By The Rev. Dr. Molly Scherm This first Sunday after Pentecost has been designated as Trinity Sunday since the 12th century. The first act of Thomas Becket – the murder-in-the-cathedral guy who served under King Henry VII – his first act after his consecration as Archbishop of Canterbury was to declare the 1st Sunday after Pentecost a festival to honor the Holy Trinity. The Christian Doctrine of the Trinity attempts to explain the mystery in the Christian conviction that ONE God – the source, the creator, the power of love that infuses all life and redeems all life – that the one God is experienced in three forms, and yet all are ONE God. Today is a preaching minefield. Those of us who are theologically educated share a paradoxical compulsion – we feel like we should try to explain the doctrine of the Trinity, but we know that, by definition, the nature of the triune God is unknowable and therefore unexplainable. One wise preacher observed that anyone who speaks for more than three minutes about the Trinity is bound to commit heresy and “you’d do better to just show pictures of kittens”. I do want to honor the opportunity to delve into the richness of the notion of God as Trinity this morning, but I would like to do it through examining a two of the beautiful symbols of the Trinity that our tradition gives us. So let’s start with a reminder about the nature of symbols themselves. 20th century theologian Paul Tillich observed that symbols point beyond themselves; in effect, a symbol is a pointing finger, showing us where to look to catch a glimpse of something that is beyond our grasp, something that certainly cannot be described in words. A symbol doesn’t offer you the thing itself, but rather, offers directions of how to get there. Tillich went on to explain that symbols connect with parts of ourselves other than linguistic and rational; they are capable of touching and moving us differently than language alone does. The first of our Trinity symbols this morning is the icon of Holy Trinity by Andrei Rubilev, arguably the most famous icon in the orthodox tradition. Icons are painted images created to communicate spiritual truths, though the customary language used about their creation is that icons are “written”. Created always with prayer, icons are understood to give access to the spiritual realm beyond everyday life, the realm of God. It’s been said that icons are “the Visual equivalent of scripture, putting into colors and shapes that which can’t be grasped by intellect.” Rubilev wrote the Trinity icon in 1401. He based it on earlier icon depicting the visit of three angels to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre. Here is some of what has been observed about the icon.
There is subtle movement among the figures – they are glancing toward and connected with one another. There is a suggestion of ease, of intimacy, and community. Most important is that we don’t see in this icon a closed or exclusive relationship. The empty space at the table is an invitation to the viewer to join the relationship, the household, the community, making space for us. The other symbol, the other pointing figure I want to look into is our closing hymn this morning, commonly known as St. Patrick’s breastplate. Hymns as symbols use a combination of text and music to speak to us in ways other than simple language, creating an experience that points us and draws us into realm beyond everyday reality. The lyrics of the hymn are translation of a Gaelic poem attributed to St. Patrick in the 3rd century, but they are probably from anonymous author in 8th century. It is also known as St Patrick’s Lorica, a “Lorica” being a mystical garment that protects wearer from danger. The English translation is by Cecil Alexander, the Irish poet and hymnwriter who is also responsible for such favorites as All Things Bright and Beautiful, There is a Green Hill far away, and Once in Royal David’s city. It is set to two traditional Irish hymn tunes. The style, with its repetition of the phrase “I bind unto myself…” is that of incantation, a spell cast using words, for protection on a journey. The Lorica is also Trinitarian in its musical form: set ¾ time, the 3 beats per measures mirror the three persons of the Trinity. The hymn calls for “binding” oneself through invocation of the “strong name of Trinity”. It suggests, perhaps, St. Paul’s in words in Ephesians about “putting on the armor of God”. The verses lay out the many aspects of God that surround and protect us.
Symbols are fun to analyze, but they are, more importantly, gifts given us through human creativity that open doors through which we may glimpse and experience the rich and mysterious life of the Trinity. The Rubilev icon is a pointing finger that, in gazing at and through it, in feeling the draw of it, we are invited to join in intimacy of household of God. In singing St. Patrick’s Breastplate we can feel awe at God’s omnipresence and God’s power, and feel the assurance of God’s protection. May reality of Trinity be a bit more real to us today. May the grace of God the creator, the love of Christ, and the wisdom of the Spirit shield and guide us in our lives, today and always. Comments are closed.
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