It is a fact that in a number of denominations the Sunday after Pentecost is designated "Trinity Sunday," one of the few such days in the Christian calendar with no connection to a real or legendary personage or event. The celebrations of Holy Cross and Corpus Christi are two others of that kind.

Trinity Sunday is appointed in quite the same way a hammer is taken in hand: i.e., in search of a nail -- the hammer being orthodoxy's insistence on the specious mathematics of Three in One and One in Three and of the impossibly byzantine theology of which it is the equally specious foundation. Undeserving churchgoers are the nail.

It is fervently to be hoped that preaching clergy (and preaching laity, should there be any -- and there should be) will follow the lead of the texts set by the Revised Common Lectionary for June 7 and which are analyzed below. In them there is not much more than a hint of the kind of theology that drove the likes Ralph Waldo Emerson out of conventional religion, to the distinct disadvantage of the latter.

A colleague once took me to task for dismissing trinitarianism. He insisted that the doctrine evolved from the inability of people of antiquity to account for the deity, given the paucity of their languages. So they decided to divide their deity, Gaul-like, into three parts.

My response to him was that former generations of the people we now call Jews did not go to all the trouble to condense lords many and gods many into one, only to have their successors undo that piece of decent work. I also said that I was trying to move that effort forward by eliminating the one god that remained, thus putting an end to the argument. He was not amused.

1) The first Isaiah's hallucinogenic encounter with Yahweh is first up in the readings (Isaiah 6: 1-8). It is as familiar a passage as any in the Hebrew scripture and as graphic. The writer's intention seemed to have been to make a case for the legitimacy of his inclination to join the ranks of the "nebh�'im," literally, those who believe they could speak for Yahweh.

Isaiah's Yahweh is not a voice from a burning bush or a nameless one who contends in hand-to-hand nocturnal combat with mortals at a forsaken riverside. This is a fully outfitted deity "sitting upon a throne, high and lofty" -- a god so mammoth that the mere hem of his robe filled the sanctuary, which we are to assume was not only "high and lofty" but properly commodious as would suit such a magnificent figure. This is "the one" for whom Isaiah would speak.

Six-winged seraphs (imaginary creatures of uncertain literary origin) sing the praise of the enthroned one: "holy, holy, holy." The superlative in Hebrew is generally expressed in repetition. It is not incipient trinitarianism.

The seraphs' other task is to serve as mediators between the one high and lifted up and the willing conscripts to his service. In that office, one of them takes what is called a "live coal" and places it upon the lips of the would-be prophet. "Live coal" is not the best translation. "Firestone" is, indicating a kind of stone heated to bake bread. Even so the mere touching of such an object fresh from the fire to any part of a human mouth would do great damage -- thus it is appropriate to think of the depiction as symbolic and reminiscent of purity rites practiced throughout antiquity in the Middle East.

2) On to Paul who rings in with his spirit-flesh dualism (Romans 8: 12-17). He means by "flesh" all those values and conceits that tie one to here-and-now concerns -- as, perhaps, in asking for daily bread? Or as in tending to the "troubles which are sufficient unto the day?"

It is to be suspected that the crafters of the lectionary chose the Romans passage for its reference to the "Spirit of God" and to Paul's deity "Abba, Father" linked then in the latter part of the sentence with "Christ" -- gathering into one or two lines all the elements of what later theologians would make out as "The Trinity."

That aside, it is well to take the brief Romans passage in context, and the context is Paul's wrestling with his Jewish background as a student of Torah, which he could not quite ever successfully disown. Like Luther after him, Paul saw the hope of greater freedom through belief in the salvific work of the Christ figure than in the parsing of the law.

Paul connected "the law" with its emphasis on sin and its consequence, death. What saves a person from that is "life in the spirit" which phrase, if Paul meant what he said at II Corinthians 3:17 ("Now the Lord is the Spirit," i.e. the resurrected Jesus is the abiding presence in the life of the church), connotes an existence only interrupted by suffering and death but ended by neither -- as he says, "If we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him."

The secular humanist believer will interpret such a statement to mean that it is appropriate to suffer and even to die for the sake of a cause, the end goal of which is justice or peace or freedom for the oppressed after the example of Mohandas Gandhi or M.L. King, Jr.

3) Now comes the evangelist John with a passage (3: 1-17) that is as well known in its own way as the Isaiah passage treated of above. It includes the clandestine ("by night") conversation between "a leader of the Jews," one Nicodemus - the name means "a conqueror of people," a common enough name in the first century CE. Did John choose it to make the point that even a people-conqueror had to reckon with a higher power?

It is a curious colloquy: Nicodemus sets forth the proposition that Jesus (whom he calls "rabbi," meaning "esteemed teacher") must somehow be operating under the aegis of God because he can or "has the power" to do "these signs?" What signs? Maybe the supposed one at Cana? At 2:23 it is said that "many believed in his name (nature) because they saw the signs that he was doing."

The response John gives Jesus to make is a bit oblique: "No one can see the kingdom (or rule) of God without being born "from above." Nicodemus is made to hear the other meaning of the Greek aνωθεν i.e. "again." John's Jesus eventually gets that sorted out, but not to Nicodemus' satisfaction. He may be able, as his name suggests, to conquer whole nations, but he cannot understand "the esteemed teacher."

After the reference to Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness (an oblique reference to the "Son of Man being lifted up" -- a presaging of the crucifixion or just another "sign"?) comes the nub of the passage -- that verse made famous by its display at many a Super Bowl or other arena contest: John 3:16.

"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."

As long as one takes the above statement as a confession of blind faith in an indemonstrable proposition, he is on sound ground. But taking it as a statement of fact is impossible. The key words are "believes in" and "eternal life."

For "believes in" read: trusting that it is worth it to risk one's life in the same way the gospels (especially the synoptics) suggest Jesus did, i.e. enunciating his disarming humanist ethic -- a verbal passive resistance. Of course, he "perished" as have and will so many who have dared or will dare to speak truth to power or in the presence of power. For the principalities and powers, the "truth" is best kept in the dark (see 3: 20-21). For "eternal life" read: the life elsewhere called "abundant," in other words "full" for as long as lasts, but not "eternal" in the sense that it goes on forever.

The argument often made for religion is that people who are religious are more likely to behave in acceptable ways than those who are not. For reason's sake you would have to subtract from that lot the rigidly fundamentalist types who are perpetually on the point of going to war to impose their perception of truth on others.

On the plus side of the equation, however, would be adherents of religions the practice of which leads them to take a broader, longer look at life insofar as their knowledge and powers of reason permit. Such folk find themselves feeling pretty modest about what they actually know and are able to figure out, thus might refrain from coercing others into believing it.

It is more likely that such types will contribute to the abundance (or, if you must, "eternal") aspect of life, will see in their fellow human beings centers of freedom and dignity that ought not to be compromised. It is more likely that such types will want to live in the light of any truth that becomes accessible to them, rather than in the darkness of denial and skullduggery. It is more likely that such types, formed and informed by all the foregoing will as a matter of course seek justice and work for peace.

That in itself would be a mark on the asset side of the ledger of what is called "eternal life" -- the term, again, meaning an existence so fulfilling that anyone would wish it to be "everlasting" in the sense that at least one's children and children's children might know it and revel in it.