Sorry. I should have added “spoiler alert” at the beginning of my prior post.

Rob

I am a convert to Catholicism who greatly appreciates your writing.

Upon your recommendation, I purchased and read Chasing Francis. It was a very good read. I spent years in non-denominational Christianity, and currently work for a large evangelical ministry, so I can relate to the Chase Falson’s struggles with the evangelical culture, or as a well known Lutheran theologian calls it: “Generic Pop Protestantism.”

The ending of the book left me with a strange feeling, though. Chase after being immersed in the life of Francis and Catholic thought comes back and plans to start a new church based on the “principles” of Francis and the Catholicism that he was exposed to.

The book was written by an Anglican and published by Nav Press; so of course it wouldn’t end with Chase crossing the Tiber. Still, it struck me as a strange ending to the story. There is a huge difference between emulating Francis and incorporating Catholic worship styles, contemplative prayer, social thought etc…and actually becoming a Catholic.

For one who has (through great struggle) come into full communion with the Catholic Church, the idea of starting a new church, picking and choosing ideas to incorporate, seemed…well, strange and, in all due respect…very protestant. Wouldn’t it make more sense to actually enter the Church to which Francis belonged and the Church which produced, and continues to teach, the principles which so captivated Chase?

I mean no offense by this post, and hope none was taken. I just wanted to express my feelings as to the ending of the story.

Blessings,

Rob

I wonder what would have happened had I talked to my uncle about the question of closed communion prior to the service (he acted as a Eucharistic Minister–cup bearer– during the Mass). My uncle and Grandmother actually let me help them pick readings, prayers, and hymns when they were planning the service, since he knows I’m a Christian. I think that’s a step in the right direction.

Conscience is important, and that is where I would have to draw the line. The RC view demands a lot, even though RC liturgical language often seems to open the door to almost everyone at some point. (I’ve always been amazed at how some of the liturgical prayers emphasize the memorial aspect.)

What I would prefer is the opportunity to share a communion outside of denominational structures. An ecumenical table is more recognizable to me as the table of the Lord.

You are also correct in that there a lot of loop holes. This is not an oversight, but charity and discretion. Truth be told, there probably a lot of non-Catholics who receive Communion each Sunday at Mass. I serve at a large Cathedral. On weekends that I preach, I serve at 4 masses. During these Masses I probably distribute Communion to close to 2,000 people. Even on a non-preaching Sunday I distribute to hundreds. Of course, I am not personally acquainted with each everybody who presents themselves for Communion.

Now, when somebody approaches and obviously does not know what to do, I simply ask them: “Have you received Communion before?” Typically, they’re honest and answer “No”. Then, I ask them “Are you a Catholic?” Again, the answer is usually “No.” So, I say, “You can’t receive Communion, but please let me give you a blessing.” But for someone who simply comes to Mass and, during the Communion Rite, walks up, responds “Amen” to the words “The Body of Christ/The Blood of Christ,” receives Communion and sits down, this is “on” that person, not the person distributing communion. Conscience matters and, despite the many caricatures, Catholics respect conscience and expect people act morally based on conscientious judgments. For people who know better, it is not acceptable at all because one important aspect of Communion is the community bonded together by it. It is not just Communion with the Lord, but with each other.

I wouldn’t clandestinely receive Communion in another Church, both out of obedience to the Catholic Church and out of respect for the fact that I am not in Communion with that community. This does not prevent me from attending non-Catholic churches from time-to-time nor does it prevent me believing their celebration of the Lord’s Supper is not in vain or wholly lacking Christ’s presence.

a. danger of death, or, other grave necessity,
b. the norms of the diocesan bishop, or, the conference of bishops are complied with
c. cannot approach a minister of his or her own community
d. asks on his or her own for it,
e. manifests Catholic faith in the sacraments
f. properly disposed.

Scott: I have somewhat of a legal disposition and when I read these things, I see loophole after loophole. There’s enough wiggle room here to drive a truck through, especially with moderate to liberal VII types who think Protestants were pretty much let in the door anyway.

d,e,f could be sincerely claimed by millions of Protestants, especially if there’s no inquest before, during or after.

And “c.” My church has communion 3-4x a year. Does that count as “can’t approach minister?”

I think the truth is that if the priest is so disposed, knows the Protestant involved and has a bishop who either doesn’t care or is looking the other way, it can happen a lot.

The specifics of this are not known and so cannot be commented upon with any accuracy. I’d be surprised if this was done illicitly. As layed out, there are circumstances under which non-Catholic Christians can licitly receive communion.

Of course, I have no idea what occurs around the world everyday, or even on any given Sunday, in Catholic churches. My post was not an attempt to impose Church discipline, but to answer Michael’s question about what the discipline is in the Catholic Church. I gladly leave the “naughty” priests under the authority of their bishops. I do not see how such “rule breaking” fosters genuine ecumenism, however.

It should bother us all that we’re not in Communion and, as Christians, we are obliged to work to heal divisions within Christ’s Body.

I’ve never heard anyone offer a convincing explanation of this. It wasn’t orthopraxis, but it happened. It’s interesting to note, though, that Br. Roger was in fact close to death at the time: he was murdered by a deranged woman not long after.