Noh Prosopon
But more seriously, the common misconception Christians have of the Doctrine of the Trinity is that it is abstract and therefore irrelevant to ministry or real life for that matter. I strongly caution against such a view, because (1) our language concerning God matters in how we worship the God we profess to believe in. That's why so many things on this earth on this side of the eschaton are gods - they come in all shapes and sizes, many of them "Made in China". If we do not describe God to the best of our ability, we risk violating the Second Commandment, which is to worship our own rendition of the true God - which, in reality, is a false God. But (2) it suggests that the Christian life consists of everything that matters in "real" life. For one, as Christians, "real" life only exists on the other side of the resurrection. That's why Christians are only sojourners in this world. We're not home-home yet. We're just, as Stanley Hauerwas puts it, resident aliens in this world. But if the Christian life is simply applied ethics (e.g. what is the right thing to do in X, Y, Z situation?) then the Christian life is just a computer program. "Salvation", therefore, is Jesus clicking our programs into place so that it runs just like clockwork. Our faith is merely a sequence of doing the right things, nothing more. This sort of legalistic faux-Christianity is a self-delusion, because it convinces the self that you've "got it." On this side of the eschaton, where sin is always a part of human nature, I'm sorry - we'll never "get it".
The first efforts to describe the Trinity came as pastoral responses to priests who preached certain ideas about the God Christians worship. In this sense, we have much to owe to our Church forebears who did the best they could in addressing the Trinity. But the term three-in-one begs the question: three what in one what? The technical term is tres persona, una substantia. The original Greek is three prosopon, one ousia. The term prosopon actually came from ancient Greek theater. Unlike today's Hollywood films which employ a horde of actors, some playing barely a part, Greek theater employed few actors. But to fulfill many roles, actors would don various masks (prosopon). So, if the play Oedipus Rex were on, one actor might play King Oedipus and Tiresias. But to distinguish between them, the actor would wear a "Oedipus mask" when playing Oedipus, and a "Creon mask" when playing Tiresias. Of course, a good actor would act to fit the mask he is wearing. If I wore an "Oedipus mask" I would act like a dignified king that saved Thebes from the Sphinx. But if I played Tiresias, who was a soothsayer, I would act very differently! The actor acts to fit the mask. The mask shows that I'm a king, I act like a king.
This is actually a creative way to see the Trinity. God is the actor who dons three masks. But by donning each mask, God takes on a new image. It is much like Patrick Stewart playing as Capt. Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek), Professor Charles Xavier (X-Men) and Macbeth. The same Patrick Stewart plays three characters, but each image of Stewart is very different. In fact, in each theatrical context, we do not say "Oh, look, there's Patrick Stewart commanding the USS Enterprise." No - Captain Picard, the image of Patrick Stewart, is commanding the Enterprise. The smart guy in the wheelchair in X-Men is not Patrick Stewart, but Professor Charles Xavier, the image of Patrick Stewart. Captain Picard is not the same as Professor Charles Xavier, and either are not the same as Macbeth. Thus, Stewart's professional life is a tension between his various images and himself. This is best explained, perhaps, by Leonard Nimoy who, by playing Spock on the first Star Trek, has found that even though he is not Spock in any way, he cannot distance himself from the character he played. To put it differently, the actor and his/her image have a hypostatic relationship.
This hypostatic relationship is important. John Zizioulas, in his book Personhood and Being, makes this central to who humans are, because we have a hypostatic relationship with two spheres (masks) of the self. The first is the biological mask where Zizioulas employs biological reproduction as an example. Within our biological masks humanity is shackled to a tragic situation where freedom and necessity are held in constant conflict with each other. Our biological mechanisms work in order that the human species continue to the next generation. With that, all of life's work becomes an effort to sustain the species. We see this in the Chinese church, don't we now? Ideally, we are free to balance study and play, solitude and fellowship. But because of our biological hypostases, we become driven to excel at any cost. We MUST get that A, we MUST do well on the exam, even at the expense of church. And when you get older, we MUST get married, and if we get married, we MUST have children, and if we have children, we MUST make sure they get A's! Sex becomes a necessity, and you are confined to the trashcan of uselessness if you are somehow unable to conceive. All this is only made worse with the Chinese mentality of the "family name" and "family honor." What happens to the Changs and Wongs doesn't matter - all that matters is MY family, and that's it. And so this endless and myopic cycle of biological/sociological/anthropological necessities continue ad infinitum, and we die knowing that at least our next generation is assured. And perhaps for that reason Asian-American ministry is difficult because encouraging spiritual growth is difficult unless it is addressed through that biological hypostases. We are unable to see that someone with a B is indeed just as loved by God as someone with an A, for example. For that reason, I do lean favorably towards the examples set by some Korean-American pastors, where the emphasis is on a multi-cultural ministry; we cannot within our Asian bubble learn to love those who are biological-hypostatically impaired - we need the help of those outside.
Thus, Zizioulas proposes a different mask: our ecclesial masks. The truly significant difference is that Christ breaks us free from our biological hypostasis in establishing his church. No longer are we confined to the biological necessity of having progeny to "continue the family name" because our family name is Jesus. Everything we do now becomes a calling rather than a necessity. This is why the Truth shall set you free. The Truth is that you are now bought by Christ - you don't need to be shackled to the demands of the world, but are free to be yourself in Christ. Sex is no longer a biological requirement, but something that can be truly enjoyed for itself (which is only possible within a context of marital commitment). We don't have children for the grimly utilitarian reason for "continuing the family name", but we have children out of love for who they are! And, more importantly, marriage itself becomes a calling. That is why marriage is optional for Christians - any church that proclaims otherwise hasn't found salvation. His final conclusion: our membership in the church requires us to take off our biological masks and don our ecclesial masks. And, yes, throw your biological masks away.
In Asian theatre, the use of masks is most prominent in the Japanese art of Noh (能). In Chinese, it means "to be able" or "ability". This is a weird name for an art form, but consider the fact that Noh is a very minimalist play. The mask, nomen (能面), actually is the same assuming one plays a similar role. There usually is a mask for deities/people and another for demons. And that's generally about it. Now, the question arises as to how anyone can really portray any emotion through a uniform and expressionless mask. The key is that the meaning of the mask, what it's supposed to show, must be infused with the acting. The mask, in other words, fits the acting. Interestingly, in Chinese, nomen means "the Face of ability." The mask portrays something or someone because the actor, by virtue of his acting ability, infuses it with meaning. For that reason, the motions and dances are very meticulously planned and are very symbolic.
This gives us, in my view, an interesting way to view the Trinity. Now, I do like the Greek imagery of prosopa and ousia, but thanks to modern cinematics and stuff, this imagery is becoming lost. What I wish to pick up from Noh theater are two ideas. The first is that God is not just a static ontological existence, but dynamic in every way. What makes Noh very compelling is that it is an embodiment of ability in the midst of nothingness. The stage has nothing, and very few props are used. The movements are restricted and meticulously planned ahead of time because everything is just so symbolic. But it is a dynamic theatrical genre because, paradoxically, the actor brings out the character even more through his (Noh actors are male) minimalism. Just by appearing onstage, for example, the Noh-actor betrays much information. The color he wears indicates the status of the character in the plane of the world (deity, demon, person, etc.), the symbols indicate his powers, etc.
God, likewise, is a God of action, even in the midst of perceived inaction. Even within the Trinitarian persons, there is a dynamism at work. Thus, God can create creation out of nothing. Even in times of chaos, God's dynamism assures that something is being done. How, then, ought we to take comfort in a God who is our shield in the midst of chaos? We like to think that God brings order into chaos, and maybe that works in some situations, but those of us who have gone through difficult times in life know that God does not always bring order into chaos. Racism always will continue to plague us. Let's be honest now, every race is ethnocentric - let's not put all the blame on the white people. Even within Chinese churches, we discriminate between dialectic groups (e.g. Mandarin, Cantonese, etc.). Just because we have the same skin color doesn't mean it's any less racist. Oftentimes we pray for a quick-change, for a Copernican revolution whereby racism will be suppressed, maybe even forcibly. But God doesn't quite work that way - God works through reformation, not revolution. God works not through the elimination of racism, but through the fight to eliminate racism. This fight always has a chaotic character to it, because its dynamism upsets the status quo, which seeks to be static. And this "fight" does not have to be literal. Even nonviolence is a fight, a fight that captures the intention of Noh's "action despite nothingness." It is in our non-pugilistic fight that the evil we are fighting is hurt even more so. When we respond violently to violence done against us, we've only responded to the violence. But when we respond to violence in forgiveness, we've poured hot coals over our opponent's head. All this through our minimalist response to violence.
Secondly, Noh, itself, is not only the face of a character in a play, but also the face of a people. When we think Noh, we think Japanese. Indeed, the art form paints a picture of the philosophy undergirding an entire people. The hinoki stage, the minimalism, the purposeful and meaning-rich movements of the Noh actor, all paint a picture of a people who live in tension between nature and technology, the busy and serene, the minimalism and expressionism. Think about it - the sun is a tumultuous star. But on earth, its gift of light is a simple gift, bringing warmth and creating all that is necessary for life. Nature, itself, is a tension between two opposing concepts. Noh is a perfect theatrical embodiment of that, and more generally the Japanese Weltanschauung. For Americans to do Noh Theater would be rather strange, not because they can't do it, but the American way of life is simply not embodied in Noh. But it is embodied in Hollywood, for example.
In a similar way, I should like to think that when we think of church as a Noh play, we are not just participating in life, but that the church is the face of a people consecrated by God. And by virtue of being consecrated, we live in tension between poles in life. Our lives will forever be played in tension between individualism and communion, between heaven and earth, between for me, and being for you. But this tension, while unsettling, is not to be shunned. So often, in a bid to relieve this tension we simply veer in one direction, preferring severe individualism or severe communalism; or we choose pure asceticism or abandon ourselves completely to the whims of the world. What the Noh teaches us is that there is a simple beauty in being in such a tensive state. Instead of assuming our ecclesial hypostasis at the expense of our biological hypostasis, the two can complement each other when such complementarity is possible. One advantage of Zizioulas' position is that within his theology of human hypostasis, marriage becomes freed from a biological necessity and transforms into a calling. For that reason, only within an ecclesial hypostasis can marriage and sexual relations (within marriage) be beautiful and fulfilling.
I do lament, as I wrote this post, that I have nothing within Chinese culture to compare it to. The closest thing to anything theatrical involving masks is the ancient art of bian lian (face-changing), which really is just a crowd pleaser, devoid really of any significant symbolism. To be honest, I do not even know if there is such a thing as a "Chinese" culture anymore. I admit that when I read Confucius, I do not see it as Chinese, but as Chinese of some bygone era. For that reason, I suspect that the China we know today, in reality, is culturally American; "American with Chinese characteristics", if you will. And perhaps that's why many Americans are suspicious of China - they think they see an "other", but in reality they see a face of themselves and don't quite like all that they saw. What is left of Chinese culture, in my view, has either been erased by the Communists of yore, or been rejected by the power of the markets. Capitalism may be good for increasing wealth, but it does discriminate between cultures.
And perhaps that's why we in the Chinese church are so tempted to keep our biological masks on. We don't trust the ecclesial mask. It is risky, because it calls us to lay down our obsession with progeny. It calls us to lay down our obsession with defining others by virtue of their position in life, the money they have. It calls us to release our Chinese-lens and view all God's creation with God's lens, to the best of our ability on this side of the resurrection. And yes, it calls us to read the Scriptures to the best of our ability without allowing our hermeneutical lens to be clouded by Americanism or Chinese-ism. Certainly, some aspects of Chinese culture, whatever's left of it anyways, are admirable and fit quite snugly within a Christian context. These should be preserved and assiduously passed on to further generations, regardless of family name. But if so, those aspects of culture are not so much Chinese as they are Chinese Christian. And when we put on our Christian prosopon, we will find that the church, far from being the world made somewhat nicer, is actually a place where we can be more human and less like utilitarian machines.
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