There ’s a fascinating debate going on at the Washington Post’s “On Faith” column. Seems that Sally Quinn, the Post reporter who oversees “On Faith,” went to Tim Russert’s Roman Catholic funeral and took Communion. She’s not Catholic, and according to canon law should not have been admitted to the sacrament. Quinn wrote:
I took Holy Communion at Tim Russert’s funeral mass. I am not a Catholic. I wrote about it for “On Faith”. I wrote about how I had interviewed Tim and asked him about Communion and transubstantiation and what it meant to him. He knew I had not always been a believer and he would tease me about bringing me over to the other side. Before I started the website he had always called me “Miss Sal”. Afterwards he called me “Sister Sal.”
He was a dear friend and I was devastated by his loss. Cardinal McCarrick conducted the funeral mass. Communion was offered. I took it. All I could think about was Tim smiling down at me and saying, “We’re winning you over after all, aren’t we Sister Sal?” It made me feel uplifted, close to Tim and it assuaged my grief.
Unfortunately, she did know of the prohibition, and later in the piece says, “There were no guidelines in the program at Tim’s funeral mass. If there had been, I would not have taken Communion.” That strikes me as a little disingenuous, but she cites several instances where Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI gave Communion to non-Catholics in special circumstances, so maybe she thought this qualified.
As co-moderator (along with Newsweek editor Jon Meacham) of “On Faith,” I have tried to study and learn about all religions and philosophies. I have made a point of going to services of all faiths and to participate as fully as possible to develop a deeper understanding of and respect for all faiths. Studying religion has probably been the most exciting, fulfilling consuming thing I have ever done. My only frustration and discouragement has been that the more I learn the more I realize how little I know.
What I find interesting here is not Quinn’s justification, but the way some of the other panelists responded to the question, “What are some do’s and don’ts for observing the religious rituals of others?” For the liberal Protestants, the answer seemed to be in another question, “why can’t Catholics be more like us?” For instance, UCC pastor Susan Smith writes:
There are some things about organized religion that send me over the top. And one of those things is use of ritual to keep people separated from God and from each other.
I understand that ritual is important, and it is beautiful in many cases. Ritual can inspire awe and faith and make a person want to know about the mysterium of God. But ritual too often disintegrates into rules which, to me, make no sense, and which make many people want to run from God instead of to God.
One God. Three religions, all heavily ritualistic, and no unity whatsoever. It made me weep.
All this is to say I don’t think God gave a hoot that Sally Quinn, a non-Catholic, took communion at Tim Russert’s funeral.
When I was in the Holy Land, I stood in amazement in the vicinity of the Temple Mount and watched. There were the Muslims in one corner, the Jewish people at the Wailing Wall, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in yet another corner.
The Muslims prayed their way, the Jews their way and the Christians, their way.
That’s what the gospel of tolerance and inclusion comes down to: all of these exclusive, intolerant bigots should be just like me! Similarly, in the interest of demonstrating that she has no regard for the traditions of anyone else, Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite of the UCC’s Chicago Seminary thinks that syncretism is the way to go:
I have shared Muslim prayers at a mosque, eaten at so many Jewish Seders I have now acquired my own preferred recipe for gefilte fish, thrown joss sticks and chanted at a Buddhist temple, worn an animal mask in a Korean ceremony led by a Shaman, and shared communion with a base community in the Philippines led by a Catholic priest. And those are only some of the religious rituals in which I have participated over the years. From indigenous African funerals to Greek Orthodox Easter, I have dwelt with others in their religious rites and I believe showed respect to them by my participation. I also believe my spiritual life is richer and deeper because of these experiences.
But one of the “don’ts” on my list is being ungenerous. All religions have their own practices and interpretations of what their practices mean and those should be respected. No religion, however, owns the sacred, the realm of grace and generosity that is the gift of an infinite God (or spirit if you prefer) to limited and finite people.
We do not honor the gracious gifts of the spirit by putting up “Keep Out!” signs. Indeed, we dishonor these gifts when we do that.
So we dishonor the “gifts of the spirit” (whoever or whatever that might be) when we don’t operate the way liberal Protestants do. Brian MacLaren, scion of the “emerging church” movement, has a different take, doing his post-modern thing and contending that no Christian church needs anything that might under any circumstances make a non-Christian uncomfortable:
Sadly, some of the responses to her story also reminded me of these stories, because very often, when people began reaching toward God, they would naturally seek out a church. But what they often met in the church was disdain, rejection, critique, exclusion, judgment, and other less-than-hospitable treatment. No doubt, the people who “welcomed” them this way thought they were doing the right thing, and perhaps they were from some vantage point.
But it is clear to me that these kinds of less-than-warmly-welcoming church people — whatever good and right things they are doing — are not going to do much to help spiritual seekers find and connect with God. Perhaps they have a special calling that postures them as “protectors of the fold” and exempts them from the need to be fully sensitive to those “outside the fold.” It’s hard for me to square that calling with a religion associated with Jesus, but many don’t seem to have that problem.
Incredibly enough, the one response that I think did the best job of recognizing what is involved in this kind of situation was from a Muslim, Daisy Khan of the American Society for Muslim Advancement, who wrote:
I wholly resonate with Quinn’s attitude that one can honor another faith tradition by willingly participating in its rituals. Throughout my education at Catholic schools in Kashmir, India, I prayed the Lord’s Prayer every morning, attended chapel on special occasions, exchanged gifts and sang carols each Christmas, and in general, I gained a deep respect for the Catholic tradition. We considered these activities a celebration of our sister faith’s traditions, and I never sensed competition with Islam or that I was somehow dishonoring my own faith by honoring another. I felt secure enough in my own religious beliefs and traditions to respect and share in those of others. This acknowledgment of another tradition’s beauty and legitimacy, including its sacred symbols and rituals, offers a singularly powerful gesture of respect. For Quinn to do so on the funeral of her good friend Tim Russert was undoubtedly special, for both of them.
Nevertheless, I also recognize that certain rituals are considered within the exclusive purview of a particular religion’s adherents, rites deemed so sacred or consecrated that one must truly believe in their holy or miraculous significance to partake. In Islam, the Hajj is one such tradition. Within Christianity – and especially the Catholic tradition – the Holy Eucharist signifies a millennia-old concrete affirmation of the miracle of Jesus’ life and death, Christian theology, and the Catholic Church’s role as the bearer of this message. Quinn, no matter how sensitive or knowledgeable about Christianity, does not share these beliefs. She herself declared, “I was determined to take it [communion] for Tim, transubstantiation notwithstanding.” At a Catholic funeral, however, transubstantiation can hardly “notwithstand.” If Quinn does not recognize the miracle of transubstantiation – which is fine, neither do I – she should respect the Catholic Church’s restriction of this holy blessing to those who affirm the meanings behind it. Unfortunately, this kind of condescension, characterized by discounting miracles, minimizing ritual belief, and misunderstanding faith itself, is frequently visible within the secular community.
The line between honoring another faith by observing its rituals and dishonoring it by partaking in its holy – and restricted – rites is admittedly blurry. In fact, every individual must choose what is appropriate, both within the context of their own beliefs and those of others. In the case of Quinn, though she undoubtedly held nothing but good intentions, she displayed an all-to-common misunderstanding of religion. True cross-religious consciousness must entail both an eagerness to participate in the sacred rituals of other traditions and a willingness to refrain when this very participation is considered inappropriate or disrespectful by the traditions’ adherents.
I wouldn’t go so far as her regarding wiliingness to join in other faith’s rituals, but I think she gets it just right in terms of respecting the practices of others. People like Thistlethwaite think they are honoring Buddhism by joining in chants or animism when they wear animal marks, but they aren’t. They are the equivalent of spiritual tourists asking the natives to pose for pictures dressed in their cute little native costumes, and just as condescending.
UPDATE: It doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the post, but I had to include something from John Dominic Crossan, alleged biblical scholar and former Catholic priest who most often sounds like a Unitarian. He’s in favor of what he calls “intentional participation” in rituals, whatever that means, but the part I really liked was his attempt to explain what Holy Communion can possibly mean to somehow for whom the supernatural has no more reality than Looney Tunes characters:
The Christian Eucharist has two intertwined layers. First, it is bread and wine, the standard summary of a Mediterranean meal, the normal synthesis of Mediterranean eating. It is, in other words, about food. Throughout his life, Jesus insisted that food, as the material basis of life, was to be fairly and equitably distributed to all God’s children around God’s table. He imagined God-as-Householder (he said “Father” but that was patriarchal normalcy) of the House-World or Homemaker of the Home-earth. And his question was–as in any well-run family–whether everyone had enough or some members had far too much while others had far too little.
Second, none of that was about compassionate charity but about distributive justice. (The Roman Empire did not crucify you for insisting on the former but for insisting too much on that latter.) So Jesus, having lived for non-violent justice died from violent injustice. When one dies an ordinary death, we speak of the separation of body and soul. But a violent death–like crucifixion–involves a separation of body and blood.
Dude.
Posted by David Fischler 
