission” in Matthew’s Gospel (28:16-20).  It’s much more than a command to establish a few missions in foreign countries.  True discipleship means obedient sharing of the teaching of Jesus wherever we are.  Making disciples has nothing to do with proselytizing or increasing parish statistics.  It has everything to do with taking the message of Jesus so seriously that, in and through the name of the Triune God, we creatively, expressively, and lovingly share ourselves with all the people and things around us in creation: no exceptions.

“Honorable Trinity -- that I do not understand at all.”

But fatherhood, sonship, and love which makes us one: these have gradually begun to make some sense to me as I’ve grown older.  

This understanding was reinforced by a dream I had shortly after my first visit with my younger stepbrother and two stepsisters in 1989, sharing old photos and reminiscing, and after we had together visited my father’s grave. Not a word was spoken in the dream I later had, but in it my father and I came together, embraced each other, communicated with each other, then slowly walked off together.  I felt utter joy and peace.

So it is in the community of the Holy Trinity.

And so it can be in the community of our lives.   

 

"Speak, Lord, Your Servant Hears"

One of my all-time favorite stories in Scripture (1 Samuel 3:1-21) is that of Samuel the prophet's first encounter with God as a young boy. He'd been God's precious gift to Hannah, after she'd gone childless so long, and had endured the taunts of the co-wife of her husband, Elkanah, despite the latter's obvious and professed love for Hannah. As it turned out, Hannah seems to have really gotten the hang of the begatting process: she later had three more sons and two daughters!


True to Hannah's earlier promise to God and to the priest of Shiloh, Eli, she dedicates Samuel entirely to God's service as a nazarite, forever, in fact. The story takes up in 1 Samuel 3 as the boy goes about his temple duties.


Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.
By God's providence, Samuel comes on the scene at a time of major transition in Israel's history. During the period of the Judges, God raised up charismatic figures to guide the Chosen People. Desiring more, in terms of leadership, especially a visible symbol of power, the Israelites would eventually opt for a king, against Samuel's intuition and against God's wishes. 


At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out,
That last line has a poignancy to it: the enlightening wisdom from on high hadn't been extinguished, but neither was it shining too brightly. When the Word of God is "rare", whether in the lives of individuals or nations, darkness, spiritual blindness quickly sets in.   


and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was.
The Ark of the Covenant stood as a symbol of God's very presence in the sacred space in the midst of the people. Samuel, laying truly in the "cloud of unknowing", then receives the call. 


Then the Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’* and he said, ‘Here I am!’ 
Notice the speed and dedication with which Samuel responds: no hesitation, even though he thought it was Eli. What a model for our hearing the call of God in the midst of life's daily demands: what Zorba the Greek calls "the whole catastrophe"! 


and [Samuel] ran to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call; lie down again.’ So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, ‘Samuel!’ Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call, my son; lie down again.’ 
How easy it is for us so often to brush off, to ignore the messenger as an incovenience while in our spiritually soporific state, to miss the cues that will lead us deeper into God's presence and the understanding of God's will.


Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.
Samuel is only one example of so many unknowing, uncomprehending figures in Scripture (Rahab the prostitute, Zacchaeus the tax collector, Saul of Tarsus) whom God selects to deliver a message that will shake people out of their spiritual lethargy and negligence. 


The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, ‘Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” ’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.


Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’
Even though he'd been cued into the response by Eli, the whole context of the story gives us the impression that, indeed, Samuel was really listening and hearing what God had to say.


Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.
Once, God had asked Abraham: "Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?" God is always "mighty in all your acts, wonderful in all your works". But here is something extra special about to happen, and God uses that wonderful image of tingling ears! This new thing will amount to a deep spiritual experience.


On that day I will fulfil against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house for ever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God,* and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering for ever.’
Eli had to know that this was coming for some time. The writer of 1 Samuel has only disdain for Eli's two priest sons, Hophni and Phinehas: "...the sons of Eli were scoundrels; they had no regard for the Lord or for the duties of the priests to the people..." (1 Samuel 2:12-13) They apparently took for themselves all the prime cuts of meat from sacrifices, and committed adultery with the women who served at the sanctuary entrance. Eli was quite aware of their behavior, and, though he rebukes them: "...No, my sons; it is not a good report that I hear the people of the Lord spreading abroad...", he does nothing to stop it. The sons continued: "...they would not listen to the voice of their father...", quite in contrast to the young boy, Samuel, who was listening intently to God's word.  


Samuel lay there until morning;
Samuel's real training to become a prophet of God, one who speaks the Word in God's stead, sometimes comforting, sometimes very disconcerting, had begun. What thoughts and questions must've been running through that young boy's head! Imagine the fear and dread he must've had at the prospect of relaying God's message to Eli, that Eli's house was doomed to oblivion. 


then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. 
Again, Samuel's routine duty of opening the door to God's house takes on, in the story's context, and deeper meaning. In a time and place where the word of God was rare, and true spiritual vision not widespread, Samuel now becomes an instrument for throwing wide open the doors of access, both of the temple and of the human heart, to the living God. 


Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son.’ He said, ‘Here I am.’ Eli said, ‘What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.’ 
Eli is a tragic figure. He's obviously no dumbbell, and the very fact he insists on Samuel telling him everything, even the dire judgment he already expected, says something of his relationship with God.


So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.’
Samuel prophesies to Eli that Eli and his family will be punished for this: with all men being usually placed in positions subservient to priests from other lineages, and dying before reaching old age. The curse alludes to a previous promise from God that Eli's lineage would continue eternally. While this continuation isn't revoked, a curse is placed on all of Eli's male descendants forever. The Philistines will later capture the Ark of the Covenant, and, in the process, Hophni and Phinehas will be killed. Eli himself, when he learns of the Ark's capture, will fall from his seat, breaking his neck and dying.


As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to appear at Shiloh, for the Lord revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord.
When our lives are consistently fed with God's word, there can only be growth. Not only is it characterized by wisdom, but also by integrity, truthfulness, a sense of surety. "The sum of your word is truth..." (Psalm 119:106) So it was for Samuel. The boy who had not yet known the Lord, was now the seer, the one for whom God had pulled back the curtain (re = back + velum = curtain, revelare = reveal) on God's Presence. God's revelation of Godself to us through the Word, primarily Jesus, and in many other forms, is what sharpens our spiritual sight.  

A 20th Century Seeker of Wisdom

“For wisdom is more mobile than any motion; because of her pureness she pervades and penetrates all things. For she is a breath of the power of God, and a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty; therefore nothing defiled gains entrance into her. For she is a reflection of eternal light, a spotless mirror of the working of God, and an image of his goodness.Though she is but one, she can do all things, and while remaining in herself, she renews all things; in every generation she passes into holy souls and makes them friends of God, and prophets; for God loves nothing so much as the man who lives with wisdom. For she is more beautiful than the sun, and excels every constellation of the stars. Compared with the light she is found to be superior, for it is succeeded by the night, but against wisdom evil does not prevail...She reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things well.” (Wisdom 7:24-8:1)


Evelyn Underhill, an English Anglo-Catholic writer and pacifist, became one of the most widely read writers on religion and spiritual practice, parti-cularly Christian mysticism, in the first half of the 20th century. She was born into a comfortable upper-middle class London family in 1875, the only, and possibly unwanted, child of a barrister and his wife. The Underhills, members of the Church of England, had Evelyn baptized as an infant, but they were Christian only in the most superficial sense.


Evelyn was schooled in the home until she was 13, when she entered a boarding school. While there she was confirmed in the Church of England at age 16. Her college education was a scant one year at the Ladies’ Department of King’s College, London. She cared little for theology at that time, but was self-taught in philosophy, delving into the writings of Saint Augustine and Plotinus.


Evelyn learned a great deal about Christianity through her annual trips to Italy and France with her mother. There she fell in love with the art and spirit of the medieval world: a decidedly Catholic world. Her travels had a profound and lasting impact on her beliefs in general, but specifically upon her understanding of symbols and sacraments, and her love for things “spiritual”. Her exposure to medieval Christianity coincided with a growing cultural renaissance in the study of mysticism and spirituality: an age when works on the psychology of religion were complemented by the discovery and recovery of many classics of Christian spirituality.


In her mid-twenties Evelyn became involved with a religious group, called “The Golden Dawn”, which dabbled in magic and mysticism. She belonged to this group for about two years, long enough to savor the taste of religious ritual and corporate prayer. A significant religious experience in her early life occurred at the French Franciscan Convent of St. Mary of the Angels in Southampton, where Evelyn and her best friend had gone on retreat. She was so taken with the spiritual atmosphere of the Convent that she cut her retreat short, fearing, as she put it, “a hasty conversion to Catholicism”.


At the time, Evelyn was engaged to be married to a childhood friend, Hubert Stewart Moore, a barrister, who, like her parents, was at best indifferent to religion. He wasn’t pleased by Evelyn’s attraction to Roman Catholicism, so she planned to delay joining the Catholic Church until after her wedding. By that time, however, Pope Pius X had issued a papal decree condemning modern biblical and theological studies, the very things which Evelyn appreciated and advocated. So her religious experiences were reduced to attending Catholic Mass with her best friend, but being denied Holy Communion.


Like so many of her generation, Underhill turned from organized religion to interior personal religious experience. Her classic book, Mysticism, describes this inward turn in some detail. No other book of its type at that time met with such success. It’s an optimistic work, which outlines the spiritual life as a human ascent to God through a path known as ‘the Mystic Way”.


By 1920 the First World War and the death of her best friend had deflated Evelyn’s positive view of humanity. Her keen mind and her ability for languages were easily recognizable by this time. She wrote books on mysticism, novels, and books of poetry. She also served in military intelligence during the War as a translator. Still, her spiritual life was in need of direction, and for this she turned to Baron Friedrich von Hügel, a Roman Catholic layman. Von Hügel served as Evelyn’s spiritual guide and mentor from 1921 to 1925, the last years of his life. From him she learned that God’s grace is the starting point in one’s spiritual life. He helped her develop a much-deepened appreciation of the Sacraments, and to understand the necessity of the Church in one’s spiritual life, and this marked a turning point in her life. She re-entered the Church of England in 1921. She quickly became involved in various Church commissions, and was the first woman to deliver a theology lecture at Oxford. She also received an honorary Doctor of Divinity degree from Aberdeen College. She began leading retreats for clergy and lay people all over England, and was soon acclaimed as a retreat conductor and spiritual guide.


“The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’“ (John 4:19-24)


Evelyn Underhill’s understanding of the mystery of faith is perhaps best expressed in her later book, Worship (1936): "Worship, in all its grades and kinds, is the response of the creature to the eternal: nor need we limit this definition to the human sphere. There is a sense in which we may think of the whole life of the universe, seen and unseen, conscious and unconscious, as an act of worship, glorifying its Origin, Sustainer, and End. Only in some such context, indeed, can we begin to understand the emergence and growth of the spirit of worship in men and women or the influence which it exerts upon their concrete activities...It is possible to regard worship as one of the greatest of humanity's mistakes: a form taken by the fantasy-life, the desperate effort of bewildered creatures to come to terms with the surrounding mystery. Or it may be accepted as the most profound of man's responses to reality; and more than this, the organ of his divine knowledge and the earnest of eternal life..." (From Celebrating the Saints, Canterbury Press, p. 198)


Her theology, though far more orthodox than it had been when she wrote Mysticism, was still unique. While she saw Jesus as central to the Christian faith, the emphasis of her own teachings was on the Holy Spirit, whom she identified as the spirit of self-sacrificial love. For her, to be a Christian was to be filled with God’s Spirit to such an extent that one gave one’s entire life to serve God. This led her to become a convinced pacifist toward the end of her life: a very unpopular position to hold in England during World War II! Further, Evelyn saw the Holy Spirit as the central actor in one’s prayer life. This teaching allowed her to emphasize the similarities among various Christian traditions in their common goal of offering to God a sacrifice of thanks and praise.


Evelyn Underhill died on June 15, 1941, after suffering for many years with physical pain and ill health. At the time of her death she was given the fitting title of “Spiritual Director to her Generation”.

St. Basil the Great Hierarch (c. 329-379)

"The bread which you use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit."

Pentecost: Getting Our Hearts Around the Corner

Many years ago, when I was teaching in a Catholic high school in Oklahoma City, one of my co-teachers, Maxine Stank, had a wonderful 7 or 8 year old son, Tommy, with bright red hair and freckles. Maxine told the story of asking Tommy to wash his hands before dinner one evening, telling him that was necessary so that he didn’t get sick. Begrudingly, Tommy went and washed his hands, and when he returned, Maxine asked to see them, upon which Tommy was sent back to wash them a second time. His exclamation was: “Jesus and germs...that’s all you hear about in this house, and you can’t see either one of them!”

This was, I think, the similar long-standing attitude of the Church regarding the Holy Spirit until about 40 years ago when the Charismatic Movement became popular, and sort of helped many of us Christians to rediscover a personal, as well as a community, dimension to our relationship with the Spirit of God.

At the Last Supper Jesus promised the disciples: “...I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth...You know him, because he abides in you...” The Greek word used for Advocate/Counselor/Encourager is parakletos, i.e., someone who appears on another’s behalf; an intercessor; a comforter; a helper. Those terms are somewhat general and can mean a lot of things to a lot of people.

In the past, missionaries in foreign lands often found it difficult to translate the Bible into a local dialect because of the frequent lack of equivalent terms and expressions. A story is told that among the Miao, a hill tribe in western China, the translation of John’s Gospel was delayed because no word for comfort or Comforter existed. Then one day a missionary heard a tribesman say that he was going to visit a woman who had lost her son. He said he was going to help her to “get her heart around the corner.” And so, the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, was then translated as “the One who helps you get your heart around the corner.”

In Luke’s Gospel passage read on the feast of the Ascension this past Thursday, Jesus declares: “I am sending upon you what my Father has promised…” Jesus not only promised to send the Advocate, the Spirit: He delivered. “When the day of Pentecost had come,” says today’s first reading from Acts (1:1-21), “they were all together… and…all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit...” The name Pentecost derives from the Greek pentekoste = the 50th day, or seven weeks, after Passover. The Jewish Pentecost was called the Feast of Weeks, then one of Judaism’s three great feasts. It celebrated the gifts of the first fruits, as well as the gift of the Law to Moses. For followers of Jesus, this Jewish feast became the occasion for an outpouring of the Father’s first fruits: the gift of God’s Spirit. Through the gift of the Spirit, God empowers Jesus‘ followers to speak his Word to all people and to be understood by them. 

The Acts of the Apostles notes that, through the Spirit’s inspiration in St. Peter’s preaching, a sizeable community of faith, “about three thousand persons”, it says, came into being. It was a permanent group; Luke says they devoted themselves to the Apostles’ teaching, to fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to the prayers. He says further that they shared a common life, sharing “out the proceeds among themselves according to what each one needed...”, and that their witness “made a deep impression on everyone.” 

To us, the spiritual descendants of that first community of faith, the Father, through Jesus, has given the gift of God’s Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter, the one who helps us “get our hearts around the corner”. The secret of a good gift is that it’s practical, something which the receiver can put to immediate use. Jesus‘ gift to that first community of faith transformed people: they became people who began tohelp others get their hearts around the corner: supporting one another in faith, telling the story of the Good News, being sensitive to human needs, sharing gladly and generously, continually praising God, and making a difference in their local communities.

You and I have been given the Spirit-Gift in Baptism and Confirmation. Maggie Daniels, a friend of mine, many years ago shared with me one of her lovely poems, called Transparency. It describes the faith, hope and love with which the Spirit of God clothes each of us in Baptism and Confirmation, like a transparent coat: 

What does it mean

to wear a transparent cloak?

and love like a veil

and faith like invisible wings.

To kneel

hidden and revealed

at the same time

Before the Face of One

who sees.

And how is it that

when the cloak’s edges

fall on the grass

It does not hide the grass

And when it lays on a root,

It does not cover the twistings

But is itself

susceptible to snags and tears?

What good is such a cloak?

of what use is it?

And why?

A transparent cloak

is the loveliest cloak of all

Because it wraps

the treasure without hiding it,

Covers without duplicity,

Avoids familiarity without rejection.

Enhances without falsifying.

And one thing more:

When it enfolds a gift

it grants the receiver

the pleasure of beholding

without denying him

the delight of unwrapping.

It is good for a [person]

to wear such a cloak,

woven of rain and mist,

spun with threads of sun.

But it is difficult

to wear well

for many reasons.

Only a [person] in love

can bear it. 

The gift of God’s Holy Spirit to us is eminently practical and usable: it’s a gift of peace, of knowledge, and of power. The Hebrew word for peace is shalom. It means perfect well-being, which is to say God; therefore, it’s God’s presence: complete harmony, such as exists when you and I are right with ourselves, with one another, and with God. There is only wholeness, no fragmentation. St. Paul says in Romans: “...to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” (Romans 8:6)

The Spirit also enables us to know, to discern, our purpose, our direction in life. Paul again, in 1 Corinthians, reminds us that “...we have received...the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God...” (1 Corinthians 2:12) Moreover, God’s Spirit enables us not only to have Christ’s peace, but to become senders of the Spirit to others, beautifully summarized in The Prayer of St. Francis: “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace...” 

In the New Testament, the greeting of peace, uttered by those whom Jesus sends, is also a word of power. Jesus was conceived as “the power of the Most High”. Jesus is the Word of the Father: God’s presence and power embodied, and spoken inside people’s hearts. The disciples on the road to Emmaus describe Jesus as “mighty in deed and word before God and all the people”. Jesus’ words and deeds bring Life to people. The gift which the Father and Jesus send at Pentecost is, according to Luke, “like the rush of a violent wind”; all are “filled with the Holy Spirit”. Once empowered, people are gifted to preach, to witness, to heal, to be hospitable, to take others in, to teach, to be discerning, to show mercy: and all of this is for one purpose: “...to equip the saints for the work of ministry,” as Paul says, “for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ...” That’s a description of how we help one another, by the presence of the Spirit within us, to “get our hearts around the corner”.

Gertrud Mueller Nelson, in her book To Dance with God, describes it like this:“In the mystery of Pentecost, we await the gift of tongues -- the ability to hear and speak the word, each as we come to know it, understand it, and proclaim it in the uniqueness of our personhood. The gift is to interpret the meaning of Christ’s mission as it unfolds in our human experience, and through it we discover a common language. Meaning is what our waiting minds perceive and love, the word each heart understands....”