About the book

“The Christian doctrine of the Trinity is upheld by some as a border checkpoint to restrict access, while it is disparaged by others as extra baggage to be left behind. Cynthia Bourgeault peers into it with the heart of a mystic and the mind of a philosopher and rediscovers it as a kaleidoscope of inspiration and a key to understanding . . . everything. One of the most fascinating, humbling, and awe-inspiring books I’ve read in years.”
—Brian D. McLaren, author of Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? and A New Kind of Christianity

“A masterful, insightful new look at a core doctrine of traditional Christianity. Cynthia Bourgeault opens the door to a trans-Christian vision.”
—John Shelby Spong, author of The Fourth Gospel

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In this formula that Christians recite as though on autopilot lie the secrets for healing our world, rekindling our visionary imagination, and manifesting the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. It’s an astonishing claim, but one that is supported by Cynthia Bourgeault’s exploration of Trinitarian theology—and by her bold work in further articulating the deep truth it contains. She looks to the ancient concept in light of the ideas of G. I. Gurdjieff and Jacob Boehme to reveal the Trinity as the “hidden driveshaft” within Christianity: the compassionate expression of the Uncreated Reality in creation.
CYNTHIA BOURGEAULT, PhD, is an Episcopal priest, teacher, and retreat and conference leader. She is the author of numerous books, including The Meaning of Mary Magdalene and The Wisdom Jesus.

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© 2013 by Cynthia Bourgeault

Cover design by Jim Zaccaria

Cover photograph by GettyImages

“Annunciation” by Denise Levertov, from A Door in the Hive, copyright © 1989 by Denise Levertov. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp. All Bible quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version.

The quotation of Colossians 1:15–20, Philippians 2:6–11, Ephesians 1:9–10, and Isaiah 62:4–5 are from the Bible translation used by the monks of New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur, California, and are used with their permission. All other Bible quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version, unless otherwise indicated.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bourgeault, Cynthia.

The Holy Trinity and the law of three: discovering the radical truth at the heart of Christianity / Cynthia Bourgeault.—First Edition.

pages   cm

Includes bibliographical references and index.

eISBN 978-0-8348-2894-0

ISBN 978-1-61180-052-4 (pbk.: alk. paper)  1. Trinity.  I. Title.

BT 111.3.B68 2013



To Helen Daly


a true Wisdom trouvère


To Rafe

always and everywhere




Part One


1.   Why Feminizing the Trinity Won’t Work

2.   Exploring the Law of Three

3.   The Law of Three in Action

4.   The Law of Three and the Enneagram

Part Two


5.   Blueshift

6.   Dynamism

7.   Jacob Boehme, Ternary Master

8.   Seven Properties, Three Forces

9.   Counterstroke

Part Three


10.   The Essential Ground Rules

11.   STAGE 1: The Proto-Trinity

12.   STAGE 2: The Primordial Trinity

13.   STAGE 3: The Sophianic Trinity

14.   STAGE 4: The Incarnational Trinity

15.   STAGE 5: The Messianic Trinity

16.   STAGE 6: The Pentecostal Trinity

17.   STAGE 7: The Economic Trinity

18.   The Reflexive Trinity

Part Four


19.   The Ham Radio in the Tea Cupboard

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A book that has occupied this much of my life will necessarily cut a wide swath of gratitude. The first draft of what would eventually become part 3 emerged when I was in residence at the Contemplative Centre on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia, during the winter of 1999–2000. The rest of the book finally came together twelve years later during a six-month sabbatical on Eagle Island, Maine. Between then and now there have been hundreds of students, teachers, casual acquaintances, chance meetings, books and conversations, and hours logged on the meditation cushion that have all had a hand in the final product. For all of this I give my heartfelt thanks.
I have been blessed to work with three of the most brilliant Christian mystics of our times—Bruno Barnhart, Beatrice Bruteau, and Raimon Panikkar—and each of them has had a significant hand in this work. Bruno Barnhart has been my mentor for nearly thirty years, and his gracious insights and lively correspondence during the formative stages of this book were an extraordinary gift.
I am grateful as well for my teachers in the Gurdjieff Work, particularly Elsa Denzey and Jyri Paloheimo, who took me under their wings with unwavering faith that I would eventually “get it” and who showed me that the Work does indeed have a human heart. Jyri was an enthusiastic supporter of this project from the outset and was actively mentoring me from his vast knowledge of both scientific and Gurdjieffian cosmology until his untimely death in 2006. To you, dear friend, I send my special gratitude and deepest confidence that you have indeed made it to “Holy Planet Purgatory.”
A heartfelt thank-you to my risk-taking colleague Richard Rohr, who arranged the first opportunity for me to present these ideas publically when we co-led a conference on the Trinity in January 2005. The CDs from that conference (called “The Shape of God”) are still available from his Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and the enthusiastic response I continue to receive from them has encouraged me to believe that there is indeed an audience out there for what I have to say.
In a very real sense, the midwives of this book are the thirty-five students who participated in our Advanced Wisdom School in Orange County, New York, during the fall and winter of 2011–12. Their enthusiasm, energy, and deep understanding of the importance of the ideas I was sharing finally convinced me to stop referring to this as “my posthumous book” and actually get it down on paper. The curriculum we followed in our three sessions has essentially become the table of contents of this book.
With deep gratitude I honor you all: Judy Arnold, Lois Barton, Debra Brewin-Wilson, Robin Cameron, Eileen Clark, Susan Cooper, Liz Dahmus, Helen Daly, Marietta Della Penna, Helen Dunphey, Diane Elliott, Sandra Etemad, Mary Louise Fisher, Steve Fisher, Maureen Hanley, Mary Ellen Jernigan, Wendy Johnston, Carol Leach, Jane McKenna, Elizabeth Moulton, Kathleen Nelson, Barbara Osborne, Sherrill and David Pantle, William Redfield, Gina Ricciardi, Phil Rogacki, Carol Sadlek, Rosemary Shirley, Patricia Speak, Jane Waldron, Gail and Alec Wiggin, and Betsy Young. And of course, to Catherine McCarthy, who convened this Wisdom School and has hosted virtually all of my New England teaching over the past decade in her role as coordinator of Contemplative Outreach Orange County.
Special mention should be made of the extraordinary contribution of Robin Cameron. By the time I finally got around to teaching my material on the unfolding Trinity at our Wisdom School, the original draft composed on my 1999 iMac had vanished into cyberspace. Robin transcribed the material from a scanned hard copy of the original (and thank you, Gail Wiggin, for the scanning!) and re-input it in a format compatible with twenty-first-century technology. Robin is a certified teacher of the enneagram as well as a wicked-good typist and arranged for my chapter on the enneagram and the Law of Three to be carefully critiqued by two of her enneagram colleagues who are also well versed in Gurdjieff teaching. To Robin Cameron, Gloria Cuevas-Barnett, and Belinda Ashenfelter, I am deeply grateful for your helpful and unfailingly supportive comments.
A special thank-you as well to Jens Abildgaard, who reviewed my material on the Law of Three and the Law of Seven from his lifetime (literally!) of experience in the Work and corrected a few significant errors in my presentation.
Finally, I continue to be awestruck by the prophetic recklessness of my editor, David O’Neal, in his willingness to take a risk on a manuscript that is so far out of the box as to have no ready-made constituency. I know this will not be an easy sell: way too out there for traditional academic theology, likely too intellectual for contemplatives, too mystical for intellectuals, too esoteric for the orthodox, too orthodox for most of the major esoteric streams. His commitment to the ideas themselves and to the paradigm shift they may help to catalyze has been a most extraordinary vote of confidence, even though we both know that the fruits of this venture may not be reaped in our own lifetimes. Thank you, Dave! Thank you for seeing me. This has been one of those life tasks, and thanks to you I have been able to bring it to completion.
Eagle Island, Maine

September 2012


My first challenge in writing this book will be to persuade you that there is anything here worth considering at all. With so many urgent practical issues facing spiritual humanity, why waste time with the Trinity, a doctrine that most of the world (and even much of Christianity) regards as contrived and irrelevant? It takes a real stretch of the theological imagination to claim that it was ever a part of the original Jesus teachings or that it does a single thing to clarify or enhance these teachings. In fact, the eminent twentieth-century theologian Karl Rahner has claimed that if the Trinity were to quietly disappear out of Christian theology, never to be mentioned again, most of Christendom would not even notice its absence.
By way of a circuitous response, let me offer you a story that was told to me by my longtime friend and teacher, the Abkhazian dervish elder Murat Yagan.
In the years immediately following World War II, Murat recounts, he spent a time ranching in a remote corner of eastern Turkey. There he became friends with an elderly couple with whom he frequently shared a meal. Life had been good to them, but their one sadness was that they missed their only son, who had left some years before to seek work in Istanbul. He had indeed become a successful businessman, but they had infrequent contact with him and missed him greatly.
One day when Murat appeared on their doorstep for tea, the old couple were bursting with pride, eager to show him the new tea cupboard that their son had just shipped them from Istanbul. It was indeed a handsome piece of furniture, and the woman had already proudly arranged her best tea set on its upper shelf. Murat was polite but curious. Why would their son go to such expense to send them a tea cupboard? Why, for a piece of furniture whose ostensible purpose was storage, was there such a noticeable absence of drawers and cabinets? “Are you sure it’s a tea cupboard?” Murat asked them. They were sure.
But the question continued to nag at Murat. Finally, just as he was taking his leave, he said, “Do you mind if I have a closer look at this tea cupboard?” With their permission, he turned the backside around and unscrewed a couple of packing boards. A set of cabinet doors swung open to reveal inside a fully operative ham radio set.
That “tea cupboard,” of course, was intended to connect them to their son. But unaware of its real contents, they were simply using it to display their china.
To my mind, that is an unsettlingly apt analogy for how we Christians have been using the Holy Trinity. It is our theological tea cupboard, upon which we display our finest doctrinal china, our prized assertion that Jesus, a human being, is fully divine. This is not necessarily a bad thing, just as it was not a bad thing for the elderly woman to set forth her prettiest teacups on the new piece of furniture. But what if, unbeknownst to nearly everyone, inside it is concealed a powerful communications tool that could connect us to the rest of the worlds (visible and invisible), allow us to navigate our way through many of the doctrinal and ethical logjams of our time, and place the teachings of Jesus in a dynamic metaphysical framework that would truly unlock their power?
It’s simply a matter of turning the tea cabinet around and learning how to look inside. That’s what I’m proposing to do in this book.
In a nutshell, I will claim that embedded within this theological formula that we recite mostly on automatic pilot (“in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit”) lies a powerful metaphysical principle that could change our understanding of Christianity and give us the tools so long and so sorely needed to reunite our shattered cosmology, rekindle our visionary imagination, and cooperate consciously with the manifestation of Jesus’s “Kingdom of Heaven” here on earth. That principle is called the Law of Three, and the metaphysics that derive from it can be called “ternary metaphysics.”
The Law of Three is, I believe, Christianity’s hidden driveshaft, and its presence so far has only been intuited, never explicitly identified by theologians. It is distinctly different from the speculative formulations of patristic theology, or even from the well-worn metaphysical road maps of sophia perennis (the “perennial philosophy”) in which Wisdom alternatives to doctrinal orthodoxy are nearly always couched. Comprehensive, profoundly original, and like all driveshafts concerned with forward motion, it is Christianity’s authentic temperament, the key in which theoria and praxis come together, in which all of its teachings begin to hang together.
But this principle is almost entirely unheard of—not because it is particularly hidden or buried but because the conversation about it has so far gone on within circles that have been considered strictly off limits to traditional academic and theological inquiry. It does not belong to any body of knowledge that theologians generally consider germane to their studies. It is not a part of patristic theology or the Neoplatonic underpinnings on which that theology rests. It is not a part of classic Christian hermeticism or of the great tradition of sophia perennis. And while inklings of it can be discerned in certain Christian mystical streams (particularly those flowing through Jacob Boehme and Teilhard de Chardin), it was articulated only in the early twentieth century by the Armenian-born spiritual teacher G. I. Gurdjieff, and until very recently it has been studied and transmitted exclusively within that stream of contemporary esotericism known as the Gurdjieff Work.
That is about as far off limits as one can get.
Admittedly, the times are changing. Only a generation ago the term Gurdjieff Work would have evoked well-nigh universal blank stares. Now that the Work has finally begun to come aboveground (“outed,” to a large degree, by the contemporary enneagram personality-typing movement, with which it shares a considerably overlapping body of esoteric material), people are looking with newfound curiosity at the eclectic and wildly original metaphysics that the one-of-a-kind spiritual genius G. I. Gurdjieff (1866–1949) claims to have synthesized from Wisdom schools he discovered, after a long search, in Central Asia.
The Law of Three, according to Gurdjieff, together with its companion piece, the Law of Seven, comprise what he calls the foundational “Laws of World Creation and World Maintenance.” The interweaving of these two cosmic laws is depicted in the symbol of the enneagram, whose nine points reveal (to those properly initiated) the direction and energetic dynamism through which the world maintains its forward motion. During the ten years I participated in the Work, we studied these laws assiduously, applied them to the solution of both ordinary problems and cosmic mysteries, and danced their ley lines in the famous Gurdjieff movements. We even heard in passing that the Law of Three had had its origins deep within the oral traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Church and that the mysterious prayer “Holy God, Holy the Firm, Holy the Immortal, have mercy on us” might indeed reflect a vestigial awareness of the primordial forces in the Law of Three. But no one I met in the Gurdjieff Work seemed particularly interested in reintegrating this powerful transformative principle into Christianity (most seemed to feel that Christianity was beyond salvaging), and certainly most of the Christians I knew from my daily rounds as an Episcopal priest and retreat leader were totally wary of anything that smacked of esotericism.
So, for a long time I simply kept these two streams separate, allowing the knowledge I’d gleaned from my years in the Gurdjieff Work to inform my personal efforts at inner awakening. While I wondered from time to time whether there might really be a connecting link between the Trinity and the Law of Three, it all seemed too tenuous and fraught with difficulty to pursue.
What broke me out of this holding pattern came from an entirely unexpected quarter: a surprising discomfort I noticed myself experiencing around one of the more popular theological initiatives of our time, the effort to reclaim the Holy Spirit as “she.” Motivated by a sincere desire to recover the “divine feminine” within Christianity, the groundswell has steadily built toward this feminine reimaging, which indeed has a certain linguistic justification as well as a strong archetypal appeal. As a woman priest generally identified as being on the progressive end of the theological spectrum, I was surprised to find myself digging in my heels. But something from my days in the Work was evidently clicking in, as I kept realizing that the whole notion of a “feminine dimension of God” belonged to a binary metaphysical system, based on the cosmic balance of symmetrical opposites, whereas the Christian metaphysical milieu, by its very Trinitarian lineage, belonged to a ternary metaphysical system. I didn’t know quite what that meant yet, but I knew that in this apparently harmless accommodation to gender equality, contemporary theologians were making a seriously wrong turn, risking the loss of a far greater metaphysical treasure.
My attempt to give voice to some of these concerns bore fruit in an article called “Why Feminizing the Trinity Will Not Work,” which appeared in the Christmas 2000 issue of the Sewanee Theological Review. It is essentially the seed of this book. With heart in mouth, I formally introduced the Law of Three into the Christian theological conversation and tried to suggest a strategy by which Christianity’s “missing” feminine might be found simply by loosening our fixation upon the three persons and allowing the Trinity to flow into new configurations according to the inner dynamism of the Law of Three—rather like turning a kaleidoscope. Since then many people have asked me to develop these ideas further. This book is an effort to draw together the teaching and writing I have done on the Trinity and the Law of Three over the past dozen years and to create a unified overview of how the Law of Three works, why I see it as the metaphysical driveshaft of the Trinity, and why it is so important to reclaim it.
This book does not intend to be a comprehensive study of the Trinity or an attempt to dialogue with traditional theological understandings. As our exploration unfolds, I will offer a brief survey of some of the more exciting developments in contemporary Trinitarian theology (which might indeed cause Karl Rahner to take heart), but I do not intend to build on them in any formal way. While it is indeed encouraging to see that some of Christianity’s most persuasive thinkers are embracing the Trinity in terms more closely in line with the inherent dynamism of the Law of Three, my task here is to contribute the one piece that is uniquely mine to bring to the table.
To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever written specifically about the Trinity and the Law of Three; no one has yet attempted to interweave Christian metaphysics and G. I. Gurdjieff; and most certainly, no one has ever attempted to demonstrate how the Trinity, when “rotated” according to the Law of Three, does indeed yield a magnificent road map of divine becoming in which mystical vision, cosmology, evolution, history—and yes, Christianity’s missing feminine—all come together in a seamless tapestry that indeed looks something like the classic archetypal vision of “the seven ages of man” but on a far vaster scale. That is what I hope to unfold here.
This book is basically in three parts. In the first, I will introduce the Law of Three (starting from that original article in the Sewanee Theological Review), explore its basic principles with the help of some recognized reference points in the Gurdjieff Work, and show you how to work with it on a practical basis. For the Law of Three is indeed intended first and foremost as a practical tool. Its domain is not just cosmology and metaphysics; it is equally at home solving interpersonal problems, affecting political outcomes, and navigating through impasses of every shape and form. We will also be learning some of the core principles of ternary metaphysics, which will come into play in part 3 of the book.
In part 2 I will tackle a more difficult question: Why do I think this Law of Three has anything at all to do with the Trinity? The case is admittedly hard to make from a historical standpoint, since Trinitarian theology predates Gurdjieff’s articulation of the Law of Three by a good sixteen centuries. But I will attempt to flesh out my argument on the grounds of dynamic affinity more than linear causality. My hunch is that Christian metaphysics has always been inherently ternary (precisely because of the Christ event at its epicenter) and that the core notion of the Trinity arose out of the collective imagination of the early Christian fathers to hold the space for this realization until its actual working principles could be more fully articulated. For all of its notorious doctrinal sticky wickets, it nevertheless held the line against a certain gnosticizing tendency inherent in Christian theology from the start and insisted on the centrality of the incarnation and the spiritual principle of kenosis—self-emptying, or descent—as the fundamental touchstones of Christian self-understanding. In this section I will unpack some of these intuitions in more detail, then call on Jacob Boehme, that most magnificent of medieval visionary cosmologists, to help me build a bridge between the outermost known reference points in traditional Christian mysticism and the Law of Three.
The third part of my book will be the most challenging—partly because it is so very personal and partly because it is, frankly, a world unto itself. I would probably describe it as a metaphysical prose poem—more art than theology—and the best way to get into it is the way you get into a turning jump rope: you simply leap into the middle and start jumping to its rhythm. I apologize in advance if this leaves some readers behind in its admittedly eccentric conflation of mystical vision, metaphysical “math,” and quasi cosmology; you may wonder what realm of reality I think I’m describing here. I wonder the same thing myself. But it is for the sake of this third section that I am really writing this book.
I have to confess that this prose poem (if that’s what it is) emerged, pretty much as is, from a single, very intense spate of visionary seeing not long after I had completed that original essay on feminizing the Trinity. In the final paragraph of that article, as you will shortly see, I issued this challenge: “The solution is not to abandon the ternary principle but to apply it, permitting the Trinity to flow again.” One afternoon I found myself taking myself up on that challenge. What did it mean to “permit the Trinity to flow again”? What would happen if I applied the basic tenet of the Law of Three—“the interweaving of three separate forces creates a new arising on a new plane”—to set the familiar static triangle of Father–Son–Holy Spirit in motion, generating new patterns of itself?
Whoosh! That’s really all I can say. In less than an hour the conventions governing this “turning” of the Trinity all fell into place with a kind of mathematical elegance that confirmed I was on the right track. What emerged over the next couple of weeks was a breathtaking glimpse of the journey of divine love into time, through time, and out of time—from Alpha to Omega, from origin to final “Consummatum est.” In the vastness of that canopy, I could finally taste the spaciousness out of which had emerged that profound Pauline hymn of Colossians 1:15–20:
He is the image of the unseen God

And the firstborn of all creation,

For in him were created

All things in heaven and on earth:

Everything visible and everything invisible

Thrones, dominations, sovereignties, and powers—

All things were created through him and for him.

Before anything was created, he existed

And he holds all things in unity;

He is, moreover, the head

Of the body, the Church.

As he is the Beginning,

He was first to be raised from the dead,

So that he might be first in every way;

For in him the complete being of God

By God’s own choice came to dwell.

Through him God chose to reconcile

The whole universe to himself,

Everything in heaven and everything on earth,

When he made peace by his death on a cross.

At long last I could see how this great cosmological hymn was not merely an ecstatic raving or an antiquated Christocentric hymn now relegated to the status of “mythology” after the Copernican revolution six centuries ago knocked Christianity off its cosmological footings. It is our Christian charter and birthright. For truth, real truth, is seamless and indivisible. Christianity is either Christocentric or it is not; Christ is either literally the one “in whom all things hold together” or he is not. A claim that fundamental must be consistently and reliably true; it cannot be true in one realm (the realm of faith) and false in another (the realm of empirical reality). Modern and postmodern Christianity’s schizophrenic attempt to live in both realms has gradually sapped its strength and blurred its vision. But how in the name of intellectual integrity could one do otherwise? Suddenly I could see the resolution to that impasse. It simply required the full wingspan of Trinitarian space/time—unlocked by the Law of Three—to assign each of Paul’s visionary truths to their proper cosmic domain so that faith and cosmology could reunite in a single visionary whole. My map was showing me how to do it. I emerged from that period of intense “download” with my Christian mystical imagination rekindled and my confidence renewed.
For the next dozen years that vision percolated beneath the surface as I gradually found my place as a spiritual writer and teacher. It was with me as I wrote my other books: The Wisdom Jesus, The Meaning of Mary Magdalene, Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening, Chanting the Psalms. It was there as I led workshops and established Wisdom Schools; it was in the back of my mind whenever I found myself quoting that marvelous quip from G. K. Chesterton: “Christianity isn’t a failure; it simply hasn’t been tried yet.” But I could never see any way to speak directly about what I was seeing—it was so far outside the usual stream of theological conversation. Who would ever have the patience as I wove the pieces together? Among my Wisdom students, we began joking about it being my “posthumous book.”
And if truth be told, I was content with that verdict. But a glimmer of hope that I might yet live to see the sprouting of this vision was rekindled last year when a group of my most senior students volunteered themselves as guinea pigs to see if the material could actually be taught. So the grand experiment began, in a three-session Wisdom School following more or less the layout of this book. In the first two sessions we laid the groundwork with a thorough study of the Law of Three and the basic ternary predisposition of Christian metaphysics (including a crash course on Jacob Boehme). Then, in the third session, we began to unpack the vision.
That session will long remain in my heart, not simply as an accomplishment, but as the gift of a life task fulfilled. And it is at the urging of these dear friends and intrepid wisdom seekers that I have returned to the task of putting the material in publishable form. “If thirty-five of us can get it,” one of them said, “why not the whole world?”
So there you have it. I will do my best to make the ride as smooth as possible. But in the end, my commitment is to getting there, because I know beyond all personal doubt that there is indeed a ham radio concealed inside this Trinitarian tea cupboard. And in the midst of this long winter of our Christian discontent, when spiritual imagination and boldness are at an all-time low and the church itself hovers at the edge of demise for lack of an animating vision, perhaps now more than ever the time is ripe to remove the packing boards from this tea cupboard and release its contents.
Part One



Why Feminizing the Trinity Won’t Work

This is the original article, almost exactly as it first appeared in the December 2000 edition of the Sewanee Theological Review. Our exploration takes off from here.

IN RECENT YEARS it has become increasingly fashionable in liberal theological circles to envision the third person of the Trinity as feminine. For many reasons both linguistic and archetypal this designation seems to fit. It can be argued that the Holy Spirit is really identical with Sophia, the wisdom of God, personified as female in the Old Testament; that the “spirit” words in our biblical tradition tend to be feminine; and that in its intuitive, indwelling perceptivity, the Spirit embodies a “feminine” way of knowing and being that counterbalances the more “masculine” knowing and being of the Logos, or “Word made flesh” in the male personhood of Jesus Christ.1
Certainly, from a practical standpoint, this gender corrective yields tremendous gains. If, as seems sadly true, the church’s exclusively male representation of the inner life of God laid the theological groundwork for an exclusively male political hierarchy that has systematically devalued the place of both the feminine and women in Christianity, then an authentic female representation among the persons of the Trinity would seem a graceful way to redress the grievance and correct the imbalances that have distorted so many areas of the church’s life.
But while, as a woman, I wish it could be done so simply, I am more and more convinced that it can’t. It is “doing the right thing for the wrong reason.” In this case, the extremely shortsighted metaphysical thinking it introduces is likely to do a lot more damage than the short-range good accomplished. However laudable the attempt to secure a feminine presence in the Trinity, the present strategy leads to a serious confusion of metaphysical systems whose long-range effect will be to leave Christianity adrift in a post-Jungian archetypal sea, its own intuitive genius fatally blunted.
Some of the more astute feminist theologians, such as Elizabeth Johnson, have already sensed the trap in this short-range corrective and argued the need for a more comprehensive revisioning. In her influential She Who Is, Johnson demonstrates how the attempt to reclaim the third person of the Trinity as “the feminine dimension of God” represents a double danger, diminishing the full range of womanhood by a gender stereotyping that associates the feminine only with qualities of nurturance, tenderness, and receptivity while diminishing the fullness of divinity by “ontologizing sex in God,” extending human divisions to the Godhead itself.2 Her solution, based on a recognition of the symbolic nature of language, is to offer a comprehensive set of equivalent metaphors, allowing one to depict all three persons of the Trinity in feminine imagery. But while her proposal is headed in the right direction, it still remains largely a surface rearrangement that re-visions the persons while leaving the concept of divine personhood itself intact. It is thus a solution at the theological level. But the real source of the conundrum—and hence, the leverage needed to resolve it—lies at the metaphysical level.
The Metaphysical Corrective

To describe the metaphysical error on which this feminizing of the Trinity rests is not so easy, however, for Christians themselves are not used to thinking of their beloved Trinity in terms of metaphysical process. They have been drilled to think that the Trinity is about “persons”—whose names are Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and who live in an eternal, self-generating, and self-sustaining community. While the complex interrelationship among these divine persons may escape all but the trained theologian, the fact that these persons actually exist—and that they are the three unique manifestations of the unseen fullness of God—comprises the theological cornerstone of Christian experience. I have startled several people by suggesting that the Trinity might actually be seen as the Christian equivalent of the East’s symbol of yin/yang. The Trinity is primarily about how God moves and flows, how God changes from one form (or “state”)3 into another within the domain of manifestation and interpenetrates the mutability of creation with the wholeness of divine being. The idea that the Trinity might be about process rather than persons seems to be a radical notion.
It is this idea, however, that I need to start with: the Trinity is primarily about process. It encapsulates a paradigm of change and transformation based on an ancient metaphysical principle known as the Law of Three. The persons are not incidental to the Trinity, certainly, but they are derivative to the extent that they unfold and manifest according to this more foundational principle, which shows itself to be (intuitively, at least) at the heart of Christian metaphysical self-understanding. So we need to begin our inquiry by considering this system in its own right.
Binary Systems and Ternary Systems

Most of the world’s ancient metaphysical paradigms are binary systems. That is to say, they function on the principle of paired opposites. Yin/yang is an obvious example. In binary systems the universe is experienced as created and sustained through the symmetrical interplay of the great polarities: male and female, light and darkness, conscious and unconscious, yin and yang, prakriti and purusha.4
The categories masculine and feminine also belong to a binary system; in fact, they are perhaps the primordial binary system within creation. Life sustains and expresses itself in the tension of opposites, and a slackening of this tension through an imbalance of the parts leads to a collapse of the whole system.
A ternary system envisions a distinctly different mix. In place of paired opposites, the interplay of the two polarities calls forth a third, which is the “mediating” or “reconciling” principle between them. In contrast to a binary system, which finds stability in the balance of opposites, the ternary system stipulates a third force that emerges as the necessary mediation of these opposites and that in turn (and this is the really crucial point) generates a synthesis at a whole new level. It is a dialectic whose resolution simultaneously creates a new realm of possibility.
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