DANCING THE HOLY TRINITY

What Martha Graham & Madonna can teach us about this doctrine

This weekend is the Sunday of the Holy Trinity. Below is an excerpt from my new book, Ordinary Mysteries. Long-time readers will recognize this essay since I typically publish at this time of year.

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“What about me? What do I do? Just stand there like an object?”

“No!” responds Robin Williams’s character in the 1996 film The Birdcage. “You do Fosse, Fosse, Fosse, you do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, you do Twyla, Twyla, Twyla, or Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna, but you keep it all inside.”

It’s a laugh. See it here.

The Western Christian Church celebrates the Holy Trinity on Trinity Sunday, the first Sunday after Pentecost in the yearly liturgical cycle. Right now, many preachers are scratching their heads, attempting to compose a sermon that makes sense of this nonsense. In the words of one pastor, “I hate preaching on the Trinity.”

Fair enough, but let’s get some perspective on this subject through an imaginal or symbolic way of viewing the religion of Christ. First, a few short statements about the Trinity. Those hoping to get on with work, the laundry, or an outdoor hike can move on with their life. What follows are a few brief thoughts, and then we will dive into a more protracted engagement.

·      If you were alive in the year 25 CE, walked up to the most learned person in the ancient world, and brought up the topic of the Trinity, they would have no idea what you were talking about. That’s because it’s a concept that wasn’t fully developed for another three hundred years. In other words, Rabbi Jesus would not have been lecturing his disciples on the Holy Trinity, though he did have a few words to say about the Holy Spirit, especially in John’s Gospel.

·      Let’s pause and remember that all conceptual understandings of God are just that. They are concepts, imaginings, and aspirational articulations. We are trying to describe something that is beyond description. Yet, we are humans, so we try.

·      I don’t recall which one of my seminary professors summarized the Trinity as, “We are basically saying that God is relational.” That’s it. Done! The idea of Three Persons conversing with one another implies that the divine is not static but active, engaged, and relating with each other and all of us, all of creation. The Holy is alive and humming like the vibrations of atoms.

·      Philosophers such as Alan Watts and Joseph Campbell have suggested that we conceive God as a triune entity because of language. We communicate in a threefold sentence structure in many of the Indo-European languages. “I love you.” Subject, verb, object. It’s the foundation for thinking and communicating, so why wouldn’t we conceive of God as a threefold being?

·      Lastly, there is the great challenge of explaining how something can simultaneously be three distinct persons—Father, Son and Holy Spirit—and simultaneously one substance—God. You can hear the ancient debates in the beer halls on the outskirts of Nicaea, Rome, and Constantinople: “Come on, mate. Is it one person or three persons? Make up your mind.” Although, as a British term, Come on, mate might not have been heard in the ancient world.

·      And finally, there’s this admittedly flawed attempt at applying a modern scientific experiment to a symbolic metaphor.  First, we boil H₂O, but with a twist. Start with ice. What is it? It’s solid. Drop some ice cubes in a pot and turn on the heat. Soon, that solid melts and turns into water—a liquid. Keep that heat going for a while, and soon, that water turns into steam—a gas. Three physical states of the same substance, namely H₂O. If you have the right equipment (please don’t try this at home) and can keep that heat going long enough and hot enough; eventually, H₂O will become all three simultaneously. This happens at a ridiculously high temperature; think the sun's surface. I’m sure a scientist out there can verify this lab experiment. Some theologians don’t like this example because it smacks of the 3^rd-century heresy of modalism.^[1] They’ve got a point, but it’s a fun debate in which we ultimately don’t know the answer. We are, after all, exploring the mystery of the Trinity.

If one of these explanations works for you, then off you go outside for a walk or down to the basement for the laundry. The challenge in trying to explain the concept of the Holy Trinity brings us close to misrepresenting it. This is why so often any explanation falls into the category of heresy. Personally, I’m a fan of thoughtful experiments that lean into the heretical.

But wait, there’s more.

What is the theological explanation for the Trinity, and why bother even engaging with the topic?  I find the subject fascinating, but you must understand that my approach might differ from yours or others in the church. I’m viewing the Trinity not as a literal, actual, historical fact. No, I’m wrestling with this while putting on my imaginative, symbolic 3D glasses. I’m less interested in the factual Trinity and more energized by the symbolic Trinity.

The folks with the most helpful approach to this matter are our friends in the Eastern Orthodox churches. Like the Greek Orthodox church down the road from you that serves those excellent souvlaki sandwiches at their annual church fair. The Orthodox have it right. Essentially, they are with Robin Williams. For them, the Holy Trinity is a dance. The Orthodox describe the Holy Trinity using the term perichoresis, derived from the Greek peri, “around or near,” and chōreō, to make room, yield, go forward or advance, among other related connotations.  But note that the word chōreō is the root of our English word choreography, the art of dancing. The Holy Trinity is a dance between the three essences of God. They are dancing around one another.

This is where Richard Rohr, in his book The Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your Transformation describes the Holy Trinity as a divine dance of mutual and reciprocal love. Though he’s a Franciscan, Rohr is pulling from the wisdom of the Eastern churches. He regards the Trinity as the ultimate relationship model, a circle of outpouring and inflowing love, challenging the conventional hierarchical view. Rohr’s perspective on the Trinity emphasizes God’s relational and dynamic aspects, with God not as a distant monarchical figure but as a divine community inviting us into a relationship.

So much better than the diagrams some of us were exposed to in our hyperrational Protestant attempts to turn the mystery of God into logical proof.

Remember this God-awful diagram (excuse the intentional pun)?^[2]

The doctrine of the Holy Trinity holds that God is one essence in three persons: God the Father, God the Son (Jesus Christ), and God the Holy Spirit. The doctrine of the Holy Trinity is rooted in the early centuries of Christianity. During this period, the early church theologians were looking not just for philosophical language but a structural, philosophical underpinning for the development of Christian theology. They drew from ancient Greek and Jewish thought and Biblical texts. In the fourth century CE, the ecumenical councils of Nicaea in 325 and Constantinople in 381 affirmed the divinity of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. These councils formed the foundation of the Nicene Creed.

There are challenges in our teachings on the Holy Trinity. For example, we emphasize the monarchy of the Father, understanding Him as the source and cause of the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Many feminist theologians have pointed out that the language of the “Father” has perpetuated a view of God as a male figure, reinforcing a patriarchal worldview. Some people have substituted the names of the persons of the Trinity with the terms Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, in place of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I prefer to reference the Holy Spirit with the pronoun She. My intention is both to balance the masculine imagery, but I’ll confess to a desire to provoke a reaction in readers. Cynthia Bourgeault takes a different approach. Instead of labeling the Holy Spirit as feminine, Bourgeault sees the Trinity as the process by which God moves from one state of being to another. This process creates a dynamism that results in a new dimension. That leads to a fuller engagement with God for people like you and me.^[3]

The Trinity has other aspects, but I suspect I’ve burdened you enough for one sitting.

Implications for Spiritual Life

So, what’s the big deal, and how does this make a difference in the everyday spirituality of your and my life? I think of three (how fitting) ways this makes a difference.

First, let’s delight in wrestling with God as a Holy Trinity. Could this be a model of human relationships, illustrating an ideal of loving communion without losing personal distinctiveness?

Second, unlike the static, far-removed deity portrayed in some imagery, the Trinity suggests a dynamic, alive, and intimate God. Finally, these relational humming divine energies are central to understanding how humans participate in God’s grace.

Hum away, my friend, hum away, all day.

Until Next Time,

James Hazelwood is the author of several books, including the newly released Ordinary Mysteries: Faith, Doubt Meaning. This essay is featured in the book.

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