Jun 27 2008
Japanese restaurants…and communion?
This, from Mark Shea, is definitely worth a read.
Of Closed Communion and Japanese Restaurants
A while back when the Atlanta Braves were (yet again) playing the Yankees (yet again) in the World Series, somebody undertook to ask some Native Americans what they thought of the Atlanta team’s Indian symbol. In the article I read, I was amused to discover that, with one exception, none of the Native Americans interviewed cared a whit about the “Braves” symbol or felt it to be insulting, humiliating, etc. The one exception was an “outraged” “social activist” (i.e., a professional grievance mongerer, whose life and livelihood depended on surveying the landscape for affronts to Native Americans so as to get TV face time and funding for further identity politics and still more face time and money.) The activist’s “outrage” was purely professional and wildly out of touch with the people he claimed to speak for. Real Native Americans had lives and were cheering for the Braves.
This strange disconnect between the “activists” and the people they supposedly care about springs to mind when I contemplate the American Catholic Church. One of the current frets among the perpetual hand-wringing crowd in AmChurch is the terrible psychic trauma supposed to be inflicted on thousands of well-meaning non-Catholic visitors to Mass when they are informed that they cannot receive communion. So great is that trauma, we are told, that the Church must–simply must–change its cruel and nonsensical rule of closed communion and “welcome” all to the altar. Otherwise, we allegedly risk “alienating” a throng of exquisitely sensitive souls whose tender and trembling nerves cannot bear, even for a moment, the thought of “exclusion”.
All this sort of thing is stated as self-evidently obvious: like the fact that wife-beating skyrockets during the Super Bowl. Or the fact that Nostradamus predicted the WTC bombing. Or the fact that the Inquisition killed 46 million people. It’s just widely known, universally acknowledged, received wisdom that closed communion in the Catholic Church is devoid of reason, a relic of the Church’s insistence that She alone is right and only Catholics are saved, and that the response to this medieval tribalism by any thinking inquirer is to find some more tolerant and enlightened religion.
Now the curious thing is that the people who say these sorts of things are usually incredibly earnest acolytes of all that is progressive, PC, and multicultural. Walk into a Japanese restaurant with one of these folks and boorishly refuse to take your shoes off in deference to custom and you will be regarded as a mouth-breathing Neanderthal henceforth. Attend a Jewish friend’s bris for his son at the local Orthodox synagogue and complain that they didn’t serve ham sandwiches to accommodate your Gentile taste buds (”What about me? What about my needs!”) and they will wince (rightly) at your loutishness. Traipse into a silent auction and start barking out bids at the volume Ted Turner tells Polish jokes and they will, with complete justice, write you off as a self-centered loser with no capacity for dealing with social situations that do not completely orbit around your own immense ego.
But walk into Mass as a guest and start loudly demanding, “Hey! How come I can’t have some of those crackers and wine?! Real Presence? What’s that? The body and blood of Christ? No, I don’t believe in fairy tales, but I resent being excluded and I demand my rights!!” and they applaud you as a cutting edge pioneer in Catholic theology.
Now, it may have occurred to you that not many visitors at Mass really want to do these boorish things. It has occurred to me as well. I have a brother, mother, neighbors and many friends who are not Catholic. When they join us for Mass, we routinely remind them, “You can’t, of course, receive communion. However, you are welcome to come up and receive a blessing from the priest by just crossing your arms across your breast.” And they do. No fuss. No muss. They’re happy to honor our customs, happy to show respect for our Faith in whatever way seems best to us, just as I would be happy and not feel put upon to don a yarmulke should I pay a visit to my friend’s synagogue.
Indeed, I’ve never known or heard of a living soul, visiting the Church, who has been “hurt” by closed communion. Typically, such visitors are, as I once was, strangers in a strange land, a little awed, a little curious, a little amazed, a little amused, by the gestures, rituals, statues, candles, holy water, genuflections, litanies, candles, standing, kneeling, sitting, signs of the cross, sprinklings, anointings, readings and assorted sensory experiences being flung at them in the liturgy. It can be a little baffling, but who says that’s bad? Any contact with the divine worth its salt ought to have something about it that is mysterious. A religious rite that is clear as water and simple as the multiplication table is going to be as satisfying to the human soul as reading the phone book. There should be, for the newcomer, the sense that we are, as Thomas Howard put it, in the precincts of a great mystery, that we are in terra incognita, and that we are not in command of the situation.
Along with that sensation is a certain sort of humility that is at the far end of the spectrum from “humiliation”: the humility that makes us take off our shoes in Japanese restaurants, or respect the customs in a foreign country, or refrain from writing in magic marker on the Great Pyramid like a doltish tourist. This same sensation bids us to honor the local custom of the sanctuary and to observe the proprieties, not because we know what’s going on, but because we don’t. I have never known a soul, alive to this Common Courtesy 101 rule of thumb, who has felt “humiliated”, “excluded”, “diminished” or otherwise harmed by it. On the contrary, it is an enormously enriching approach to life since it makes us alive to the mysteries, twists, and turns that both human custom and sacred revelation may spring on us.
Indeed, the only people I know who fret about it are dissenting leftist Catholics, for whom no “problem” with the Church’s teaching and practice is so trivial, preposterous, or daffy that they cannot find some way to take offense on behalf of the phantom legions of the Wounded out there. (Dissenting rightist Catholics can also fixate on trivial, preposterous and daffy things. But they usually claim these objects of fixation are an offense against TRVTH, not against the tender sensitivities of buttercup twirlers.) It is the custom of leftist dissenters to talk about “nonsensical rules” without inquiring as to their sense. But when real visitors visit, they find the Church’s “nonsensical” rules to make a great deal of sense. When I explain “Please don’t take communion since, by that gesture, you are proclaiming ‘I believe all that the Catholic Church teaches and proclaims is revealed by God’ and you don’t want to do that unless you mean it and have been received into full communion by the Church”, I never get a quarrel. I get cheerful nods, interest, and a friendly desire to honor the sanctuary.
That’s because visitors, unlike the “activists” and “advocates” in the Church who claim to speak for them, are reasonable people with real lives to live and baseball teams to root for.
My thoughts: I have a lot of non-Catholic friends. Some of them have gone to Mass with me. And I always tell them, if you go up to receive communion, the Earth won’t open and God won’t smite you (Well, it hasn’t happened yet.). Then I go on to explain the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist, and tell them that by receiving communion, you are agreeing to that (That’s what the “Amen” is about). If they agree, then go on up, then join RCIA. (Kidding…sort of) If not, then you can come up to be blessed or you can stay in the pew.
I believe most of my friends just stay in the pew. I can’t recall ever seeing one of them get up and receive with me. But I probably get more Protestant vitrol about this topic than any other, that’s for sure.
…confess our own sins and not someone else’s;