Sermon: Trinity Sunday | 15 June 2025
- Preacher:
- Bob Cooper
- Date:
- Sunday 15th June 2025
- Venue:
- Holy Trinity Church, Guildford
- Service:
- Choral Evensong
When I was a parish priest, I would always invite a guest preacher on Trinity Sunday as frankly it is always a tricky one on which to preach and so the way around this was to invite someone else. I am glad to see that Fr Simon is carrying on this great tradition; however this time it is me that is the invitee! Poacher turned gamekeeper methinks!
In the wilderness of Sinai, Moses encountered a bush that burned but was not consumed. In the darkness of night in Jerusalem, Nicodemus encountered Jesus and struggled to understand what it meant to be born again. Both men stood at the threshold of transformation, face to face with the mystery of God who reveals himself as Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—and who calls his people to lives of justice and righteousness.
Moses was tending sheep when he saw the burning bush, but he was not merely a shepherd in that moment. He was a man carrying the weight of his people's oppression, a fugitive who had fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian taskmaster who was beating a Hebrew slave. Even in exile, Moses could not escape the reality of injustice that plagued his people. The cry of the oppressed followed him into the wilderness.
When God called to Moses from the burning bush, commanding him to remove his sandals because he stood on holy ground, this was not merely about ritual purity. Holy ground is where heaven touches earth, where the divine breaks into human history with purpose and mission.
And what was God's purpose? "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them."
Here we encounter the first person of the Trinity—the Father who sees, hears, and knows the suffering of his people. This is not a distant deity unmoved by human pain, but the God who enters into our struggles and acts decisively for justice. The burning bush reveals a God whose very nature burns with passionate concern for the oppressed.
When Moses asked God's name, the response was profound: "I AM WHO I AM." This is not static being but dynamic presence—the God who will be what he will be, the God who acts in history, the God whose identity is revealed through his deeds of liberation. The Trinity is not an abstract theological puzzle but the living God who engages with a world crying out for justice.
Centuries later, another encounter with the divine unfolds in John's Gospel. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, comes to Jesus under cover of darkness. Here is a man of privilege and religious authority, yet something draws him to this controversial teacher. Perhaps it was the weight of religious systems that had become burdensome rather than liberating, structures that maintained the status quo rather than bringing justice to the marginalized.
Jesus speaks to Nicodemus of being born again, born from above. But this new birth is not merely individual transformation—it is about entering the kingdom of God, a realm where God's justice reigns supreme. The Son, the second person of the Trinity, embodies God's justice not through political revolution but through radical love that transforms hearts and systems from within.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life." This famous verse is often quoted in individualistic contexts, but its implications are cosmic. God's love extends to the entire world—not just the religious elite like Nicodemus, not just the powerful, but everyone. The incarnation of the Son is God's ultimate act of justice, levelling the playing field between rich and poor, powerful and powerless, insider and outsider.
Jesus continues: "God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." The Son comes not as judge but as saviour, yet this salvation inevitably brings judgment upon systems of oppression and injustice. The light exposes the darkness, and some prefer darkness because their deeds are evil.
The Desert Fathers understood this tension between light and darkness, justice and privilege. Abba Poemen, one of the most quoted of these early Christian monks, once said,
"A man may seem to be silent, but if his heart is condemning others, he is babbling ceaselessly. But there may be another who talks from morning till night and yet he is truly silent; that is, he says nothing that is not profitable."
Moses was called from silence in the wilderness to speak truth to power in Egypt. His silence was preparation; his speech became prophetic action for justice. Nicodemus came in the silence of night, perhaps condemning Jesus in his heart as a troublemaker, but left with words of life that would transform his understanding.
Poemen's insight reveals how the Holy Spirit—the third person of the Trinity—works within us. The Spirit convicts us of sin, righteousness, and judgment, but not to condemn us. Rather, the Spirit transforms our inner dialogue from condemnation to compassion, from self-justification to self-offering. The Spirit empowers us to speak profitable words—words that build up, that seek justice, that defend the oppressed.
The doctrine of the Trinity is not theological speculation but the foundation of Christian justice work. The Father who hears the cry of the oppressed, the Son who embodies God's love for the world, and the Spirit who empowers prophetic speech and action—these are not three separate gods but one God whose very being is relational, whose essence is love, whose character is justice.
In the burning bush, Moses encountered the God whose justice burns but does not consume—it purifies and commissions. The fire that did not destroy the bush is the same fire that led Israel through the wilderness, the same fire that appeared as tongues of flame at Pentecost, the same fire that burns within us when we encounter injustice and cannot remain silent.
Nicodemus encountered this same God in human form. Jesus, fully divine and fully human, demonstrates what it looks like when divine justice takes flesh. He touches lepers, eats with tax collectors, defends women caught in adultery, and challenges religious leaders who place burdens on others while remaining comfortable themselves.
Like Moses, we are called to remove our shoes and recognize that wherever injustice exists, we stand on holy ground. The God who heard the cry of Hebrew slaves hears the cry of every person denied dignity, opportunity, or basic human rights today. The Father's passion for justice has not diminished.
Like Nicodemus, we are invited to be born again—not just individually but as communities that embody God's kingdom values. The Son's example shows us that true power serves others, that true wisdom includes the marginalized, that true love sacrifices for the beloved.
Like the Desert Fathers, we are called to discernment—to know when to speak and when to listen, when our words serve justice and when they serve only ourselves. The Spirit guides us into all truth, including the uncomfortable truth about our own complicity in systems that perpetuate injustice.
The Trinity is not a doctrine to be explained but a reality to be experienced and embodied. In our worship, we encounter the Father who sees and acts. In our service, we follow the Son who loved and gave himself. In our advocacy, we rely on the Spirit who empowers and sustains.
This Trinity Sunday, may we hear the call from the burning bush in our own wilderness places. May we encounter Christ in our moments of confusion and seeking. May we be guided by the Spirit toward words and actions that serve God's justice in our world. For we serve the God whose name is "I AM"—the God who is present, active, and calling us forward into his mission of liberation and love.
Amen