The Trinity

The Trinity

“Trinitarian theology says that true power is circular or spiral, not so much hierarchical. If the Father does not dominate the Son, and the Son does not dominate the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit does not dominate the Father or the Son, then there’s no domination in God. All divine power is shared power.”—Richard Rohr in The Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your Transformation (Whitaker House), pp. 95-96.  

Robert Farrar Capon says when humans try to describe God, we are like a bunch of oysters attempting to describe a ballerina. But we can’t help but try, especially as we strive to understand the doctrine of the Trinity, perhaps one of the greatest mysteries of the Christian faith.

At a summer course at Oxford University, a Greek Orthodox bishop, Timothy Kallistos, introduced us to Andrei Rublev’s 15th-century icon, The Trinity, or The Hospitality of Abraham. It pictures the three angels who visited Abraham at the Oak of Mamre (Gen. 18:1-8) to announce the coming birth of his Son, Isaac. We have interpreted it as a symbol to help visualize the mystery of the interrelationship in the Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Each figure is in circular harmony with the other, humbly pointing to each other with mutual love. We miss the mark if we relate only to the Trinity in its separate parts. The Persons are in a community, transparent to each other, indwelling, and in love with each other. They have no secrets from one another, no jealousy, no rivalry. Instead, they teach us how to live in community. Barbara Brown Taylor describes their relationship as the sound of “three hands clapping.”

The doctrine of the Trinity calls us to a radical reorientation in our way of seeing and living in the world. We are what we are in a relationship with. The God of the Trinity is not an I, but a we; not mine, but ours. Our belief in and understanding of the Trinity can definitely make a difference in how we drive our cars, how we fill out our tax returns, how we relate to others of different faiths, colors, and political views; how we stand about war; how we treat the person sitting across the aisle from us, as well as those living across the Interstate and outside our country’s borders.

Richard Rohr’s and Barbara Brown Taylor’s thoughts are excellent to meditate on when we have a conflict with another person, particularly when the Christ within us is having difficulty seeing the Christ in that person. 

[See Barbara Brown Taylor, “Three Hands Clapping” in Home By Another Way (Cowley), pp. 151-154.]

Thank you for supporting our camp and conference center, Camp Mitchell, on top of Petit Jean Mountain, by buying this book in the daily series of writings for the liturgical year, A Daily Spiritual Rx for Ordinary Time: Readings from Pentecost to Advent. All proceeds from the sale of the books go to Camp Mitchell. If you enjoy this book, could you please take a moment to write a brief recommendation on its Amazon page? https://smile.amazon.com/Daily-Spiritual-Ordinary-Time-Pentecost/dp/B08JLTZYGH/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=joanna+seibert+books&qid=1621104335&sr=8-1

 More thank-you’s than we can say!!!

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Watercolor Painting: A Quest

                                   Watercolor Painting: A Quest

                              Guest Writer and Artist: Ken Fellows

               Years ago, I began an interest in watercolor art. Trying on my own, I wanted to paint more than anything. And I did.

ken fellows

     I’ve now been painting for over 25 years. Before I started painting, I was a radiologist who spent nearly 40 years contemplating black/white images. My gray-scale discrimination is pretty good, and perhaps the reason my paintings feature the effects of lighting (a doctor colleague observed at one of my shows: “Well, Ken, I see you’re still dealing in shadows.”) 

Interpreting x-ray images requires subconsciously rejecting what is unimportant or extraneous and focusing on the unusual, the variant, and the arresting. The same holds true for painting. When I paint, I strive to isolate the essential and defining elements of a scene, leaving out the mundane or distracting. Art teachers instruct that what is left out of a painting is as important as what is included. Sometimes, deciding can be difficult; it complicates the pursuit of every new piece of art.

     A revered local artist, Dewitt Hardy, was my favorite teacher. He was a master watercolor painter. His criticism of my work was that my paintings were often “too graphic.” Other people have observed, not always admiringly, that “your work looks like a photo.” I offer no defense, unintentional as my style may be.

     I often use personal photos as a reference for a painting, but I’ve studied and sketched most scenes on-site before attempting the final rendition. Any photos only help when back in my studio, to recall the ambient light and shadows. Everything else –the objects, shapes, proportions, and colors are candidates for exclusion or change.

     Whatever viewers think about my work, if it’s in a show, it has already passed my severest critics—my artist/wife, Kristin; my photographer/daughter, Hannah; and my grandchild, Ella (who invariably recommends, “Grandpa, not enough color”). They have discerning eyes and good judgment. If they disapprove, the public never gets to see the work.

The number of my paintings invited to public shows is over 70. I’ve been very fortunate to find this a gratifying ‘2nd act’ in my life. Even though many of my paintings have sold, I’ve never kept track of how many. It’s also been a pleasure to gift a number to friends, family members, and fellow artists. Like most artists, I live with the fact that after I’m gone, a number of my creations will eventually be relegated to scrap piles.

     The real joy and contentment I derive from my painting come from the satisfaction it provides and the mindfulness and contentment the process creates. Most sessions of painting are as mentally beneficial as the best times of meditating or the hours spent together with good friends and loved ones.

How fortunate I’ve been to have stumbled on the joys and rewards of painting with watercolors.

Ken Fellows

Joanna Seibert joannaseibert.com

De Waal: The Trinity in Celtic Spirituality

De Waal: The Trinity in Celtic Spirituality

“If I am estranged from myself, then I am also estranged from others too. It is only as I am connected to my own core that I am connected to others.”—Esther de Waal in Living with Contradiction: An Introduction to Benedictine Spirituality (Morehouse, 1997).

Esther de Waal in Living Church

Esther de Waal’s writings make the Benedictine and Celtic way of life accessible to us. It is a life where we learn about ourselves through relationships with others, nature, and daily life in the world around us. This life requires almost constant prayer, a connection to God, and an awareness of each precious moment, as well as our connection to the world around us.

De Waal reminds us how easy it is to walk or drive, rushing from task to task without any awareness of the people we pass by in our paths. All too often, instead of silently sending love to them, we make snap judgments and label them based on their appearance or clothing.

I am indebted to de Waal for one more book on Celtic spirituality, The Celtic Way of Prayer: The Recovery of the Religious Imagination. I was rereading her chapter on Celtic prayers about the Trinity as we prepare for Trinity Sunday. She reminds us of the Celtic tradition of placing three drops of water on an infant’s forehead immediately after birth to remind us that the Trinity is now indwelling in the infant.

In the Celtic tradition, the Trinity is a natural part of the daily songs and prayers at work, and is praised through the changing seasons. The day of Celtic life begins with splashing three handfuls of water on the face in the name of the Trinity. The day ends as the embers of the household fire are spread evenly on the hearth in a circle divided into three equal sections, with a square of peat laid between each. This is called the Hearth of the Three. A woman then closes her eyes, stretches out her hand, and softly sings this prayer:

The sacred Three

“To save,

To shield,

To surround,

The hearth,

The household,

This eve,

This night,

Oh! this eve,

This night,

And every night,

Each single night.

Amen.”—Carmina Gadelica I, “The Trinity” in The Celtic Way of Prayer (Doubleday, 1997).

De Waal describes what she has learned from the Celtic Trinitarian tradition: “It allows me to be at ease with a mystery that no longer threatens, but supports, refreshes, and strengthens me.”

The Threeness and connectedness of the Trinity also remind me of an anonymous prayer, sometimes attributed to William Blake—but sounds so Celtic:

      “I sought my God;

      My God I could not see.

      I sought my soul

      My soul eluded me.

      I sought my brother

      And I found all three.”

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/