How Queer Is the Holy Trinity?

Today’s reflection is from Ish Ruiz, Assistant Professor of Queer & Latinx Decolonial Theology at Pacific School of Religion, Berkeley, California. He is the author of LGBTQ+ Educators in Catholic Schools: Embracing Synodality, Inclusivity, and Justice, and a co-editor of Cornerstones: Sacred Stories of LGBTQ+ Employees in Catholic Institutions. 

Today’s readings for the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity can be found here. 

The abstract nature of the Solemnity of the Trinity, which we celebrate today, can often feel distant for many people. Even worse, historically, it has been the point of tension – even division – among many Christians who all claim that their understanding of the mystery of God is THE right understanding.

It is possible to look at today’s liturgical readings through a narrow lens, telling ourselves that we possess the “knowledge” and the certainty about God’s mystery. And according to the Gospel, Jesus is the way to salvation and the one who does not believe in Jesus is condemned. So whoever possesses the “knowledge” of who Jesus is has knowledge of the way to salvation. This kind of thinking often creates a “stiffed-necked” church leaders who focus on defining the Trinity, while refusing  to consider how the Trinity acts in our world in unexpected ways. 

A queer reading of the Trinity de-emphasizes grounding the Triniity in certain “knowledge,” and instead invites us into the mystery of a God who constantly exceeds the limits of human understanding and human control. The Trinity, therefore, is far more than a doctrine to be understood or mastered, but rather a relationship with the God of Surprises who dynamically moves through the world in diverse ways. 

The Trinity resists rigidity. The communion between creator, redeemer, and sustainer, held together in love, reveals to us how creativity, renewal, and energy all flow through the various ways we love each other. This love often falls outside of our narrow social, ecclessial, and theological categories, but it nonetheless reflects a deeper transcendental love.

Queer Catholics can then be seen as blessed because we are gifted in many ways with a unique ability to love how God loves – in a way that breaks boundaries and expectations. 

In today’s first reading, we see tension when the “stiffed-necked people” refuse to bend, change, and perceive God beyond what was familiar or comfortable. Too often, the institutional mindset of our Catholic Church has treated LGBTQ+ persons as a problem or as pathological people, creating a hurtful tension, not just between us and the Church, but between themselves and God. In those moments, our beloved Church ceases to become the avenue for God’s love which is why, on the solemnity of the Trinity, like Moses, I pray that God remains with them and continues to transform them. 

The Gospels tell us that “God did not send God’s only Child into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through said Child” (John 3:16, inclusified). Instead of reading this verse through the exclusionary lens that would condemn those who are not Christians, I wish to reflect through a queer lens on what it means to be saved through Jesus. In other words, this is not a matter of theological precision whereby we are saved if we get the right answer, as if salvation was a quiz we needed to score well on. Rather, it is a matter of encountering Christ in the world. 

Throughout the Gospels, people encounter Christ in radical ways: through acts of love, healing, accompaniment, and mercy. Therefore, to know Jesus does not mean to define him (or the Trinity) the right way, but rather to learn to perceive the divine presence in the world wherever it may be found. 

That  is why I sing today’s responsorial canticle (Daniel 3:52-56) as a way to give praise and glory to God for my queerness: because this gift has allowed me and my fellow queers to encounter the living Christ in our moments of embodied love, vulnerability, joy, resilience, beauty, and even rejection from the Church. Our queer communities are much like the described in today’s  second reading (2 Corinthians 13:11-13): we reflect the image of the Trinity through solidarity, chosen families, and our care for those who are marginalized. Here we experience abundant love and peace. And our kisses are holy indeed. 

When queer persons encounter the Trinity (even if we do not use that terminology), we become beacons of hope and justice in the world.

In a world where people often fail to recognize how God works in the world, queer Catholics often offer important pathways to this salvific recognition. Considering that the Christian story is full of respectable people who constantly fail to recognize God’s unexpected action in the world, we are all–queer and non-queer people alike–called to enflesh Jesus even though we may be labeled scandalous. We become a light for others so that some of those “stiff necks” can bend a little and help the head they support find a new perspective of grace. 

On this solemnity of the Trinity,I celebrate the incarnation of God and the radical truth of God’s love, which continues to reveal itself through bodies, relationships, and communities that our world has too often rejected. 

May we continue to give praise and glory to the Triune God whose queer love creates, redeems, and sustains the world. 

Amen.