Revised and clarified version of this article
In my experience as an evangelical, communion was an intensely personal, individual act that symbolized what Christ gave for me to unite me with him and, in the process, reunite me with the Father. The eating bread and drinking wine were meant as potent and tangible reminders that Christ gave his very flesh and blood for my redemption. There was a unitive aspect to communion: myself with God. And I partook together with my community because Christ accomplished the same for all Christians to make us a family. All this is still true, but wrapped up in the satisfying pleasure of emotional gratitude for such a magnificent gift, some things were lost upon me. For example, a fuller appreciation of why consumption is needed and what consumption of something visible and tangible means. Indeed, what statement about unity is the Eucharist making, and what conceptual and practical implications stem from that statement? I hope to retrieve some of that fullness in this article for my evangelical brothers and sisters.
Ecclesiastical Unity
The church is the domain of the unity we’re discussing, but can we specify further? The word “church” has multiple referents. This is partially because the Greek term behind “church” (i.e., ἐκκλησία, transl. ecclesia) essentially means a “gathering”, so it might be applied to smaller or larger groups, say, an individual church, a broader church identity (e.g., a denomination), or all of God’s people worldwide. Ecclesia is also the root of “ecclesiastical”, and when we speak of “ecclesiastical unity”, we might mean unity at any of these levels. My primary use will be the visible and concrete unity of a specific church identity. I will refer to Calvin’s notion of the invisible unity of all God’s people as “unity in the spirit” rather than “ecclesiastical unity”. Yet Calvin’s notion is squarely based upon his (and many of the Reformers’) view of the church as all believer’s worldwide. Our great mission, as great as world evangelism, is that there be only one semantic option for “ecclesiastical unity”: the same, single, visible, and worldwide church identity of the creed: “I believe in one . . . church”. Until then, we must tolerate multiple ecclesiastical unities and the confusion that results.
Breaking Bread
The earliest church gatherings, devoid of title and dedicated spaces, devoted themselves to apostolic teaching, enjoying fellowship, praying, and breaking bread together (cf. Acts 2:42; Heb. 10:24-25). That breaking of bread does not refer to merely eating a common meal together. As a devotional act alongside the others, it refers to the Eucharist (aka., the Lord’s Supper, the Lord’s Table, Holy Communion, etc.). If doubts remain about the centrality of the Eucharistic act, simply refer to 1 Cor. 10:16 and 11:17f to see that this was the practice of the Pauline churches too. Paul wasn’t even at the Last Supper, yet his communities had also adopted the practice! What did this central act signify?
Despite all the powerful symbols that as a Protestant I thought the Eucharist signified, there was one that was largely absent (at least, certainly not central) and divorced from any concrete and real-life manifestation. What was absent? While I focused on things like Christ’s sacrifice of his body and blood for me, Scripture associates the Eucharist with Christ’s peoples’ unity (1 Cor. 10:17, 11:18, 33). Paul tells us, “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor. 10:17, ESV). Therefore, unity (i.e., being one body) happens when we eat of the one bread. That is, eating one bread makes us one body. The Eucharist makes us one.
But how? The Apostle John portrays Jesus’s flesh as true bread that, if eaten, brings everlasting life (John 6). Eating Jesus’s flesh brings the believer into the unity of the divine life, such that it actually brings about unity between Christ and the believer (i.e., a vertical unity). It is, therefore, not merely a symbol but also a catalyst for unity because it unifies us with Christ. But it does not do so individually. It is the community together that is brought into the divine life, also bringing about unity among people (i.e., a horizontal unity). We will reflect upon this more, but the main point is: the more of Christ in the believer, the more the believer is unified with his brethren.
It is this reality that proponents of an Open Table wish to emphasize as the pertinent and sole requirement for a common table. But does this fully fit Paul’s conception? Let’s re-examine 1 Cor. 10:17.
Pauline Eucharistic Mechanics in 1 Cor. 10:17
Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread (ESV).
ὅτι εἷς ἄρτος, ἓν σῶμα οἱ πολλοί ἐσμεν, οἱ γὰρ πάντες ἐκ τοῦ ἑνὸς ἄρτου μετέχομεν (NA27)
Paul’s language is a bit mysterious. He has two causal statements sandwiching a juicy middle: “we who are many are one body”. Which outer clause explains the cause of that middle? Are we one body because there is just one bread, or are we one body because we partake of the one bread? Are we one because we positionally exist as part of the one bread, or are we one because we partake of the one bread? Does he assert two separate reasons for the oneness?
To start, his use of “one bread” is multi-faceted here. Although a physical loaf of bread is probably the base referent, it is also probably right to see a metaphor, but for what? One view, the view that is most consistent with Protestant commitments, equates the “one bread” with all believers, such that all believers from any church are part of this one bread. After all, all believers are part of Christ’s body, and the bread represents his body. But not so fast. While the “one bread” is doubtless Christ’s body, has it yet been mediated to believers? That is, how does Paul here envisage believers becoming part of that one body? We are, after all, talking about what happens in and through the Eucharist. And here’s where all the trouble enters in. It may very well be the case that these clauses are asserting different things, or it may be the case that the first causal statement is not saying anything different than the second one.
The first causal statement, if taken with the middle, would say, “because there is one bread, we who are many are one body”. If the “one bread” is extended beyond a physical loaf of bread to a metaphor for the “body of Christ” (which seems plausible), we have to decide which “body of Christ” we mean. If this is taken to mean “the whole Church” (i.e., all believers), this would suggest that, by virtue of being a believer, we who are many are made one. It is, therefore, an assertion of a positional endowment. We are one because we are Christians.
But what if the “body of Christ” refers to Christ’s unmediated body? That is, is there any difference between Christ’s body and the Church at any level? Is there a complete overlap? Despite a striking and mysterious overlap that occurs in Paul’s theology, there must be a difference. They must be related in the same way as all divine-human overlaps: one must be the source while the other must be the recipient, one is eternal and essential and the other temporary and contingent, one independent and the other dependent, one exists whether or not mediation ever happens while the other requires mediation.
If we’ve put our finger on a real difference, which is meant here? Is the “one bread” awaiting mediation and therefore a reference to his very own incarnate body as the source from which we partake in the sacrament, or has it been mediated and therefore represents the church? If the former, the two clauses probably refer to the same single truth, namely, that unity happens when we partake and the divine life is imparted (i.e., it isn’t a positional endowment). If the latter, we who are many are one body because of our positional inheritance in Christ.
The second causal statement, if taken with the middle, would say, “we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.” The idea here is that, by virtue of partaking of the one bread, we are made one. In other words, there is a difference between the “before” and “after”. Before the “one loaf” is eaten, Christ’s body has not yet been mediated. After it is eaten, Christ’s body has been mediated, and we are one. If this is so, we have removed the casing surrounding the Eucharist to discover an inner elegance: the process is concerned with how Christ mediates himself to us, and this same process establishes both vertical unity between Christ and the believer and the horizontal unity among believers. But it must be said, if this unity is conditioned upon partaking of the Eucharist, this is not a positional unity. It is one wrought through participation.
So which is it?
Three Interpretive Options Yield the Same Main Point
We can make sense of this mysterious double-speak in one of three ways. One, we can refuse to see a metaphor for the “one bread” here, in which case the bread is a direct reference to physical Eucharistic bread and no more. If so, no reference to positional unity is in view. In this case, the governing cause of our unity would be our mutual participation in the Eucharist.
Two, we can adopt the metaphor and take the “one bread” in the first clause to be Christ’s essential and not-yet-mediated body that is awaiting mediation through participation in the Eucharist. In this case, both causal clauses are expressing the same truth: our unity results from mutual participation in the Eucharist. If so, again, positional unity isn’t in view.
Three, we can adopt the metaphor and take the “one bread” in the first clause to be Christ’s essential body that has already been mediated. In other words, we can see Paul expressing, in his own manner, two sides of the matter. If so, both clauses each belong with the middle to express two separate truths. If so, unity would seem to have two facets. There is a unity that is positional, that is, we become members of one body at conversion. But there is also a unity that is made through mutual participation in the Eucharist.
I find options two and three compelling for different reasons, but the important point is this: no matter which of these three interpretations one takes, the one constant is that the Eucharist is concerned with the unity that is made. The only question is whether positional unity is also involved.
What We Can Learn
The implication is that unless the church’s Eucharist is seen to impart Christ and his divine life to the believer, it is a deficient understanding. Unless it is seen as the mechanism to establish the Church’s unity, it is a deficient understanding.
Poles of Unity
Whether or not Paul teaches both types of unity in 1 Cor. 10:17, the evidence is strong that there are two poles of unity.
The phrase “as we are one” in John 17 suggests that Trinitarian unity and the unity among Christians are connected by some analogy. Although God is one, His Trinitarian nature should lay to rest our conceptions of a static God. He exists in dynamic and ongoing interaction, communication, and mutual participation, and yet still He remains one. And this means that oneness-in-communion lies at the center of everything. So, it should be no wonder if theology, to the degree it is successful in its attempts to conceptualize and communicate that center of everything, will follow suit from time to time.
If the essence of reality is a conversation among persons, the essence of theology will sometimes reflect a conversation among two or more poles of truth. These poles often stand in opposition to one another, as a function of their uniqueness—not in conflict per se but working out the necessary tension to find balance. An example would be justice and forgiveness. Neither can be sacrificed if we would maintain the proper relationship to God, with one another, or within ourselves. Yet the two may, if left on their own, make opposite recommendations. And the cross is the reconciliation of these two poles. It brings them into a productive conversation that is, in the end, not just the only way to properly deal with humanity’s sin, but all differences whatsoever.
Our discussion here revolves around another set of poles. On the one hand, in 1 Cor. 12:12-13, Paul expresses a positional unity among believers based upon the baptism of the Holy Spirit. We were all baptized into one body:
For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body– Jews or Greeks, slaves or free– and all were made to drink of one Spirit (ESV).
On the other hand, Jesus’ prayer in 17:21 is for the oneness of all his people (“that they may all be one”). He is praying for all those “given” to him (vv. 17:9-10): “I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours.” He cannot mean just the apostles here, for he says in v. 20, “I do not ask for these [disciples] only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word.” Therefore, Jesus is praying for the unity of all those who come to believe through the apostolic witness. We use the English term “church” (ἐκκλησία, lit. “called out ones”) to signify this same complete set of believers. Thus, in talking about the unity of all believers, Jesus isn’t merely talking about this or that local church. He is talking about the unity of all believers. In some way, they must become one as the Father and Son are one, for if the unity for which he prays was itself preemptively indissoluble and a mere statement of fact, why pray for it as though it weren’t? Evidently, there are things we need to do. For a stronger defense of this interpretation of John 17, see Part I.
In John 17, unity is not merely something that Christians have (i.e., an endowment) but also something they must work for (i.e., a mission). An already and a not yet. A current location and a destination. There is a unity that isn’t sufficient, let alone full.
I contrast the two poles in the chart below. The proper understanding of unity requires that we forget neither.
| Unity | |
| Pole 1 | Pole 2 |
| Endowment | Mission |
| Possession | Goal |
| Present | Future |
| Just is | Work for |
| Positional | Progressive |
| Already | Not Yet |
| Location | Journey |
| Have | Build |
| Being | Becoming |
| Accomplished | Accomplishing |
The question I want to consider here is this. If there are two poles of unity, and the Eucharist is associated with Christian unity, how does the Eucharist relate to each, or does it?
My position is that the Eucharist, as the sacrament of unity, must take into account both poles—having and building. It has both a meaning (i.e., we are united) and a purpose (i.e., we are herein further uniting).
Two Poles of the Eucharist
If the Eucharist is concerned with the topic of unity, we would expect it to reflect, in some way, both poles of unity, the positional and the “worked for”. But how?
Open Table Option
Many Protestants see our common endowment—the positional unity that belongs to all believers—as the only requirement for the Eucharist. That is, the precondition for a Common Table would simply be that one is a Christian. Thereby, for the Eucharist, nothing but one’s religious affiliation as a Christian is needed. Religious affiliation reflects the “just is” aspect of unity that pertains to the Eucharist. And there is a certain elegance to this mapping. But does it respect the whole picture?
Closed Table Option
Catholicism closes its Table for a variety of reasons: out of deference to apostolic teaching (more on this soon), out of great reverence for Christ’s presence in the elements and an attempt to honor it, and to protect other Christians in light of Paul’s warning about the consequences of unworthy participation (cf. 1 Cor. 11:27-29). Various Protestant groups and sects do likewise for one or more of these same reasons: some Lutherans (e.g., Missouri-synod and Wisconsin-synod), some Baptists (e.g., American Baptist Association congregations, Strict Baptists, etc.), some Presbyterians (e.g., Orthodox Presbyterian Church, Reformed Presbyterian Church, etc.), Reformed Seventh-day Adventist Church, Mennonites, some Brethren, Amish and others. These groups may be in the minority, but they demonstrate that there is no “Protestant position” on this matter. Moreover, the choice between an open or closed table is not a Catholic-Protestant dispute. Rather, it is a dispute about the proper interpretation of Scripture. I happen to think that the animating spirit and ecclesiological pre-commitments of Protestantism naturally lead to an Open Table, so to see various Protestant groups ignore that coalescing animus in deference to what they believe Scripture teaches is not an insignificant observation.
Unity and the Closed Table
With respect to unity, Catholics close their table also because they do not believe that the positional unity required to partake can be anything but visible, ecclesiastical unity. Why? I will focus on a reason I believe has been underappreciated.
The Open Table mapping glosses over a key question: how do we define and determine who is a Christian? Do we define it as every baptized individual, those who have professed faith in Jesus at one time or another in their lives, those who currently profess faith, those who attend church regularly (and if so, which churches count), or some combination of these? And who determines whether an individual meets that criteria and therefore should be included in the “just is”? Does the individual determine this for himself? Despite Protestantism’s relatively greater emphasis upon the individual, most Protestants do not really believe this, as they exclude others from the title “Christian”—Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, those with whom they vehemently disagree (e.g., Roman Catholics), those they consider to nominal believers (e.g., occasional churchgoers), and sinners of various types. To legitimately deny anyone suggests that the actual mechanism of discernment cannot be the individual.
Indeed, this assessment cannot merely or solely be determined by the conscious identity or convictions of an individual. Only God truly knows. Only God calls and chooses. Moreover, this assessment isn’t a fixed and permanent thing. Individual self-identity and self-assessment evolve. Even Calvinists recognize that God’s assessment (based upon his foreknowledge) does not match the individual’s self-assessment in every case. There is still plenty of room for self-deception and false conversion.
The Church’s Role in Ratification
The reliability of the statement “I am a Christian” is ultimately determined by God, and the individual can be assured of this reality only through conversation with God (Rom. 8:16), but what is the precise manner of the Spirit’s operation here?
Some Protestants assume Paul means direct psychological mediation, but this is (usually) not an audible voice (and should we trust it more if it were?) nor an independent, indisputable, or permanent verdict, and therefore it is subject to the dizzying confusion of other voices and self-delusion. Therefore, this confidence is also a negotiated reality. And it is negotiated over time, with the Holy Spirit and the Church, to whom God has delegated this task.
So there is a give and take among our spirit, the Holy Spirit, and the Church. Why? Because the authenticity of our self-identification is worked out, proven or disproven, in and by our faith communities. And this is because it is not self-understanding or personal conviction that ultimately determines the integrity of our Christianity. People can deceive themselves or be temporarily drawn under false pretenses. Instead, the authenticity of our Christianity is proven by our love, and love demands a community upon which to express that love. And therefore, that community recognizes and ratifies the true presence of the Spirit of Christianity within the individual.
It is pointless to deny that a local church can wrongly judge or that one person can be right while a community be wrong, but it is equally pointless to allow exceptions to set the precedent. It is much more likely for an individual to be wrong or go wrong than for an entire community. Self-assessment is generally not as reliable as communal assessment. If we doubt this at the communal level, consider what would happen if all the judges and juries in the land were de-robed and excused, and individuals tried themselves.
Now, if the Church, and not the individual, determines the authenticity of my Christianity, the Church tells us who is in and who is out. Whoever she includes comprises the positional pole of unity for the Eucharistic practice.
The implication is that one should take Communion only with those who have been ratified by one’s faith community. This is (one reason) why Catholics have closed communion. They trust the judgment of their Church to establish the positional unity required for the Eucharist.
In a strange turn-around, then, the elegance of the position of Open Table advocates is largely reintroduced within Catholicism: the only prerequisite is to be a baptized Catholic in good standing (i.e., not in a state of mortal sin).
The critical point here is that this ratified positional unity is functionally equivalent to visible, ecclesiastical unity. So visible, ecclesiastical unity must be our starting point for a common table.
Which Church’s Ratification?
All this begs an uncomfortable question, namely, which community has the authority to make a judgment about who’s in and who’s not? This question is too big for us now, and in some ways it really doesn’t matter at this juncture. We each belong to our separate communions because we believe they represent Christ’s Church better than the others. Therefore, we must be content to allow our own communities to choose who is included—who is positioned with sufficient unity to partake of the Eucharist together. This is not to say we should be lax in our search for the right community, or complacent with the various divisions that exist. But as far as we have decided on a community, it should be because we have confidence that she can discern who is in. Moreover, we cannot speak for other communions. Indeed, by existing in division from them, we have decided that we do not trust their judgment on such matters.
When we exist in conscious disunity, we do not participate in the visible unity required for a common Eucharist. We are called to grow in unity with one another in efforts to arrive at the necessary visible unity, but it cannot be at the expense of the significance of whatever reasons are dividing us, for that betrays the meaning of the Eucharist as expressing our visible, ecclesiastical unity.
In other words, one goal of the Eucharist is to assert our ecclesiastical unity—our unity at the visible and concrete level. It isn’t to gloss over our differences as if they didn’t matter. If they didn’t matter, we’d all be part of the same church. It is precisely because they do matter that we are divided, and it is precisely because we are divided that we cannot share a common table, and it is precisely the dissonance that results from not being able to commune that impels us to strive for unity. If the sacrament of unity does not impel us to repair what is broken, we are taking it wrongly.
Another Map of Equal Elegance: Baptism and Eucharist
Nearly all Christians whether Protestant, Orthodox, or Catholic agree on two sacraments that apply to everyone: baptism and Eucharist. Another elegant solution would be to see each of these sacraments as predominantly fulfilling one of unity’s poles.
Christian Baptism, requiring only water and a Trinitarian formula, announces a common inception—being brought into the same kingdom. It is, therefore, universal and has the power to move all, candidating Catholic or Protestant, into a new relationship with God, one that enjoys a common positional unity shared by all Christians independent of ecclesiastical affiliation. This is one reason why Catholicism accepts (Trinitarian) Protestant baptisms. So the baptismal rite may be viewed as an assertion of our common, positional unity, now marred by our division.
The Eucharist, on the other hand, honors our progressing unity. The chief contribution of this mapping is that both poles of unity are captured separately through the sacraments. It does not need to make our positional unity in Christ (i.e., that achieved in baptism) its only prerequisite. The Eucharist can have its own separate positional requirements.
Thus, the Eucharistic starting point isn’t merely Christian baptism. For the reasons explained above, it must start from a concrete, visible place. The way to progress together is to start together and move into something together. Visible unity announces that we are starting from the same place, and it announces that wherever it takes us, it will takes us together.
Baptism doesn’t do this. Just because everyone is initially placed on the same dock doesn’t mean they will all get on the same boat, travel the same route, or make it to the destination together. So much can happen along the way. Treacherous storms and maelstroms include heresy, apostasy, error, and Satanic delusion, and our only protection is to follow the ships going in the right direction. Ships that have gone in other directions cannot rejoice together that they are traveling together, carving out the same path, or will arrive at the same destination. The Eucharist expresses the truth that we are all on ships moving in the same direction, with the same destination in mind.
The Eucharist must honor the progressive pole of unity, for it is not associated with the beginning position but the present and future positions—not the dock but our current latitude and longitude and directional orientation. Therefore, to take the Eucharist together is to pronounce the unity of common coordinates and aim, and with our participation, we stretch new ropes between the ships who have agreed to travel together, to keep them together, on course, and to save ships caught in the overwhelming forces of tempest or maelstrom.
The Eucharist, therefore, cannot be undertaken from a place of doctrinal disunity with theological integrity, for our doctrine determines so much of our current route and, therefore, our destination. Even so, ecumenists have asked whether Christians from different traditions can honor the symbols and practice of the Eucharist while relegating the theological dissonance into nonrelevance. This would be a common participation in a common form but without commonality of meaning. As beautiful as this may sound, we cannot build unity on fractured foundations. The further problem for Catholics is that the meaning attached to the form is just as important (or more) than the form itself. The form isn’t dispensable, but if forms do not signify a common meaning for those participating, how has it not just become an empty and confusing ritual, fulfilling a common evangelical criticism of Catholicism?
Moreover, it is difficult to see how the ecumenical vision of an open table would work. It is not fitting that what some worship and adore is that which others consider mere symbols. Each side would look with great concern at the other. Protestants would charge Catholics with idolatry, and Catholics would charge Protestants with undervaluing the body of the Lord. How will this build unity?
No, it is better, in our division, to consider Paul’s words in 1 Cor. 11:19, “for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized” (ESV). The idea here is that we don’t accept our factions and move on. Factions serve a purpose. They prove what is genuine.
Paul isn’t claiming that factions are better than genuine unity, but he is claiming that they are better than something, and that thing must be a false unity. While true unity contains within it an acceptable diversity of thought and practice, false unity contains a diversity of thought or practice that leads to harmful or false ideas and practices. Better to flush them out into the open so that what is true and good may be clarified and protected.
In our case, perhaps our divisions will serve a redemptive purpose, to bring about knowledge of what is true and genuine, but only if we treat it as Paul recommends. It will not do to ignore the diversity or deem it irrelevant to the Church’s life and unity. Rather, it should become the impetus, in all who care about unity and truth, to flush out, for every individual and faith community, what is genuine. This is why ecumenism will always have its limits. It may build mutual understanding. It may bring rapprochement on certain doctrinal matters via clarification, but the answer to our division will not be solved without the possibility and expectation of conversion to that ascertained genuinity.
Ecclesiastical Unity Requires a Common Eucharist
The Eucharist does not make sense in division. Paul says: “we who are many are one body, for [γάρ] we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor. 10:17b, ESV).
The γάρ is explanatory (Fee, 1 Corinthians [NICNT], 518-19): because we all partake . . . we are one body. The implication is that if we do not partake, we are not one body. Although Fee recognizes the explanatory γάρ , he nevertheless takes the standard Protestant viewpoint:
By common ‘participation’ in the single loaf, the ‘body of Christ,’ they affirm that they together make up the ‘body of Christ’ . . .. He is not thereby suggesting that they become that body through this meal; a bit later (12:13) he says that happened through their common ‘immersion’ in the Spirit. Rather, by this meal they affirm what the Spirit has already brought about through the death and resurrection of Christ (Fee, 1 Corinthians [NICNT], 518).
He denies that eating makes them one, and he denies this on the basis that the Spirit does this at conversion (12:13). But one can be right on one side of a balance and wrong on the other. In other words, these are not mutually exclusive options. Surely the common immersion by the Spirit unifies, but the assumption which undergirds the Protestant viewpoint is that unity is a permanently endowed reality, without any need for ongoing sustenance. Clearly, this assigns the unitive role entirely to the Spirit’s work in conversion and exchanges that role in the Eucharist for one of affirmation and declaration.
But in the same way the Spirit’s work is neither fully nor solely accomplished at conversion, so too is the Spirit’s operation in the unitive process both initial and ongoing. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Jesus’ conception of unity entails both an established oneness and a oneness that is striven for. In commendation of the view that eating is a unifying act (i.e., the natural implication of the explanatory γάρ), it is hard to accept Paul at his words if it were any other way. That is, he forbids Christians from eating meat sacrificed to idols on the basis that “what pagans sacrifice they offer to demons and not to God. I do not want you to become participants with demons” (1 Cor. 10.20). How else are we to understand Paul if by eating meat sacrificed to demons they cannot somehow become κοινωνούς (“participants”, “sharers”) with demons. His point is that eating makes the eaters one with whom they are eating and to whom they are eating because participationism is the making of a common body. Spend time on this point, if you do not see its importance.
Another: 1 Corinthians 11:20 (ESV): “When you come together, it is not the Lord’s supper that you eat.”
What’s the relevance of this statement? The implication isn’t merely that the Eucharist is taken every time they come together for worship. The idea is also that Paul is disappointed because, when the church meets, although they have a form of the Eucharist, because of the divisions in play (vv. 11:17-19), the unity it is supposed to exhibit is invalidated, which invalidates the Eucharist. There must be a unity going in in order to properly symbolize and establish the unity it brings into being. This is one reason why Catholics have closed communion. But note that sacramental unity, like its relational counterpart, involves a “going in” and “coming out”, a precondition and a postcondition, a pre-established aspect and an aspect that is continually re-established. Little wonder that the biblical imagery is nuptial. Like a marriage, there is unity that exists through covenant, and there is a unity that must be forged through human action. And the Spirit is involved in both.
Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11:26-27, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord” (ESV).
Paul’s idea is that the Eucharist is supposed to proclaim the Lord’s death, but it can be taken in an unworthy manner (11:27-31). The specific sin Paul addresses is some form of inequity or injustice among the “haves” and “have nots” that has resulted in division. The Corinthians partake of the Eucharist in their factionalism and in so doing fail to “discern the body”, that is, they fail to perceive the prerequisite unity of the body of Christ. His specific criticism may be found in 1 Cor. 11:20: συνερχομένων οὖν ὑμῶν ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτὸ οὐκ ἔστιν κυριακὸν δεῖπνον φαγεῖν. This has been rendered in various ways with various connotations, but NRSV seems to best fit the larger context, “When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper.” It should be to eat the Lord’s supper, but the Lord’s supper is betrayed by failing to come together from a place of unity. The essence of what Paul here teaches is this: a valid Eucharistic table depends on forged, visible unity. And if visible, then it must be definable. This is why a closed table makes sense. It defines the scope of visible unity.
I have been enamored with the idea of an open Eucharistic table as much as anyone, to symbolize the unity that all Christians have in Christ. However, the dangers associated with partaking of the Lord’s supper while in disunity justify closed communion. Divisions not only invalidate but poison the Eucharist. “For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died” (vv. 29-30, ESV). Without closed communion, which ensures unity on some set of essentials, the Church’s Eucharistic well, a source of life and unity, is not merely rendered useless; it harms.
The argument for an open communion is that those essentials are satisfied with the oneness that was established at conversion, but if this were so, Paul would not have admonished the Corinthians (who partook of the Eucharist while in their division) that their Eucharist is invalid and, consequently, people falling sick or even dying. Positional unity cannot be invalidated. But if something people do or fail to do invalidates it, then the basis for Paul wasn’t our inviolable positional unity.
The claim that what invalidated the Eucharist for the Corinthians was their actions or behavior toward one another still recognizes that there must be some type of unity (in this case relational or socio-economic or whatever the situation) in place, beyond that of our common baptism, that is required for a valid Eucharist. And if this is so, then perish the thought that the Eucharist merely expresses our inviolable and positional unity in the Son (because it is violable and dependent upon more), and let the discussion be about what type of unity must exist. But once we are here, the Eucharist has requirements, whatever they are. And if there are requirements, who but the churches gets to decide those requirements? And if churches choose different requirements, then only a closed table makes sense (i.e., closed to all but those who, in a denomination, agree on those requirements). So it is that Paul’s logic assumes that the Eucharist is not merely a positional expression of unity, but has requirements and brings about unity. Isn’t this most consistent with the progressive pole of unity?
Implications of a Closed Table
A closed table would suggest that every distinct ecclesiastical community (i.e., denomination) must determine those nonnegotiable standards that signify their visible unity and commune only with those who hold them. But if every church closes communion to those on the outside, how then will we achieve Eucharistic or ecclesiastical unity? And how does the invalidation of the Eucharist on the basis of local disunity apply at the broader, ecumenical level?
If Paul’s logic were to be taken seriously, and communion were to be closed everywhere, one of three possible conclusions, with varying theological rationales, may be true. One, all communities partake of a valid Eucharist because local unity is a sufficient prerequisite. Two, no communities have a valid Eucharist because all are partaking of the Eucharist in ecumenical division. Or three, only one community has the valid Eucharist because God said his Church would not be overcome by Hades and therefore must provide her with a valid Eucharist.
We don’t have to answer this question to see that this conundrum is precisely what a closed communion is supposed to do: raise questions about the right community and fan the flames under the pot of division. If we apply the pillars of Paul’s logic above without caveat to our ecclesiastical situation today, the division that is disallowed at the local level would also be disallowed at the broadest level. If so, perhaps all our Eucharists have become invalid.
Ecumenists like Ephraim Radner take this view, believing the tragedy of our division has so grieved the Spirit of God that He has abandoned the Church. This view has several pieces of evidence to commend it, including that it does justice to a broad application of Paul’s Eucharistic theology in 1 Corinthians, but mustn’t we reckon with the implications of Matt. 16.18 (“the gates of Hades will not prevail against her”)? Might Saint Paul have offered clarifications or caveats had the context of division been the worldwide church rather than one local?
To apply the Eucharistic principles in 1 Corinthians without caveat or nuance to our situation would require more situational commonality than we and the Corinthians have. Our modern divisions are multifaceted, including doctrinal, ethical, liturgical, practical, disagreements about apostolicity, and more. The situation of the Corinthian church is demonstrably different in some ways. It is perhaps wildly different.
First, unlike the divisions of today, the Corinthian division was not one that pertained to apostolicity. As an apostle who had both founded multiple churches, and as one who had visited other apostolic churches, if the Corinthian division would have also invalidated all Eucharists in all apostolic churches, one would think Paul would have mentioned this. It would have served his argument. Moreover, if apostolicity is a necessary component of the unity required for a valid Eucharist, then a valid Eucharist could exist in other churches even if the Corinthian church’s Eucharist was repeatedly invalidated by division.
Second, the Corinthian division was local while ours is worldwide. One has to accept that what can be expected of and accomplishable locally cannot be identical to what is expected of and accomplishable worldwide. Again, Paul’s advice was given with full knowledge of other valid churches, which suggests that even if local division invalidated the Corinthians’ Eucharist, other churches still offered valid Eucharists. Had it been otherwise, had it been in his mind that local division invalidated Eucharists worldwide, to articulate these cosmic implications would certainly have aided his argument to the Corinthians, yet he remained silent. We may interpret his silence on the matter either as a sign that he was not conceptualizing unity in these broad terms, or that, whatever his concept of unity, he (at least inchoately) rejected any notion that local division could invalidate the global Eucharist. Either way, what was true at the local level should not, without due theological consideration, apply at the global level.
And if not, if Paul’s silence is indicative that the local invalidation of the Eucharist wouldn’t invalidate all Eucharists everywhere, why not? The reason cannot merely be because of our once-for-all-established positional unity in Christ, for Paul would never have claimed that the Corinthian church’s Eucharist was invalid if his idea of Eucharistic unity entailed an inviolable positional unity that is unbreakable no matter what believers do. So what is the reason?
Several options exist. Perhaps Paul’s idea of a valid Eucharist included apostolicity. If so, since the Corinthian situation would not have been over apostolicity, he would never have mentioned it. This means that apostolicity might be absolutely critical, even if it wasn’t articulated. In today’s situation, we do not agree on whether apostolicity is necessary or needed. Even those groups who think so do not mutually respect each other’s apostolic origins, nor even each other’s definition of what “apostolic” means. Thus, on this front, our situation is not like the Corinthian situation.
This same argument could be made on the basis of any number of categorical differences. The divisions at Corinth may have been doctrinal or ethical, or perhaps they were neither. Perhaps they were based upon different (but not incompatible) theological emphases, different “rules” (i.e., in the monastic sense of way of life: how you order your time, when you pray, what you eat, when you eat, when you fast, etc.), different liturgical preferences expressed in unhealthy and divisive ways, different responses to the political order, or simple squabbling over one banal issue or another — issues that had not yet been worked out at a local, let alone a general, level. So, a second reason to be cautious about applying Paul’s logic at the ecumenical level owes to our ignorance about what specific things invalidated the Eucharist in the mind of Paul. We know it can become invalid. We are just not certain about the ways in which this might happen.
What about doctrine? Perhaps Paul’s idea of a valid Eucharist required sufficient doctrinal consensus. If so, doctrinal concerns would be, as most already agree, critical for unity. But how could we ever identify what minimal doctrinal consensus Paul expected there to be? Diversity must have existed in his milieu. Gnostic, Docetic, Adoptionist, and antinomian groups, who often styled (and called) themselves “Christian”, would have existed in the large city of Corinth just as they did elsewhere. Indeed, strains of their teaching are recorded, addressed, or condemned by New Testament authors from many locales: Paul (Rom. 2:13, 3:31, 7:12), Peter (2 Pet. 3:16), Luke (Acts 21:21), James (James 2:21-22), John (see the Nicolaitans in Rev. 2:6-15), and Jude (Jude 4). These authors were concerned about these influences within the church. Yet when Paul admonished the Corinthians to set aside their factionalism, most Christians would agree that he did not mean to unite with those groups. Indeed, most Christians who accept the first four ecumenical councils agree that the wide divergence represented by these groups falls outside the necessary minimum doctrinal consensus. But then there must have existed an unarticulated balance in Paul’s mind between acceptable and unacceptable theological diversity.
This highlights the inescapable problem: even if we instinctively know that some set of doctrinal and ethical standards must exist as prerequisites to the Eucharist, Paul does not outline the range of acceptable diversity as a prerequisite to taking the Eucharist together. Instead, it remains unarticulated, and without knowing that range, we cannot assume that our divided situation is like the Corinthians’, even at the doctrinal level. And if not, again, Paul’s local logic might look quite different when applied to the global church.
So, there are ways our situation definitively differs from the Corinthian situation, and many more plausible differences might be speculated. In fact, if we were to compile a complete list of possible division points, the many pages which would result would prompt two sad realizations. First, all combinations of those options also exist—a permutated quantity that, despite its great size, sadly reflects the actual number of ways the modern church is divided. This realization helps us to concede that the chances that our modern situation resembles the Corinthians church’s, at anything but the most abstract and therefore inoperative level, is minimal.
Second, if we cannot be sure about the full nature of the division at Corinth, we must acknowledge that those divisions may have owed to just one of the ways we currently differ today (whether doctrinal, ethical, liturgical, practical, or apostolical), or to a set of those ways that does not overlap with our divisions today. In other words, the categorical fullness of our division establishes that we are in a different situation than Corinth. And if so, we should not assume that Paul would have applied his concept of Eucharistic unity at the local level to our ecumenical divisions.
This is important if we are to avoid the worst case scenario: our divisions have invalidated all Eucharists everywhere. Yet if we have adequate basis to suggest that some clarifications to Paul’s theology of local Eucharistic unity are in order when applied globally, what would those be?
Clarifications for Modern Divisions
We’ve seen that Paul’s theology of the Eucharist requires closed communion. We’ve also reason to assume that Paul would not think the invalidation of a local Eucharist (through disunity) invalidates the Eucharist everywhere else. But how would Paul deal with a situation where local churches partake of Eucharist in unity with themselves but in separation from the global church—where the global church remains divided on doctrinal, ethical, liturgical, practical, and other levels?
We may finally comment on our fundamental inquiry here, whether it is more likely that all, none, or one church (or set of churches) validly celebrate(s) the Eucharist. If Paul’s logic at the local level is applied without caveat or qualification at the global level, no churches would validly partake of Eucharist today because our divisions have invalidated it. However, this perspective, in addition to disregarding the entire last section, seems too pessimistic in light of Matt. 16:18.
On the other hand, if none of Paul’s Eucharistic logic at the local level is relevant to the global situation of today, then potentially all churches, independent of their beliefs, may be included. Some ecumenists would have it this way. Unfortunately, this perspective is not only nebulous, it is untethered from history. It is also untethered from the principles of unity found in non-Pauline Scripture. It also suffers from the (insurmountable) practical difficulties associated with discerning and policing (at the theological level) who is “in” and who is “out” without any common leadership.
So we cannot apply all of Paul’s logic, and we cannot apply none. If the principles of Paul’s logic are at least partly applicable to the global scene, and if our divisions actually have consequences for the validity of local Eucharistic celebrations, then we must specify which logic applies. And we must do so in light of the principal points we’ve discussed, and in light of the fact that there must be (an articulatable and justifiable) balance between acceptable and unacceptable diversity.
Which logic applies at the global level? Although we cannot be definitive, it seems reasonable to me to identify those specific and prerequisite categories of unity that Paul does mention in association with a valid Eucharist. I happen to think these categories include (at least) doctrinal, apostolic, and ethical consensus, but whatever ought to be included, only the Eucharists of churches on the correct side of those unitive categories provide a valid Eucharist. And if there is a difference between a valid and invalid Eucharist, and that validity depends upon some combination of the identity, beliefs, ethics, and practices among Christians seeking to take Eucharist together, then a clear definition of that identity and of those beliefs, ethics, and practices becomes critical in the recognition of a valid Eucharist. And now we have come full circle: not only does a valid Eucharist bring about unity, but a certain unity is required for a valid, common Eucharist.
Summary
I have portrayed the relationship between Eucharist and unity as reciprocal, expressing a twofold conviction: ecclesiastical (i.e., visible) unity must include eucharistic unity(i.e., we don’t have it unless and until we are able to mutually participate in a common Table), and eucharistic unity requires and builds ecclesiastical (i.e., visible) unity. Indeed, since eucharistic disunity is the primary mechanism that signals division, any conception of unity or solution to disunity that does not involve Christians communing together must be deemed incomplete or misled. But eucharistic unity, since it requires visible, ecclesiastical unity, also requires a closed table.
Yet a closed table signals disunity. This really should not be surprising. Why? A key ethic within Protestantism is the fundamental premise that some truths are important enough to cause schism—important enough to break unity—to break communion. To undermine this premise in the name of our positional unity while refusing to surrender our actual disunity and denominational identities is misconceived because Eucharistic unity means we have sufficient unity to commune and do church together. How can we pretend to have it without resolving the issues over which the schism proceeded and persists? It is a mockery.
The Eucharist (i.e., Communion) is the churchly act associated with church unity, and so it is the one churchly act that cannot be shared in a divided state. The breaking of (church) unity breaks a common Eucharist. To break communion is to break Communion. To do otherwise is to act as though we have woken up from a bad dream to discover that our issues are really not so important after all. But if so, why remain in schism? Although Catholics had some pretty negative things to say in response (as all spurned lovers do), it wasn’t the Catholics who left the marriage. If our differences matter and have consequences, do not, Catholic or Protestant, begrudge a closed table. Instead, let the scandal of that closed table be the impetus to seek out unity. But if our differences are not so important, dear Protestant, please come home. We will slay the fatted calf for you and rejoice.