What Rublev painted (and why it’s Israel-rooted)
The icon’s classical home is the State Tretyakov Gallery; their notes and Russian Orthodox sources consistently call it the “Old Testament Trinity / Hospitality of Abraham.” A Soviet Era filmmaker Andre Tarkovsky made a famous film about the icon painting monk.
Exegetical roots inside Israel’s own tradition
Jewish reading of Gen 18: Rashi: the “three men” are three angels, each with a mission (heal Abraham, announce Isaac, destroy Sodom). That is, Israel’s tradition already treats the scene as a multi-personal divine visitation mediated by angels.
Mamre / hospitality is itself a mitzvah lens (hachnasat orchim), showing how the narrative is framed within covenantal ethics—not later metaphysics.
Targumic “Memra” (the Word) gives a Jewish matrix for speaking of God’s self-manifestation: see Boyarin on the Memra and early binitarian currents in Judaism. These are native Jewish categories later echoed in Christian usage.
For the broader scholarly backdrop, see studies on “Two Powers in Heaven,” which trace how some Second-Temple and early rabbinic discussions handled multiple divine manifestations without abandoning monotheism.
For more on this Hebraic framing, see
Andrei Rublev’s Trinity is a visual meditation on Genesis 18 (“the three” who visit Abraham at Mamre). Key detail: Rublev omits Abraham and Sarah so the viewer contemplates the three angelic figures themselves.
The icon’s classical home is the State Tretyakov Gallery; their notes and Russian Orthodox sources consistently call it the “Old Testament Trinity / Hospitality of Abraham.” A Soviet Era filmmaker Andre Tarkovsky made a famous film about the icon painting monk.
Exegetical roots inside Israel’s own tradition
Jewish reading of Gen 18: Rashi: the “three men” are three angels, each with a mission (heal Abraham, announce Isaac, destroy Sodom). That is, Israel’s tradition already treats the scene as a multi-personal divine visitation mediated by angels.
Mamre / hospitality is itself a mitzvah lens (hachnasat orchim), showing how the narrative is framed within covenantal ethics—not later metaphysics.
Targumic “Memra” (the Word) gives a Jewish matrix for speaking of God’s self-manifestation: see Boyarin on the Memra and early binitarian currents in Judaism. These are native Jewish categories later echoed in Christian usage.
For the broader scholarly backdrop, see studies on “Two Powers in Heaven,” which trace how some Second-Temple and early rabbinic discussions handled multiple divine manifestations without abandoning monotheism.
This is not a foreign import — it’s a native biblical and Jewish category, later read christologically by the Church. But if we want the apostles’ meaning, we have to hear it first in Israel’s language. That’s why thinkers like Rabbi Elijah Benamozegh are so valuable: he’s affirming without being polemical, reminding us that the Church’s truths are best understood when re-rooted in Israel’s categories.
For more on this Hebraic framing, see
Sabellianism: Clarifying Heavenly Flesh — showing how early controversies look different when we start from the soil of the Tanakh and Oral Torah rather than only later metaphysics.