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Many years ago, when our nation was still young, a religious group called the Quakers came up with an idea for prison reform. While we might think of them today as the people on the oatmeal box or remember them for their old-fashioned hats, the Quakers were deeply committed to building a peaceful and just society. They believed that kindness, simplicity, and reflection could help heal the world.So when it came to crime and punishment, they imagined something revolutionary: what if people who committed crimes were given space and silence to reflect and pray—completely alone, without distractions or interaction? Maybe, they thought, those people would become penitent—that is, truly sorry—and reform their lives. That’s actually where we get the word penitentiary—a place meant to lead someone to repentance through a form of secular monasticism.
But what started as a good and thoughtful idea turned out to be a disaster. Solitary confinement didn’t bring healing. In fact, it often caused deep harm. Being cut off from human contact led to serious mental health problems. Many inmates became depressed, anxious, and unstable. Despite their good intentions and noble theory, reality hit the Quakers in the face: we are not meant to be alone. Isolation, instead of helping, often breaks the human spirit.
We were reminded of that truth not long ago during the COVID-19 lockdowns. At first, it sensible to separate for the sake of safety. But even though we were protecting our bodies, we felt it in our souls. Being away from family, friends, school, church, hugs, laughter, and conversation—it took a toll. For many, the emotional and spiritual wounds ran deeper than any physical illness. That’s not because we were doing something wrong. It’s because we were living in a way that goes against how we were made.
And that brings us to today’s celebration: the Most Holy Trinity, which the Catechism calls the central mystery of our faith. We believe, based on what God has revealed through Scripture and through the Church, that God is not solitary. God is not a distant, lonely ruler on a throne.
God is relationship. God is love.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—one God in three Persons—an eternal communion of giving, receiving, and sharing love. From all eternity, the Father pours out love to the Son, the Son returns that love to the Father, and the Holy Spirit is the bond of that love. And here’s the beautiful part: we are made in God’s image. That means we were made for relationship too. Made to love and be loved. To belong. To live not in isolation, but in communion. Whenever those connections are cut off—through conflict, neglect, or simply life’s difficulties—we feel the pain. And that’s no accident. It’s part of how God designed us: for connection, for community, for love that gives itself away.
Sometimes the doctrine of the Trinity feels abstract—three Persons in one God. It’s a mystery even saints and scholars can’t fully explain. But at its heart is something deeply real and profoundly relatable: God is love. Love is who God is. Love is what God does. Love is what we are made for.
And how fitting that we also celebrate Father’s Day today. At its best, fatherhood is a reflection of God’s love—strong and steady, generous and patient, protective and present. To be a father isn’t just a biological role—it’s a sacred calling to love. To teach. To show up. To sacrifice. Whether it’s helping with homework, showing up at ball games or dance recitals, or offering quiet encouragement during tough times, a father’s love makes an enormous difference. Not because dads are perfect—but because, when they love with persistence and presence, they echo the love of God the Father. Some of us were blessed with fathers who did that well. Others carry wounds in this area. But all of us can look to God the Father, who never fails, never abandons, and never stops loving.
Each year, the Church invites us to reflect on the Trinity not just as a truth we profess, but as a way of life for every member in their particular vocation. Our ability to reflect the Trinity is most credible when it is lived in simple acts that everyone can appreciate and understand. Things like:
- Making time for others, even when we’re busy or would rather do something else.
- Forgiving, even when the other person is not sorry or has not ‘earned’ our forgiveness.
- Serving, even when no one notices or fails to express gratitude.
- Staying close to our families and our faith community, even when it costs us something.
- refusing to take advantage of the weakness or foolishness of others and choosing to be a protector, no matter what the cost.
The next time you make the Sign of the Cross—“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”—remember that it’s not just a routine gesture. It’s a prayer. It’s a claim. It’s a reminder that you belong to a God who is love. A God who made you for love. A God who calls you into a life of love. Today, let’s thank God for the beautiful mystery of the Trinity: A God who is not alone, and who never wants us to be alone. Let’s thank God for the gift of fathers and father figures—those who, in big and small ways, reflect His care. And let’s remember: We are never alone. We belong to a God who lives in relationship. And we are most ourselves—not when we grasp for control or retreat into isolation—but when we live in communion: with God, and with one another.
