The Most Holy Trinity

~ This weekend, the Church invites us into a profound mystery. We celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, the central truth of our faith: One God in three divine Persons. It can feel like a theological puzzle, a concept hovering just beyond our grasp. Yet, providentially, this year the celebration falls on Father’s Day, and perhaps it is through the lens of our fathers that we can catch a glimpse, however faint, of this divine mystery of love.

The mystery of the Trinity is not a math problem to be solved but rather a relationship of perfect love to enter into. Our first reading from the Book of Proverbs serves as a poetic entry point. We hear Wisdom personified, present with God before the world began: “The LORD possessed me, the beginning of his ways… When he established the heavens, I was there… I was his delight day by day, playing before him all the while, playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the human race.”

In this image of Wisdom, the Church Fathers often saw a preview of Christ the Son, and we see a Father who is a master craftsman, creating not in solitude, but in a joyful, loving communion. This divine creativity might echo in our memories. 

I recall my father, a man who, as I learned only later in life, spent the first fifteen years of his marriage either fighting in a war or working two full-time jobs. He did this to be a master craftsman of a different sort—to build our family home, a place of security and love. His love was a foundational, creative force. It was there in the cardboard multiplication table he meticulously made for my twin brother and me, giving us the tools to understand the world. This creative, ordering love extended to every facet of our lives. 

When I told my dad I was going on a trip, he would pour over maps for days, not just suggesting a route, but charting the very best way for me to go. In his careful planning, I see a reflection of the Father’s loving Providence, the God who establishes our paths.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide youto all truth.” Jesus then reveals the heart of the Trinitarian relationship: “He will take from what is mine and declare it to you. Everything that the Father has is mine.” The Son reveals the Father, and the Spirit illuminates the Son.

How did we come to know the love of our fathers? It was revealed in tangible moments. I was the first and only one of his sons to graduate from college. The pride in his eyes when he bought me my class ring was a tangible sign of a love that celebrated my achievements as if they were his own. His love was also evident in the letters he wrote to me during college. They were beautiful not only for what they said but also for his precise, perfect handwriting—each letter an expression of connection, a “word” from home that sustained me.

This revelation of love wasn’t exclusive; it was expansive. He was kind and welcoming to every friend I ever introduced to him. I always felt that when he spoke to me, I was the most important person in the world. It was a shock at his wake to realize that this was his gift to everyone. Person after person, some of whom I’d never met, shared how my dad made them feel the same way. In this, I see a powerful reflection of the Father’s love, a love so personal it feels exclusive to us, yet so infinite it is offered to all.

Jesus promised the Holy Spirit as a guide and advocate. This, too, finds an echo in a father’s care. I think of the simple, recurring rituals: the smell of Old Spice, the regular trips to Ray’s Barber Shop. These were signs of a steady, guiding presence. I remember learning to swim. The water was a place of fear until he was with me. In his strong, protective arms, my fear vanished. I could do it because I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Is this not a perfect image of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, who casts out our fear and allows us to navigate the turbulent waters of life? He was the one who taught me to keep score at my first White Sox game, patiently guiding me into the rules and rhythms of a new world.

And just as the Spirit guides us into deeper truth over time, our understanding of our fathers often deepens with age. The knowledge of his early sacrifices for our family came much later, a revelation of a love far deeper than I could have borne or understood as a child.

For me, all these threads of a father’s love – the creator, the revealer, the guide – came together in one of the most vulnerable and powerful moments of our lives. My father, a man of quiet strength, stood up in a 12-step meeting, his voice thick with emotion, and thanked the people there for “giving me back my son.” In that moment, his love was not just foundational or guiding, but also redemptive. It was a love willing to be vulnerable, to rejoice in restoration, to declare publicly, “My son was lost, but now is found.”

This is the love we celebrate this weekend. The Holy Trinity is not a distant doctrine but a dynamic, self-giving, redeeming love. The Father who creates and plans our path, the Son who reveals that love in ways we can see and touch, and the Holy Spirit who walks alongside us, dispelling our fears and guiding us home. On this Father’s Day, we thank God for the earthly fathers who, in their imperfect but beautiful love, gave us the first language to understand our Heavenly Father, who looks upon each of us today and says, “You are the most important person in the world to me.”