As the political divide the nightly news both reports and foments continues to gash the fabric of our culture, churches—long the safe places of healing and security—struggle to forge a peaceful path forward. Who is “in” and who is “out” in the fellowship at your church? When does one’s position on a political issue, for instance, the Supreme Court’s recent ruling on abortion or its feared rollback of other freedoms, such as same-sex marriage, stand as a litmus test for participation in the most intimate of the church’s acts of worship: communion?
People bemoan the fact that politics has entered the church, but the invasion started long ago, before the ink from the pages of the New Testament had dried, beginning with Ananias and Sapphira, who, if not for political reasons, at least used their money to impress others about their commitments to the Christian cause by lying and telling half-truths, camouflaging their dishonesty in righteous acts: the motivational handmaid when politics and religion bed together.
The church would, in time, opt for a consensual relationship of shared power, the secular and the sacred, with each agreeing to stay on their side of the bed. It never worked. Each kicked and squirmed for more room.
Unfortunately, through the centuries, communion, that act when the church gathers in unity around the Lord, was often used as a political weapon itself.
Long ago sidelined as the major power broker in politics, the church still works its way back on the playing field, particularly in those clutch moments when the stakes are high, where a single hit can turn the tide.
And so, Archbishop Salvatore J. Cordileone of San Francisco has barred Speaker Nancy Pelosi from receiving communion in his archdiocese. Abortion, the archbishop has said, is the “pre-eminent” moral issue of our time. Therefore, a Catholic politician who supports “procured abortion” commits a “manifestly grave sin,” which excludes them from communion with the church.
But not all are on board with Archbishop Cordileone’s decision. Bishop Robert W. McElroy of San Diego has argued against the “weaponization” of the Eucharist. And the Vatican has warned conservative American bishops, admonishing them to tread lightly in their rush to deny communion to politicians supportive of abortion rights — including President Biden, a faithful churchgoer, and the first Roman Catholic to occupy the Oval Office in 60 years. As for President Biden’s “inconsistency” with the church’s teaching, the Pope has said that’s a matter for Biden’s and his pastors’ consciences.
While many Protestant churches don’t have the hierarchical machinery, having opted instead for a congregational polity and different forms of church discipline, than the Roman Catholic Church, they still have the capacity, perhaps through church statements, to shun those in support of abortion, and other issues, like same sex union.
At the same time many religious groups and faith leaders support abortion access and are actively working to protect the right to safe, legal abortions and the rights of same-sex marriages.
Often local church constituencies include advocates from both sides.
The Apostle Paul, whose writings comprise over half of the New Testament, wrote mainly to Christians in situations where their very survival was in jeopardy. Changing the Roman Empire’s policies on moral issues was not an option. Paul focused on proclaiming the gospel and letting the freedom found therein do its work in transforming lives and societies by its principles, though he did warn local congregations about taking communion in an “unworthy manner,” urging believers to “examine themselves,” before communion. (I Corinthians 11:26-29).
And what about Jesus? “What would Jesus do?” The question assumes we don’t know. True, there is much left unanswered. But we can observe some things he did that can direct our path forward: we do know he sat and ate (had fellowship, communion) with the despised and outcasts, the Pharisees, the tax collectors, and the sinners, while at the same time calling them to leave their former selves and follow him. We do know he defended the woman caught in adultery while commanding her to “go and sin no more.” We do know he called on the Father to forgive those who deliberately tortured him on the cross, since they didn’t grasp the import of their actions.
As for communion itself, we do know that at the Passover meal with his disciples, their last supper together, Jesus seated of all people, Judas Iscariot, at his side, welcoming his betrayer to the table, giving him the opportunity to take the bread and cup.