Homily: Get on the Roller Coaster

Fr. Tony Cecil Homily: Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity (16 June 2019) Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, LaGrange, Kentucky

I really don’t like roller coasters.

It was an unbearably hot summer day, and some friends and I were spending it at Holiday World in Southern Indiana. They had been trying their hardest all day to convince me to ride one of the famous wooden roller coasters, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it—I told them I’d stand in line with them, but once we got to the front, I’d cross over the ride, exist, and wait for them to finish.

As we neared the front of the line, we were told that we all had to leave and come back in an hour, because something was wrong—the coaster wasn’t working correctly. You can probably guess what ran through my head—there is no way in you-know-where that I’m getting on this thing now!

An hour later, we came back, and after some persistent badgering—I gave in. I got on the roller coaster. One of my friends sat next to me, and she said that during the ride she’d hold my hand, and that if I started freaking out, to squeeze her hand and it’d calm me down. Well—a couple of minutes later, the ride was over, I felt like I was going to throw up, and I’m pretty sure her hand was nearly broken.

So many people love these rides—so naturally, everyone wanted me to explain myself as to why I hated the experience so much. Well, first of all, I don’t like heights—and I don’t like going very fast—and a roller coaster prominently features both of these things.

But also—I’m the type of person that likes certainty.

I like having all of the answers.

I like knowing what to expect.

I like feeling like I’m in control of what’s going on around me.

But on a roller coaster—there isn’t much certainty—you don’t know when the next turn or hill is coming—you don’t know what to expect, and there’s nothing that you can do to control what’s going on once the ride beings—you just have to sit back, and let whatever’s going to happen, happen.

To put it simply—when you get on a roller coaster, you have to embrace the mystery that lies ahead.

In general, human beings do not like mystery—our world doesn’t embrace it—we’ll accept it as a genre for a novel, or a movie or TV show, or even on a ride at a theme park—but when it comes to “real life,” we want nothing to do with it. We want patterns that show predictability, we want empirical evidence, we want satisfying answers to burning questions.

And then, there’s today’s feast—which can be a bit troublesome.

Today, we as a Church celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. We celebrate in a very focused way what we believe and what we profess every Sunday when we gather for Mass—that our God is three distinct persons—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but is one being, having a single divine nature. We celebrate our belief in a Trinity of co-equal, co-eternal persons, who are one in essence, nature, power, action, and will.

To us who have grown up in the faith and have professed this Sunday after Sunday without really thinking about it—it may not seem that odd—but try explaining what we believe about God to someone who has never heard it before. It doesn’t take long to find yourself confused.

When I was in the seminary, we had an entire semester course on the Trinity. Our professor began the semester by telling us, “Gentlemen—the Trinity is a complete mystery. If at the end of the semester, having taken this course, you claim to understand the Trinity—you’re most likely in heresy and I’ve failed as a professor.”

Brothers and sisters—today we celebrate that our God, and indeed our very faith—is a mystery.

Because there is quite a bit of mystery to be found with God. It’s mysterious that He created all that we see out of nothing.

It’s mysterious that He chose to become a human being, in a certain time, in a certain place, among a certain people.

It’s mysterious that He allowed Himself to die a criminal’s death, and to rise from the dead. It’s mysterious that He would create a Church that He would leave in the hands of sinful, faulty human beings.

It’s mysterious that He allows cheap bread and wine to become His Body, His Blood, His Soul, and His Divinity—and that He lets all of us receive His very self.

God is a mystery—our faith is a mystery.

We can try to be in control all that we want. We can try to know every single answer to every single burning question. We can try to predict what will happen.

But the truth is—we can’t. Because we aren’t in control—God is. Because we can’t know the answer to all the questions, because the truth is that God Himself is the answer. Because we can’t predict what will happen—only God knows.

And for some—that’s enough. That’s enough to cause them to walk away. That’s enough to make them throw in the towel. In the craziness of their own life, they’re trying to find something to grab on to, they’re trying to steer the ship themselves—but what they don’t realize is this—all they have to do is let go of the wheel and let the true captain of the ship take command. But letting go of the wheel necessitates embracing the mystery.

It can be scary—in some ways, it can feel like getting on a roller coaster for the first time—but this is a ride I don’t mind getting on, because in the midst of the mystery—in the haze of uncertainty, there is a distinct, hidden beauty.

The beauty is this—the mystery doesn’t have to be solved.

It’s not a secret code to be cracked.

In fact, the mystery can’t be solved.

This reveals the profound beauty of the mystery of God— We can never fully know God—which means that we can always grow closer to Him, because He Himself is a mystery, and He has created us not just for a lifetime, but for an eternity with Him!

And so in the mysteries of my own life, God is there. In the things that I don’t understand, God is there. In the events that I can’t explain or make sense out of, God is there.

Even in the midst of my afflictions—God is there—God is there, in the mystery—giving endurance—endurance that produces character, and character that produces hope—hope which does not disappoint—hope which can not disappoint, because in the mystery of this Trinity that we celebrate today—in Christ Jesus, “the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

Brothers and sisters—today’s celebration of such a great mystery carries with it an extraordinary invitation.

The invitation: get on the roller coaster—get on the roller coaster that is our faith—embrace the mystery—and know that atop every hill and in the depths of every valley, at each and every twist, turn, loop, and bump—God is there, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, in a Trinity of Divine Love—and so in the mystery, only in the mystery, true comfort is found.

To view the readings for this Sunday, click here.

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