With how many “trinities” are you familiar? Christian belief
holds at its center the Father, Son and Spirit. Chefs might refer to a
“trinity” of ingredients. For Cajun cooks its onions, green peppers and celery.
Italians drop the peppers and add carrots. Preachers like to lead you through
three points in a homily. Then there is the Triple Crown in horse racing,
hockey’s three-goal hat trick and the three states of matter – solid, liquid
and gas.
All this to make the point that the nature of trinity seems
deeply embedded in us, and likely for good reason.
In his encyclical Laudato Sí, Pope Francis put it
this way: “The human person grows more, matures more and is sanctified more to
the extent that he or she enters into relationships, going out from themselves
to live in communion with God, with others and with all creatures. In this way,
they make their own that trinitarian dynamism which God imprinted in them when
they were created. Everything is interconnected, and this invites us to develop
a spirituality of that global solidarity which flows from the mystery of the
Trinity.” (240).
This “trinitarian dynamism” was first articulated by
theologian Raimon Panikkar, a Catholic priest born in Spain in 1918 to a Hindu
father and Christian mother. He was a pioneer in interreligious dialogue,
exploring the deep mystical reality toward which all religion aims. “Religion
is not an experiment,” he said. “It is an experience of life through which one
is part of the cosmic adventure.”
Nothing has pulled me forward into a new spaciousness as
much as this aspect of Father Panikkar’s thought. All religion has the same
aim: to know all in relation to all. So, to name God three-in-one, he says, is
a way of saying that God is nondual – that it is not in God’s nature to create
opposites, but rather to sweep all creation up in the flow of God’s love. Jesus
says it this way in John’s Gospel: “As you Father are in me and I am in you,
may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”
This is the “trinitarian dynamism” Pope Francis names as the source of “global
solidarity.”
What Father Panikkar’s thought, prayer and research has
revealed is that mystics of every tradition know we belong to one another –
even everyday ordinary mystics, who might live in, say, Glasgow.
I recently stumbled across the digital by-line of a long-ago
acquaintance in the British Catholic magazine The Tablet. Curious about
what Sara was up to after 30 years, I followed the link to her account of a
remarkable event in a quiet, diverse corner of the Scottish capital city.
Officials from the Home Office arrived to arrest two longtime immigrant
residents of the community. They succeeded in putting the men in a van before
word got around. First a cyclist lay down in front of the van, then another
person behind it. Gradually neighbors, friends and a spontaneous support team
of people of many religions and national backgrounds – protected by the local
police – joined in protest of the detention. A positive atmosphere prevailed as
those who gathered chanted “These are our neighbours, let them go.” Never was
there a whiff of violence or anger. In the end, the local police chief
announced the men would be released. This was, my old acquaintance concluded,
“Eight hours of practical, determined, creative love of their neighbours by the
Glasgow community.” And evidence of the wisdom of Pope Francis and Father
Panikkar. Whether you think in terms of “trinitarian dynamism” or the
solidarity of neighbors, God is the source of such communities of creative
love.
Sister Beth Murphy is the communication director for the
Dominican Sisters of Springfield. This column was first published in May 2021.
This article appears in Aug 7-13, 2025.
