Describing the Indescribable

two seraphim, with the prophets Elijah and Isaiah, Master of Pedret, Apse of Àneu, 1090-1120.

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 39, Isaiah 6:1-8

And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’  –Isaiah 6:3

Today, our sermon series “Through the Bible” moves on to the Prophet Isaiah. In the description of Isaiah that I wrote for your worship bulletin, I mention some basic facts that every Presbyterian graduate student learns. We are reminded that Isaiah is the longest of the prophetic texts, with 66 chapters. Mainline scholars tell us that, in its current form, Isaiah contains the work of at least three authors, working in three distinct historical periods. The mood shifts from dire warning in the waning days of Judah’s power, to hopeful comfort during the time of Babylonian Exile, to instructive challenge about proper worship and social justice after the restoration of traditional worship practices in Jerusalem.

Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann, in his commentary on First Isaiah, reminded me why he is so respected and loved by pastors. In his peer group, he knows the same scholarly details as everyone, but explains them with greater simplicity and elegance than anyone. Following are some sentences lifted from his introduction.

“The book of Isaiah is like a mighty oratorio whereby Israel sings its story of faith …. In broad sweep, the story told in the book of Isaiah is the long account of Israel’s life in the midst of a demanding sequence of imperial powers …. Isaiah, however, is not simply a telling of the political story of Judah …. What makes this rendering of Judah’s life distinctive is that the story is told with unfailing attentiveness to Yahweh, who is reckoned to be the primal player in the life of Judah.”[1] Brueggemann’s brief introduction reads like a prayerful sermon, and I’m happy to point anyone who is interested toward these pages.

Isaiah stands on its own merits as a major prophet for the Jewish community, of course. But it’s also true that many of its texts have been foundational for the development of Christian theology by Jesus and his followers. Some of Christianity’s most inspirational liturgical and musical texts have their roots in Isaiah.

As I turned pages through Isaiah, the first such text I was reminded of is often labeled, “Isaiah’s call.” Isaiah is moved to take up prophetic ministry by a beautiful, profound mystical experience. His vision of God is partially responsible for inspiring hymns like two we sing today, one of which ends, Holy, holy, holy! merciful and mighty! God in three persons, blessed Trinity!

This hymn, given first position in our Presbyterian hymnbook, echoes Isaiah. In his ecstatic visionary experience, one angelic figure calls out to another, in words scholars believe were sung on New Year's Day in the temple: "Holy, Holy, Holy, is Yahweh Sebaoth, his glory is the fullness of the whole earth."  For centuries, theologians regarded this threefold attribution as one of many indirect scriptural references to the Trinity.[2] 

Whenever I stop to think about the Trinity, I can’t help but remember my entrance examination on the floor of presbytery, long ago. As such events are typically arranged, candidate John was standing at a microphone facing the assembly. Members of the assembly could approach another microphone, and ask me any question whatsoever pertaining to my understanding of Bible and theology, and my sense of call to ministry.

Even in the friendliest environment, this is an intimidating exercise, and I had wondered about the questions I would field.  Perhaps those concerned about the future of the Church would quiz me about my ministry priorities or philosophy of ministry.  Maybe those deeply involved in issues of sexuality would be bold enough to dig for my views on abortion or the ordination of homosexuals. 

Providence seemed to be smiling on me that day.  My examination was scheduled at nearly the end of a seven-hour meeting.  We were assembled in a new church building that had not yet been officially been granted an occupancy permit. A few hours before my examination, our hosts discovered that the temporary sewage-holding tanks had reached their capacity, forcing the closure of all restrooms. When I stood to be examined, the room was filled with an urgency that promised to keep my examination brief.

A pastor rose to the examiner's microphone.  The gleam in his eye told me that he had probably enjoyed the opportunity to create discomfort for candidates many times in the past.  With a kind of dramatic flourish, he posed for me his “killer question”: "Since we don’t know you, would you please introduce yourself to the presbytery by explaining your views on the Trinity?"

Fortunately, this was a topic about which I could speak. The examination was quickly called to an end, and I was voted into membership.  But I thought then, and still do,  how unfortunate that a stressful examination should be the only time outside of graduate school when Christians think together about the meaning of Trinity. So, let’s think together about it for a few minutes.

At first hearing, “Trinity” sounds like such a “churchy” word. But conversation about “three-ness” isn’t confined to the Church. The ancient Pythagoreans, believing that mathematics was a key to understanding the universe, explained the number three to be the number of expanded unity.  They pointed out that in music, three is the proper number of notes for the satisfying development of a keynote extended into a basic chord.[3]

If you’ve ever studied the physics of light, then you’ve learned about its mysterious qualities. From one experimental angle, light displays the properties of particles projected from its source, and from another it displays the properties of waves undulating. When considered as a whole, the properties of light are altogether different from just the one or the other; light is something more complex. From my experience in lengthy church-history lectures, I can say that the ancient debates by Church Fathers about the Trinity bear some similarity; you might think of their brilliant minds working together on something not unlike a physics project to describe the nature of the Ground of Being who we call God.

But the Trinity isn’t just a philosophical concept that was forced on the Bible. Early-church scholar Bernhard Lohse says the doctrine of the Trinity was inevitable, because of the Bible’s descriptions about the mysterious plurality of God. In particular, when early Christians experienced God as father, son, and spirit, he says that ambiguity “cried out for further elaboration.”[4]  Is Jesus “the God,” sort of a different manifestation of the same being who sometimes appears as “Father” or “Spirit”? Is Jesus “a god,” completely separate in essence from “Father” and “Spirit”? Or is the solution to this mystery of God’s nature something completely different?

For more than three centuries the debate raged.  Finally, in the fourth century, the Church reached a consensus. The consensus was so biblically grounded and complete that even in the churches of the Protestant Reformation, the doctrine regarding the Trinity went unchallenged.  The phrase that came to be associated with the Trinity is that in the father, son, and spirit, there are "three persons" of "one substance.”

Trinitarian language is, I believe, the result of people having a profound experience of God’s revelation, then trying to describe the indescribable God in a poetic way that captures just a glimpse of that reality. It’s a way of saying that God is not a static concept in a book, but rather a dynamic, Living Presence behind and underneath the universe, who meets us on life’s journey. The words about Trinity I like best come from Methodist preacher and theologian Will Willimon.  He writes, “How do we know the difference between a false god and the true God? The Living God can still shock you. A false god can’t, because it’s the projection of yourthoughts, your needs, and your desires …. the true God cannot be managed and contained. It is the nature of the Trinity to move, to intrude into the world, to dislodge, to show us the difference between our ways and God’s ways.”[5] 

His thoughts seem to invite a prayer. And so …

Living God, Ground of All Being, grant us the vision of Isaiah, the ability to experience the might and majesty that inspires the song of angels, “Holy, holy, holy,” that issues the challenging but clear call, asking “Who will go for us?” If you will work in our hearts that way, our reply can’t help but be, “Here I am, send me.” If we can encounter you, O God, like that, our lives will never be the same. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, AMEN.

NOTES

[1] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 1-39, a volume in the Westminster Bible Companion, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998, p. 1.

[2] Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 1-12, (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1972), 76-77.

[3] as summarized by F. Delitzsch, Isaiah, vol. 7, Commentary on the Old Testament, by C. F. Keil and F. Delitzsch (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1983), 193.

[4] Bernhard Lohse, A Short History of Christian Doctrine, trans. F. Ernest Stoeffler (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1966, 85).

[5] William Willimon, “Transformation with the Trinity: Preaching That Disturbs,” a lecture delivered at the Festival of Homiletics, First Baptist Church, Nashville, 25 May 2007.

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