My Dear Brothers & Sisters in Christ,

This Sunday we celebrate the Feast (and mystery) of The Holy Trinity. And, for those who wonder, White is the color of the day.

The doctrine of the Trinity teaches that God is one in essence, but exists in three distinct persons – the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, each of whom is fully God; yet they are one God, not three separate beings. 

We rarely talk about the Trinity per se, though we’re often talking about God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Bear with me, then, as we briefly address what many consider to be a baffling characteristic of Christianity. 

Like the other Abrahamic faiths of Judaism and Islam, Christians affirm that there is only one God and that God is One, even as we speak of three Persons (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit), each being wholly and completely God, but still one God rather than separate parts of God or three entirely different Gods. 

A classic objection to this Christian understanding of God is based on the simple mathematical formula of 1+1+1=3. Yet, when it comes to God, so the argument goes, we’re thought to be saying the logically impossible, i.e., that 1+1+1= 1.

In response, some might say, “Yeah, but 1x1x1=1.” … This is mathematically correct and perhaps initially appealing, but it’s also problematic because it turns completely on the fact that the number One has a unique role for multiplicative identity. Aside from this identity property, multiplication is really just repeated addition in a faster form; so the problem still seemingly exists.

There are, of course, other analogies one can employ – some better than others, but all have their shortcomings. There is the comparison to the human triad of Mind, Body, and Spirit, but those are aspects of a single person rather than the distinct, co-equal, and co-eternal Persons of the Trinity. 

There’s also the analogy to water, which we encounter at different times as a liquid, solid, or gas/steam but always in its essence it’s water, regardless of the particular state of presentation. As with most analogies to the Trinity, however, the water analogy risks promoting the heresy of modalism. Our Triune God is not one person who simply appears in different forms or roles to suit the occasion. 

The analogy of the Trinity to the primary colors of light is better in avoiding the risk of modalism because the three “colors” are always present and distinct. White light, which is composed of all colors, can represent the single divine essence or nature of God and the three primary colors of Red, Green, and Blue, which are absolutely necessary to form white light, can represent the distinct Persons of the Godhead: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Remove one of the primary colors and the light is no longer white. In this analogy the primary colors are distinct, yet all three are indispensable components of the single white light, illustrating how the three Persons of the Trinity are distinct, yet still all fully God. Alas, this analogy also has its shortcomings. While it focuses on unity and distinction, it oversimplifies the complexity of the Trinity and does not speak to the mutual indwelling and unified action of the Trinity. 

Then there is the cube analogy. The three dimensions of a cube (length, width, and height) are distinct yet inseparable and critical to forming one cube, as the Persons of the Trinity are distinct (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) yet unified in their essence as God. Just as the dimensions share the nature of being spatial dimensions, the Persons of the Trinity share the same divine nature or essence. And there is an inherent interdependence. Removing one dimension of a cube eliminates the others, illustrating how the Persons of the Trinity are co-essential and cannot exist without each other. But this analogy risks the heresy of Partialism – since each dimension is only a part of the cube, there is a heretical implication that each Person of the Trinity is only a part of God, rather than being fully God. This analogy also does not capture the relational aspects of the Trinity.

I like the cube example not because it is persuasive (it’s not) but, rather, because it so clearly illustrates our tendency to try and box God. It seems to be a universal temptation to put God in a nice, neat box – ostensibly so we can understand God, which often equates to shaping God to fit our expectations, wants and desires. In the process, we lose sight of God altogether and worship our projected substitutes. Idolatry is no less prevalent today than in Jesus’ time. 

In my view, a god which is no more complex than a first grade arithmetic equation or a home science project is not a being worthy of universal worship, nor is any god of our own creation.

The God of reality, however, has given us an amazingly complicated and dynamic reality. Just consider Quantum entanglement – something that Albert Einstein ridiculed when it was still just theory as some "spooky action at a distance". 

We now know that Quantum entanglement is a peculiar but very real phenomenon in quantum mechanics where two or more particles become interconnected in such a way that the quantum state of each particle is dependent on the states of the others, even when separated by large distances. A change in one entangled particle instantly affects the state of the other, regardless of how far apart they are - be that miles across town or across the universe. 

Even physical reality can be pretty mysterious in the sense that we encounter things, which are perplexing and which do not understand for a time, but which we ultimately figure out and make explainable – think murder mystery or a mystery of science. 

A mystery in the Christian sense, however, is not something that we do not happen to know; instead, it is something that we cannot know by the very nature of things. It is not only legitimate that Christianity should be characterized by mystery, it is logically unavoidable. 

Human are finite, limited beings, with limited powers of understanding and limited parameters of existence. Much about God is, then, understandably beyond our grasp. We needn’t be shy about this fact, but mindful of the risk of reducing the infinite God to the limitations of often mistaken finite humans. 

The Church has always referred to sacred mysteries. The Eucharist which we celebrate every Sunday is a sacred mystery of Christ’s real presence in the bread and wine. So, too, is the Incarnation that we celebrate at Christmas and the Resurrection which we celebrate at Easter. The Rosary of our Blessed Mother Mary is also centered around mysteries in our Lord’s life, and meditating on those mysteries is a well-worn path of spiritual growth. 

Even when divine mysteries are revealed by God, they remain mysterious. When we acknowledge mystery, we recognize our own finitude and our need to trust God in the face of the unknown. Mystery also represents hope and potential. It allows God to be more than we can explain or understand, opening us to something beyond the horizon of our expectations, beyond what we can imagine, foresee, or consider possible. It offers the possibility of the impossible. 

The encounter with mystery can produce wonder and exhilaration when the finite catches a glimpse of the Infinite, when Creature grasps being in the presence of the Creator, when the time-bound encounters the One who is timeless. Then the wise cease to try to explain, and instead recognize the limits of human understanding, and are content to receive the mystery in reverence, awe, and delight. Then, to paraphrase Psalm 46, we can be still and know that God is, and worship. 

That’s also a time when we feel the reality of being created out of love, in love, and for love, and when mutual, unconditional and self-giving love between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is “poured into our hearts,” giving us the ability to love others the way the Persons of the Holy Trinity love each other within the Godhead. 

In Christ's Love & Peace,
Mark Andrew+