Sometimes Religious Syncretism Works

Seventeenth-century altar rail in
an English (Anglican) Church

For many Catholics who are disturbed by the liturgical changes of the last fifty or so years one of the most upsetting has been the removal of the altar rails from their parish churches.  What many do not know, of course, is that the altar rail has its origins in the Protestant reformation. 

We can tell from reading the Fathers of the Church that the practice of receiving Holy Communion for at least the first seven centuries was—as it remained and still is in the Eastern Churches—for the communicant to present himself or herself standing to the priest at the foot of the altar.  In the very early centuries, let us say from apostolic times up until perhaps the seventh century, it was expected that all present would receive Holy Communion.  (Those who were not eligible—catechumens and penitents—had been dismissed after the sermon.)  However, as through missionary efforts Christianity spread northward into what is today Germany, England, the Low Countries, Austria, and eventually Scandinavia and Poland, and as the various “Barbarian” tribes swept down into Italy, the large number of poorly catechized converts saw a dramatic decline in the numbers of those who received Holy Communion.  Many never received at all.  An exaggerated emphasis on the need for Sacramental Confession before receiving Holy Communion and the imposition of very strict Communion Fasts also contributed to the decline in people receiving.  The situation became so desperate that in 1215 the Fourth Lateran Council had to mandate that Christians must receive at least once a year and that during the period from Septugesima until the Octave of Pentecost—the Lent-Easter season.  Even then many never received the Sacrament from their first Communion until their deathbeds.  Communions became so rare that they were often separated from Mass with people receiving from the Reserved Sacrament in the Tabernacle before Mass or after Mass.  Indeed it was not rare for there to be no “Communion of the faithful” at Mass, with only the priest receiving.

In such cases those few receiving Holy Communion would present themselves kneeling in one of the smaller chapels of a large church or at a side altar of the main church before or after Mass.  Kneeling became a common practice after the seventh century as the Church more and more stressed the need for penance and demanded of communicants a penitential posture. 

Tourists and pilgrims visiting Rome are often surprised how few churches in the ancient city, and none of the old churches, have communion rails.  That is because of this practice of receiving outside of Mass.  With only four or five people receiving on any occasion—and often as few as one—the communicants would approach the priest one by one, kneel and receive Holy Communion.  The Rite for Communion outside of Mass involved the priest coming to the altar in surplice and stole, the candles being lit at the tabernacle.  The people, or more often the server(s) recited the Confiteor and priest granted the absolution that follows.  The priest then showed the Host to the communicants saying the Ecce Agnus Dei…and the response thrice given “Domine non sum dignus…” The communicants then approached the priest, knelt and received the Host on their tongue as the priest said the “Corpus Domini Jesu Christi…” There was then a final prayer over the communicants.  (There were local variations of this rite but the practice of Communion outside of Mass persisted as the normal form until the Liturgical Reforms of Pius X at the beginning of the 20^th century and was in common use even up to Vatican II.) 

The Protestant reformers tried to restore frequent and universal communion—with mixed results.  Luther had more luck with this than Calvin or with the Anglican Church.  Luther’s liturgical revisions were far less drastic than either Calvin or the English Church’s and much of the Mass appeared very little altered except for the substation of the vernacular for the Latin (though even the Latin persisted in some places, especially for the sung parts of the service).  From sixteenth century woodcuts of Lutheran liturgies we can see the introduction of the rail with communicants kneeling to receive.

Let me back up here for a moment.  Railing the altar in one form or another was nothing new.  At some older churches in Rome, notably Santa Maria in Cosmedin, San Clemente, Santa Sabina, we can see the rails that were erected as early as the sixth century to mark off the space for the choristers and the Sacred Ministers during the liturgy.  These were not Communion rails—they are approximately four-and-a-half feet to six feet high.  They were simply an effort to prevent the crowds from taking over the space around the altar needed for the Ministers to perform the Liturgy.  Similar barriers developed in the East into the Iconostasis.  In the West, particularly in England but also elsewhere, they became choir screens.  The magnificent choir screens of many of the Spanish cathedrals have survived but these are high walls—thirty and forty feet in height. 

During the Catholic Reforms of the fifteenth (Spanish) and sixteenth (Trent) legislation demanding that the altar area be railed off became normative and rails were built around the sanctuary to divide it form the nave. Originally they had nothing to do with the reception of Holy Communion but were to keep out stray animals, wandering children and over-enthusiastic worshippers.  Where these railings survive they are usually about four feet high (too high for communion rails) and without a kneeling step on which the communicants can kneel.  Communion rails were not needed in Catholic Churches since communions were relatively rare and usually conducted away from the main altar before or after Mass.

The Lutheran custom of the rail caught on in both Germany and Scandinavia.  In England there was a conflict.  The Puritan wing of the Church of England, Calvinst in theology, clung to Cranmer’s practice where Holy Communion was celebrated at an ordinary table placed in the chancel.  The communicants were expected to kneel around the table as the priest placed the bread into their hands and then gave them the cup from which to drink.  Frequent communion did not catch on in England at the time.  People would come for Morning Prayer and the Sermon and then leave with only a dozen or so remaining for Holy Communion.  But the efforts of the High Church Party under Archbishop Laud in the early seventeenth century won a significant number of people over to a more Sacramental worship.  The High Church party moved the table from the middle of the chancel or from the nave where Cranmer had put it back to the traditional position against the eastern wall of the Church.  And it introduced communion rails with the communicants kneeling at the rail rather than around the table.  All this was done away with during the Puritan Commonwealth but was restored with the Restoration of the Episcopacy and the Crown in 1660. 

There was a dramatic Reformation of the Catholic Church in France in the seventeenth century.  The French Crown had blocked the promulgation of the Decrees of the Council of Trent for decades but a determined group of French ecclesiastics under the leadership of (later Cardinal) Pierre deBérulle undertook an internal reform of the Church.  Old religious orders were reformed and new religious orders were founded along with the Society of Saint Sulpice to train diocesan clergy.  Francis de Sales preached an everyday spirituality for lay people that brought incredible new energy to the Church.  Great attention was paid to the liturgy and magnificent churches were built.  And in these new churches communion rails appeared.  There were many connections between England and France at this time.  Sizable communities of English Catholics—both lay and religious—had taken refuge in France.  People went back and forth across the channel with regularity.  Many French churchmen had contacts with Church of England clergy and academics.  Many English converts to Catholicism came to France for education in the faith.  England had a French Catholic Queen  from 1625 until 1649.  Catholic chapels were maintained in London by Continental European embassies throughout the sixteenth century except for the years of the Commonwealth.  We can’t say for certain that the communion rail was an import from the Church of England but its appearance in France from where it spread through much of the Catholic world strongly suggests a link.  

History of the Anglican Church XC

An 18th century

flagon for Holy 

Communion in the 

Anglican Church

The last posting dealt with Archbishop Cranmer’s reform of the Divine Office as he collapsed Matins and Lauds into Morning Prayer and Vespers and Compline into Evening Prayer.  Cranmer drew on the work of the Catholic Cardinal Francisco Quiñones and the Lutheran Archbishop Hermann von Wied and created an office that, if a bit verbose, was replete with scripture and prayerfully focused.  Over the centuries in subsequent editions of the Prayer Book it has been somewhat simplified to enhance its suitability for liturgical prayer and is in wide use today in Anglican and Episcopal Churches.  The Prayer Book Offices are, especially in their sung form, a real spiritual gem. Paul VI reportedly had a collection of phonograph records (back in the old days) of Anglican Evensong recordings as he recognized the solemn beauty of the sung Anglican Services.  But I now I need to cover what Cranmer did to the Eucharist which, like the daily offices, I had not dealt with in sufficient detail. 

In the 1549 Edition of the Book of Common Prayer—the first reform of the Liturgy—Archbishop Cranmer did not tinker much with the Mass.  It was translated into English, of course.  Altars were retained with the usual cross and candles.  Chasubles—or at the discretion of the minister, copes—were to be worn over the alb.  The Liturgy began with the traditional introit followed by the Collect for Purity which was taken from the medieval Missal’s Mass ad postulandam gratiam Spiritus Sancti.  This in turn was followed by the Kyrie, the Gloria, and the Collect of the Day and one or more additional collects.  (The various rites of the Western Church also had multiple collects up until the reform of the Missal under John XXIII in 1962.) Archbishop Cranmer dropped from the beginning of Mass the confession of sin and words of absolution—in the traditional Mass used as the “prayers at the foot of the altar” and then repeated again before Holy Communion—but retained them in the Communion Rite.  (I am old enough to remember when they were used twice in the “old Mass”—again, when the priest first came to the altar and a second time just before Holy Communion.)  In Cranmer’s 1549 Liturgy the gradual disappears from between the Epistle and Gospel.  The Gospel is followed by the Creed and then the sermon or homily.  There is then a collection for the poor and the priest reads a scripture verse that encourages  generosity towards the poor by the gathered faithful.  Those not receiving Holy Communion then depart; those who had informed the priest of their decision to receive Holy Communion that day remain and gather in the choir.

The priest meanwhile sets on the corporal or paten sufficient bread and in the chalice sufficient wine for the number gathered for the Eucharist. (Communion was to be distributed in both forms. There is no mention of communion being given in the communicant’s hand in the 1549 Prayer Book.) There are no accompanying prayers of offering as the gifts are prepared.  The preparing of the gifts is followed by the Preface with the Sanctus and Benedictus.  The Prayer of Consecration follows and several of the signs of the cross are retained, but there is no elevation of the consecrated elements.  The Lord’s Prayer is in its traditional spot, followed by the peace.  The Agnus Dei is moved to be sung during the distribution of Holy Communion, but—as mentioned earlier— the prayer of general confession and the words of absolution are inserted before Holy Communion.  There is a prayer after communion and the benediction taken from Philippians 4:7. 

This first Prayer Book certainly had its changes—an English liturgy, restoring the chalice to the laity, eliminating the elevation of the host and chalice, only those communicating remaining for the Eucharistic Liturgy to mention a few.  But by retaining the traditional altar, the vestments, the priest positioning himself at the altar with his back to the people—the changes appeared somewhat minimal, though they did trigger reaction in Cornwall and Devon where it was complained that the reforms had turned the Mass into “a Christmas Game,” meaning the sort of parodies of Church services that people, and especially children, did at holidays and feasts.   

If the first Prayer Book was moderate in it changes, the second Prayer Book—that of 1552—was revolutionary.  The vestments were done away with except for the surplice (though copes were allowed in cathedrals).   The altar with its cross and candles was gone, replaced by an ordinary table in the middle of the choir or in the nave and with only a linen cloth on it.  Gone too were the chalices and patens, replaced by pewter (or sometimes, silver) flagons for the wine and plates holding ordinary table bread.  But the liturgy itself was also drastically restructured.

The “Holy Communion” began with the Lord’s Prayer and the recitation of the ten commandments by the priest to which all assembled answered after each commandment was read “Lord have mercy upon us and incline our hearts to keep this law.”  The Gloria was moved from the beginning of the liturgy until after Communion.  Most startling—other than the physical arrangement of the church with “goddes board” (God’s Table) replacing the altar—was the rearrangement of the Eucharistic Prayer and the Communion Rite.  It was redesigned so that the reception of Holy Communion would follow immediately upon the words of Institution.  The prayer of confession and the words of absolution were moved from immediately before communion and placed after the offering for the poor and before the preface.  Then followed the preface with the Sanctus but the Benedictus was dropped.  The priest began the prayer of consecration, a severely truncated Eucharistic Prayer, but immediately after saying the words of institution, himself communicated and then gave Holy Communion to the assembled faithful kneeling around “Goddes’ Board” or “The Holy Table.”  Communion was followed by the Lord’s Prayer and then several prayers of thanksgiving.  The Gloria was then recited and the blessing—Philippians 4:7 with the Trinitarian benediction appended—was given to conclude the service.  This was clearly a Protestant Service—far more radically structured than anything Luther proposed for the German Reformation, though not as drastic as the Swiss and Strasbourg Reformers. 

There were other changes in the Prayer Book as well.  The exorcism, the anointing, and the chrism were omitted from Baptism.  (Holy Oil and Chrism were dropped all together—except for one rite which we will discuss in a future blog.) The infant being baptized was immersed in the font only once rather than the traditional three immersions.  The Funeral Service no longer included the celebration of Holy Communion or prayers for the dead.  One vestige of Catholic practice that remained was, though it is not very clear, the use of the reserved Sacrament for communion of the sick.  The ambiguity of that rite suggests that communion of the sick was not a sufficiently common practice to worry about the theological issues of reserving the Eucharist.  The instructions for the Service of Holy Communion is that any leftover bread and wine is to be returned to everyday use but, although bringing communion to the sick is included in the Prayer Book, it is not clear if the priest is to bring the Eucharist from the liturgy or celebrate the Eucharist privately in the home of the sick person.  As I said, the implication can be drawn that communion was fairly rarely brought to the sick at home or the instructions would have been more clear. 

Thus by the 1552 Book, the Church of England had clearly snapped its Catholic Roots and embraced Protestantism.  This does not mean that there is not continuity of the ancient Ecclesia Anglicana and the later Church of England but it does mean that the ancient Church had become “Reformed” in theology and practice and that means it was now a Protestant Church. 

The 1552 Prayer Book was only in use for about six months before King Edward VI died and his Catholic sister, Mary, ascended the Throne.  Mary immediately restored Catholic  worship, but when Elizabeth came to the Throne, the 1552 Book was revived with some minor modifications and then became the norm for Anglican Worship until the 20^th century.  

Foundations of the Anglican Church LXX

The choir of Salisbury Cathedral.  In this

sort of space, Cranmer wanted the

communion tables positioned lengthwise. 

When a Catholic enters an Anglican or Episcopalian church today, one often feels very much at home.  And when attending an Anglican Eucharist, a Catholic finds himself or herself very familiar with the Liturgy.  There seem to be few differences.  For the most part, the vestments are the same.  The altar is arranged in the same manner. We are all familiar with the Epistle and the Gospel and Gloria and the Sanctus.  Anglicans and Episcopalians generally kneel at a rail to receive Holy Communion, but that might be the most noticeable variation.   Of course, if one attends a particularly “High Church” Liturgy it might seem like going back before Vatican II with the priest celebrating with his back to the congregation.  Or should one find that rare gem—an evangelical Anglican Church such as Saint Helen’s Bishopsgate—you might think you were at the Four Square Bible fellowship.  But for the most part the continuity between the Anglican Church and its Catholic roots seems more than obvious.  But you can’t judge by appearances.  Most of the Catholic trappings were introduced into Anglicanism in the nineteenth century as a result of the Romantic revival in which a passion for things medieval swept away centuries of tradition. 

If you go to George Washington’s Pohick Church in Fairfax Virginia  or Bruton Parish Church in colonial Williamsburg—or Saint Helen’s Bishopsgate in London—you will get a taste of 18^th century Anglicanism and see just how Protestant those Episcopalians used to be.  For the most part they don’t like to be reminded of it—which is a pity because there are elements in the Anglican tradition that are marvelously rich in theology and, in particular, in prayer.

We have seen that Cranmer’s 1549 Prayer Book left much of the Catholic trappings intact.  Cranmer’s foe, the orthodox (but schismatic) Stephen Gardiner went so far as to say that the 1549 liturgy was “patient” of a Catholic reading—that is, that there had been sufficient material retained from earlier rites that a Catholic understanding of the Eucharist could be found in the work.  In fact, it was an ambiguous work.  Yes, there were elements that seemed to speak of the Real Presence. And while all reference to Sacrifice had been deleted from the revised Canon (or Prayer of Consecration), overall there was still some impression that the Mass (the 1549 Book still used the term) was something of a sacrifice.  But Cranmer never intended his 1549 liturgy to be the definitive  Liturgy of the Church of England.  It was meant to be a stop-gap measure that would break the hold of the Traditional Rites (England had at least four distinct Rites and the Roman was not one of them) before introducing a far more Protestant liturgy.  Egged on by such Continental Reformers as Peter Martyr Vermigli and Martin Bucer, Cranmer had begun preparing a new and far more extreme book that was published in 1552. 

In the meantime, stone altars had been replaced by wooden communion tables and images of Christ, Mary and the Saints had been removed from the churches.  The 1552 book directed that the “table” be placed, not in what had been the presbyterium or sanctuary of the churches, but in the choir or in the nave.  (The choir is that space in Anglican, Lutheran and some Catholic Churches—mostly in Europe—between the nave and the sanctuary where “stalls” (or seats) for the clergy and male choristers are arranged not facing the altar, but facing each other to facilitate the antiphonal singing of the psalms.  In North America we tend to see such an arrangement only in abbeys, some cathedrals, and the chapels of some religious communities.)  Cranmer wanted the communion table positioned in the center aisle of the choir lengthwise and directed that the priest should stand on the north side—that is on the left long side of the table.  In this position he would be facing those gathered in the seats on the south side, while those seated on the north side would have his back.  What Cranmer did not want was for the priest to be standing in such a position where the congregation—or at least half of them—could not clearly see him as he said the Prayer of Consecration over the gifts.  The table was to be covered with a “fayre white lynnen clothe;” no mention was made of cross or candles.  Crosses and crucifixes had been done away with; candles could be use if needed for light but not for devotion.

Moreover, with the 1552 Prayer Book, the priest was no longer to wear the alb with cope or chasuble, but only the surplice over his black gown.  Bishops did not wear the surplice but the rochet—a white linen gown with voluminous sleeves like the surplice, but longer and with the sleeves gathered in cuffs.  As somewhat of a conceit, academic regalia—the hood, the tippet (scarf), and for bishops the chimere were added to the prescribed dress.  (Academic types are always anxious to play the peacock and show off their academic accouterments.) 

The book directed that

And to take away the supersticion, whiche any person hothe, or myghte have in the bread and wyne, it shall suffyse that the bread bee such, as is usuall to bee eaten at the Table wyth other meates, but the best and purest wheate bread, that conveniently maye be gotten. And yf any of the bread or wine remayne, the Curate shal have it to hys owne use.

The bread was ordinary table bread—of the best quality available, but ordinary bread and what was left over was returned to ordinary use.  The wine—and it was wine, not grape-juice—was no longer in chalices made of precious metal but in cups (or, for large congregations, flagons) made of pewter or tin.  There was a great pedestrianization of the Liturgy.  There was almost no vernacular music to replace the medieval chants though composers such as Byrd and Tallis (both Catholics) would eventually write music of the highest caliber for the Anglican services.  Of course, it takes trained choirs to perform their work—not your typical parish singers and so only in Cathedrals could one find that level of music.  The Cranmer liturgies were dreadfully devoid of any beauty except for one factor: their use of the English language.  Other than Shakespeare, Thomas Cranmer was probably the finest craftsman of the English tongue that has been known.  His prayers—both original compositions and his translation of older prayers from the medieval liturgical books—are exquisite in their beauty. 

What were the effects of Cranmer’s reforms?  Well, in the first place it would take Anglicanism several centuries to recover the aesthetics of worship.  Up through the early nineteenth century, Anglican worship was devoid of any architectural, artistic, or musical richness.  (The Cathedral churches with their choral offices being the exception, at least as regards music.) The liturgy was top-heavy with words—glorious in their composition but relentless in their loquacity.  Going to church was to be bombarded with words and even the best of words are given to monotony when repeated incessantly week after week.  However, the English were never known for the sophistication of the French or the sensuality of the Italians, and the urban professional and business classes embraced the reformed religion.  They liked the moral black and white the reformed religion bespoke.  It gave them guidelines on how soberly to use their newly acquired wealth and the Prayer Book bespoke a piety that set them right before God and over and against those godless people in Spain and France who were given to rank sensuality and religious superstition.  The upper classes were somewhat divided. Many of the old families, especially in the North, discreetly remained Catholics and retained priests as tutors to their children and unofficial chaplains to their households.  The newer families, rising from the bourgeoisie into government service or even into the peerage, tended to favor the new religion, but like many of a political bent, wore all religion somewhat lightly.  The rural masses and the urban poor found themselves bewildered by the new ways.  They were not given to the theological fine points but simply wanted religion.  Where Catholicism survived, in the North and West in particular, some degree of the “old religion” survived among the common folk, but by and large the ordinary people, deprived of the religion they had known and not at home in the new ways, simply drifted away from the formal practice of religion.  To any extent they were compelled by law to attend church and receive the Sacrament, they did, but they could hardly be said to be avid churchmen. 

Joe Biden, Pope Francis, and the Communion Kerfuffle

Well, now the fuss is that Vice President Biden and Democratic House Minority leader, Pelosi received Holy Communion at the Mass inaugurating the Petrine Ministry of Pope Francis.  Did you honestly think that they wouldn’t?  As for whether they should or not, it isn’t my business to make a judgment call.  I am not sure it is the business of all those who have an opinion on the matter either. 
I was living in Rome during the funeral of Pope John Paul II and the inaugural Mass of Pope Benedict XVI and was working for the BBC and several other networks as a consultant.  As such I had access to a wide variety of sources of information.  Moreover, in the circle of friends and acquaintances with whom I had dinner or went to the beach or spent weekends in the Tuscan countryside were any number of low and medium level Vatican “officials.”  An inveterate gossip, I learned not to give opinions but only to ask questions with a faux innocence that opened the dams of behind-the-scenes information.  I found out, among other things, that the priests giving Holy Communion at the Masses for the funeral of John Paul and the installation of Benedict were instructed not to refuse anyone Holy Communion.  This instruction was especially reinforced for those in the diplomatic section and the sections where special guests were being seated.  This meant that not only were dubious politicians of various nationalities to be given Holy Communion but non-Catholics as well.  In fact, Cardinal Ratzinger/Pope Benedict gave Holy Communion to Prior Roger Schutz, the Calvinist prior of the Ecumenical Community of Taizé.   Of course precedents had been set when Pope John Paul had given Holy Communion to Tony Blair—at the time not only a pro-choice politician but an Anglican—at a Mass with the Blair family in the Pope’s private chapel.
As prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Ratzinger had written a letter to the American Bishops supporting the policy that pro-choice politicians should be denied Holy Communion.  Cardinal McCarrick managed to deflect the letter, not releasing it but only summarizing it in remarks to the Bishops at their semi-annual meeting.   McCarrick and Ratzinger were not on friendly terms, at least after that.  McCarrick allegedly led the American Cardinals in the 2005 conclave in an unsuccessful alliance with the Germans to evade a Ratzinger papacy.  Cardinal McCarrick’s resignation, offered on his 75^th birthday, was immediately accepted by Pope Benedict unlike the resignation of most other Cardinals who were invited to stay on for several years.  Was McCarrick’s refusal to implement canon 915 the reason for Benedict’s quick acceptance?  The Holy Father could have removed the Cardinal from his see earlier, of course, but that would have been a too obvious rebuke. Nevertheless, had Benedict wanted canon 915 to be enforced he would not have appointed Donald Wuerl to the Washington See as Wuerl, when Bishop of Pittsburgh, had made it very clear that he was not going to refuse Holy Communion to anyone, even those politicians who supported abortion or euthanasia.  Wuerl’s removing the faculties of Father Marcel Guarnizo, a priest of the Archdiocese of Moscow working in the Washington Archdiocese, for Guarnizo’s having refused an acknowledged Lesbian communion, was a clear sign that in his Archdiocese ministers are not to take it upon themselves to decide who may and may  not receive Holy Communion.  We all know where Wuerl stands on this issue. 
Pope Benedict had not found it in his agenda to remove Cardinal Wuerl or, for that matter, Bishop Loverde of Arlington, from their sees for refusing to implement canon 915.  Bishop Loverde has somewhat flown under the radar on this issue while it is likely that more Democratic politicians live in his diocese than in the Archdiocese of Washington.  Loverde is a very gentle and pastoral man—perhaps too gentle with his priests who are often in rebellion against his authority for his being “too liberal.”  Moreover, priest friends of mine in the Washington chancery have claimed that both Wuerl and Loverde are under instructions from Rome not to make this matter of Holy Communion and politicians an issue.  We will see if that changes in the new papacy, but in the meantime I need to remember that it is not up to me to enforce canon 915 and it probably isn’t up to you either.  When I make judgments about who is receiving Holy Communion worthily, I probably am not doing so myself.

 

 

There is One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism

The Reverend Mark Schloneger is a Mennonite Pastor in Indiana.  The Mennonites come out of the Anabaptist movement of the 16^th century and like their theological siblings, the Amish, have a strong theology of what they believe should be the proper relationship of a Christian with the State.  Mennonites are committed to pacifism and insist that any loyalty to earthly government comes only after our total commitment to Jesus and his Gospel. 
I did an entry several days ago about Joseph and Michael Hofer, two Hutterite men who were arrested and died in prison during World War I rather than compromise their beliefs. Hutterites are also a part of the Mennonite family of Anabaptist Christians and demand that our first and only true allegiance must be to Christ and his Gospel.  Pastor Schloneger and several other Christian clergy came up with the idea of Election Day Communion as a way to remind Christians that Christ must shape our entire lives and that our politics need to flow from our commitment to the Gospel.  Sharing Holy Communion on this day is also a vivid reminder that while we may have differences in politics, we must maintain our unity in Christ first and foremost.   Pastor Schloneger’s idea of Election Day Communion is a good one.  For us Catholics, of course, we are used to the availability of Mass and Communion each day but that is not the case for almost all other Christians.  Even Greek and Russian Orthodox usually only celebrate on Sundays and maybe twice more during the week.   Episcopalians and Lutherans as well as Churches in the Campbellite tradition—Churches of Christ and Disciples of Christ—almost always celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday but rarely during the week.  Most Protestants share Holy Communion only monthly or even quarterly so for a special Communion to  be shared on election day is a powerful reminder that we are called to be One Body in Christ’s One Body and One Fellowship in His Blood.
Let me reprint the internet article to which I was directed for more information.   You can find it for yourself on the CNN Belief Blog.  http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/

It seems frivolous, even foolish.

On Tuesday, as the world turns its attention to who will occupy the most powerful office of the world’s most powerful nation, hundreds of churches will gather across the United States to worship a servant. As votes are counted to elect a president, thousands of Christians will take the bread and the cup to remember their crucified Lord. As winners are projected and the electoral map is updated, Christians of many denominations will sing their praises and proclaim their loyalty to Jesus.  It seems ridiculous, even silly. After all, America is at a crossroads, and we are in the midst of one of the most critical presidential elections of our lifetimes. We know this because people have recited this same tired mantra before every presidential election.
Our fears, our hopes, our worries and our struggles are the currency that buys our votes. And how do politicians and their supporters acquire this precious currency? They invest billions of dollars to foment fear, inspire hope, create worry and exploit our struggles. It’s a power play. Some of us are pawns, and some of us are participants. But some of us are choosing a different part.
I initiated the Election Day Communion Campaign out of a concern that Christians in the United States are being shaped more by the tactics and ideologies of political parties than by our identity and unity in Christ. Out of this concern, a simple vision sparked the imaginations of congregations nationwide: the church being the church on Election Day, gathering at the Lord’s Table to remember, to give thanks for, and to proclaim its loyalty to Jesus. Gathering for Communion on Election Day seems fitting, for the practice of Communion is an inherently political act. It is both a pledge of allegiance to Jesus and a declaration of independence from all other powers making claims on our bodies, minds and souls.
Far too often, the church has abandoned its first love for the siren song of political parties promising protection, prosperity and peace. Far too many times, the church has ceded the practice of its faith to the spiritual and the private while leaving others to address matters of justice. And far too frequently, the church has attempted to speak truth to power while seeking and relying on that same power for protection. The bread and the cup are God’s antidotes to our fickle memories. As we eat and drink together, we remember that all things fall under the lordship of Christ. We remember our sin and need to repent. We remember that God has lifted up the humble, filled the hungry with good things, and chosen to reveal God’s strength through our weakness.  We remember that the only Christian nation in this world is the church, the holy nation that transcends all human-made walls, boundaries and borders.
As we gather at the table, we remember that the power to redeem, to save, and to transform comes not from atop the seat of power but from within the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
We will gather for Election Day Communion not because we think that the issues at stake in this election are unimportant or that our votes don’t really matter. No, we will gather for Communion because we think that the issues at stake in all elections are far too important to be relegated to our votes alone.
The Lord’s Supper reminds followers of Jesus to practice the politics of Jesus. To me, practicing the politics of Jesus means working to protect the sanctity of all human life, whether it is found in the womb, in prison, or in countries at war against us.  It means choosing the way of forgiveness and reconciliation rather than vengeance and violence. It means practicing an economy based on generosity and mutual aid. It means offering care and compassion to suffering people regardless of their immigration status, economic class or religious practice. It means being good stewards of God’s good creation. And, most of all, it means allowing God’s kingdom to break into the entirety of our lives, from the privacy of our homes to the politics we practice in public.
The bread and the cup keep calling me back to the table inscribed with memory. There, I remember God’s choice for the transfer of power. There, I remember where to go with my fears, my hopes, my worries and my struggles. At the table, with my sisters and brothers, I am in the presence of the Holy. Though I’m interested in the outcome of the presidential election, I won’t be watching the projected results as they are announced. I’ve made a prior commitment. I intend to honor it.