I want to start by thanking Father for assigning me to preach on Trinity Sunday—the one weekend where you're asked to explain the deepest mystery of our faith in eight minutes.
Can anybody tell me where in the Bible the word “Trinity” appears? Don't spend too much time looking for it because it's not there, but the reality of it is woven all throughout Scripture.
From the first chapter of Genesis, we see signs: “In the beginning, God created…” That’s the Father. Then “a mighty wind swept over the waters.” That’s the Spirit. And then “God said, ‘Let there be light.’” That’s the Word—Jesus. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—three persons, one God, and that's just in the first three verses.
The Catechism says the mystery of the Trinity is “the central mystery of Christian faith and life.” Not just a fancy theological term—the central mystery. Why? Because it reveals not just who God is, but who we are.
We say it every Sunday in the Creed: “I believe in one God, the Father Almighty…” Then we proclaim Jesus as “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God… consubstantial with the Father.” Then we profess belief in the Holy Spirit, “the Lord, the giver of life.” Not three gods. One God. But not one person. Three persons.
Sometimes all that can sound like theological word salad. Don't feel bad if you don't understand it, that's why it's called a mystery: even saints like Augustine struggled to understand it.
There’s a story where he’s walking along the beach trying to grasp the Trinity when he sees a child pouring ocean water into a hole in the sand. Augustine asked, “What are you doing?” The child replied, “I’m going to put the whole ocean in this hole.” Augustine said, “That’s impossible.” And the child answered, “About as impossible as you trying to understand the Trinity.”
So if the Trinity is a mystery and because it's a mystery, we can't grasp it with our limited human mind, what’s the point?
Here’s the point and it's a beautiful truth: God is a communion of persons, a relationship of love.
St. John tells us, “God is love.” Not just that God loves, but that He is love. For love to exist, there must be relationship. The Father loves the Son. The Son loves the Father. The Spirit is the love between them.
And the really beautiful truth is that we are made in that image.
And if you and I were made in God’s image, then that means you and I were made for love, too. Genesis says, “It is not good for man to be alone.” Before Eve came along, Adam wasn’t necessarily lonely—but he was alone. He was created for relationship. And so are we.
Think about this: the worst punishment in a prison is solitary confinement. Complete isolation. Why? Because it’s unbearable to be utterly alone. We learned that the hard way during COVID, didn’t we? Isolation wasn’t just difficult—it was harmful.
We need each other. Not just to survive, but to be who we were created to be. Why? Because the Trinity reveals not just who God is—but the innermost truth about us.
What that means is we are most fully ourselves when we give ourselves away. When we love. When we live in communion with each other. As Pope St. John Paul II said, “Man cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.”
And so Father has asked me to share a little bit of my own vocation story—because it’s in living that gift of self that I encountered the Trinity in a real, personal way.
As many of you know, I’ve been part of this community since the late ’70s. I’m a cradle Catholic, and I always thought I was doing okay in my faith. But in 2006, I attended a retreat that changed my life. I realized I hadn’t really been using the gifts and talents God had given me in the way He intended.
A few months after that retreat, I was leaving a church event when the wife of one of the deacons in West came up to me and said, “Terry, I think you would make a good deacon.” I chuckled and brushed it off, thinking she was just being kind. That wasn’t something I ever pictured myself doing.
But two weeks later, I walked into this very church and ran into the woman who had taught me CCD for my First Communion. I hadn’t seen her in years. We exchanged hellos, and before I could walk away, she looked at me and said, “Terry, I think you would make a good deacon.”
That shook me. God definitely had my attention.
I went to visit a friend of mine who’s a deacon at St. Jerome’s. I told him what had happened.
He said, “Terry, God doesn’t often speak through burning bushes or angels these days. He speaks through people and events. If you respect those women, maybe you should pray and listen.”
So I began to pray. I asked God what He wanted from me, what He was calling me to do. And in quiet listening, I felt the Trinity not as a distant doctrine, but as a real relationship — drawing me into love, into service, into the mission of giving my life for others.
I stand before you today not because I have it all figured out. I’m still imperfect. Still a sinner. Still a man needing redemption. Like all of us, still being refined in holiness. But I try— like we all should do — to listen to God, to let Him lead, and to trust He will give me what I need to accomplish His purpose.
I also tell you this because this Deacon is getting old. Our church needs vocations, not just to the priesthood, but also to have men who will choose to serve his people in parish life as deacons.
And that brings us back to what the mystery of the Trinity asks of us. And it's questions we should ask God every day before we even get out of bed every day:
Lord, where do you want me to give myself away today?
Where can I reflect the Trinity, the God who is love?
Lord, where do you want me to pour out my time, my talents, my attention?
My brothers and sisters,the Trinity is not just a doctrine to believe—it’s a life to live.
You are made for communion.
You are made for love.
You are made to give yourself away.
Because every time you choose love—real, sacrificial love—you’re echoing the life of the Trinity.
So live the mystery.
Be a gift.
Be love.
Be the Trinity.