In the Episcopal Church right now there's a lively debate about whether people who are not baptized should receive Holy Communion. There are very good arguments on both sides. In my
life I’ve waffled back and forth on the question. Here are my current thoughts.
First, I
will never refuse Communion from anyone who comes to me with hands
outstretched. Period.
Next, I imagine a series of concentric circles called “Ways that Holy
Communion makes sense.” The further you go toward the center, the more the
whole thing hangs together.
At the
center are baptized people. For us, Communion is a weekly reminder of the vows
of baptism that we have either undertaken, or that were made on our behalf
when we were little and that we can adopt as adults anytime we like. In this case, Communion is a
refueling for a journey we have accepted.
At the
next ring out are the unbaptized who are actively seeking Christ. They want to
know more about Jesus and learn all they can. For them, Communion is like a
promise, a spurring on toward deeper things. That may well lead to a
conversation with other Christians about baptism.
Many
others are at the third ring out: hungry for something, but not sure what. In
that case, hey, we have food. Come and be fed, because nobody should be turned
away. At this level we cannot let it be perceived to be about jumping through
hoops, or gatekeeping, or some notion of theological correctness. It’s about
feeding people who are hungry -- surprise guests for supper.
These
days, the only people I ask to fast from Communion are those who are actively
seeking baptism, have entered that process officially, and will find value in
holding off in order to be hungry for the big feast after they’re baptized.
(There are
also hypothetical situations in which a person who is being actively
destructive to the faith community could be unseated from the table, at least
for a time. Thankfully, there’s nobody like that in my church right now.)
If this feels squishy, it’s because I’ve come to understand
Holy Communion as so mystical that I can’t possibly know enough about how God
works to proclaim with confidence who should not receive. And I most certainly understand God’s love
to be so huge and all-encompassing that I can see my notions of liturgical correctness as well-meant rules that are sometimes made to be broken.
Last week at my mother-in-law’s Roman Catholic funeral
service, I was given the opportunity to receive Holy Communion. The priest probably
saw it as “squishy” that I, a non-Catholic, might receive God’s grace in this
way. But I really, really needed it. It meant so much to me, and I’m grateful
to the priest for allowing it.
