In an effort to answer some questions, ease hearts, and dispel some mistaken impressions we're tackling the subject of Closed Communion today. In this discussion I'm referencing Lutheran churches. Other churches have different communion theologies to which they are held accountable. Some of these things may still apply and you could probably transfer this to some Protestant churches. But it's not kosher to hold Catholics accountable to Lutheran doctrine, for instance. That's a whole different discussion.
Why do some Lutheran churches practice Closed Communion? Instead of answering for them, I simply zipped over to the website of such a church and lifted their explanation. I'm not going to list that site because I don't want to give the impression that I'm railing against that particular congregation. Their explanation pretty much mirrors the standard of Closed Communion churches everywhere. Here's how they explain it.
Our practice of Closed Communion is intended to protect the communicant from receiving the Sacrament to his/her damnation. Dr. Martin Luther wrote: “Who receives this sacrament worthily? Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training. But that person is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’ But anyone who does not believe these words or doubts them is unworthy and unprepared, for the words ‘for you’ require all hearts to believe.” We take it for granted that a communicant member of [our denomination] knows how to examine and prepare him/herself for Holy Communion.Before we dig in to all the things that are wrong with this, they're not making up Luther's quotes here. When speaking of communion Luther did say that those who receive communion believing in Christ eat it to their salvation while those who receive despising Christ receive it to their damnation. We do not deny this statement. We believe it to be true, just not in the self-serving way that leads to Closed Communion making sense.
Let's start at the beginning. What is the assumed relationship between God and his people in this church's statement? Where is God? Who has him? Clearly this church believes that both God and the right knowledge of God lie with them. Their role is first gatekeeper of the altar--determining who is truly worthy to receive and who is not--and then dispenser of Christ.
Already we have an issue. God is with them, not with everybody else. God is localized, reduced to a possession. The bread and wine of communion--the physical elements--become the most integral part of the process. They can be possessed, controlled. God's Word and Spirit, the things that make communion unique and effective, take second place. Word and Spirit follow the bread and wine rather than bread and wine following Word and Spirit as they flow forth. We're backwards. The most important facets of the process get shoved to the side while the least important take center stage. Communion isn't a question of where and how God is working, rather who gets the goodies today and who doesn't.
If God's Spirit were active among those present already, there would be no reason to deny communion to anyone. Therefore reducing Christ to a commodity is a necessary prerequisite to the Closed Communion theology, else what would the chosen ones be gatekeepers of? The God they present is necessarily quite small.
The first question I always ask when I hear someone is practicing Closed Communion is, "Is this the God who broke the ancient boundaries of time and space, transforming life and death in order to save his children? Is this the God for whom temple curtains ripped, graves flew open, skies changed, and earthquakes shook at the moment of salvation?" It sure doesn't seem like it if he's confined back there behind the rail with theological bouncers guarding the access door.
Closed Communion starts with the premise of denying the Spirit's presence and work. From that beginning, anywhere else it goes is going to be wrong.
When confronted with Closed Communion I remember stories of Jesus' ministry among prostitutes, tax collectors, sinners, women at wells--outcasts all--while the chosen church people simmered about it. I rehearse the story of a Samaritan helping out a beaten stranger while priests and Levites passed by uncaring and unwilling to get their hands dirty. I recall how Jesus spoke to those who were so sure they had a superior relationship with God that they denied God could be present in the same way with "lesser" people who knew less and behaved worse. He was not very happy with those people, as I recall. In fact he stood up for all those lesser people and told the superior ones that they had it all wrong.
In Closed Communion the basis for (presumed) superiority lies in the words "believe" and "have faith". If you have taken the right classes and learned the right things, you are capable of correct understanding. "Belief" is defined as holding the right things in your head. Proper education is the difference between believing correctly and not. Thus we read: We take it for granted that a member of our denomination knows how to examine and prepare him/herself for Holy Communion. If you're one of us, you know and do it right. If you're not, you don't.
Just like God was earlier, here faith is reduced to a possession, a commodity. "Have faith" is taken quite literally. You earn it, carry it in your pocket. Your preparation, your work, your examination, your class-taking, your declaration of belief and membership are the righteous and proper works which give you the right stuff that makes you worthy to approach the altar. Those who haven't put in the same work can't be assumed to have the same stuff. Thus their faith is in question and they are denied.
Oddly enough in one of the most famous passages of the Small Catechism, explaining the work of the Holy Spirit, Luther writes:
I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faithI cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, OR come to Him! No matter how many classes I take, how many words I confess, how much examination I do, or how much I prepare myself, I cannot make belief happen. Both belief and faith are gifts from God. They depend on God's work, not my own. Belief is not knowing the right things. Faith is not carried in your pocket or pinned on like a badge. Belief and faith flow from a living relationship with God in which he gives and we receive.
The words "come to him" in Luther's quote can be taken quite literally as the walk between the pew and the altar rail to receive Our Lord. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of my own preparation. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of the reasoning that goes through my head. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of already having the right "faith stuff" so I'm worthy to approach. If I already have all that's necessary, why do I need to walk that aisle in the first place? I've already got what communion is supposed to offer! Going up on that basis makes the whole thing a show at best, a sham at worst. Yet this is what Closed Communion mandates.
Closed Communion says you have to pass the test before you can come to God. But I can't pass the test unless God has already come to me!
Even a cursory glance at scripture will show you that our own understanding has a small place in this process. The first communion (at the Last Supper) was received by a group of guys who didn't understand what was about to happen at all. The Words of Institution tell us that the sacrament began "on the night of his betrayal". The disciples ate the bread, drank the cup, and then proceeded to abandon Jesus to arrest, denying him multiple times in front of witnesses They failed to defend him in front of the priests or to counter the crowd who yelled, "Crucify him!" Then they watched with helpless tears as Jesus was executed like a criminal.
Despite all that Jesus still gave his body and blood for them on that cross. He rose again as the first fruits of salvation three days later because of a power beyond their understanding. They didn't help the process at all...not with their goodness or their belief or their intentions, certainly not by any of their works. God did it all FOR them when they couldn't do it themselves.
Paul says in Romans 5: 6-8
6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— 8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
For the ungodly Christ died. Not for the most righteous nor for the best nor for the ones who knew the most. Christ gave himself up for those who needed him most.
It's ironic, then, that the tenets of Closed Communion deny Christ to the people who need him most today.
Imagine you're a mom with a wonderful husband and three wonderful kids. One day you get a phone call. Your husband and children just got killed in an accident on the highway. When you get around to considering your relationship with God after that, how does it feel? What's going on in your heart? What questions are you asking in your head as you approach that altar? You are full of anguish, doubt, remorse, anger...even to the point of being angry at God. Is there any way in heaven or earth that you're ready to walk forward and say, "I believe without a doubt that there is a God," let alone confess that God is good?
What if you're mentally disabled? What if you have a stroke? How about Alzheimer's? What if you were sexually abused all throughout your childhood? What if you just got diagnosed with cancer? What's going through your head then as you come to communion?
We need God most among the lowest moments and greatest injuries in our lives. Yet these same things make it impossible for us to do the work, speak with the surety of belief, and approach the altar with the certainty that Closed Communion requires. Properly, then, we should be denied and asked to come back when our faith is stronger and our heads are back on straight again.
As a side note, almost every pastor of a Closed Communion church would say, "There's no way I'd deny communion to a person in that condition!" This should tell you something. Even they know that they can't follow through with their standard. That means this isn't really about theology. What they're really doing is deciding whose trauma and suffering are great enough and whose don't clear the bar. The standard they're falling back on in the absence of "special consultation" is whether a person is a member of their church. Nobody else's suffering and need are assumed to be valid enough to merit an exception.
Luther describes one of the main benefits of communion as forgiveness of sins. Why, then, is communion limited to the people who presumably sin the least? A friend once asked what would happen if an atheist alcoholic came up to receive, the assumption being that they don't belong. But who needs Christ more? Consider the story of the meal in Matthew, Chapter 9:
10 As Jesus reclined at table in the house many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. 11 And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 12 But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13 Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Are we to somehow believe that when we get to the most important meal of all, Jesus changes his mind and makes it about your worthiness instead of his mercy? Suddenly those who are most well benefit while those most in need have to hang back? Once again we have to flip everything backwards if we are to believe in Closed Communion.
This is why it's important that when you see the words "faith" and "belief" you think first of trust. Trust is not internal, but part of a relationship. Trust is not a matter of control but surrender. You don't have to think the right thing first in order to trust. Trust is what you fall back on when you know you can't think the right thing or make the situation right. Therefore we read Luther's quote as, "But that person is truly worthy and well prepared who trusts in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’"
Now consider: How does one express trust? It's not by filling out a card with check marks or making some kind of prescribed confession. It doesn't happen in a class or at admission to membership. All of those things deny the need for trust. In each of those acts you're saying, "Hey...I got this! I got it right!" Where does the trust part come in?
You show trust by approaching the altar and lifting your hands out. That's the only thing that makes you worthy to receive.
By approaching you're not saying you have it right. You're not saying you understand God. You're not saying you're perfect or free from sin. You're not saying you're better prepared than the person sitting next to you. In fact you may not get it at all! You may not have even thought about God until today. Maybe you spent your whole life running away, denying him, doing wrong stuff. By coming forward and lifting out our hands you and me and that dear old saintly lady who's been part of this church for 100 years are all saying the same thing, on the same ground, with the same motion:
"I don't understand, Lord. I can't contain you in my head or codify you in a set of beliefs. I can't convince myself that you're there all the time, or sometimes that you even exist. I can't always feel your presence. I don't always see my part in your plan. I don't do right. I've failed you often. I'm not worthy of you and I really, really don't get why you still love me so much. But I trust that you do, even though I don't understand all this. I trust that you're going to fill in what I need. I'm going to put my hands out now. I hope you'll be there."
And God replies, "Yeah, I'm here. Always."
And that's what "The Body of Christ, given for you" means.
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I shouldn't have to say much more than that but Closed Communion folks are going to say, "What about the damnation? Luther spoke about the damnation and you just ignored it!" So bear with me through one more thought.
Closed Communion folks say, "Our practice of Closed Communion is intended to protect the communicant from receiving the Sacrament to his/her damnation.". It's as if that bread and wine were poison if you touch it while thinking wrongly. The chalice needs a big "Mr. Yuk" sticker on it warning people of the danger. That would be crass, so Mr. Yuk is embodied by the pastor and the church rules on communion.
On a common sense level the idea that we need protection from God should strike you as odd. It's a strange way to conduct church, especially in the face of the resurrected Christ. Also, why in the world would God just leave poison sitting up there on the altar when people might accidentally eat it and get damned? It seems a little irresponsible, especially since the people who are supposedly benefiting from it don't actually get that much benefit. They already did all the righteous work in the classes and in their heads, believing the right things and getting faith and such. Communion itself is just a pat on the back for them, the diploma at their faith graduation ceremony. The upside of them taking it rightly is far less than the downside of the rest of us taking it wrongly.
Here's an even better question: The way Closed Communion folks construct their theology, isn't a person who doesn't believe in God correctly damned anyway? Are people going to believe wrongly their whole lives then get to Judgement Day only to hear God say, "You totally messed up...but did you take communion?"
"Nope! Never!"
"Whew! You can come in, then! If you had eaten that bread, though, you'd have been damned!"
If the wrong thinkers are going to be damned anyway, what harm in letting them receive the sacrament? What worse will happen?
There are only two ways keeping people from the sacrament Would make sense:
1. If you'd somehow be damned sooner, the instant you received. But their gate-keeping process can't be perfect and I don't see many people keeling over dead at the altar or the floor opening up and swallowing them into the depths as soon as they receive the bread and wine.
2. If you'd be damned irrevocably in a way that could never be undone. I'd hope that few, if any, Closed Communion folks would claim that. Not only does it put way too much weight on this one act, it's also really problematic for the pastor in charge to be making those decisions. Forget the communion card, they better have a final exam before every service. Plus anybody who messed up even once should be kicked out as beyond redemption. (P.S. Claiming this kind of power is one of the things that made Luther really mad at his church leaders.)
If neither of these things are true then the risk of giving an unworthy person communion is far less than the risk of denying a worthy person. You're not harming the unworthy person any more than they're already harmed or in any way that can't be corrected as they come into a better relationship with God. You could be harming the people who need that relationship can't get it because you keep them out.
As you can see, Closed Communion makes little sense even according to its own theology. Fortunately we don't have to deal with those silly questions because Luther's declaration about damnation is properly understood as part of the sacramental cycle of life, death, and resurrection.
When we are baptized our old, sinful selves drown in the water and we are raised to new life. Baptism embodies death and life, an ending and a new beginning. This is why we reference it not only during a baptismal service, but at funerals where the final death has occurred and new life awaits.
This cycle is echoed in communion. Even as we come forward and reach our hands out in trust, part of us doesn't understand and doesn't want to depend on God. It's the same part of us that ultimately doesn't want to die because it considers the self the center of everything. That part fears the sacrament--particularly the dying part--and fights against our trust.
We don't bring shiny, unstained hearts to the altar rail. We bring fear, doubt, selfishness, sin. We are powerless to rid ourselves of these things, which again is why our part of the communion relationship is trust and not perfection.
As we receive Our Lord in communion our fearful, mistrusting, selfish selves are crucified with Jesus. This is why we say he took all of our sins upon him on the cross. No matter how that self-centered, sinful part of us tries to escape the looming cross it's done away with despite its protestations (and ours). Communion does not leave us unchanged. We die and are raised anew, transformed by Christ despite our wishes and wills.
Luther is precisely correct. Those who eat unworthily eat to their damnation. And we all eat unworthily. Our old selves perish into nothingness at that altar rail. We kneel down and are dealt the blow which we most fear. Then our new selves rise up again and go out into the world to do God's work.
When Closed Communion folks claim to protect us from God, they're literally doing what they say: keeping us apart from him and everything he has planned for us. By trying to stop death at the altar rail they also stop the new life.
In order to justify these actions they can't feel that they die or are in any way damned when they come to the altar. That's why participation in the sacrament depends on your preparation and perfection, not on God's intention to work terrifying and glorious salvation in (and despite) you. Closed Communion ends up being another of humanity's old and tiresome attempts to avoid dying by finding away around the cross through one's own works...grasping at God and life eternal without suffering and dying...getting to the garden by climbing over the fence instead of walking through the gate. Anyone who's ever had a sniff of Luther will understand how anti-Lutheran that is.
So you see, our policy of Open Communion has nothing to do with us being "nice" or "tolerant" or "more accepting". It's because Closed Communion is a bald denial of the Christ who comes through the sacrament. And yes, you should feel hurt and angered when you experience the rejection that comes along with Closed Communion. It's not just a personal hurt, like somebody said you're not good enough. That's part of it to be sure, but none of us are good enough and we can admit that. The deeper wound comes from people telling a deep, intolerable lie about God, reducing him to a puppet, injuring others in his name, robbing the sacrament of its power and meaning, and denying the Good News of his overflowing grace to those who desperately need it.
In Matthew 16, Peter confessed Jesus as the Son of God. Jesus praised him and told him that upon this rock he would build his church. Then Jesus began to explain that being the Messiah meant suffering at the hands of the priests and scribes, dying, and rising again. Peter responded to him, "Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you!" In Peter's protest you can hear every argument Closed Communion has to offer. "Why would you need to die, Lord? You need not give yourself up to the unworthy, nor be touched by anyone unclean! You have us! Stay alive and rule with your good and faithful disciples! We'll keep all those other people away."
And Jesus responded, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on human things."
Amen.
Amen.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
It was precisely when I was full of anguish, anger and definitely at the point of being angry at God, that communion was most needed in my life. To be denied during that time would most definitely separated me from my church and faith. Being kept apart from the love of a heavenly father does not heal and connect. It castigates the vulnerable and those that are hurting in my view.
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