“Certainly there is a word to describe it,” Dad said. “It’s a perfectly good word, but God chose not to use the word even though it was there for his use or disposal; it is trinity. It is not found in the Bible nor was it ever on the lips of Jesus, the prophets, or Apostles, nor was it on the finger tip of God.”
“You ignore all the scriptural proof,” Bowden said despondently.
“You know as well as I do that translators have tweaked the scriptures to benefit a Trinitarian point of view wherever they could,” Dad said. “They have been caught with there hands in the cookie jar more than once.”
“An example if you don’t mind,” Bowden said.
“1st John 5:7,” Dad said. “A planted scripture to bolster a crumbling foundation and used as the cornerstone and paradigm of Trinitarians everywhere until proven a fraud. The scripture inserted by one libelous reprobate of the lowest order.”
“Strong words,” Bowden said.
“Softer than heresy, for which you came within a hairbreadth of declaring me such,” Dad said, “Yet when you consider the enormity of that misdeed and how it has mislead, there is little else to revive his reputation in light of the closing word of the Bible, the one who takes away or adds to the Holy Writings, such will be taken from him or added.”
There was quiet.
“Bowen,” Dad said. “Colossians 1 verses 15 through 17, he is called the ‘first-born of creation.’
“Ah!” Bowden said. “That’s it! He is the first-born.”
“Your exuberance and prejudice blind you, Bowden,” Dad said. “The scripture defines Jesus as ‘of creation;’ in other words a part of, not before or during. It clearly defines him as a created being.”
“You clearly don’t have the capacity to understand what is clearly before your eyes,” Bowden said.
Dad was not a sarcastic man. I theorize, though, he saved all his sarcasm for Bowden.
“I suppose next you will be able to produce photographs, snapshots, and even a fuzzy 8 millimeter film of the trinity,” Dad said. “I shall be happy to add it to my collection along with Loch Ness, Big Foot, and Elvis sightings.”
“It is time I leave,” Bowden said disdainfully.
When I heard Bowden leave I darted from my peach next to the vent above Dad’s chair.
Dad stood at the door watching Bowden drive away. Dad rocked from toe to heel sipping his coffee.
“What do you think, Dad?” I said.
“About the time these fields dry out that will about the time Bowden figures he’s been right all along,” Dad said.
“Didn’t you show him enough proof?” I said.
“Strong debates over doctrine are useless to the debaters,” Dad said. “No matter a mountain of evidence in one direction or another each man leaves the debate more convinced than ever he is right and his opponent is a simpleton. And if you‘re not careful the real loss can be the respect for the other person.”
“But, you got a little smart with him?” I said.
“Bowden has a serious flaw,” Dad said. “He’s too smart. I’m no psychologists, but you got to bring a stubborn mule to his knees before you can begin to train him.”
“So are you training Bowden?” I said.
“He likes the sarcasm,” Dad said. “He comes here to be challenged. He likes the good fight. We haven’t seen the last of him. That’s what I like about him.”
“Do you think he likes you?” I said.
“Yeah,” Dad smiled and sipped his coffee, “just one of the many things he’s not aware of yet.”