REFLECTIONS FROM AN ATTIC
SHARED WITH A COMPUTER, A CAMERA,
a BIG SAND DUNE, an INTERNET and YOU
(in that same friendly way)
TRINITY SUNDAY (June 7th) 2020
For the second Sunday in a row I’m going to ignore the specifics of the set readings. There are a myriad biblical
writings, from at least Genesis 1:26 onwards, which might or might not serve as
a basis for exploring the mysteries of Trinity. None of them are definitive. None
of them are the final word. As every good Jehovah’s Witness, Muslim, Jew or
Unitarian – (many of whom secrete themselves away in the pews and pulpits of
Anglicanism) – will remind us, none of them refer to the word “Trinity.”
So perhaps that’s lay down misère for this great doctrine of
Christianity? Maybe it’s antiquated baloney dreamed up by scheming or self-aggrandizing
bishops (and I’ve known one or two of them) in the fourth and fifth centuries?
Yet I don’t think so. Like many of the doctrines that the clever-clever
theologians like to ditch, like the resurrection and the dual nature of Christ,
the Doctrine of the Trinity is hinting, scratching to find words for something
far beyond the limitations of your mind, my mind, Albert Einstein’s mind. Far beyond the imaginings of the greatest poetic minds as well, though perhaps
they come closest.
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,
nor the human heart conceived,
what God
has prepared for those who love him.”
Paul, who was I
suspect no slouch academically (though of course not as bright as the
clever-clever theologians and clergy), Paul addressed these famous words to the
clever-clever theologians of his day, the destroyers of the witness of the Corinthian
Church. I think he was on to something. Does an ant comprehend the complexity of
the Alpine Fault? Do I understand the complications of God? I feel God, worship
God. On good days I read and study a bit about God, but understand God? Comprehend
God? I don’t think so.
In my writings over
the Holy Week and Easter period I have noted numerous occasions when biblical
authors are striving to find words to express their trinitarian experience of
God. The New Testament set readings on this day are just some examples.
Paul, at the end
his cranky Corinthian correspondence, is striving to find words that express so
complex an experience of God, embodied in the person of Jesus, made known in
the experience of the Spirit making the risen Lord known to his followers, carrying
the whole weight of the Creator God and making that God known to the
Jesus-community.
Words fail.
Matthew at the end
of his gospel-telling, records Jesus commissioning his followers to proclaim
the gospel in the triune name. Some scholars are reluctant to believe that these
words are those of Jesus. Of course the clever scholars who get rid of the resurrection
altogether have to emphasize that these are Matthew’s words. But that still means that Matthew was drawing on this sort of formula within a few years of the first
Easter. And that usage had to resonate with the experience of those to whom he
was writing: Father, Son, Spirit experienced in worship and in fellowship.
The language of the
Trinity is, amongst other things, the language of love. We attach
words-beyond-truth to those we love. We attach words beyond quantity to those
we love. Every day my Facebook feed assures me that someone’s daughter, mum,
partner is simply the best, most beautiful, most loving and loved in the world.
If a little girl asks their dad if they are the most beautiful girl in the
world – ignoring for a moment whether the stereotypes that produce the question
are fair – he is unlikely to reply either by saying “Beauty is a social construct
that you must jettison” or, “No darling, but according to my quantifiable assessment
you are the seventeen million, six
hundred and seventy four thousand, three hundred and twenty second current most
beautiful girl in the world.”
The language of the
trinity is the language of love.
It is the language
of poetry, too. Had Elizabeth Barrett Browning written “How do I love thee?” and
responded to the hypothetical question with an assessment of her libidinal
urges and sociological paradigms, her poem may have been less popular.
The language of the
trinity is the language of love. It is the language of poetry. For many scientific
rationalists, of the sort I am not, it can never be the language of science. Though
the best of scientists may well concur with St. Paul that there is much yet
that human eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor intellect comprehended, and that
at the very least there are some matters still beyond our grasp.
Philosophers, too,
may do the same, though some are not humble enough to believe that there exists
a realm of possibility they cannot grasp. Trinitarian Christians like myself
too should acknowledge that we may be misguided of course, but if it were so
then our misguidance has inspired us to greater heights of awe, as well as, we
pray, love, compassion, justice and social action in the face of evil.
In the end I have
no difficulty believing that which I cannot rationally grasp. Or at least
believing that I can believe. I happen to believe that there is a day beyond
our sight when we will join with atheists and agnostics, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims,
traditional religionists and all, even clever-clever theologians, and whisper
in awe, “Oh, wait, so that’s it.” Yet I suspect even then in The
City That Needs No Lamp, there will be an eternity of knowledge for us all to
glean.
The Lord be with
you.
No comments:
Post a Comment