Trinity Sunday: “God Is the Dance Itself”

Today’s reflections is from Bondings 2.0 contributor Mark Guevarra.

The liturgical readings for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity can be found here.

I love to dance. Even if I’m not professionally trained, and even if I look like a fool on the dance floor, I love to dance. There’s something magical about feeling a good beat that stirs me to let go of all my inhibitions and be carried away. There’s something about the vibe of a place–, the smells, the lighting, the accompanying libations, and being with the right kind of people that makes me feel connected and beyond myself. TheThere’s something about the music that can conjure joy and dispel anxiety. Dancing is personal and social, it’s physical and it’s spiritual. It’s an act of vulnerability that helps us transcend.

Some of my fondest memories are of dancing.My late grandmother loved the chicken dance, and her smile, as she waved her arms like a chicken, was proof. I loved dancing with my daughter when she was little. One time she was dressed as Princess Elsa from Frozen, and I was dressed as a prince wearing my best blazer. We waltzed through my living room as time stood still. I have so many other fond memories of dancing: with my ex partner, with friends in gay villages, with parishioners in parish halls, and even in liturgy at St. Gregory’s Parish in San Francisco. Dancing has created so many indelible memories. 

Today we celebrate the Holy Trinity. Throughout the centuries, Christians have tried to wrap their minds around this central mystery of the church  in all sorts of formulas In the late 300’s,St. Gregory of Nazianzus, and early Church Father  coined the term “Divine Dance” to describe the Trinity. What he meant is that the Trinity is dynamic, each person of the Three emptying into one another in a perpetual motion, like a dance. The interplay among them is constantly happening, never static, and always moving relationally to each other, the way dancing partners do.

 The way the Trinity was described in Gregory’s day was: ”Whatever is going on in God is a flow, a radical relatedness, a perfect communion between Three – a circle dance of love. And God is not just a dancer. God is the dance itself.”

He also used the dance metaphor to explain the human and divine dimensions of Jesus.

As a gay man that loves to dance, seeing the Trinity as a divine dance isn’t an esoteric metaphor but one that is embodied: it’s sweaty and exciting, it’s vulnerable, intimate, and sexual. The divine dance moves every fiber of my being from my griefs and anxieties to my every desire and joy. That’s what makes the Trinity holy for me: the Trinity is felt in every God-given sense of my body. 

The divine dance unites every dance that has been and will be danced by every tribe and creature that has moved to the drum beat of the earth. The divine dance is expressed even in the stars as planets move around stars, galaxies around black holes, and all of the universe within the heart of God. The divine dance leads to giving birth, it pours forth energy, heals, creates, destroys, and re-creates. 

Years ago,I attended my first indigenous pow wow, the Calgary Stampede. There were dozens of men beating a drum and chanting at the top of their lungs. The sound carried for miles and reverberated through the ground, the trees, and deep into my bones. Hundreds of dancers danced in a circle –men, women, two-spirit folxs – each dressed in magnificent regalia adorned with bells, and colourful beads and ribbons. Many wore ornate headdresses with all sorts of feathers and some carried feathers in their hands. For me, the most appropriate way to describe my experience of the powwow is to say it was divine. The pulsing drum, the heart piercing chanting, the clinking of the metal pieces sewed on the garments, the constant movement in a circle, all broke my mind from the ordinary. For me, all of it was an opening between this world and the spirit world. It was an opening which revealed the ancestors – humans and all other creatures – all dancing to the beat of the drum – the heartbeat of the universe. 

As a Canadian settler on a generations-long journey of reconciliation with indigenous folks whose culture was systematically erased by the residential school system, the powwow was an act of healing. For me, the cries of the chanters symbolized the pains of ancestors. For me, the constant movement in the circle symbolized the universe’s constant movement through time and space. As a Christian, the powwow is an expression of the paschal mystery: birth, life, joy, suffering, death, and resurrection all in a sacred dance. 

While I may never have the privilege of dancing in a powwow, I think any dance can be an opportunity to transcend life’s limitations. Any dance can be a source of deep connection and healing, a source of bodily and spiritual intimacy and delight. Any dance can be a reminder of God who takes us by the hands and hips and divinely sweeps us off our feet. 

As we celebrate Pride this month, dancing on the streets, in the clubs, and in house parties, may we also experience healing and liberation, defiant joy and a call to action. May we experience vivifying solidarity with those around us: LGBTQ people around the world, and our ancestors. May we create memories of dancing with the divine that lead us from this world into the next. 

—Mark Guevarra (he/him), June 15, 2025

Mark Guevarra is the co-editor and a contributor to Cornerstones: Sacred Stories of LGBTQ+ Employees in Catholic Institutions, an anthology of 12 stories of faith, sacrifice, joy, and pain from LGBTQ+ people who have been employed–and sometimes fired–by Catholic parishes and schools. For more information, click here.