According to an old logic joke, for any predicate, F, there is a least likely thing to have the property, a thing such that , if it should have the property than EVERYTHING has the property. The theorem that this vivid misreading is a simple conversion of Tautology, "if P then P", the most trivial of logical laws. One could build a whole logical system using a term for the the least likely F (and another for the most likely one -- what is an F if anything is-- with the same sort of history) and doing away with quantifiers (and their messy rules). Vut notation needed to compensate would be messy indeed.
"Least likely" makes me think of Jesus, the least likely Messiah. Everything about him is wrong: his parentage is open to question, and even if you accept his apparent parents they are the lowest of the low -- not landowner or even tenant farmers but landless laborers. Nor is he from the big city or a famous town, but from a shanty village thrown up house laborers for the overlords' rebuilding of a rebel city near by. And his triumph was a disaster, him dead and his followers scattered and dispirited. And yet, we can now say that this was the fullness of God on Earth.
We can take this "least likely" and rebuild theology upon it, for Christianity is all about the least likely and the fullness of the presence of God: the last are first, the oppressed are blessed and free, the fish food and bad wines are the Body and the Blood. And the conclusion is that, consequently, ALL are first, all are blessed and free, everything is the Body and the Blood. And whatsoever we do to the least is done to the Greatest.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
An Ancient Blister
The question of Communion without Baptism has reared its head again, thanks to Eastern Oregon proposing a motion for GC2012 to remove the rubric against it (well only specifying that those who have been properly baptized may receive). I am torn on this issue and, on another blog, suggested a middle path between openly allowing it and cracking down those who violate the rubric (recipients or priests? it's not clear): "if a hand is put forward, fill it; ditto for a mouth", noting that this seemed to be a case where DADT was a good policy.
Why? First and foremost, because the strict adherence to the rule is a practical impossibility. We can hardly go back (if TEC was ever there) to reserving a spot at the communion table or carrying our baptismal certificate to be shown at each communion, To do so is not only impractical but rude (inhospitable -- what we are loudly trying not to be), by excluding passers by who come in not knowing the rules. And I personally have trouble imagining an Episcopal priest refusing communion to even a notorious sinner right out in the meeting (too much commotion and murmuring).
The main (and oldest) argument against the Eastern Oregon proposal, and even this ad hoc work-around, is that Baptism is the entry in to Christ's Kingdom and seating at the banquet in that Kingdom is reward open only to citizens. That is, we have to be in before the blessing, comfort and sustaining that the feast brings is available to us. There is sense in this: the Eucharist is a sacramentalizing of a basic fact, reminding us again that Jesus is present in everything. It would seem that only a believer would know this fact to be reminded of it by the sacrament. Aside from the fact that it is possible to be baptized and never learn the omnipresence of God in a meaningful way, it is clearly possible for the opposite state to obtain. Further, there is a significant amount of anecdotal evidence that the very act of taking communion can trigger the realization of the truth therein sacralized.
The other (also ancient) objection is that an unbeliever taking communion does some serious harm. But it is hard to see where the harm lies. It is not to the sacrament itself -- the flaws of even the priest do not harm that, let alone those of the partakers. To be sure, there might be a p.r. problem: if a church had given communion to someone known to be notorious sinner and thus, in effect, admitted him into the community, the whole community might be branded with that notoriety. But such matters are to be borne and fade rather quickly, as a rule. The other possible harm might be to the taker, the unbaptized unbeliever. But he has just had a sip wine and a bit of a cracker or pita or whatever; the blasphemy, if it is such, only happens if he perceives that it is the Body and Blood of Christ which he is taking inappropriately, which, ex hypothesi, he does not. (I skip over the aptness of all this to the problems in the Anglican Communion.)
So, if the arguments against bwc are mainly emotional, what of the arguments for it. And there don't seem to be any, other than the appeal to our vaunted openness and inclusiveness, that no one should be cut off from being part of our community, even for only an hour. This, too, has an emotional impact in the political air of our time. It can be bolstered somewhat by pointing to Jesus' example: he laid no conditions on those who attended the archetype of the Eucharist (unless footwashing counts as Baptism) and freely gave both bread and wine to one he knew to be outside the community. Should we be more restrictive when we don't know or know but situationally ought not act (forbidding the sacrament to a lesbian at her mother's funeral, for example).
Why? First and foremost, because the strict adherence to the rule is a practical impossibility. We can hardly go back (if TEC was ever there) to reserving a spot at the communion table or carrying our baptismal certificate to be shown at each communion, To do so is not only impractical but rude (inhospitable -- what we are loudly trying not to be), by excluding passers by who come in not knowing the rules. And I personally have trouble imagining an Episcopal priest refusing communion to even a notorious sinner right out in the meeting (too much commotion and murmuring).
The main (and oldest) argument against the Eastern Oregon proposal, and even this ad hoc work-around, is that Baptism is the entry in to Christ's Kingdom and seating at the banquet in that Kingdom is reward open only to citizens. That is, we have to be in before the blessing, comfort and sustaining that the feast brings is available to us. There is sense in this: the Eucharist is a sacramentalizing of a basic fact, reminding us again that Jesus is present in everything. It would seem that only a believer would know this fact to be reminded of it by the sacrament. Aside from the fact that it is possible to be baptized and never learn the omnipresence of God in a meaningful way, it is clearly possible for the opposite state to obtain. Further, there is a significant amount of anecdotal evidence that the very act of taking communion can trigger the realization of the truth therein sacralized.
The other (also ancient) objection is that an unbeliever taking communion does some serious harm. But it is hard to see where the harm lies. It is not to the sacrament itself -- the flaws of even the priest do not harm that, let alone those of the partakers. To be sure, there might be a p.r. problem: if a church had given communion to someone known to be notorious sinner and thus, in effect, admitted him into the community, the whole community might be branded with that notoriety. But such matters are to be borne and fade rather quickly, as a rule. The other possible harm might be to the taker, the unbaptized unbeliever. But he has just had a sip wine and a bit of a cracker or pita or whatever; the blasphemy, if it is such, only happens if he perceives that it is the Body and Blood of Christ which he is taking inappropriately, which, ex hypothesi, he does not. (I skip over the aptness of all this to the problems in the Anglican Communion.)
So, if the arguments against bwc are mainly emotional, what of the arguments for it. And there don't seem to be any, other than the appeal to our vaunted openness and inclusiveness, that no one should be cut off from being part of our community, even for only an hour. This, too, has an emotional impact in the political air of our time. It can be bolstered somewhat by pointing to Jesus' example: he laid no conditions on those who attended the archetype of the Eucharist (unless footwashing counts as Baptism) and freely gave both bread and wine to one he knew to be outside the community. Should we be more restrictive when we don't know or know but situationally ought not act (forbidding the sacrament to a lesbian at her mother's funeral, for example).
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