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One of the first doctrines to come about in the early Christian church (which I consider roughly to be the first three centuries after the death of Christ) regarded the very nature of God—whether he is monistic or pluralistic. As Christians today believe, God is—and always has been—a Trinitarian being, divided into three parts, but somehow still one. There is a term that we use for this: ‘triune’; three in one. How did this strange dogma arise? For the church fathers shortly after the death of Christ, this took shape in a debate where some feared that Christianity was taking on a polytheistic tilt, something that went strongly against the still-accepted Old Testament understandings about the One true God, who is a jealous God whom no one may place behind any other. But three days after the death of Christ, Christians knew more strongly than ever that Jesus literally is God Almighty. That only God himself could transcend the limits of a mortal existence and return from the dead after three days. As Thomas declared upon seeing the Savior risen, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28). Somehow, Jesus and God are the very same being, despite Jesus’ humanity. His nature had to go beyond a strictly human Jesus, to encompass the essential teaching of John chapter one—“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the word was God.” (John 1:1). After all, he had been interfering with his chosen people, the Jews, as a spiritual being for millennia. And furthermore, Christ’s continual reference to God the Father had enormous implications for the Christian understanding of the divine order. Finally, the ‘gift’ (the Holy Spirit) that he gave the apostles after his return to the right hand of the Father, was also God, just as much as Christ and the Father. And so now here we have not only two, but three beings that are fully God, and yet only one of three facets. Christ specifically names them all together, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, as a part of his great commission at the end of Matthew. Who, or what, is God then? Since the life of Christ, the absolute divinity of Jesus was accepted without question. It is present in the first known Christian writings, and it is still the defining characteristic of the religion today. The issue was not whether he is God, or whether there is a Father as he said, but how it was possible for God to be tripartite, when his own revelation to humanity throughout history explained him to be singular, monistic, the only true God. Polytheism was the defining characteristic of the Pagan religions of the time, not of Judaism and what became Christianity. One must also always remember that the original Christians were strong Jews—Jews who then proceeded to teach Christ’s message to the Gentiles, who in turn accepted Jewish doctrines about the nature of God as described in the Old Testament. This new doctrine of the Trinity, somehow, would have to fit in with what God revealed before, because God is eternal and unchanging. His nature is the same as it has always been. Nothing could change but our understanding. There have been countless examples of how something can be three but one, countless attempts at explaining how God could exist as a father, son, and holy spirit but still be one being. I have heard him compared to a shamrock (this is how Saint Patrick explained the trinity to the Irish)—three leaves stemming from one plant. I have heard him compared to a triangle—three extensions of the same shape. I have heard him compared to water—a single substance that may exist in a solid, gaseous, or liquid state. I have heard him compared to a hand with three fingers—all the fingers equal and a part of the very same hand, still known as one thing. However, there appears to be something lacking from each of these. For example, most of these analogies say nothing of the distinctness of each member of the trinity—here there are always three leaves, three angles, three fingers. They are not unique from one another. The analogy of water, while probably the best one, does not allow for the substance itself to exist in all three at the same time, as God does. The examples in question may all be part of the same thing, but they themselves are exactly comparable to one other. This is not the trinity. The persons of the trinity are unique. Each of them behaves and is received in different ways, despite being agents to a unified whole. Let us erase these examples from our minds and cast this matter into a different light. Look at the real, tangible world. When I see a stapler, I know it is not a desklamp. This is because it if physically different from a desklamp. I know that if it were put to that use, it would be inefficient, because that is obviously not its purpose, based on the shape in which it was made. We differentiate based on the physical world, as I just did. But this only works to a certain extent when examining God. His nature is not tangible—it is spiritual. Physically he cannot have three parts, because each would be exactly the same—nothingness. To explain him physically in the ways mentioned previously do nothing other than say, "here are three separate things, that all conform to one idea (ex. the angles of a triangle to the idea of sameness because they can make a triangle, but the angles are still physically separate). There cannot be three fingers, three leaves, three angles, because in a spiritual realm there would be nothing to distinguish them from one another. This is why there is no one way to differentiate the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit from each other. They limit God’s persons to sameness, and leaves them as separate beings, not part of one unified whole. The only way for the Trinity to exist as three of one thing is that it must be on multiple planes of perception. Each member is revealed and understood in a different way, but they all reflect the one source, the second half of tri-une. We cannot use only one method to understand or describe all of them—this limits an infinite being with one sense of perception. As I say, there are multiple planes of perception required to look upon the trinity. Here we are once again limited to tangibility in terms of examples, so I will do the best I can. When one looks at a rose, there are multiple ways in which he comes to understand it as a rose. First, he sees it, and knows because of its shape and color what it is. Then, touching it, he understands exactly what it is by its texture, the arrangement of the petals, the sharpness of its thorns. And finally, smelling it, he recognizes the fragrance as that which is associated distinctly to that one thing—to the rose. This is how we must understand the trinity. Let us consider God in the place of the rose. We perceive him in different ways, and those different planes of perception interact with us and reveal themselves to us distinctively. But they are, in their essence, God. It is not incorrect when one smells a rose to say, “That is a rose.” It is no less correct than to say only “That is the scent of a rose.” The same holds true for sight and touch. When confined to only one way of receiving the flower—sight, sound, or touch—it is correct to proclaim that the thing is a rose even though one does not perceive it with all the senses working in tandem. But at the same time, it is still true to say, “That is the appearance, the feel, or the smell of the rose.” God is one being, that is revealed to us in three ways. It is correct to say “Jesus is God,” just as much as it is to say “Jesus is God the Son.” We can call each individual of the trinity God himself, and we can distinguish. To draw direct parallels, let’s call the sight of the rose God the Father. The feel is the Son, and the smell is the Spirit. Now let’s equate the human senses to the history of revelation. In the beginning, we had only the sight. Even though the other senses were there, we did not have the necessary spiritual physiology to receive them. We didn’t have hands and noses yet. We recognized the rose by its appearance to our eyes, revealed through the Prophets and the givers of the law. Then, in an extraordinary step, God came near—he touched us; he was made incarnate, and dwelt among us. Alas, we were given the gift of touch. Along came a whole new way of understanding God—through his Son, Jesus Christ. There were two distinct ways to receive God, and none of them mutually exclusive—he is a father, and he is a son. And he is God. Then finally, after the salvific work of Christ was done on earth, God extended the Holy Spirit to all mankind, and so we were given smell. And finally our Trinitarian understanding of God was made complete. He is one being, revealed to us in three ways. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Three senses, but one rose. Three persons, but one God. |
