ALL ARE WELCOME - JESUS DEMANDS OPEN COMMUNION
As a little boy, I was lucky to worship with my mother in
lieu of consignment to Sunday School. I loved Mass: the music, the vestments,
the incense, the ceremonies. But more than anything else, I wanted to receive
Holy Communion. Not only did I want to
join my mother at the communion rail, I wanted to receive Jesus. I was told –
and believed – that the Mass changed the bread and wine into the Body and Blood
of Jesus. But there was one problem: I was not confirmed! In those days, the
Episcopal Church did not admit anyone to communion until confirmation. So I
asked the priest what I had to do to get confirmed and was told, “learn the
Catechism.” Hence, I made it my business
to learn the Catechism and was duly confirmed at age 9 on May 13, 1962, and
thereafter, began receiving communion every Sunday no matter where I lived,
vacationed, or worked.
Throughout
my life, I have almost never missed Mass. I have often gone to great lengths to
receive communion, like staying home from family outings and riding the bus to
church, organizing my vacation plans to be sure I was near a church after
scoping out appropriate churches on the Internet before leaving, and of course,
arranging for communion to be brought to me when I was ill. Receiving communion
has always been the most important thing I do in life.
Fast
forward to 2013, when my wife and I began attending St. Matthews Ecumenical
Catholic Church in Orange, California. Other than the fantastic music, which
immediately stimulated us to join the choir, what I recall most about my first
visit was the invitation to communion, when the presider announced explicitly
that everyone, absolutely everyone, were welcome to receive communion. My
reaction was, why, of course, why should it ever be otherwise?
As a
small boy, I experienced a barrier to the Lord’s Table, although I did
not recognize it as such. Such barriers continue to characterize many Christian
denominations. Officially at least, the Roman and Orthodox Churches limit
communion to their members, as do some protestants, notably Missouri Synod
Lutherans and many Baptists. Mainline denominations, officially at least, allow
only the baptized to commune. As can be expected, Catholic denominations look
to tradition to support their position while Protestants look to scripture. The
Catholic tradition of closed communion dates back to the earliest of times and
is found in the Didache, an document
of unknown authorship dating in the late first or early second century when
being a Christian was dangerous. Persecution of Christians was a regular
governmental activity in the pre-Constantinian Roman Empire. The theory was
unless one was willing to risk life and limb, one should not be admitted to
communion. The Didache explicitly
limits communion to the baptized.[1]
Protestants, particularly some species of Baptists, point out that no one
except the twelve apostles were present at the very first Eucharist, or “Lord’s
Supper”, to use their terminology, and certainly, this is explicitly stated in
Matthew.[2]
They also point out that when the first communion celebration after the
ascension occurred, those baptized shared in the breaking of bread.[3]
They further argue that a closed table insures worthy reception, a condition
they believe was commanded by scripture. They postulate one cannot eat the
Lord’s Supper with those with whom one differs.[4] And they also contend that one should examine
oneself before receiving communion, and abstain if one has sinned grievously,
lest one go to perdition.[5]
Both
the Catholic and Protestant arguments are weak. The former amounts to “that’s
the way we’ve always done it” while the latter is bald proof-texting similar to
a lawyer focusing on dictum to cite a
case which does not stand for a proposition advanced in a brief, or in
ecclesiastical parlance, Satan quoting scripture for his own purposes similar
to what he did when tempting Jesus.[6]
What both have in common are resistance to the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit
to evolve both tradition and scriptural analysis. Both lack a realization that
adaption to changing circumstances is not only a reality, but a necessity to
continue the advancement of God’s Kingdom.
All of
this speaks to our conception of God the Creator and by implication, Jesus as
Redeemer. Do we believe in a judgmental God who sorts and excludes humanity,
and by implication, a judgmental Jesus, or do we believe in compassionate God,
who accepts us as we are, and a Jesus who redeems us as we are. To thumb
through scripture to engage in proof-texting like narrow-minded conservatives
seeking verses here and there to support open communion is tempting indeed,
just as it is to establish by ecclesiastical fiat, either concilliarly or
episcopally, that henceforth, open communion is the law. Neither, however,
would be Catholic. Scripture and tradition, taken together, have always been
the hallmark of Catholic authority, and can be applied here. Scripture and
tradition have a dynamic relationship; one supports the other. This dynamism is
what enables the church to adapt to changing circumstances.
Those
of us who are California lawyers know well the maxims of equity in our Civil
Code, one of which is, “When the reason for the rule ceases, so should the rule
itself.”[7] In
other words, law evolves to fit new circumstances, or to quote from the hymn
“Once To Every Man and Nation,” one line reads, “new occasions teach new
duties; time makes ancient good uncouth.” For the Church is a living entity,
and by definition, a growing entity. One need only consider plant life: a plant
that does not grow, dies. The Church today is not the Church of 1870 nor the
Church of 1962 nor the Church of 2009. The entirety of the Catholic world –
Roman, Anglican, Orthodox, Old Catholic – has changed in many ways over time,
in liturgy, in governance, in theology, and in discipline. One need only
compare liturgies over time to ascertain the Church’s evolvement; the movement
from Latin to the vernacular tongue is but one example of many. The point is,
Church is not static. Tradition can, and does, change.
Though
the words of scripture are somewhat fixed, meanings attached to the words are
dynamic. That is, as the Church’s interaction with scripture evolves to
continue to synchronize with evolving tradition, in some ways, evermore
refining the relationship between scripture and tradition. Nowhere should this be more true than in the
Church’s most important activity: celebrating the Eucharist. Understanding Eucharist as only the re-enactment
of the Last Supper is a far too narrow focus to accommodate the natural
repercussions and implications that flow from it, in particular, the fellowship
among believers as a natural concomitant of the Lord’s Table.
At
bottom, Eucharist means “thanksgiving” and Liturgy means “the work of the
people.” It is not a sacerdotal performance that awes and subjugates the laity.
The Presider serves, not dominates, the assembly, and therefore, by definition,
the Presider is not a gatekeeper of the Sacrament of the Altar. Nowhere is the
proper relationship between Presider and assembly more poignantly displayed
than in the mass feedings recorded in all four Gospels. Mark, Matthew, Luke and
John all recount the Feeding of the Five Thousand[8],
while Matthew and Mark tell us Jesus also fed an assembly of Four Thousand[9].
In all such narratives, Jesus, in presiding over these assemblies, does not
focus on Himself, but on the needs of those assembled, in particular, the
necessity to satisfy both their bodily and spiritual hunger. Similarly, we
contemporary Christians materialize at Church hungry, to be fed spiritually by
the Word and tangibly by the Body and Blood of Jesus as we gather to sample the
heavenly banquet that eventually awaits us.
All
these feedings have a common element: the only way so many people could be fed
was via a supernatural miracle. In the same, supernatural way, the bread and
wine become the Body and Blood of Jesus at the Eucharist. Some variation of the
Real Presence, be it transubstantiation believed by traditional Catholics,
transignification by modern Catholics, Real Mysterious Presence by Orthodox and
Anglicans, or even the consubstantiation of Martin Luther, appears in all
Eucharistic liturgies celebrated throughout the Catholic word. The relationship
between the mass feedings and Mass is not attenuated; an authority no
less than the Catechism of the [Roman] Catholic Church says, “The miracles of
the multiplication of the loaves, when the Lord says the blessing, breaks and
distributes the loaves through his disciples to feed the multitude, prefigure
the superabundance of this unique bread of His Eucharist.”[10]
One
thing is clear: Jesus did not place any limitations on who could be fed at
these events; those who presented themselves, no matter who they were, shared
in the loaves and fishes. Jesus was not one picky about with whom he would eat:
he gave communion to Judas, even though Jesus foreknew that Judas would betray
Him. He also was known to dine with tax collectors and sinners, much to the
dismay of his followers.[11]
But
perhaps the best example of the inclusiveness with which Jesus approached the
context of a dining table is the story of the Canaanite woman.[12]
The context into which His meeting with Her is set tells us what the meeting
means. He visited her home after a confrontation with the Pharisees, pillars of
the religious establishment of His day, over why His disciples broke the
“tradition of the elders” by not washing His hands before eating. Jesus
responded by asking them, “Why do you break the commandments of God for the
sake of tradition?” He then explicates an example of how they have perverted a
commandment of the Decalogue concerning parents, and emphasizes his point by
quoting Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, teaching as doctrines
human precepts.” Despite being told by His disciples that He was offending the
Pharisees, Jesus goes on to criticize another Mosaic law pertaining to clean
and unclean foods, proclaiming that demonstrates impurity not by what one eats,
but by what comes out of us: evil thoughts, speech and actions.[13]
Against
that background, Jesus goes to Tyre and Sidon in Phoenicia, an area inhabited
by Canaanites, whose theological thought and liturgical practices Jews found
abhorrent: multiple gods, fertility rituals that amounted to orgies, and the
sacrificial offerings of human infants.[14] The
gospel writers identifies her, who is not named, as one of “them.” She wants
Jesus to exorcise a demon from her daughter. She addressed him pleading, “Have
pity on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon.”
Initially, Jesus responded with silence. His disciples, being Jewish and
knowing fully what she was, urged Jesus to send her away. Jesus then challenges
her by telling her that He was sent to save “the lost sheep of Israel (meaning
the Jews).” Jesus’ disciples, seeing her as both an annoyance and religiously
unsatisfactory, urged Jesus to send her away. Jesus
challenged her: “I was sent only to save the lost sheep of the House of Israel
[meaning the Jews].” The woman’s response was to humble herself, beseeching
Him, “Lord help me.” Jesus challenged her again: “It is not right to take the
food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” In this context, “children”
refers to the Jews and “dogs” refers to Gentiles such as Canaanites, with whom
Jews did not mix – history recounts Jews conquering the Canaanites after bloody
battles.[15]
The woman rose to the challenge, responding to Jesus, “Please, Lord, for even
the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Jesus was
ostensibly referring not to household pets but to scavenging wild dogs. What
she was trying to tell Jesus is that God’s message reaches Gentiles as well as
Jews. Jesus, blown away by the way she met His challenge to her, exclaimed,
“reply, “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
Impressed by her faith, Jesus healed her daughter.” Yes, this is a story of
faith, but it is also a story of how the love and healing power of Jesus
extends not only to those of his own ethno-religious tribe, but to those whose
faith His tribe regards as undesirable.
The
next major event for Jesus after the Canaanite/Syrophoenician woman encounter
was the Feeding of the Four Thousand in Matthew and Mark.[16]
Once again, Jesus responded to the needs of the people for food; he did
not limit access to the good based on religious belief. If one examines the
entire context of these stories in Matthew and Mark,[17]
the common thread is how Jesus addressed the question of who can receive food
at a meal He hosts, and how Jesus interacts with his disciples and the
religious hierarchy of His day. In all of this, Jesus deeply engaged scripture
and tradition with one each other and crafted a way forward to adapt to the
changing circumstances surrounding Him.
Those circumstances were His mission to make the Kingdom of God/Kingdom
of Heaven[18]
a reality in the post-resurrection Church. Visions of the Kingdom of
God/Kingdom of Heaven are set out in all the canonical gospels and in Paul’s
Epistles. One thing is certain: Jesus
did not proclaim the Kingdom of God/Kingdom of Heaven only to the Jews.
All
three pericopes[19]
– the handwashing (or lack of it) story, the mass feedings, and the
Canaanite/Syrophoenician woman – demonstrate how Jesus reconciled scripture and
tradition in a way that does not support those churches practicing closed
communion. Jesus’ approach, in all three situations, was pragmatic, driven not
by abstract principles, but by events on the ground occurring when he was
ministering to the people involved. Jesus recognized that slavishly following
traditions sometimes leads to absurd results: operating “by the book” and
ostracization of disfavored people based
on past history does not further the Kingdom of God/Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus
was prepared to be a bit antinomian to further greater values. In feeding the
5000 or 4000 hungry people, Jesus was responding to the “sensus fidelium,” the
supernatural appreciation of faith on the part of the whole people.[20]
The people to whom Jesus was ministering, and their immediate needs led to
Jesus discarding or reinterpreting rules to further his greater goal, the reign
of God’s love and justice.
As in Jesus day, when the sensus fidelium confronts
traditions and laws, the sensus fidelium wins. Nowhere is this more true than
in breaking down barriers to Holy Communion. Despite announcements from the
pulpit and in church bulletins, people who “shouldn’t” receive communion anyway
in violation of denominational rules. Why? Is it deliberate disrespect for
one’s host? No. The Real Presence of Jesus is a powerful force indeed. Just as
the presence of Jesus attracted people privileged to experience him in the
flesh, the same Real Presence, realized sacramentally, draws people to Holy
Communion, human precepts notwithstanding. Jesus is the host of the
Eucharist! It’s His Altar, not the Pope’s or that of any other denominational
authority. Just like the Jewish laws about hand-washing and honoring parents,
those authorities are turning human rules into divine precepts. No can do. The
Jesus who welcomes us to His table is the Jesus who fed throngs of hungry
people without limitation: if one was hungry, one was fed. It is the same Jesus
who healed the Canaanite/Syrophoenician woman’s daughter, even though was not
Jewish, the ecclesiastical in-crowd of Jesus’ day.
Open
Communion is as catholic as one can get. It is consistent with scripture and
with Jesus’ approach to interpreting human ecclesiastical traditions. It merges
scripture with the “sensus fidelium” tradition. Food for all who hunger, drink for all who
thirst, as a response of faith, not checking theological pedigrees, is what
counts in a relationship with Jesus. To paraphrase an anonymous hymn, we should
all decide to follow Jesus, no turning back.
[1] The Didache, ¶10, in “Early Christian
Writings” translated by Maxwell Stanforth
[2]
Matthew 26:20-30
[3]
Acts 2:41-42
[4]
I Corinthians 11:18-21
[5]
I Corinthians 11:27-29
[6]
Matthew 4:1-10; Luke 4:1-12
[7] California Civil Code §3510
[10]
Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1335
[11]
Mark 2:13-17; Matthew 9:9-13;and Luke 5:27-32
[12]
The woman is identified in Matthew as “the Canaanite woman” and in Mark as “The
Syrophoenician woman.” See generally, Matthew 15:21-28 and Mark 7:24-30
[13]
Matthew 15:1-20
[14]
http://history-world.org/canaanite_culture_and_religion.htm; http://www.theology.edu/canaan.htm
[15]
Deuteronomy 20:10-20; see also, Joshua, Chapters 2-12
[16]
See endnote #9
[17]
Mark 6:34-33;7:1-23;8:1-9; Matthew 15
[18]
Mark and Luke refer to “the kingdom of heaven” while Matthew refers to the
Kingdom of God.
[19]
A set of verses that forms one coherent unit or thought,
suitable for public reading from a text
[20]
Cathechism of the [Roman] Catholic Church, §92
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