Abandoned Altars

There is no doubt that the doctrine of the Holy Trinity is one of the most difficult dogmas in all Christian theology. It has stumped the greatest minds in Christendom. Its mind-boggling Zen-like paradox of three “persons” in one god is literally beyond rational comprehension as any attempt to understand the Athanasian Creed will quickly demonstrate.

It is a doctrine that, interestingly enough, is more in common with religions of the Far East, such as Buddhism and Hinduism, than with the orthodox versions of the other two faiths, Judaism and Islam, that claim to worship the same Near Eastern deity. One of the many characteristics it shares with Buddhism, actually, including: according to Henry C. Lea, the great historian, “monasticism, the tonsure, the use of beads, confession, penance, and absolution, the sign of the cross, relic-worship, and the miracles wrought by relics, the purchase of salvation by gifts to the Church, pilgrimages to sacred places, etc., etc. Even the nimbus which in sacred art surrounds the head of holy personages… and the Sangreal, the Holy Cup of the Last Supper [are found in Buddhism]… Buddhist beliefs [may have] led the Church into the extravagances of asceticism.”

I have enough to say about the disaster of celibacy elsewhere.

The First Commandment, of course, frowns upon visual depictions of God. But the experiment of visualising the Christian version, the Holy Trinity has often been attempted in Catholic iconography. Often the triune God is portrayed occasionally as a three-headed or three-faced being, or two men and a dove, or occasionally three men identical men together, like the three visitors to Abraham in the Bible.

Seems to me that such visualizations are a little behind the times. For the third millennium after Christ, we need a more modern view, one much more inclusive than the traditional patriarchal European model. “Minorities” – who actually constitute the majority on this planet – need to be represented, along with the other half of the human race, women.

The first part is the easiest. Jesus is not depicted as a blue-eyed, fair-skinned Aryan like the Swedish Max von Sydow in The Greatest Story Ever Told so much anymore. We’re much more willing to admit ethnicity. It’s okay for the Savior to have brown skin or even a big nose.

It’s when we attempt we attempt to include the feminine in the divine that we run into trouble.

Some verbal formulas have been attempted. One such is, “God the Father/God the Mother, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit,” which just doesn’t work in spoken liturgy. When read aloud, the “/” usually becomes a pause that sounds like a comma. And thus the Trinity becomes a Quaternity.

Saying “God the Father – slash – God the Mother” restores the meaning as intended but it’s even more verbally awkward. The alternative formula, “God as Father, God as Mother,” etc., is better, but it reduces the Persons to mere roles or job descriptions, whereas simplifying the whole thing to “God, Our Divine Parent” just sounds weak and ambiguous.

Now, I do understand and approve of the purpose behind this approach – if not only masculinity but paternity are attributed to the Deity, then certainly so should femininity and maternity – especially to denote the nurturing love we crave from God. Fair’s fair.

If that approach seems uncomfortable, there is another way that has been attempted to honor the Divine Feminine. Sometimes there is a slight change of wording here and there that elevates the Blessed Mother Mary to full divine status. The phrase “Mother God”, in some alternate renditions of the “Hail Mary”, may not be far from “Mother of God” but to some, the difference is enormous. The doctrine that Jesus’ mom was “Co-Redemptrix”, an equal partner to her baby boy in salvation is pure Mariolatry, in my opinion. Whether or not that is good, I leave to you, gentle reader.

I propose, however, to simply stick with the traditional phrasing of “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit”, but actively attribute the Divine Feminine principle to the Third Person rather than cram it in with the First. I leave it to the real theologians to determine just how heretical this notion of a female Holy Ghost is, but I have it on good authority that in certain Anglican communities, at least, the Holy Spirit is regularly addressed as “She”. And why not?

There is certain logic for this. The dove, after all, was originally a symbol for Aphrodite and many other goddesses. (I’ll spare you all a discussion of how the femininity of the Spirit is also strongly implied in Genesis 1:26-27.) But I will say that a feminine Holy Spirit could provide a natural refuge to the other mystical intuitions of Divine Womanhood in our tradition, especially that of Sophia, Divine Wisdom, or the Shekinah.

In any case, this is a great improvement over the images I grew up with. I’d much rather visualize the Holy Ghost as the powerful female equivalent of Christ, for instance, than as a radioactive pigeon, or some guy wrapped in a sheet topped by a halo!