Apr 30 | Heart of my own Heart, Whatever Befall: An Anglican Theology of the Trinity

Two years ago, on Trinity Sunday, I was scheduled to give the children’s talk at Christ Church Cathedral in Vancouver. I had specifically asked to do so because of something I had learned in Richard Topping’s Constructive Theology class at the Vancouver School of Theology. To explain the doctrine of the Trinity to the children – and the adults – I had the Cathedral’s dean and associate priest join hands with me and form a circle, which turned as we all shuffled to the right, facing out. It looked silly, but was a dynamic illustration of the concept of perichoresis, a Greek term introduced by the Church Fathers (and Mothers) which is finding new meaning among contemporary theologians.[1] Traditionally, the definition has to do with mutual in-dwelling, but the word also has connotations of perpetual movement, or “circulating around.”[2] It was used by Maximus the Confessor to refer to how the human and divine natures in Christ functioned, by John of Damascus to describe an “interdependent, dynamic, mutual indwelling of the three persons”[3], and was taken up by other patristic thinkers “to show 1) singleness of effect within a mutuality of action and 2) permeation without confusion in the human and divine natures of Jesus.”[4] Later, during the debates over the concept of hypostasis, the word began to be applied to the Trinity in an attempt to resist tri-theism, seen as describing the mutual indwelling, without confusion, of the three persons within each other.

Learning about perichoresis helped me to develop my own ideas around the concept of the Trinity, which is a concept that had always been mystifying to me. The ancient controversies and its mystical qualities seem to have made it inaccessible to many modern and postmodern people. Entire denominations such as the Christadelphians, Christian Scientists and Jehovah’s Witnesses have even dropped Trinitarianism altogether for various reasons, and they were not the first to do so – other groups such as Arians, Gnostics, and Cathars were the original skeptics. I personally feel that Trinitarianism is a core concept of Christian faith precisely because of the way it has been communicated to me through Anglicanism.

Anglicanism as a faith tradition has strong roots in Catholicism and the Nicene Creed. The stunning hymn “St. Patrick’s Breastplate”, with its celebration of “the strong name of the Trinity”, demonstrates the love St. Patrick had for the concept. Julian of Norwich, too, saw her vision of the crucified Christ as a unique revelation of the Triune God. However, as the Enlightenment marched steadily onward, Western Christianity began to lose touch with this doctrine, seeing God in increasingly monistic (and solitary) terms. Deism was likely the culmination of this view of an abstract, absent God. Over the years, we have been reclaiming the doctrine, and Anglicans in particular have worked with their friends in the East to rediscover something which remained largely un-lost in the Orthodox Church.

In the Anglican mind, the doctrine of the Trinity appears to be linked to several different notions. The primary notion, which influences all others, is community. “The renaissance of [T]rinitarian theology in recent decades brought a renewed awareness that God is fundamentally relational, that is, God is a communion of Persons, a being-in-relation whose sphere of generosity and life is the economy of creation and redemption.”[5] Anglicanism has always sought to be a via media of Christianity. This involves accommodating a great diversity of beliefs. Many of our conflicts of identity have been based in our struggles between small c Catholicism and Protestantism. There has also been a fairly consistent and somewhat healthy dialogue between the adoption of Enlightenment-era skepticism and a more mystical, deeply prayerful life of faith. No matter what identity we choose for ourselves, if we identify as Anglicans we identify, too, as a being-in-relation, one that involves constant movement and negotiation, like a wheel or the tides (although generally our movements as a church tend to be less peaceful!) As we model this form of being-in-relation to each other, God uses the Son and Spirit to model being-in-relation to us, and, reflecting perfect balance: “[Th]rough the missions of the Son and the Spirit…God draws the church, all humankind, and all creation into this divine life and so into salvation, as this has been traditionally called.”[6]

Community for many Anglicans refers not only to the community of believers, but to the Eucharist as well. One of the simplest ways to discover Anglican theology is to examine a church’s worship services and liturgies. In 1995 the International Anglican Liturgical Consultation met in Dublin to discuss recommendations for Eucharistic revision. The resulting report, published the following year, sought to help guide revisions of Eucharistic prayers by having them reflect certain themes, which included the Doctrine of the Trinity.[7] While explaining the reasons for the change in format of newer Eucharistic prayers, Moroney describes the Eucharist as the culmination (or “fruit”) of the work of the whole Trinity as well as an anamnesis (a nod to both the Catholic and Reformed views of Eucharist) by way of three different prayers, two of which focus on the different acts of the Three Persons, upheld by their unity, and one of which is less specific and focusses on the Trinity itself. The Irish Church is a prime example of the diversity of Anglicanism: in a country that is largely Roman Catholic, Irish Anglicans have adopted a more Reformed attitude as a testament to their own minority identity. An exploration of early Celtic prayers reveals that it was common to seek the Trinity’s blessing on every-day activities such as washing one’s hands or stoking the morning fire; it would be no surprise to me that further development of Eucharistic prayer would request the Trinity’s presence here as well. Moroney does not explicitly describe how it is that the Eucharist is the fruit of the Trinity. When I reflect on the work of the IALC, I note the wording in some of the different Anglican prayer books in use today. Although the 1962 Book of Common Prayer does not provide notes on the format of the liturgy in the same way that newer  prayer books do, a Trinitarian echo can be found at the end of the Eucharistic prayer:

“And we pray, that by the power of the Holy Spirit, all we who are partakers of this Holy Communion may be fulfilled with thy grace and heavenly benediction; through Jesus Christ our Lord, by whom and with whom and in whom, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honour and glory be unto thee, O Father Almighty, world without end.”[8]

Newer prayer books are more explicit. In the explanatory notes preceding the form of the Eucharist, the 1985 Book of Alternative Services makes it clear that Eucharistic prayers, while prayed to God, illustrate the work of Christ, and celebrate the Church’s union with Christ in celebration through the Holy Spirit.[9] Likewise, the New Zealand prayer book states, “We give thanks to the Father, remember Christ, call upon the Holy Spirit, unite ourselves to all the faithful, and share God’s food and hospitality.”[10] In a very real way, the Trinity is present at the Eucharist, and therefore part of the saving, the remembering, the rejoicing, and the looking forward to the heavenly banquet. I am reminded of the words of John Bell’s hymn, “Today I Awake”: “Today I enjoy the Trinity ‘round me, above and beneath, before and behind: the Maker, the Son, the Spirit together, they called me to life and call me their friend.” The intimacy in this relationship gives rise to a great sense of hospitality among believers and God. The constant shifting implied by the concept of perichoresis seems to harmonize well with the cross-cultural significance of circles and wheels and their sense of balance. God, many-faced like Janus, reveals Godself to us in different ways, attesting to a great hospitality of interaction and invitation. This invitation is a key component of Trinitarian faith. Rowan Williams has said that being Christian “is believing the doctrine of the Trinity to be true, and true in a way that that converts and heals the human world,” but it is “not a claim about the totality of truth about God or about the human world.”[11]

This sense of intimate, inviting, hospitable, saving, and rejoicing community is what I believe the church is called to be and what the Anglican Church strives to be. Rather than focussing exclusively on the bizarre intellectual gymnastics one requires to navigate the old controversies, a focus on God’s relational qualities and shifting but never compromised identity gives the doctrine of the Trinity new life for me and many others. Formerly Wiccan, I observed and marked the turning of the seasons with a deep reverence for the strangely moving stasis (or circle) of life on Earth, a movement that worked for the preservation and betterment of itself, not a singular Other but the many diverse parts of the whole working together. It was amazing to me to consider that God, too, is part of a strangely moving stasis where all aspects worked in unity with each other for the betterment of the whole and those sustained by its movement. My Anglican identity and my Celtic ethnicity provided a fertile ground for growing and nurturing this intimate relationship. I am empowered and sustained by the singular God that addresses me in three different ways: “Creator, Redeemer, and Friend.”[12] It’s stunning to me that these three faces are all part of one great heart, which loves me and everyone in such a diverse and unified manner. The Trinity, then, is my strength.

“I bind unto myself today the strong name of the Trinity,

By invocation of the same, the Three-in-One and One-in-Three.”