Invitation and exclusion

By Kathleen Staudt

Several weekends ago, I spent a refreshing and prayerful time on retreat at Holy Cross Abbey, a Cistercian monastery near the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. As one might expect in an atmosphere infused with the monastic tradition, I felt thoroughly welcomed and quieted, and was nourished by the opportunity offered to enter what T.S. Eliot called “time not our time. In the one conversation I had with a monk, I was reminded of the Cistercian devotion both to prayer and to the intellectual life, two parts of myself that I’ve been a long time in bringing together. (A favorite book title of mine, about the monastic tradition, is called The Love of Learning and the Desire for God. I think that does describe something important about my vocation).

Sure of the divine welcome in the place (and of creation’s welcome, among the meadow flowers, birds and mountain scenery), I became vividly aware on Sunday of the obstacles to welcome that still exist in a church that is still far from the unity for which Jesus prayed. As a Roman Catholic order, the Cistercians abide by a discipline that limits participation in Eucharist to Catholics. I knew this. I knew I could present myself for Eucharist and no one would speak or object, but I was interested in the way that the non-invitation to Eucharist was worded. “The Catholic bishops do not allow us to invite non-Catholic Christians to receive Eucharist. We ask that you respect the discipline of the Roman Catholic Church and join us in prayer for the unity of all Christians, for whom our Lord Jesus prayed on the night before he died.”

My own operative theology is scandalized at the idea of excluding anyone from Eucharist, believing that we go at Christ’s invitation, rather than at the invitation of a human community, however organized or faithful. And the careful wording of the placard I’ve just quoted suggested to me that whoever wrote it might even share the same operative theology. I’m certainly glad that the Episcopal Church has pushed back against any statement that would begin “The Anglican Communion does not allow us to invite. . . . " But there was also in this sad non-invitation a solid piece of truth-telling that I appreciated. I was grateful to the community for honestly naming the brokenness. It caused me to experience, as I have not before, what it is to be excluded from a rite that is our central expression of belonging. It was wrong. But it was true to how things are in the Church for whom Jesus prayed, and died.

So, I accepted, and learned from, the invitation to “join us in prayer for the unity of all Christians, for whom our Lord Jesus prayed on the night before he died.” As people lined up to receive the Body and Blood, I remained kneeling, praying fervently and deeply for the unity of a broken church, the whole church catholic, Anglican, orthodox, whatever our sad divisions may be. I heard in my heart snatches of hymns: “Bid thou our sad divisions cease/ And be thyself our king of peace. . . . . “ “By schisms rent asunder, by heresies distressed.” It was a rich, full and genuine participation, in its way – a sharing in the broken heart of Christ, in the midst of the assembly. I wouldn’t want to make a habit of this way of prayer. But at least on this day, it was an unexpected gift.

Dr. Kathleen Henderson Staudt keeps the blog poetproph, works as a teacher, poet, spiritual director and retreat leader in the Washington DC area. She is the author of two books: At the Turn of a Civilisation: David Jones and Modern Poetics and Annunciations: Poems out of Scripture.

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Posted by Jim Naughton on August 21, 2009 4:23 AM | |
Comments (7)

As most of my extended family is Catholic, it is easier for me to attend Mass when with them, rather than going alone to an Episcopal church. I have discovered a sort of holiness in this discipline of not going forward to receive communion that is clearly NOT intended for me. I do pray about the disunity of Christians. I pray for my Catholic family and friends. And I realize over and over again how broken ANY religious observance is, how faltering and imperfect our attempts to touch God really are.

Posted by Kit Carlson [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 21, 2009 10:23 AM

On the night before he died, Jesus gathered with his friends to share a meal. At that meal everyone shared in the bread and the cup....even Judas.

As a former member of the RC Church (and not an angry ex-Catholic), it offends me to have Jesus' gift turned into something that he did not intend. Sadly, when some folks speak of unity they mean submission. This cannot be God's Will for any of us.

Without intending to be glib, I no longer accept invitations to dinners where I am not permitted to eat.

Posted by Peter Pearson [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 21, 2009 12:53 PM

Dr. Staudt, Thanks for this article. I find it interesting that it has been easier to openly name the brokenness among colleagues than with my own family. Most of my family is still Roman Catholic, while I'm an Episcopal priest. Although my mother is also Episcopal, she is upset that I no longer accept communion at family events. My mother tells me that "you were baptized Roman Catholic, you are still Roman Catholic"... but somehow, I guess that the clergy collar and the unfamiliarity with the short ending of Lord's Prayer is a little give-away. It has been a difficult thing to explain that, ethically, I don't feel I can go forward when I have had discussions with Catholics about the brokenness of our communion- I would knowingly and willingly be trampling a boundary.
I think my family looks askance at me and my atheist aunt who also does not go up, and wonders which one of us is the total heathen.
Meanwhile, I am grateful for the Catholics I work with, who recognize that injured place and who seek to go forward. As far as my family... they might not ever fully understand that it has become different for me.

(Editor's note: thanks for this. We need your name next time.

Posted by www.google.com/accounts/o8/id?id=AItOawmNpW5WEeUoF [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 21, 2009 9:10 PM

If I'm a stranger to the congregation, I will receive in a Roman Catholic Church. I used to weigh carefully, try to discern the particular instance, accept an invitation when it was clearly offered, etc. Then one Sunday I was away from my own congregation and sitting in church with Ellen, my wife. It was an Episcopal Church, the nearest one to the small town we were staying in. The priest preached a hair-raising, fiercely righteous, hellfire sermon. I leaned over and whispered to Ellen, "I don't think I can take communion from this guy, and I don't think he'd offer it to me if he knew my preaching." Ellen whispered back - "It's Jesus table. Who are you to refuse the invitation?"

I don't always feel free to accept the invitation (Jesus') because of the circumstances of our division and feeling that receiving as an evident Anglican priest 'makes a statement' and politicizes communion. As an Episcopal guest in a Roman Catholic religious community or the non-Catholic family member, I'd probably be looking for spiritual communion (and not receiving). But if I'm a stranger, I'm glad to accept Jesus' welcome.

Posted by Donald Schell [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 22, 2009 12:36 AM

I see hospitality as a two-way street. The host has certain responsibilities. However, I feel that as the guest I have responsibilities too.

Just as I wouldn't abuse my host's hospitality by rummaging through his drawers, neither will I abuse a community's hospitality when I am not invited to receive.

Posted by Derek Olsen [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 22, 2009 10:43 PM

Derek,

How do you respond to my my saying that the host is Jesus and so, by implication, the community (whether Anglican, Lutheran, Roman, Orthodox, etc.) is already ours?

I don't think it abuses the community's hospitality when I accept Jesus' invitation if I can. I say 'if I can' because I've only twice actually had the opportunity to receive in Orthodox churches and never with Missouri Synod Lutherans.

Even the most careful version of our Episcopal invitation to communion makes it clear that we believe all baptized Christians are welcome at Jesus' table. I don't want my receiving to cause scandal or provoke a confrontation, so there are times when communion by desire is what I practice (as Kathy describes). But even then I take theological comfort in knowing that Jesus our host is inviting all of us.

Posted by Donald Schell [TypeKey Profile Page] | August 23, 2009 11:53 PM

Institutions can change. I'm Roman Catholic and unfortunately I notice that everytime the Episcopal church becomes more inclusive, my church receives more homophobic, sexist ex Episcopals. Even though the Episcopal church is smaller than the Catholic church in the US, it can have a positive influence on the direction the Catholic church takes. Now you would never know because Pope Benedict is so isolationist, but Pope Paul used to call the Anglican church a "sister church".

(Editor's note: thanks for this. We need your name next time.)

Posted by susansontagfan [TypeKey Profile Page] | October 6, 2009 11:59 PM

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