As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. John 15:9
When the Sacred Scriptures point to the oneness of God they are, perhaps, pointing to something that human beings long for for themselves. We long for that simplicity whereby heart and mind and action are one and not divided. The most unlikable thing about us is our capacity for duplicity! The Scriptures point to a lack of duplicity in God.
But another way in which we long for unity as human beings is our natural desire to be part of a bigger whole: the family, a community or (dare I say it?) church! Even belonging to the Bridge Club points to this deep desire within us! I suggest that even the most independent soul finds herself most fulfilled as a human being when she is herself within a group. The show-off needs an audience and the independent thinker needs the intellectual community to rebel against.
I suppose marriage is the most basic example of human community. A good marriage is about two people finding fulfilment with each other and through each other; each one becomes more him or herself precisely because of the other. A bad marriage – to point out the obvious – is where one (or both) prevent the other from becoming fully themselves. We all know the subtle and not so subtle ways in which that can happen. We have also all witnessed wonderful marriages where both flourish as independent human beings through a deep love that grows and flourishes too. And we know, of course, that such marriages are never just inward looking: they are not just about two people. A good marriage, whether blessed with children or not, is always inclusive: it welcomes other people within the home and embraces them; it builds up and sustains the community of which the couple are a part. This is most obvious when there are children but even the childless couple, sustained by each other’s love, can contribute enormously to the wider family and community of which they are a part.
And let’s not be coy about this. The “outward and visible sign” of marriage is the sexual union in which the two people find joy, pleasure and fulfilment in each other and at the same time are open to the possibility of another (a child) becoming part of the union. (The Church’s teaching on sexual ethics is all based on this high ideal – but then why base ethics on low ideals?) In this way sex and Holy Communion are the same sorts of thing: they are both sacraments of God’s love which not only “symbolise” but also affect that which is symbolised and, in both Sacraments, the ‘other’ is physically and emotionally most intimately present. It is also worth stressing that the opposite is true: without joyful sex the relationship becomes more difficult to sustain; without Holy Communion our relationship with God becomes more difficult too. Yes, in that scandalously Catholic way, I must speak of the reception of Holy Communion as being ravished by God. (Only in this way can the vocation to celibacy have any meaning or make sense at all).
And so, if we are to begin to get a glimpse of what we mean when we talk of the Trinity, we must explore the Biblical image of the Sacred Meal. And where else to begin but with Rublev's Trinity:
Rublev’s Icon depicts that beautiful story told in Genesis chapter 18. Three men appear to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre. It is worth quoting verses 2-5: “(Abraham) looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, ‘My Lord, if I have found favour with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread that you may refresh yourselves and after that you may pass on – since you have come to your servant.’ So they said, ‘Do as you have said.’
I hope the Eucharistic reference hit you between the eyes: Abraham offered to wash the feet of the three men and he offered them bread. This is a beautiful story about hospitality and good neighbourliness and how community is created. It is about Abraham’s generosity and it reminds us of the way we all hope to live: generous and welcoming to the stranger. And the banquet was even more generous than Abraham had first suggested: he killed a calf and took curds and milk. This was some hospitality! But this is also a story about the presence of God. As the meal progresses it is clear that in the company of the three strangers, Abraham is somehow in the presence of “The Lord”. It is simplistic to identify each Person of the Godhead with one of the figures in the picture, rather we are invited to see through the picture of hospitality and joyful sharing nothing less than the place where God is met. We are invited to ask who is host and who is guest at this meal. So too, we are forcefully reminded of the story of Jesus and the two disciples on the Emmaus Road after Jesus Resurrection and how Jesus was only recognised in his characteristic activity of the breaking of the bread, in the sharing. (Luke 24: 13-35).
For the two disciples who joined Jesus on the Emmaus Road would have been familiar with this action. It almost defined Jesus. Breaking bread, you might say, is what he did best or, rather, what Jesus does best is what the breaking of the bread symbolises. Jesus shares himself in love. All those meals: the wedding at Cana; the meal where he was told off for eating with tax collectors and sinners; the meal where Jesus allowed his feet to be anointed by the tears of a sinful woman; at the feeding of the five thousand and at the Last Supper itself, these are all stories about Jesus offering hospitality and drawing people into a relationship of love. This is who Jesus is: he is the one who shares himself; the one who gives himself away. At these meals Jesus creates that which we long for, we who are longing for community and love: he creates his church; the gathering of the beloved, his New Israel.
And this is us: we are that woman, those wedding guests, those tax collectors, the hungry five thousand who have gathered to hear every word that comes from the mouth of God. It is us to whom Jesus gives himself as he says “This is me given for you, my life poured out for you”. Jesus embraces us and enfolds in his love as he shares this fellowship meal with us.
But, we discover, this relationship we are drawn into is not merely a fraternal relationship with Jesus our friend and comrade. Jesus draws us into something much deeper than that. He draws us into his relationship with the Father. It is no accident that the profound meditation offered by St John on the relationship with Jesus and his Father come in those chapters immediately before and following the washing of the feet and the sharing of the bread. It is in this context that his says those words to Philip, ‘To have seen me is to have seen the Father’. To have seen this intimate sharing, this total self-giving is to have seen right into the inner dynamic of the Godhead itself. To our great surprise we discover that the One indivisible God is himself a relationship of love. Jesus invites us into the intimacy of this love as he dares us to call God, “Our Father”.
When we encounter Jesus, we observe his filial love for his Father; we witness his total trust, his loving surrender. We see that he makes his life (as well as his death) a total gift, he who comes to do “not his own will but the will of the one ho sent me”. ‘Show us the Father’ asks Philip: “Here he is”, replies Jesus, “he is the one who I trust myself to wholly and utterly, the one to whom I give myself without reserve”. And why can Jesus do this? Surely because he knows that the love which his Father has for him is utterly dependable and can never be damaged or destroyed. Even in death, Jesus knows that this love abides. And for us, of course, the Resurrection is the vindication of Jesus trust in this great love.
Jesus died for the one he called Father, to be faithful to the love that they had for one another. This love was the undergirding principle of his whole life. It was the meaning of his life. This is the one to whom Jesus owes loyalty above all else and to have failed that love would have been to have compromised his very essence. What was it to be Jesus? It was to be loved by the Father; to know that there was nothing else worth living or dying for. What was it to be Jesus? It was to share the Father’s love for his creation and to be the pouring out of love which would bring creation back into a right relationship with God. To be Jesus was to be a life lived for the Father and a life poured out in love for humankind.
So over the first couple of Christian centuries the Church reflected on these things. In answer to the question, ‘What is it to be God,’ the Church replies: To be God is to be One, without division or parts, without multiplicity or rivals. To be God is to be Father: a constant pouring out of love. And in that pouring out of love, Father begets Son: God-toward-us. And there is no way God can be God without being Father , that is without begetting Son. And between them there is an eternal flow of love, a love which overflows and which pours out all over Creation and brings it into being: that Spirit which fills us and converts us into love. And it is that love which Jesus invites us to share as with trembling lips we call out: “Our Father”.
© Peter Bolton