For those familiar with our social media channels, you may have recently come across a special creation from our London workroom: an embroidered chasuble depicting Andrei Rublev’s infamous icon, Troitsa. Woven from our rich green ‘Bellini’ silk damask and adorned with ‘Memlinc’ orphreys, the chasuble showcases an astonishing feat of modern embroidery inspired by Andrei Rublev’s Icon of the Holy Trinity.
A Silent Icon That Speaks the Infinite
Painted in the early 15th century, Andrei Rublev’s Troitsa is a feat of Orthodox expression. Considered to be the crowning achievement of Russian iconography, the tempera painting depicts the homilia (conversation) of the Spirit with God and the Son via the narrative of the Hospitality of Abraham. As understood in Genesis 18:1-8, Abraham is visited by three strangers under the oak of Mamre, whereupon seeing them, Abraham immediately addresses the trio, without doubt or hesitation, as 'my Lord.' Crucially, despite the narrative supporting that the figures are three separate beings, Abraham acknowledges them in the singular. The importance of one the God in three Persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is exemplified in the Paraklitiki:
‘You appeared of old to Abraham at the oak of Mambre, and out of mercy gave back Isaac in reward for hospitality, God in three persons, whom we now also glorify as the God of our fathers. When you appeared to the patriarch Abraham in the form of three men, O Mondad, you demonstrated the unchangeable nature of your threefold goodness and sovereignty.’
It is this unity of the three beings that is reinforced in Genesis by the pronoun 'they.' Thus, importantly, the choice of pronoun is dichotomous, being able to describe the figures separately and also, ultimately, as a gender-ambiguous, single veiled Sovereignty.
However, whilst the Paraklitiki and Genesis utilise Abraham and Sarah to progress the narrative and enshrine the understanding of the Trinity, notably, in the icon, they are both absent. What remains are three angelic figures, seated in a circle around a table, bound by gesture, gaze, and grace. Instead, Rublev fortifies the importance of the Trinity by stripping away the narrative trappings of the Hospitality of Abraham. As such, more than merely an accomplishment of artistic skill, Rublev's Troitsa distills a doctrine into silence, opening a portal into the mystery at the heart of Christian faith: one God, three Persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
The Trinity in Scripture
This unity is also subtly reinforced throughout the bible, with the doctrine of the Trinity not shouted from a single page of Scripture, but whispered through many passages in a way that is patient, progressive and, ultimately, powerful.
For example, in the Gospel of Matthew, Christ commands: 'Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' (Matthew 28:19). What is clear is that, like the Hospitality of Abraham, there is one name and three Persons: a divine unity revealed in diversity.
There are also instances where the tripartite unity can be suggested by the sum of just two members. For example, the Trinity is again revealed in the opening of John’s Gospel when it is declared: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us' (John 1:1, 14). Here, Christ is named both as God and with God. This is also the case in John 14:16-17: ‘And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever; Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.’ Here, the Spirit is no force, but a person to be known and welcomed — distinct yet divine, in both instances, the third member of the Trinity is implied through the bodily unison of the two.
These verses, amongst others, gently but surely reveal the mystery Rublev depicts: a God who is a community within Himself—eternally loving, eternally giving, but, notably, eternally present both around and in us.
A Tripartite Composition of Communion
In Rublev’s hands, the composition becomes a still dance of divine relationship. The angels form a gentle circle, an unbroken loop of unity. The table they gather around holds a chalice—unassuming yet central to the composition—containing the blood of a sacrificial calf, a symbol of offering that echoes both Abraham’s hospitality, as per the Classical and Ancient rites of the Old Testament, as well as Christ’s Passion of the New. Consequently, we are presented with the understanding that the Trinity is imbued with a continued and unending presence: the cyclical composition of the icon and the symbolism of the chalice expressing this eternal communion.
It is this understanding that is skillfully crafted in thread and stitched with care in our chasuble. Rather than tempera, our embroidered angelic figures are cradled within a radiant golden sunburst and depicted in communion around a low-level table. Entwined in a silent transmission of nuanced looks and delicate gestures, these three figures are united 'ut omnes unum sint' or 'that they all may be one’ (John 17:21-23)—a visual echo of divine harmony, making visible the 'image of the invisible God.' (Colossians 1:15).
Behind the figures, three symbols anchor the mystery: a house, a tree, and a mountain. Whilst potentially abstract to a modern lay reader of Rublev's painting, these symbols have long been legible as manifestations of each Divine Person. Whilst the house is for the Father’s eternal dwelling, the tree is the Cross borne by the Son, and the mountain is the upward call of the Spirit. In our chasuble, the connection between the three figures of the Trinity and their symbols is made all the more explicit. In the panel, each element hovers in the background, suggesting presence rather than proclaiming it. In contrast, in our work, the nature of the integration of embroidery, the figures and their symbols overlap in a form of divine palimpsest: the Trinity becomes inseparable from these symbols we behold in our everyday lives.
Moreover, in Rublev's icon, the angels are clothed in divine hues—gold and white for the Father, a deep blue and red for the Son, and vibrant green for the Spirit. These have been adapted slightly for our chasuble, prioritising alternative colours of the Eastern rite that speak more broadly to the historic depictions of the Hospitality of Abraham, such as this C18 Russian icon. As such, these alternative choices in colour—red, blue, and green—create a dichotomy between the wearer and the solemn cyclical procession of Church liturgy.
In both the chasuble and panel, the wearers’ postures and expressions do not dazzle, but draw in. The Father’s gaze is serene, the Son’s head gently bowed in willing submission, and the Spirit’s eyes tender and still. Together, they invite the viewer to look—and then to enter—inviting its wearer to not just wear the iconography but to take a seat at the table and enter the kinship of the Trinity.
Thread and Theology: A Chasuble as Icon
The beauty of Rublev's Trinity is that it does not seek to explain the divine mystery but to let it unfold. It offers not answers but stillness. It invites not intellect alone, but Spirit.
To adapt Rublev’s Trinity for embroidery was no small challenge. The icon’s power lies in its restraint, in the luminous stillness of its forms. Capturing that in silk and thread required not only technical precision but contemplative care. The golden sunburst framing the angels adds not spectacle, but reverence—a reminder of divine light radiating through quiet presence. Worn in liturgy, the chasuble becomes a living icon. As is understood in the words of 1 John 5:7: 'For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.' So, as the priest and people gather around the altar, they are drawn into the same circle of communion depicted in Rublev’s work—this circle began in heaven and now embraces the earth. As is instructed by the vacant space between the figures, we are invited to take our seat at the Trinity's table and share in the communion, just as we share in the same golden mystery of our chasuble. Everyone is invited to witness these mysteries and experience the hospitality of the Trinity.
Rublev painted it in tempera. We stitched it in silk. But the truth remains the same: the Trinity is not a puzzle to be solved—it is a relationship to be lived.
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