Communion Without Baptism (CWOB)

Rev. Dr. Mom asked in the comments to my last entry what my thoughts on CWOB were. Well, as devoted readers of the blog probably know, I am agin’ it. I vaguely remember some conflict with the Scotist on the question, but I suspect I said little at the time that a diocesan committee will not hear provided that it is listening. But let’s take another look for the sake of completeness.

Rev. Dr. Mom says,

I would love to hear more of what you think of CWOB. I'm on a diocesan committee now that is studying (or trying to) the effects of the practice. Most of those on the committee believe it "essential for growth". I, however, am concerned not only with undermining the Eucharist but also with making our teaching about baptism irrelevant. Thoughts?

Every Sunday, I hear in the little break for announcements between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Table these words (or some variant), “Whoever you are and wherever you are on your journey of faith, you are welcome to receive the bread and wine made holy. We’re very glad you’re here.” This invitation is part and parcel of the charism of my present parish. Indeed, it might be said to be our creedal statement, since it and no other creed is said between the Sermon and the Sursum Corda. I can say with confidence that it has resulted in congregational growth. ILEOS c. 1975 was a sleepy suburban church in a small city with three other Episcopal churches. It had one principal Sunday service and an ASA you would expect. Today, it stands on the threshold of joining the very small club of Episcopal megachurches with active programs of education and social action, serving an ASA of 1400 and an active membership that drives from other states to be there. It has two principal Sunday services and two reasonably attended auxiliary services on Sunday and one on Saturday evenings. It has Daily Eucharist. Several times of the year, there are baptisms and welcoming of new members, never two or three at a time but several to a couple of dozen baptisms at once and dozens of new already baptized members. I don’t have the statistics in front of me, but from any quantitative standpoint, I belong to a healthy and growing parish. We even have a surprisingly large number of members in the 20-40 age range. There are still three other Episcopal churches in town. All remain, though I only have any knowledge about one of them.

But is CWOB necessary for growth? Well, talk to Christ Church, Plano or St. Vincent’s Cathedral in Ft. Worth, who have managed to compete quite well in the very competitive ecclesial environment of North Texas by bringing grounding and tradition to the conservative theology of their neighbors. Growth always has been a matter of the market. What plays well in Hollywoodland might not play so well elsewhere. I think it’s far more important to ask how growth and one’s values can be mutually inclusive. It very much reminds me of the old Sunday School question of whether to celebrate the Eucharist with pizza and strawberry shakes or some other food and beverage pairing. Well, all right, if the church’s purpose is to draw hordes of hungry nine year olds. But isn’t it more important to celebrate with some of the basic of most healthy foods of human civilization, the very same food and drink over which Jesus chose to give thanksgiving? Isn’t the basicness of bread and wine most representative of Body and Blood? These aren’t questions always easily answered. Imagine answering them in 14th century Greenland, where wine needed to be shipped from long distances through dangerous seas. Jared Diamon in his recent book, Collapse suggests that the Greenlanders should have been more flexible about many aspects of their medieval Christian lifestyle, which he argues doomed them to failure. How flexible must our values be if we are to grow and survive?

Looking at the Justifications
One very helpful approach to looking at CWOB is to look at its theological justification. There has been much talk on the blogs about theological justification lately. I think *Christopher is right to say that much of what we call theology traditionally is a formalization of what has arisen organically (if that’s a fair statement of his view.) But while certain things arise organically, they develop their theology simultaneously.

At the risk of making a false etiology, I’ll tell you where I think CWOB starts theologically. I’m sure part of it lies in the liturgical reforms in the era of Vatican II when there was a great deal of interest in the Eucharist’s origins as a more substantial and communal meal. Much was read again in the Gospels about Jesus’ table practices and Jesus’ feeding moments. Wait, some said. Jesus dined with sinners and outcasts. Jesus fed thousands indiscriminately. Jesus welcomed everyone to his table. Why shouldn’t we do likewise?

Others found inspiration in the prophetic tradition. The 1979 BCP marked the re-introduction of Easter Vigil to our little corner of Anglicanism. One of the suggested readings is Isaiah 55:1-11 (1-2 follows):

“Come for water, all who are thirsty; though you have no money, come, buy grain and eat; come, buy wine and milk, not for money, not for a price. Why spend your money for what is not food, your earnings on what fails to satisfy? Listen to me and you will fare well, you will enjoy the fat of the land.”

For these thinkers, the Eucharist is the eschatological feast freely offered to all without distinction.
Today, I heard a new argument. It focuses on the story of the Prodigal Son, in which the Kingdom of Heaven is compared to a father’s unconditional forgiveness of a wayward son. The argument then justified offering the Eucharist (presumably like the fatted calf) as the birthright of all who breathe.

Challenging the Justifications
It’s not hard to get into a Scriptural battle with the proponents of CWOB. But it is hard to agree on a set of rules. Argue too strenuously that eschatological feeding practices belong to the eschaton and you will be accused of denying God’s reign in the here and now or even worse be condemned as a Neo-Platonic despiser of the body and creation. Start asking about the business of the wedding garment of Matthew 22 and you will be told that all the best scholars think Matthew added the last bit. Jesus never said anything so cruel. Mention Paul’s concerns in 1 Corinthians 11 about discerning the Body and you might hear an earful of how Paul made up Christianity, distorted everything, really didn’t get Jesus etc. Or they might say that they don’t believe in Original Sin, because it makes God too vengeful and cruel. I think of Ezekiel, “O House of Israel, why do you say I am unjust? Are you not the ones who are unjust?”

My alternative response is to look at why the first Eucharist was so exclusive (as far as we know from the Gospels). In John 6, Jesus teaches his disciples that they will have to eat and drink Him in order to have eternal life. He says this in the synagogue at Capernaum (his home base as it were) and many of his disciples say, “This is more than we can stand? How can anyone listen to such talk?” And they stop going around with Him, but the Twelve stick around. John says nothing about the institution of the Eucharist in his Passover narrative. He doesn’t have to. In John’s narrative, this moment at Capernaum is the institution of the Eucharist without breaking out the bread and wine for emphasis. Jesus even at this moment reveals that one of the Twelve will betray Him. Everything is in fast forward. But this incident sets forth an important principle: Eating with Jesus is controversial because it is open to everyone, but eating Jesus is a much different matter than eating with Jesus. In every generation, eating Jesus requires a deep sacrifice. In the generation of the apostles, it required one to go along with the idea that Jesus was in union with God, that He would die a humiliating death (and they might, too), that cannibalism was lawful in a limited and metaphorical sense.

The idea of CWOB challenges us to think about how we eat with those outside the Body. Jesus’ table practices are lessons to us about how to engage with the world. I wonder what people would think if I started going out to the Sunset Strip at 3 AM with hot meals. But as in the Prodigal Son, eating Jesus or eating the fatted calf requires us to embrace difficult things, to recognize some infirmity in our nature, to recognize that as much as God loves us, He still waits for us to embrace that love in its fullness. Like the Prodigal Son, we, too, must go and say, “Father, I have sinner before God and you, I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” Is it any wonder that in some traditions, the newly baptized is clothed in white, washed with water, anointed with oil, and given a lighted candle. We might as well put a ring on their finger, for each baptized person is a Prodigal Son (or Daughter) and a well-beloved dinner guest, extended the unmerited and utterly inexplicable Grace of God. So Rev. Dr. Mom, I think you’re right to worry how the meaning of Baptism and the Eucharist is undermined by CWOB. And if I were on your committee, I would ask those enthusiastic about CWOB whether they think there is any difference between eating with Jesus and eating Jesus.