Solemnity of the Holy Trinity: Rublev's Icon

For all the ways the limitations of our minds and our words in understanding and explaining things, sometimes it’s the things that engage our senses that help, whether it’s the beauty of creation, music, poetic expression, even the experience of love and the way it affects us. Art does this for us as well. One form of 2-dimensional art is known as iconography, the word icon meaning “image” and graphy meaning “to write”. And so, an iconographer doesn’t so much paint or draw an image, it’s written. Furthermore, icons are not intended to be decoration, as much as instruments to draw us into prayer, sometimes described as windows into the divine, where we can both see and be seen.

We commonly associate iconography with eastern or Byzantine culture, and unlike the stylings of Raphael, Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kindade, it tends to appear to us, on the surface, as a little unrefined and sometimes oddly proportioned. There’s genius in it, but it requires studying approach to this unique artistic expression. The thing about iconography is that it’s the subtle details and the deeper meaning beneath the surface-level appearance that the iconographer is ultimately trying to present.

One of the most famous icons was written by a 15th century Russian artist, Andrei Rublev. It’s commonly known as The Trinity or The Hospitality of Abraham. Since 1929, it’s displayed in the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow. As its titles infer, it’s a Trinitarian interpretation of the story in the Book of Genesis, in which Abraham and Sarah were visited by three angelic figures, to whom they offered hospitality (Genesis 18:1–8).

First, you would notice there’s no action or movement in the image, just a state of motionless contemplation. The figures are arranged in such a way that they form a circle, indicating eternity. But also, we see that on one hand, they are equal in form, size and even in features, telling us they are consubstantial—that is, of equal essence. On the other hand, Rublev wants us to understand that they are clearly distinct in how they are spaced and even their garments. But one thing it says to me about the Holy Trinity is a sense of unity and harmony, despite any differentiation they bear. Unity and harmony, despite differentiation—something we seem to struggle with right now as a society.

Another interesting detail is in the foreground, between the figure on the left (God the Father) and the figure on the right (God the Holy Spirit). It’s an open space at the table, the altar of worship. What it seems to say is that there is space for another, calling us not so much to observe from a distance, but instead to come, to engage them, to participate at the table, the altar of worship, where the chalice of sacrifice sits in their midst.

There’s a story of a Theology professor who asked his students: “If I were to tell you today that we have discovered new texts of the Bible and of the Fathers of the Church that reveal that our One God is, in reality, two people and not three, would it change anything in your life?” Just as studying this icon tells us, the answer to those questions depends entirely on whether we view the Holy Trinity as merely an abstract concept or instead, our experience of being in a living relationship with God.

It’s been said that the mystery of the Most Holy Trinity is reflected in the icon that is the human person. Think for a moment about the people you love, those dearest in your life. In some ways you understand them: their identity, their traits and tendencies. For those people you just considered, isn’t it true that there’s more to them than you entirely know. Whether it’s your wife, your husband, son or daughter, there remains a mystery in there. We don’t even entirely understand ourselves. That’s why we have close friends, or even therapists, to help give us counsel, to reflect and reveal things about us that we can’t see.

Can it be that the more we come to know ourselves in truth, as well as those with whom we called into relationship, that we will come to understand a little more our Triune God? I suspect so. And conversely, the more we come to desire engagement with our Triune God—God our Father, who brought us into being as an act of love; God the Son, who took on our flesh and showed his love by dying for us; and God the Holy Spirit, the dynamic agent at work in our worship and in the ways we live according to our purpose and design—Yes, as we come to desire engagement with this one God, I believe, the more we’ll come to know in truth, both ourselves and those we love