[Propertalk] Trinity

[Robert P Morrison]

The germ for this came during a field trip with some congregants. We visited an Iris Farm and, well ....

THE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF ST. JAMES, LINCOLN CITY    TRINITY SUNDAY – B RCL
ISAIAH 61:1-8		 7th JUNE, 2009 
ROMANS 8:12-17   	                      PSALM 29		                 
JOHN 3:1-17

	This IS Trinity Sunday, so first, a Disclosure: No theologians were harmed during the writing of this sermon!
	What would you anticipate seeing on a visit to the Iris Gardens in Keizer? Iris – of course, in every colour imaginable and then some that you hadn’t anticipated. 
	Whether you look in one of the catalogues produced by Schreiner’s 1, or went on your computer to find an on-line site; whether you listened to a talk by someone who’d been there, and had brought back photos; or whether you actually went there yourself – even with some sort of adequate preparatory thought, it’s really hard to imagine the glorious varieties, with minute variations in shading, and petal shaping, and stamen placement and style. Looking at this year’s new variants, and noting the subtle differences from previous years’ blossoms and heights and so on, makes one believe that the variety of the ways in which one can understand the iris really IS infinite. Being exposed to such a lavishness is almost more than we can comprehend. All that a garden visitor can do is wonder at the common feature that makes each one of these an iris, yet somehow supports individuality of expression.
	About fifteen or so years ago at Diocesan Convention in Seaside, the keynote speaker, who actually ended up talking to us three times, because flooded roads prevented the planned speaker’s arrival; the speaker who filled in, brilliantly, trained us so that whenever she said “God is good” we’d respond “All the time!”
	Looking at iris I can only echo – God is good; All the time! There’s no way we can possibly comprehend and describe God. We can give little bits and pieces of a description, just as we can approximate how to refer to the colour, and the petal-style, and the stem-length, and so on, of each iris plant.
	Yet just as it would impoverish our lives if we were NOT to attempt to describe an iris, and tell someone – sighted or not – how amazing any one particular rhizome can produce such glory; so would our lives be impoverished if we were NOT to attempt to think about God, and to try to describe God. And maybe it IS appropriate that it was a visit to a garden that should inspire such thought about the Creator. Maybe it’s when we can catch a glimpse of that mythical First Garden, and think of all that it must contain, that we gain greater insight into the majesty and mystery who is God.
	But to stop there would be to miss out – both horticulturally and divinistically. 
	I asked at the beginning what we might anticipate seeing on a visit to the Iris gardens. What struck us this year, as we passed across the welcoming shaded grassy area, was the riot of colour with a profusion of other flowers, especially of lupines. Down the centre of each bed, crammed with hundreds, possibly thousands of different iris, were row upon row of lupine – also in different colours. Then there were what’s fast becoming a favourite of mine, peonies. Big ones; little ones; tall ones; short ones; single-pedaled ones, multi-layered ones – it seemed as if there were almost as many peonies as there were iris.
	Probably why peonies resonate with me so much is because we had so many of them in the garden at the home in which I grew up in Scotland. They’ve become a “comfort” flower to me, and all the emotions that come welling up when I see them are tied in with my formative years. No doubt a prejudice creeps in whenever I see a peony, then, but peonies, lupines, columbine, and so on – along with the advertised iris, they ALL have a part to play in making the Gardens in Keizer so rich. They blend together to form a magnificent whole, whenever one steps back just a bit.
	If you move forward again, though, one or other of the flowers jumps back out of the general shimmering pattern of colour to focus on one plant, one colour, one texture.
	As I wandered through that Garden – and the biblical language wasn’t far from my mind – as I wandered through that Garden ten days ago, the image that came to my mind out of all that was there was of the Trinity – of God, incredibly radiant, brilliant, subtle, AND taking on DIFFERENT aspects as one turns one’s head, or changes one’s approach.
	I’ve no idea how far this sort of analogy can be taken before dropping into the chasm of heresy, but what I look forward to each year on this Sunday – Trinity Sunday – is of catching a little more of the mysterious revelation of God in Creation. Each year, as I stand at the entrance into the theological Garden, anticipating the delight awaiting me, something from the liturgy speaks to me differently about God in Three Persons. And as we approach this day, different visions pass through my mind – of ancient ikons, especially the Rublev representation of the Trinity; of stained glass windows from churches and cathedrals I’ve visited; of carvings on altars and walls; of the very language of the prayers and hymns; of poetry; and so on. There’s no end to the stimulus.
	In one way or another, all of these combine to shine light on the way that God reaches into my life – and yours, I hope – to make self-disclosure. God, as the marvellous hymn puts it, “is working his purpose out”; but God is ALSO continuing to disclose the sacred Mystery. So maybe thinking about Gardens, especially flower gardens, is not that far off base.
	One of the things I discover as I think my way through the year, and note the changes in what God may be saying, is that God never stops the process of revelation. Until the day I die, until the day that this world winds itself into oblivion or is brought triumphantly into its God-created purpose, God will continue to bring about greater understanding to us, the beloved Creatures of God. I EXPECT, therefore, to be surprised with joy, to be challenged out of preconceptions, to have my mind altered in one way or another as each day I’m exposed by God to different ways of thinking about God-in-life.
	Think of the view I described of the garden as we first drew near. Colours, all sorts of them, some brighter than others, some seemingly unrelated to the ones next to them – colours formed one glorious image of loving, joyful celebration. I WAS thinking of the word “abandon”, and I think it fits if you take it in a free and positive sense. Certainly they’d been arranged very carefully by some co-ordinating Gardiner or group of Gardiners. My mind could grasp that. Yet the result of such infinite care was that it looked so spontaneously happy that it seemed so free. The overall effect was of an expressed desire to give enormous pleasure.
	Could it be that that’s how one views God? Overall, as we travel through and experience creation in a general sort of a way, we’re taken aback by what may be seen as random activity. We really like the picture. We marvel at the majesty of everything around us. Despite what we perceive as irregularities, and what we facetiously refer to as “Acts of God”, there’s a wonderful sense of some Master Gardener who’s spent a long time putting all of this together, and then sub-contracting the Garden’s care out to others who’re each skilled to a greater or lesser degree – I’m talking about you and me here, just in case you’re confused!
	No matter where we are in life, what’s been going on within our familial or friendship circles, we sense something of the work of God in our lives, and the more sensitive we become; perhaps the quieter we’re willing to become; the more open to others’ suggestions we become; the more we become aware of God breathing.
	But no Garden, however intricately designed, or stupendously eye-catching, no Garden is designed to be seen only from a distance. If what we see is intriguing in the least, most, if not all, of us want – we feel a NEED – to draw closer.
	Of course, I don’t believe that there is only ONE way in which to look at Life. Sometimes we start from the general, from the wide-screen vista, and then slowly work our way into the particular, perhaps becoming mesmerised by one small part of the whole. Thus we see what the Artist’s concept is, and can become more aware of why it’s so important that a specific point in the story takes on certain characteristics.
	There’s the other approach, however. Sometimes, because of an accident, or illness, or seeming quirk of fate, we come across one small item – a specific flower, a stripe or blotch of a single colour, the shapeliness of a singularity – and we’re drawn into contemplating that one thing for a long time. After that, we may begin to notice the surroundings – the soil, the presence or absence of nourishment and water and chemicals, the interrelationship with other plants and animals, and so on, until we’re finally surprised when we find out the vastness and the complexity of the big picture.
	Neither way of looking at Life is correct, to the exclusion of the other. Sometimes it pays to move back and forth, as if zooming a camera lens. Both tells us about that Master Gardener. Somehow, though, I like to be able to notice the individuality of what’s around me – each person, each group, each manner of acting. How each one acts tells me about the freedom each has in relationship to the whole, and also describes something of the trust and unity of purpose that can be achieved in variety.
	Is it too far-fetched to think about God in this way? God in Christ, revealing God’s own mind and desire. Jesus, the human who wrestled with the same daily chores and aches with which have to deal. Jesus, the Word present at Creation – of course! But also Jesus, a specific Flower in Earth’s garden, bringing us to the realisation not only that God loves us ALL, but also that God has a specific plan for you and for me – a plan that may involve the discovery that we each may be the only person with such a gift that no one else has. Jesus, the Flower of Flowers, whom we’re called to admire and to savour, opening up the petals of our minds to reveal some of the mysteries of God’s Celestial Banquet of the senses.
	There’s an old Dutch carol which goes:

	King Jesus hath a garden, full of divers flowers,
	Where I go culling posies gay, all times and hours.

Refrain:
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.

	The Lily, white in blossom there, is Chastity:
	The Violet, with sweet perfume, Humanity. Refrain
	
	The bonny Damask-rose is known as Patience:
	The blithe and thrifty Marygold, Obedience. Refrain

	The Crown Imperial bloometh too in yonder place,
	'Tis Charity, of stock divine, the flower of grace. Refrain

	Yet, 'mid the brave, the bravest prize of all may claim
	The Star of Bethlem – Jesus – bless’d be his Name! Refrain

	Ah! Jesu Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete,
	Make thou my heart thy garden-plot, fair, trim and neat. Refrain 2

	A couple of weeks ago, in the Iris Garden, where my expectations may have been focused on seeing iris, I discovered there also the peony, what I called my “comfort flower”. Almost immediately I was drawn to see in it Jesus. Part of the garden, yet uniquely individual. Perfectly at one with the other Flowers, indeed with the whole, yet standing there saying something like, “Peace. Take Comfort. I’m here – for you and for the whole world to see, and to enjoy, and from Whom to draw inspiration and courage and hope.” In the peony I found God in another, perhaps unexpected form, yet one with everything.
	And how did I arrive at the entry to that garden? I might like to think that it was because we talked about it on Wednesday mornings. Yet there was God the Spirit, planting seeds, recalling images, suggesting ideas, raising possibilities. Until we arrived to discover the riotous splendour of God demonstrated in a few acres.
	If Patrick can talk about the Trinity using the Shamrock as an example, can I not, can we not, think of the Iris Garden, and all in it, as another metaphor for the joy and the multifaceted Nature of God? And rejoice that we may be part of it, and given a glimpse of God’s Glory?
	I think so!
	God IS good – ALL the time!! 

NOTES:
1	www.SchreinersGardens.com
2	Words from Heer Jesus heeft een Hofken, Traditional Dutch from Geestlijcke Harmonie, Emmerich, 1633 Translation by Rev. George R. Woodward (1848-1934) www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/king_jesus_hath_a_garden.htm

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Robert P. Morrison
The Episcopal Parish of St James,
PO Box 789
Lincoln City, Oregon, 97367

541-994-2426 (Church)