The Struggle for Communion
I will, for the first time, actually copy and
past an entire blog entry by Fr. Freeman, as something struck me
about this one, and so I wanted to cross post it
here:For many Protestants whose Church
experience was largely shaped in the past few decades, one of the most
disconcerting aspects of a first visit to an Orthodox Church is the fact that
not everybody, not all Baptized Christians, are permitted to receive communion.
Indeed, communion is restricted to Orthodox Christians who have made preparation
to receive (that’s another topic). For some this is a surprise, for
others, not, and for still some few, this is a welcome fact. When I first
visited in an Orthodox Church I fell into this last group. I did not rejoice
that I was not able to take communion, but I rejoiced that I was not allowed to
(in the state of schism in which I was living). Someone was saying to me,
“There are things in your Christian life that must be addressed before you
approach the Cup.” I understood this as
healthy.Indeed the rapid disappearance
of communion discipline across much of Christianity in the latter half of the
20th century became as well a rapid re-interpretation of the sacrament and the
radical exaltation of the individual over the Church. I have several reflections
to offer in this vein.First - the
rapid disappearance of communion discipline meant the disappearance of
boundaries. Nothing in the Church any longer said, “No.” With this,
the Christian life itself loses definition. “Communion” with Christ
becomes a purely subjective event, itself stripped of meaning because of the
lack of boundaries. If there is no “No,” neither can there be a
“Yes.” The Garden of Eden, paradise of perfection, contained a
single “No,” one boundary. And yet that boundary alone defined
communion with God. In not eating of that tree, Adam and Eve could live in
obedience. Every other meal takes on its meaning of blessed communion because it
is eaten in obedience. With the act of disobedience and the destruction of the
only boundary given by God, every tree becomes a potential tree of death.
Indeed, Holy Communion itself can become a Cup of Death according to St.
Paul’s admonitions in 1
Corinthians.Second - with the
abolition of boundaries, communion ceases to be a struggle, and loses the
ascesis that is essential to a healthy Christian life. Communion with God is a
gift from God - but like the Kingdom of God, the “violent take it by
force” (Matt. 11:12). This rather odd verse is a reference to those who
pursue God in such a way that it is not inappropriate to use the word
“violent” to describe it. St. John the Baptist’s ministry was
marked by his fasting and struggles in prayer. It is such efforts that are
“violent” in the Christian life. It should be normative in the
Christian life that the holy mysteries are approached with ascesis. Rather than
approaching God with an attitude of entitlement (”this is my
communion”) we approach struggling against sin in our life: repenting,
confessing, forgiving, fasting. In a Christian life they are acts of
love.In all of our healthy
relationships some level of ascesis is practiced though we rarely reconize it or
call it by that name. In marriage we understand that husbands are to “love
their wives even as Christ loved the Church” (Eph. 5:25) that is, they are
to lay down their lives for them. A marriage built on romantic phrases rather
than sacrificial acts of love can all too easily be a marriage destined to
fail.It is not that we earn grace or
salvation - I would argue strongly that every effort of “struggle”
is itself an effort made possible and infused with grace. But the gift of our
salvation should not be likened to a man who never picked up a baseball bat
suddenly walking up to the plate at the last out in the ninth inning, facing a
pitcher with an ERA below 1 and smacking the baseball deep into the stands in
center field. I’ll grant that grace could work like that, but it would be
Walt Disney and not Jesus Christ. Thus the God who saves us by grace tells us to
“keep my commandments,” and any number of other things. [An
exception: the wise thief. Ninth inning. Though even he surely knew a struggle
as he fought his way to the words: “Remember me in your kingdom.”]
God will not abandon us as we take up that struggle - but struggle we must - for
such is the life of grace.Before I was
received into the Orthodox Church, of necessity I took a different
“approach” to communion. Attending services I knew that I would not
yet be able to approach the Cup. But I kept the fast. From midnight forward I
ate nothing. Thus like the rest of the congregation, I sang in hunger as Heaven
surrounded us and God gave Himself to us on His most Holy Altar. I could not eat
- but I could struggle to eat - I could be
hungry.Hunger is not the fullness of
the faith - but, if I may be so bold - it is part of the fullness. And at
certain times part of the fullness is more than
nothing.I think this is an important
point for much of our life. There is a fullness of the Cup of Salvation that
most of us have not yet tasted, even if we come to the Cup each Sunday. I do not
yet know the fullness of loving my enemies, or forgiving my friends, or walking
without fear (we can each make this part of the list longer). But I can know the
fullness of hunger for these things and the daily toil of struggling for them by
grace.And by grace I pray at last to
have been brought across that boundary of sin that separates me from others and
myself, united to Christ and the liberty that comes from Him alone.
Posted: Sunday - July 01, 2007 at 08:07 AM
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Published On: Mar 11, 2009 11:48 AM
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