ALMOST THE SQUARE ROOT OF INFINITY

For many thoughtful people hovering on the edges of faith, the Trinity is a stumbling-block. For both Jews and Muslims, it comes perilously close to polytheism. For the philosophic psychologist Jung it was a sign of incompleteness, in the Catholic Church suitably completed by the Blessed Virgin Mary. Even for many of the faithful, it is a puzzlement elevated to a mystery. So it is worth thinking about. 

St Athanasius, that uncompromising Church Father whose Creed is printed in the Book of Common Prayer as the Quicunque Vult, wrote a magnificent letter in which he explains the Trinity. Here are two excerpts:

“We acknowledge the Trinity, holy and perfect, to consist of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. In this Trinity there is no intrusion of any alien element or of anything from outside, nor is the Trinity a blend of creative and created being. It is a wholly creative and energising reality, self-consistent and undivided in its active power, for the Father makes all things through the Word [the Son] and in the Holy Spirit, and in this way the unity of the holy Trinity is preserved. Accordingly, in the Church, one God is preached, one God who is above all things and through all things and in all things. God is above all things as Father, for he is principle and source; he is through all things through the Word; and he is in all things in the Holy Spirit.”

“Even the gifts that the Spirit dispenses to individuals are given by the Father through the Word. For all that belongs to the Father belongs also to the Son, and so the graces given by the Son in the Spirit are true gifts of the Father. Similarly, when the Spirit dwells in us, the Word who bestows the Spirit is in us too, and the Father is present in the Word. This is the meaning of the text: My Father and I will come to him and make our home with him. For where the light is, there also is the radiance; and where the radiance is, there too are its power and its resplendent grace.” (Letter to Serapion)

I find this admirably clear and wholly convincing. What is still difficult, once one has absorbed it, is the complementary understanding of the Unity. Once one has grasped the identity and the relation of the three Persons of the Trinity, one wrestles with the fact that “they are” One God. In Athanasius’ explanation of the Unity, God as above all things as their principle and source and Creator is understandable. God as in all things as the indwelling Holy Spirit also makes sense. Where it becomes harder is when A. sees God being through all things as the Word, or the Son. What, here, does “through” mean? I think that it becomes easier if we change the verb. God does all things as the Source and Creator of them; He does them through (dia, per, via) the Word; and He does them in the Spirit. This leads us back to the Gospel of St John. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.” And, as Athanasius reminds us elsewhere, Jesus also says, “Who has seen me has seen the Father.”

In the full sense all this is of course well beyond our complete understanding. We see very much as in a glass, darkly. Our window is grubby, and our binoculars ill-focused. But we can get something of a sense of this vast core of our faith. Pater (non) e(s)t Filius (non) e(s)t Spiritus Sanctus. Its dazzling strangeness reminds me of what Tertullian (or someone close to him) wrote of the death and resurrection of the Son of God: et mortuus est dei filius: [prorsus] credibile est, quia ineptum est. et sepultus resurrexit: certum est, quia impossibile. “The Son of God died: this is utterly believable because it is improper. And having been buried, He rose again: this must be true (is certain), because it is impossible.” 

 

SMALL JEWELS: EASTER 4

DEUS, qui fidelium mentes unius efficis voluntatis, da populo tuo id amare quod præcipis, id desiderare quod promittis, ut inter mundanas varietates ibi nostra fixa sint corda, ubi vera sunt gaudia. Per Christum Do. &c

O almighty God, who alone canst order the unruly wills and affections of sinful men : Grant unto thy people, that they may love the thing which thou commandest, and desire that which thou dost promise : that so, among the sundry and manifold changes of this world, our hearts may surely there be fixed, where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

  

In my occasional contemplation of the Collects in the Book of Common Prayer, the oratio for this week seemed particularly pleasing. Once again we begin with the Latin, compact and tense as always: “God, who makes the minds of the faithful of one will…” – and we see right away that Cranmer has been embroidering. “O Almighty God, who alone canst order the unruly wills and affections of sinful men . . .” Whoa! The Acknowledgement here departs considerably from the Latin. Adding “Almighty” to the Invocation is not a problem, but from there on Cranmer seems to veer off into interpretation. What does he add or change? Let’s follow the order of the Latin and start with “fidelium mentes”. No longer, in the English, does God unite the hearts of the faithful: it is of sinful men that He orders, not the minds or spirits but the wills and affections. Moreover, this is so difficult that He alone can do it. 

It all looks very pessimistic and Protestant, and to some extent it is; but there is more to it than that. I think that the Archbishop has been looking at the Petition and Aspiration, which specify what we are asking and to what end. These, interestingly, he translates simply and straightforwardly: we want to be able to love what God commands and to desire what He promises. But when we think about that, we realise that that is not only peculiar but feels oddly wrong: to love what we are commanded to do feels like not only being told to do something but being ordered to love it, while to desire what we are promised feels like putting the cart before the horse. And that strange wrongness, Cranmer clearly thinks and wants to tell us, comes from our wills and affections being somehow skewed: if we were in heaven, it would come naturally – there would be a natural concord between our will and God’s, so that what He commands would be what we love and what He promises would be what we desire. And conversely: they would all fit together in the perfect chords of His will’s harmony. That this is clearly not so, that we need to ask for it to be made so, shows that our wills and affections are “unruly” and that we the faithful are therefore “sinful men”. Being unruly, said wills and affections need to be “ordered” – as we pray every morning that our doings may be “ordered” by His governance.  Notes of music, duly ordered or well-tempered, make a harmony, among themselves and with the spirit of the composer. 

Once again, we see what a small intricate jewel such a Collect is. And Cranmer can even add some ornaments: the bald mundanas varietates become “sundry and manifold”, adding a pretty rhythm, and fixa is intensified by “surely”, that splendid adverb the richness of which I mentioned in my last post. A miniature treasure, for which we may be truly thankful.

3-IN-ONE

Trinity Sunday is the culmination, in a sense, of the Church’s liturgical year. We move from Advent to Christmas, from Christmas to Epiphany, from Epiphany to Lent, from Lent to the Cross, from Good Friday to Easter, from Easter to Whitsun, from Whitsun to the Ascension, and from Ascension Day to Trinity. Then comes what once described as ‘the long green highway of the year’, the Sundays After Trinity with their noble and varied Collects. But what of Trinity itself?

For the human race, apparently mired in death, the Great Event is the Resurrection. But the Resurrection cannot be taken without the Cross; the two together are the great outpouring of the Son’s love for us; and the Son is not, cannot be, without the Father. “Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority; but the Father who dwells in me does his works.” (Jn 14:10) And beyond that, there is the Holy Spirit: “And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counselor, to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him; you know him, for he dwells with you, and will be in you.” (Jn 14:16-7)

And so, meditating, thinking and praying (and frequently quarrelling), the Church came eventually (381 AD) to the doctrine of the Trinity: the Triune God, one God, three Persons. The Resurrection is the Event; the Trinity is the great Mystery of the faith. In the view of St Basil, his brother Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus, as Karen Armstrong explains in A History of God, “the Trinity only made sense as a mystical or spiritual experience . . . It was not a logical or intellectual formulation but an imaginative paradigm that confounded reason. Gregory of Nazianzus made this clear when he explained that contemplation of the Three in One induced a profound and overwhelming emotion that confounded thought and intellectual clarity. ‘No sooner do I conceive of the One than I am illumined by the splendor of the Three; no sooner do I distinguish Three than I am carried back into the One. When I think of any of the Three, I think of him as the whole, and my eyes are filled, and the greater part of what I am thinking escapes me.’” 

And yet it is a mystery that Jesus lets us in on, lets us into: because the Spirit dwells with us and in us, and if the Spirit and the Son and the Father are one, we are taken up into that great beating cosmic heart of Love. How do we celebrate it? All (of the Faith) is always present, wrote T.S. Eliot; yet the point of the liturgical year is that we can concentrate on some individual aspects at any one time. When the parable of the Good Samaritan is read, we look on the people we pass in the street in a new way; in Lent, we give a different attention to those who suffer; and on Trinity Sunday we might usefully learn from the Carthusians and other contemplative orders to meditate on the mystery as Gregory did. The more so in that that same Mystery has chosen to dwell with and in us, poor clods that we are.

CONTRA SPINOZAM TRINITAS

 My God, I heard them say

Thy way of being was a Clock of clocks,

A self-perpetuate motion, and that Love

Was, to create by necessary law;

And they reproach’d for Paradox

My words that thou, perfect above,

Didst need no more;

Sure they are blind who do not see

Thy love in this, that being is a gift;

Who do not sense that we

And all the random forms of hill and drift

Are here by no necessity

But by thy lasting Courtesy:

So they forget thy Trinity.

    Out of thy joyous solitude

    And tender in omnipotence

    To shape a world and on it brood,

    Fashioning trees and men of sense;

    From archangelic psalmody

    Mankind having destruction drawn,

    To enter into agony

    And for their healing to be torn;

    And, resurrected, still to dwell,

    Informing our experience,

    Praying in us, Immanuel,

    Unravelling our impotence;

Such thy unnecessary love: can we do less,

Released from death,

Than savour each delight of breath,

Blessing Thy wilfulness?

RK

IMAGINE

If parson lost his senses,

And people came to theirs . . .

Thus began, in the early 20^th century, a moving poem by Ralph Hodgson in defence of mistreated animals. The opening played through my head in reading the news about the Middle East and new anti-terrorist defences. ‘If leaders lost their senses, And people came to theirs . . .’ I thought, what might happen? What might we construct? And in a John Lennon mood, I began to Imagine.

Imagine three great monotheist religions, living in mutual respect and affection. Imagine Muslims and Christians according Judaism the respect due to the Eldest Brother, the one who was first chosen by God, the one who received the Law, the one who, with the self-confidence of his seniority, is still the only one who dares argue with God. Imagine Jews and Muslims according to Christianity the affection due to the Second Brother, the one who dared go further than the Nation and the Law, to extend God’s love to all humanity and summarize the Law as absolute Love. Imagine Jews and Christians according to Islam the respect and affection due to the Youngest Brother, the one who lives a faith summed up in Obedience, who keeps his Ramadan and, with the fire of youth, dares to believe in unadulterated values.

Imagine the nations of a vast region on the planet, recognizing that they all contain these three faiths and their respective grandeurs, and that nevertheless they all have to live in a modern world where many could not care less about religion. The vast reserve of faith they contain acts as a leaven, of respect and affection toward neighbours, and of a consciousness that there is a vertical dimension to life as well as a horizontal one. The respect and affection will furnish one of their peoples’ permanent needs, security. Meanwhile, the vast reserve of ingenuity and honesty released by this peaceful coexistence turns bomb-inventors’ talent to creating clever irrigation schemes to make the desert flower, and sees small-scale financing help the poor into trades both decent and profitable. The peoples’ other great need, modest prosperity, becomes attainable also. The three religions’ values, which tie in quite well with the secular ones of a Bill Gates or a Warren Buffett, are now, combined, so powerful that beyond the borders of the Middle East they restrain the inordinate greed of stock trading and the corrosive political hatred that paralyzes polarized democracies. Bills for the common good get passed, elections take on the cheerful variety of football championships, prayer is no longer seen as a divisive group label but as an act of primary value, all faiths can wear their distinctive attributes openly and be respected for them, and boarding an aeroplane becomes as simple and agreeable as it was sixty years ago.

Imagine – since Christianity is the faith this blog is most concerned with – a Church that is one house with many mansions, that has healed its great schisms, between East and West, between Catholic and Protestant, and that attracts the intelligent young to serve in it. It would have many churches, and many different forms of worship to suit the various temperaments of the faithful. There would be cheerful family churches with guitars, and tall, still churches of awe and Latin beauty; churches that know the Bible by heart and churches that distil the finest points of liturgical symbolism; churches that live in permanent prayer and churches that help and defend the disadvantaged in their daily lives; churches that study the history of the faith and churches that find joy in daily conversation with synagogues and mosques, comparing ways of loving God.

None of this, says the Father we all worship, is impossible.

The image above is take from an article on the House of One, a joint place of worship for the three faiths being built in Berlin.