This past weekend, I visited with a good priest friend of mine after Mass and a hearty Rogation Sunday church lunch. As usual, our conversation was a mix of catching up on churchly matters, intellectual stimulation (for me at least), and laughter.
One of our good laughs occurred when the subject of impaired communion came up. He had a dismissive look. I immediately recalled a past conversion on the subject with a mischievous smile and said I remembered well what he thought of impaired communion. After laughter — and his laughter is alway hearty — he stated what he had stated before: “Either you are in communion, or you’re not.”
It’s hard to disagree with that! And the father has far more experience and study on the subject of communion than I. I still think there is a place for impaired communion although it cannot be a permanent state and may not be much of a logical state at all as my friend succinctly points out. Perhaps I will return to that subject later.
Driving home afterwards, the conversation got me thinking on a larger subject. I reflected that if one tries too hard to achieve perfect or near perfect communion, you end up destroying communion.
There I may seem as illogical as impaired communion. And I freely concede and joyfully anticipate that Christ when he returns will make communion perfect and wonderful far above what we can imagine. But we ain’t there yet, and we cannot be in this world. And if we try too hard for that before Christ’s timing, we end up harming communion. Think upon the two main ways church leaders attempt to achieve some sort of ideal communion, and you will see my point.
One way is agreement on everything that is considered important. And those who attempt this tend to consider almost everything important. This is a good way to gain an apartment cathedral with a communion of “me and thee and I’m not sure about thee.” Or a church as empty as the depth of COVID days (from which the lead-in image is taken). This attitude resulted in the scandalous and sometimes comical proliferation of denominations in the 19th and 20th centuries. Churches split over fire baptism (whatever that is), dietary laws, plain dress, and, too often, just personalities and no telling what else.
If your church must be just so, you sooner or later end up with a very small church splinter.
The other main way to elusive ideal communion is the opposite way: instead of agreement on everything, unity above just about everything. Does a bishop deny all the basics of the faith and insist Christianity “must change [into non-Christianity] or die”? No problem! Diversity is our strength! Alert readers may already notice I am not making that up. That was precisely the situation with The Episcopal Church and Bishop Spong, who did not even get close to being excommunicated.
Of course, not every case of unity being placed above orthodoxy is that outrageous . . . yet. But if you do place unity above orthodoxy, you make orthodoxy optional. And Neuhaus’ Law has not been disproved yet.
Where orthodoxy is optional, orthodoxy will sooner or later be proscribed.
When a church tries so hard for unity and communion that orthodoxy is made optional, one may achieve some sort of communion, but it eventually will not be Christian communion. For it will not be based on The Faith. And people committed to The Faith will sooner or later be pushed out if they do not flee first.
So healthy churches must make The Faith the basis of communion for them to remain churches indeed. At the same time, they must accept some messiness and disagreement and, yes, accompanying aggravation lest they become sectarian. Christ will perfect his church in his good timing. Only fools try too hard to make the church and communion perfect before then.
Returning to the category of impaired communion, I think it can be helpful in navigating between the two deceptive cliffs of perfect agreement and perfect unity whose siren calls have lured many churches to shipwreck.
But I am recovering from a vacation, and attempting to do justice to the concept of impaired communion would make this post long beyond the endurance of sensible readers although it may amuse my priest friend. So I will return to that subject another day.
My first memory of Communion was in the 1960’s. My dad and other tough men knelt at the alter with their wives in complete silence. They reverently received food and drink referencing Christ’s body and blood sacrificed for their salvation. Time stopped for a while at the rail (there were no drive byes back then). To be in communion for me means going back in time for everyone and recapture the solemnity.