In a moment, I’ll be mentioning a murder in a cathedral, where these was no mystery over whodunnit. 4 knights. In plain view. Not a hard one for Brother Cadfael. But I’ve also written about a more intriguing murder-mystery over at Seen&Unseen, looking at the new series of Shardlake. I have to admit I was quite pleased with the title: The Disneyfication of the Monasteries.
Today, let’s consider Trinity Sunday which we celebrate this coming Lords’ Day.
Does Trinity Sunday sound important? The doctrine of the Trinity is fundamental, but why celebrate that God is Father, Son and Spirit on the Sunday after Pentecost?
Honestly, I don’t know. In order to figure out how these high days and holy days emerged relies on fragmentary sources, much of which was systematically destroyed for theological reasons. Or it was used as toilet paper because it didn’t seem important as it contained information that surely everyone knew? I have many books acting as secondary sources, but they often seem to refer to each other, or sources that are hard to obtain.
The answer to the existence of Trinity Sunday seems to lie in Pentecost itself, which celebrates the Holy Spirit is poured out on the Apostles in Jerusalem. We looked at that last time. (Okay, I say ‘we looked’. What I mean is ‘I wrote. And some of you looked.)
The festival of Pentecost – or Whitsun, as it came to be known – became tied to baptism. As I mentioned last time, Jesus said:
For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit… (Acts 1:5)
When we flick back to Jesus’s own baptism by John in Mark’s gospel, we witness an extremely Trinitarian moment:
At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:9-11)
A divine voice from heaven calls Jesus his ‘Son’ and sends down the Holy Spirit from heaven. (Fun fact: the word ‘torn open’ for heaven is the same Greek word used for the Temple curtain being torn open in Mark 15:38).
It’s hard to get more trinitarian than this moment, to the point where it becomes just as hard to understand why some would deny the Trinity itself, which is what Unitarians do.
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The period of Pentecost, then, lasts eight days, ending on Trinity Sunday. But we return to the original question. When did people begin to celebrate the Trinity on the week after Pentecost.
According to Frank Weathers, the earliest reference to a feast for the Trinity is in Tours in 796. It was later introduced to the influential monastery at Cluny in 1091, but not recognised and made universal until Pope John XXII added it to the Christian calendar in 1334.
The Turbulent Trinity
However, Trinity Sunday had been heartily celebrated in England for over a century as it had become associated with a titanic figure in Medieval England, Thomas Becket. He was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury on Trinity Sunday in 1162, famously being murdered in that self-same cathedral in 1170 by four knights of Henry II.
Becket appeared to embrace his martyrdom and was immediately hailed as one. He was rapidly canonised and his cult grew and grew to the point where pilgrims came from all over Europe to Canterbury. This includes the cast of characters from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales whose destination is the Shrine of St Thomas.
A Bit About Becket
Becket did not seem terribly religious. That was until his appointment as Archbishop. He actually had to be ordained priest the day before he was consecrated Archbishop having only made it to the level of deacon. Admittedly he had been Archdeacon of Canterbury and started out a lowly cleric in the Church before being dragged into matters of state.
But Becket’s consecration seemed to have had a profound effect on him, and his spiritual and ecclesiastical responsibilities weighed on him, with devastating consequences. It is said that he upgraded Trinity Sunday to be a more significant feast day in England – but I can find no solid source for this. I have read two biographies of Becket (for a musical play wot I wrote) and have just gone back to check. But given his stature in Medieval England until Henry VIII scrubbed his memory from existence in the 1530s, it is not surprising that Trinity Sunday took on a new significance.
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Trinity Sunday Endures
Trinity Sunday endured in English Christianity and survived the Reformation because Trinity Sunday did not have a saint attached to it. Lots of churches built after the Reformation were named Holy Trinity, to avoid going back to individual saints, more associated with the Church of Rome. In 1864, William Chambers wrote that “one-fifth of all new churches in his time were dedicated to the Trinity.”1
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Consecration
The biographies reminded me of an embarrassing moment from Becket’s consecration that I share with you for Trinity Sunday. The newly consecrated archbishop, historian John Guy explains,
was to have a copy of the gospels opened and held on his head and neck, after which a verse would be chosen at random that would serve as an omen (or ‘prognostic’) of his future. For example, at a consecration service conducted by Lanfranc in 1077, the first words to catch his eye had been “Bring hither the best robe and put it on him.”
Unfortunately, the random text chosen at Becket's consecration was a well-known passage from Saint Matthew in which Christ had cursed the barren fig tree: “Never shall fruit be born of thee throughout eternity; and it was forthwith cast into the fire.”2
Oops. Awkward.
So whatever you do to celebrate Trinity, I would advise against opening the Bible at random. Why not read Mark 1 and reflect on the three persons, and that one of those persons dwells in you, if you call yourself a follower of Christ?
Or you could read aloud this poem by Anglican priest and poet, John Donne:
Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.I, like an usurp’d town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Have a blessed Trinity Sunday.
The Tide Might Be Turning
I had a fascinating chat with Elizabeth Oldfield, former director of Theos, and part of the public discourse around faith. She recently turned in a brilliant performance on a discussion on faith hosted by Unherd and has written a really honest book called Fully Alive which has literally just been released.
The English Year, Steve Roud
Thomas Becket, John Guy