Trinity: A Door That Draws Us In

My dear friends,

Today is Trinity Sunday. By some it is considered a preacher’s nightmare, the ultimate Rubik’s cube for theologians. The Church invites us today into the deepest mystery of our faith—the Most Holy Trinity. This is a mystery not in the sense of a puzzle to be solved, or of an Agatha Christie plot to be figured out, or a scientific conundrum to be discovered one day but a reality to behold.  Remember what we did at the beginning of this Mass and every Mass: we signed ourselves in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit; not in the names of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. But in the name…. that is, in the name of one God. That God is one in essence, yet three in persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not three gods, but one God who exists in a communion of love.

Now, when many people hear this, they imagine it as a distant doctrine, something abstract, perhaps best left to theologians. But I want to tell you this morning that the Trinity is not only central to our faith—it’s central to our lives. We were made in the image of this Triune God. And when we understand that, it changes everything.

Let me begin with this story.

There was a young man named Marco who grew up in a coastal village in Italy. He loved the sea and worked as a fisherman like his father before him. He was a good man, but he kept to himself. He lived alone, worked alone, and rarely went to Mass. When asked why, he would shrug and say, “I pray on the boat. That’s enough.”

One day, a terrible storm came. Marco’s boat capsized, and he found himself clinging to a piece of wood, miles from shore. Cold and afraid, he drifted through the night. As dawn broke, he saw a light on the horizon. A rescue boat. He was pulled aboard by a team of fishermen—three brothers who had gone out in the early morning searching for lost vessels.

They brought him home, gave him dry clothes, and sat him by the fire. One cooked, another told stories to ease his fears, and the third tended his wounds. Marco had never known such warmth. And something began to stir in him—not just gratitude, but a desire to live differently. He returned to the church, began to help others, and when asked what changed him, he simply said, “I met love that worked together.”

Love that worked together. That, in a simple way, is the Trinity.

God is not solitary. God is not a distant force. God is relationship. From all eternity, the Father pours himself out in love to the Son. The Son receives that love and returns it fully to the Father. And the love between them is so complete, so alive, that it is the Holy Spirit.

This is why St. John tells us, “God is love”. Not just that God has love or shows love, but that God is love—love as a communion, love that shares, love that gives.

Now, here’s the key for us: you and I are made in the image of this God. That means we are not meant to live in isolation. We are not designed to be self-sufficient islands. We are made for relationship—relationship with God and with one another.

Think about it. Every one of us longs to be known, to be loved, and to give love. We long to be part of something greater than ourselves. That’s not a flaw in our design—it’s a clue to our origin. We were made by a Triune God, and that longing within us is the echo of the Trinity imprinted on our souls.

This also tells us something important about salvation. Salvation is not just about following rules. It’s not just about getting our sins forgiven. It’s about being drawn into the very life of God.

This is why Jesus came. Not simply to give us a moral code, but to bring us into the life he shares with the Father. Over and over in the Gospels, Jesus speaks of being one with the Father, doing the Father’s will, sending the Spirit who proceeds from both. He is inviting us into that life. As St. Peter says, we are to “become partakers of the divine nature”.

The Christian life, then, is not just about avoiding sin—it’s about entering into this divine relationship. When you pray, you’re not just checking a spiritual box; you are speaking with the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit. When you forgive someone, you’re not just being polite; you are mirroring the self-giving love of the Trinity. When you come to Mass, you’re not attending a ritual from the past; you are being swept up into the eternal worship of God who is Father, Son, and Spirit.

And the Eucharist—ah, the Eucharist is the Trinity in action. The Father gives us the Son. The Son offers himself in love. And through the power of the Holy Spirit, that offering is made present here and now. When you receive the Eucharist, you receive not just grace, but God himself. You are pulled into the eternal life of the Trinity.

So, what should we take away from today?

First, remember that you are not made to be alone. The Trinity is a communion of love—and so are we. Family, friendship, the Church—these aren’t just optional extras. They are signs of who God is and who we are meant to become.

Second, pray. Not just as a duty, but as an entryway into God’s life. When you cross yourself “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” you are calling on the deepest truth of reality.

Finally, love. Love as God loves—freely, fully, and without fear. Because when you love, you are most like God.

The mystery of the Trinity is not a wall that keeps us out. It’s a door that draws us in. Let’s walk through it—together.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen