Prior to 1054 A.D., the Christian Church was one.

Though it was divided regionally and

linguistically, it had one Lord, one faith, and one baptism. During this 1st thousand years, the

doctrines of Trinity and Christology were theology. Though we find discussions of other topics,

these discussions, rightly understood, were always extensions of the doctrines of Trinity and

Christology. For example, Is Mary the Mother of God? This question occupied the 3rd

ecumenical council. But it was plainly a question about Christ – Who is the Son of Mary? The

question was not about Mary per se. The same can be said for all the most central questions of all

the ecumenical councils. And, we might add, the doctrine of Christology was itself a subset of

the doctrine of the Trinity. Thus there is a sense in which all early Church doctrine was

Trinitarian at its core.

Regrettably, the doctrines of Trinity and Christology are some of the least understood

doctrines today, and many contemporary theologians – some very influential – both knowingly

and unknowingly propagate ancient heresies. Given this state of affairs and given that today we

commemorate the Church’s articulation of Trinitarian Orthodoxy, I think it is appropriate that, in

honor of those fathers of the Church who spilled much ink, sweat, and blood in defense of the

Nicene profession of the Trinity that we again provide a solid foundation for this great mystery

of the faith. And since these men of God did not reserve the difficult things of the faith for

academics but proclaimed them from the pulpit, so will I this Sunday.

Whenever teaching Nicene Trinitarianism, I begin by asking what types of explanations

of the Trinity folks have heard. Whether in a classroom context or a Church context, the catalog

is always the same. The analogies fall (ironically enough) under one of three headings. The first

set of analogies utilizes a parts/whole explanation. For example, the Trinity is like an egg, which

is one but consists of a shell, egg white, and egg yolk. The second set of analogies applies

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several names to one subject. For example, one man can be a husband, a father, and a son all at

the same time. The third set of analogies identifies a single substance that can take on different

states. For example, H20 is one compound, but it can subsist as a solid, liquid, or gas.

The difficulty with these sets of analogies is that each one represents an ancient heresy.

The H20 analogy gives the impression that the divine nature is akin to a substratum that bubbles

up to form three Persons. This way of thinking about the Trinity is identified by Basil the Great

as “blasphemous” and “insane” – not exactly a raving endorsement. The set of analogies that

utilizes three distinct names for one subject comes closest to an ancient heresy known as

Sabellianism. On this view, there is only one agent, God, who is like an actor, wearing three

different masks. But behind these faces, there is only one person. As for the parts/whole

analogies, it is difficult to find ancient antecedents for these, since everyone granted that God is

simple and thus doesn’t have parts. The one view that comes closest is known as Tritheitism. The

Tritheites argued that the one divine nature is divided into three parts, one part in each Person.

Now one possible response to the realization that most common analogies for the Trinity

are heretical is this. These are only analogies; all analogies are flawed; there is no perfect

analogy; so the flaws are no big deal. The problem with this reply is that it presumes that

analogies, simply by virtue of being analogies, are flawed if not outright false. However,

Christian theology has always held that all of our talk of God is analogical. When we say that

God is wise, we do not mean the same thing we mean when we say that Solomon is wise. When

we say that God is powerful, we do not mean the same thing we mean when we say the president

is powerful. Nonetheless Christianity has also always held that what we say analogically about

God is still true or false. It is analogical to say that the Lord is my shepherd. It would be equally

analogical to say (God forbid) that God is a cheat. Both are analogical statements, but the former

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is true, while the latter is false and blasphemous – and God forbid anyone say it. Christian

Orthodoxy has always held that analogies matter. When we speak analogically about God, we

are saying something meaningful. And what we are saying about God can be true or it can be

false. Not all analogies are made equal, and the aforementioned all-too-common analogies say

something about the Holy Trinity that is contrary to the faith once given over to the Saints.

So how should we understand the Trinity? God is one; God is three. It seems to be a

simple contradiction. Is it? Is this profession like an awkward relative that we feel obliged to

acknowledge but flee from as quickly as possible? For years, I certainly thought so. Yet, when I

first read the Church fathers who both wrote and defended the Nicene Creed, I was shocked to

learn that they had a very clear sense of what they professed. And so should we. So what is that

profession that we recite every week in the Nicene Creed?

The basic Nicene profession in Greek is one ousia and three hypostases. This is often

translated – based on the Latin equivalents – as three “persons” (hypostases) and one

“substance,” “being,” or “essence” (ousia). Such translations can be misleading, given the

ambiguity of these terms in English. But these terms were anything but ambiguous among early

Christian writers.

Let us begin with the term ousia. Ousia refers to the nature or essence of a given thing.

For example, I have before me three human persons, such as Jan, Eirik, and Steve. The ousia of

these three is human. This general noun identifies the type of thing they are. In other words,

human is the common nature of these three individuals. Likewise if I had before me Lassie,

Rover, and Rufus, the ousia of these three would be dog. And, at the risk of being redundant, if I

went into a garden and plucked three rose buds, the ousia of these three would be rose.

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 Regarding the term hypostasis, this word indicates a particular subject who has a certain

nature. Using the same examples I just used, I can say that Jan, Eirik, and Steve are three

particulars or subjects who have the nature human. Likewise Lassie, Rover, and Rufus are three

particulars or subjects who have the nature dog. And the three hypothetical rose buds I plucked

are three particulars or subjects that have the nature rose.

In the most basic sense, then, Nicene Trinitarianism affirms that the Father, Son, and

Holy Spirit are three distinct particulars or subjects who share a common nature, namely, the

nature God. This is what it means to confess that the Holy Trinity is three hypostases and one

ousia. Such a coupling of one and three is neither a contradiction nor unusual. To the contrary, it

is common to find in our world several hypostases that share one ousia. In each of the above

examples I just gave for the terms, we find the very thing that is affirmed of the Holy Trinity.

And lest anyone think this is a peculiar solution to the three/one problem that is my own

invention, allow me to quote Basil of Caesarea, the great bishop of the early Church who battled

opponents of the Nicene faith. In a letter concerning the Nicene view, Basil writes this: “The

distinction between ousia and hypostasis is the same as that between the general and the

particular; as, for instance, between the animal [human] and the particular man.”

This is our starting point. The Nicene profession is that we believe in only one divine

nature and in only three particulars who have this nature: The Father, The Son, and The Holy

Spirit. Of course, there are qualifications that need to be added concerning the differences

between created particulars and the divine particulars. This is always the case. As already said,

when we say God is wise and a man is wise, we do not mean precisely the same thing. The

analogy is true but requires caveats. And so it is in our profession that there are three divine

© Dr. Nathan A. Jacobs, 2012

persons or subjects or particulars who share a common nature. This is true, and it is what the

Nicene faith professes. But it too requires caveats.

Before stating what these caveats are, however, I suspect that some may be asking

themselves a question, namely, Do we, as Christians, profess three Gods or one God? Some may

be uneasy with this way of speaking about the Trinity because, on the face of it, it seems to be

polytheistic. After all, we have three distinct particulars. Or as Tertullian once noted, some in his

day who turned from the errors of polytheism to Christianity were surprised to learn that God has

a Son. This certainly seems like more than one God. Are Christians really monotheists?

One way of addressing this question is to look at the three common uses of the word

“God” in Christian theology. The first and most common referent for the word is the Father. This

is the most common use throughout the New Testament, and it echoes in the Nicene Creed: I

believe in one God, the Father [etc.]. Certainly this use is singular. For there is only one Father.

The second use is in reference to the divine nature had by the Father, Son, and Holy

Spirit. This is the use invoked when St. John says, “and the Word was God.” John is not saying

that the Word was the Father; nor is he saying the Word was the Trinity. He is using “God” in

the predicate nominative, identifying the type of thing the Word is – just as I would say Bob is

human. Gregory of Nyssa makes plain the singularity of this use of the word “God” in his letter

to Ablabius. Ablabius inquired whether Christians believe in three Gods since we refer to Peter,

Paul, and John as three humans. (As an aside, it is noteworthy that the fact that Ablabius raises

the question in this way is further indication that we have rightly understood the pro-Nicene

subject-nature distinction.) Gregory replied by identifying this way of speaking (three humans)

as a common abuse of language. For “human” is a species term, and we certainly do not believe

that Peter, Paul, and John are three species. If we were being precise, we would say that Peter,

© Dr. Nathan A. Jacobs, 2012

Paul, and John are three human (singular) persons (plural). For the nature is common and one; it

is the number of persons having this nature that is plural. And so it is with the Father, Son, and

Holy Spirit. We do not profess three Gods, if by this term we mean the divinity had by the

persons. Christianity professes only one divinity, even though we do profess that there are three

divine (singular) persons (plural) who have it.

A third use of the word God is in reference to the entire Trinity. I should warn that this

third use is alien to the Greek-speaking literature of the early Church. But because this use of the

word God is common in Western literature, I will here include it. This use is perhaps the most

suspect in its singularity. However, it too should pass the monotheistic test. When answering the

question, How many Holy Trinities are there? the answer is One. That the Trinity includes three

persons should not be of concern. For if I asked, How many classes on the Trinity are currently

being offered at Calvin Seminary? the answer would return One. That numerous students are in

the class does not falsify the reply. The question concerns the class not the number of attendees.

Therefore, whether we use the word God in reference to the Father, the divine nature, or

the Holy Trinity, our use is always singular. Christians are thus rightly called monotheists. For

we believe in only one God – whether we mean one Father, one divinity, or one Holy Trinity.

Now, having said this, we should not pretend that Christian monotheism is no different

than the anti-Trinitarian monotheisms of Islam or Judaism. Christian monotheism agrees with

these that there is only one divinity. But anti-Trinitarian monotheisms suggest that there is only

one person who has this divinity. Christianity cannot agree. As Gregory of Nyssa warns, we must

“prevent our argument in our contenion with Greeks [from] sinking to the level of Judaism.” On

the one hand, this may be shocking, as many Christians try to dispel the differences between

Judaism and the Christianity that grew from its soil. But on the other hand, it should be rather

© Dr. Nathan A. Jacobs, 2012

obvious that those who affirm the Trinity cannot agree with those who deny the Trinity. If your

understanding of God is no different than that of one who denies the Trinity, you’re probably not

a Trinitarian. We, as Christians, are indeed monotheists. But more fundamentally, we are

Trinitarians. Christian monotheism is unique. There is no denying it.

Now, as I said earlier, when we speak of God, we speak in analogies. To say that God

repented, for example, can conjure imperfections that are unworthy of God. There is something

true (analogically speaking) about saying that God repented, but we must remember that God

repents without any of the imperfections of creaturely repentance. And so it is with our

profession of three particulars who have a common nature. The profession is true, but we must

not let this profession lead us to ascribe creaturely limitations and imperfections to God. So what

are the qualifications we must keep in mind when speaking of the three divine persons? I will

note three.

(1) The first misstep we must avoid concerns material division. When we think of three

created particulars – be they three rose buds or three human persons – we think of finite bodies

that are separated by spatial intervals. Because this is what we encounter in creation, we may be

tempted to think of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as three separate bodies. But this would be a

mistake. We must remember that God is not only invisible but immaterial. The Church fathers

identified this as one fundamental difference between God and creatures: creatures are always

limited in location and are corporeal in some sense, while God alone is truly incorporeal and

infinite. We must not, therefore, take the distinction of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to conjure

thoughts of spatially separation. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are not separate bodies.

Now, it must be remembered that this error cuts two ways. It would be a mistake to think

of three separate bodies. True. But the flipside of this error is to think of the persons as materially

© Dr. Nathan A. Jacobs, 2012

conjoined. Many are so concerned with professing one God that they fall into the error of

collapsing the three into a single lump – as happens in parts/whole analogies, for example. Yet to

think of the Holy Trinity in this way is to fall into the very same error. For whether we are

thinking of the person as materially separate or materially conjoined, we are still thinking of

material. The key to Orthodox thinking is to abandon materiality and spatiality altogether. The

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are simply not material. They are three distinct and unconfused

persons; they are not three separate bodies – distinction and separation are not the same. (My

mind, for example, is distinct from the ideas it has, but they are not spatially separate.)

(2) A second difference between God and creatures concerns the basis for distinction.

Why is it that we can tell Jan, Eirik, and Steve apart? After all, Jan is just as human as Eirik or

Steve. The answer is what ancient literature calls material “accidents.” An accident is a property

that can change without changing what the thing is. For example, I can change the color of a

circle and it remains a circle. What I cannot change is its flowing circumference. Its color is

accidental; its flowing circumference is essential. So with human persons, we can tell Jan, Eirik,

and Steve apart because they are different sizes; they are different colors; they reside in different

locations, and so on. Their humanity is identical, but they have a great many accidents that have

no bearing on whether they are human, and these accidents are how we differentiate them.

Can the same be said of the persons of the Trinity? Can we tell the Father apart from the

Holy Spirit based on color, size, or location? Clearly not. Just like spatiality and materiality

generally, such material accidents do not apply to God. But this raises a question: If God does

not have material accidents, how are the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit distinguished?

The clue to the Orthodox reply is found in the names Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. What

makes the Father the Father is that He begets the Son. What makes the Son the Son is that He is

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begotten of the Father. The Holy Spirit’s name is obscured a bit by English, but “spirit” in both

Greek and Hebrew can also mean wind or breath. So we may think of the Holy Spirit as the Holy

Breathed One. What makes the Holy Spirit the Spirit is the fact that He is breathed by the Father.

In other words, the three are distinguished by their relationship one to another.

This raises an often neglected feature of Trinitarian thought. I get the impression that

many Christians today think of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as simply existing alongside one

another, each having existence in Himself from eternity. While it is certainly true that the Holy

Trinity has always existed, neither the Bible nor the Creed speak of the Son and the Holy Spirit

as simply possessing divinity from no one. Rather, the biblical and confessional language about

the Trinity teaches that the Father has divinity from no one (He is the unbegotten God), but the

Son and the Holy Spirit receive their divinity from the Father. This is what the language of

begetting and proceeding means. Just as my only begotten son, David, received his humanity

from me, so the Son of God receives His divinity from God the Father from eternity. And so the

Holy Spirit receives His divinity by out-breathing or spiration – He proceeds from the Father.

No doubt, if you’ve never heard that the Father gives divinity to the Son and to the Holy

Spirit, you might be wondering if the Son and the Holy Spirit are creatures or are somehow less

divine than the Father. If this question comes to mind, be assured that you are not the first in

Church history to ask this. But suffice it to say that Christianity has always professed the

opposite. It is because the Father begets the Son and emits the Spirit that they are divine. This is

most easily demonstrated in the case of the Son who is begotten of the Father. It is a safe

principle that like begets like. Were I to announce that my wife, Heather, is pregnant and

someone replied, What is it?, they would rightly be surprised if I replied, I’m hoping for a dog or

horse – maybe a monkey. Even children understand that dog begets dog, humans begets human,

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and so God begets God. Like an eternal sun that has forever generated light, The Father has,

from eternity, given his divinity to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.

(3) But this brings us to a third final difference between God and creatures. In the created

realm, we tend to not only think of particulars as separate bodies but to think of particulars as

autonomous. Though I have a son, I could have existed without my son – as I did for years

before his birth. He may be part of my identity now, but it is not essential to the very concept of

me that I have a son. However, Christianity insists that the divine persons cannot be thought of in

this isolated way. The very identity of the Son of God is rooted in the fact that He is the Son. To

identify Him as such is to beckon the question The Son of Whom? Likewise the very identity of

the Holy Spirit is that He is Spirit. To identify Him as the Breathed One is to beckon the question

Breathed by Whom? And the very identity of the Father is that He is the Father. To identify Him

as such is to beckon the question The Father of Whom? In other words, unlike human particulars

or dog particulars or flower particulars, we cannot think of the Father without also thinking of

the Son He begets and the Spirit He breathes. And so we cannot think of the Son or the Spirit

without the one from whom they are begotten and spirated, respectively.

This is in fact one of the most fundamental distinctions between the Christian faith and

the other great monotheistic religions of the world. Though Judaism and Islam may lay claim to

the God who created heaven and earth, Christianity alone professes that God has an only-

begotten Son, Light of Light, True God of True God, begotten not made, who is of the same

essence as His Father. And we alone profess that the Holy Spirit is also a divine person, distinct

from the Father and the Son, and Who with the Father and the Son is worshipped and glorified.

In short, we alone know God as the Father. And Scripture is clear: unless one knows God as the

Father,and thus knows Him through His Son, one cannot know God. For God has always been

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the Father, and thus to know him is to know Him as the Father. It is this knowledge of God as

Father that is revealed to us by His Son, and into which we are invited to participate by the Spirit

of adoption, through Whom we cry Abba, Father. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and

of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

© Dr. Nathan A. Jacobs, 2012