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Communion Practice - Frequency, Elements, and Admission

The argument in short

On frequency, "as often as" leaves it to the church's discretion, but the historical evidence and the logic of what the meal does both push toward weekly, and the objection about service length is a statement about priorities rather than about minutes.
On elements, I would not fight anyone over grape juice, but the individual-cups question has more force than we have granted it.
On admission, the table is for those united to Christ, which is a description of what the meal is rather than an act of gatekeeping.
On children and those with intellectual disability, if self-examination means tending the bonds of covenant fellowship rather than passing a doctrinal exam.

Table of Contents

  1. #How often
  2. #What is on the table
  3. #Who may come
  4. #Children, and members with intellectual disabilities
  5. #Wesley's outlier
  6. #To conclude
  7. #Sources

How Often

Paul's "as often as" (1 Cor 11:26) leaves frequency to the church's discretion, but Allison rightly notes it rules out two extremes: never celebrating, since Christ commanded it, and private daily self-administration, since the rite was designed to be social. He quotes J. L. Dagg: "It could not serve as a token of fellowship between the disciples of Christ, if it were performed in solitude" (Allison, 2012).

Between those extremes, Allison argues that what the Supper does "warrants very frequent observance," and concurs with Ben Witherington: "whenever the whole body comes together, there should be a Lord's Supper as part of the act of worship."

The historical evidence supports frequency. Bavinck notes that in the earliest period the Supper was celebrated in conjunction with an ordinary meal, in the congregation's public assembly, "and daily or at least every Lord's Day (Acts 2:46; 20:7)," and that only gradually was it detached from the love feasts and reduced to three times or once a year (Bavinck, 2008, vol. 4). Justin Martyr's description of a mid-second-century Sunday service has the Eucharist as a standing element (Allison, 2011).

Calvin wanted weekly and did not get it. Allison records that in his proposal to the Council of Ministers in Geneva "he believed weekly observance to be right, but asked for monthly administration of the sacrament. The Council did not go along with his proposal; rather, observance was ordered to be quarterly" (Allison, 2012). Bavinck notes the same gap between Reformed theory and Reformed practice, with celebration usually restricted to four or six times a year "although practice proved stronger than theory."

Allison also records the Baptist reversal. Baptists were originally weekly, then moved to monthly out of concern that frequency would produce "a sacramental ritualism similar to that of the Catholic Mass," and that it "would detract from the central element of preaching the Word of God" (Allison, 2011). Both worries are worth taking seriously and neither has aged well: we reduced the frequency to protect the preaching, and ended up with congregations who could not tell you what the meal is.

The usual argument for infrequency is that overfamiliarity breeds contempt. Allison dismantles it with a question I have never heard answered: if such reasoning were applied to other aspects of the worship service, "e.g., praying, singing, preaching, what elements would remain?" (Allison, 2012).

My view: weekly is the target, and the objection about service length is a statement about priorities rather than about minutes. If a congregation can find 15 minutes for announcements and a video, it can find 10 for the only meal Jesus commanded.

What is on the Table

The elements are bread and wine.

Allison records the nineteenth-century American shift: "In the middle of the nineteenth century, Baptists altered the ordinance by replacing the element of wine with unfermented grape juice," under pressure from the temperance movement, with some arguing wine was commanded and others that it was a stumbling block for alcoholics (Allison, 2011). Most evangelical practice since has followed the juice.

On proposals to substitute local foods, Allison cites Geoffrey Wainwright's two arguments for retaining bread and wine: they "keep clear the original reference to Jesus Christ, whom the New Testament presents as instituting the sacrament with these elements," and "the almost universal use of bread and wine in the Church up to now contributes a precious ecclesial bond in space and time." Allison finds the first most convincing and is strongly swayed by the second (Allison, 2012).

The individual cups are a different matter and I think the question has more force than we have granted it. 1 Corinthians 10:17 argues that the one loaf is what makes many people one body. A tray of sealed individual portions seems to be working against the argument Paul is making. Chris Green documents early Pentecostal insistence on a single loaf and common cup for exactly this reason, and asks whether individual cups "only encourage the notion that the Lord's Supper is first and foremost an individual experience of blessing" (Green, 2012).

Perhaps, at minimum, breaking one visible loaf in front of the room before the trays go out costs nothing and recovers most of the symbol.

Who May come

Allison sets out three positions fairly and I will follow his taxonomy (Allison, 2012).

Position Who may receive
Closed communion Baptised members in good standing of the particular local church administering it
Close communion Baptised members in good standing of their respective churches, whoever is administering
Open communion All genuine Christians present, baptised or not, members or not

The arguments for requiring baptism first are cumulative rather than individually decisive. Christ instituted baptism before the Supper. The Great Commission sequences disciple-making, baptism, then teaching. Acts 2:38-42 records preaching, repentance, baptism, then devotion to the breaking of bread. The church has almost universally followed that order. And the two rites differ in nature, baptism being the initiatory rite and the Supper the continuing one, so that "unless one has participated in the initiatory rite of baptism, one cannot participate in the ongoing rite of the Lord's Supper" (Allison, 2012).

The early church was strict about this. The Didache stipulates: "let no one eat or drink of your Eucharist except those who have been baptized into the name of the Lord." Justin Martyr says the Eucharist is for the one "who believes that the things we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins… and who is living as Christ has enjoined." Cyprian's rule for pagans wishing to repent was that they were received "into the church indeed to hear the word, but do not receive them to communion until they received the seal of baptism" (all quoted in Allison, 2011).

Open communion's arguments are not negligible, and Allison records the strongest: "nothing is a pre-requisite to communion which is not essential to salvation," and baptism is not essential to salvation. Plus the reductio that if the Great Commission establishes a strict sequence, the church would also be barred from teaching unbaptised Christians, which is absurd (Allison, 2012).

Where I land is that the table is for those who belong to Christ, and that this is a description of what the meal is rather than an act of gatekeeping. The Supper is the sacrament of union, and someone not united to Christ has nothing yet to participate in. Baptism I would hold out as the normal and expected order but wouldn't police it.

Billings insists on a point that governs the tone of all this. Inviting only the covenant community "is not about claiming that they are 'worthy' while unbelievers are 'unworthy'," and a congregation "disrespects the unbelievers when they invite them to the family table, by acting as if they hold convictions they do not" (Billings, 2018). Pretending everyone is a Christian is not hospitality. It is a failure to take people's actual beliefs seriously.

His recommended practice handles the awkwardness without pretending it away: hold out table fellowship as a possibility, and offer those not receiving a prayer to pray instead.

Two practical notes follow. A stated invitation does more than a policy nobody hears, so put the line in front of the room and let people answer it for themselves. And whatever is said must give the person skipping somewhere to go that is not shame.

Children, and Members with Intellectual Disabilities

Billings makes the most useful case here, and it follows directly from 1 Corinthians 11v17-34 - Discerning the Body.

His own view is "that baptized children in the covenant fellowship of the church should be welcomed to the table when they display age-appropriate faith in Jesus Christ," which he distinguishes from strict paedocommunion, where infants receive on the basis of baptism alone.

He then extends the principle in a direction almost nobody does. Members with intellectual disabilities "should be welcomed to the table when they display ability-appropriate faith, even when the disability is profound."

His argument turns on the self-examination question: "Both young children and persons with intellectual disabilities can trust in Christ without having a thorough knowledge of the ins and outs of eucharistic theology" (Billings, 2018).

Given the reading of 1 Corinthians 11:28-29 established elsewhere in this study, this follows necessarily. If examination means tending the bonds of covenant fellowship rather than passing a doctrinal exam, it is not a high-level cognitive task. A church that requires people to understand the Supper before receiving it has made comprehension the entry requirement at the one table whose entire logic is that nobody qualifies.

For parents weighing this up for a child, it sits between them, the child and God, and the pastoral job is to help them think it through rather than hand them a rule.

Wesley's Outlier

One position worth knowing about, which I do not follow.

Wesley treated the Supper as potentially converting: "Inasmuch as we come to his table not to give him anything, but to receive whatsoever he sees best for us, there is no previous preparation indispensably necessary, but a desire to receive whatsoever he pleases to give… No fitness is required… but a sense of our state, of our utter sinfulness and helplessness" (Wesley, quoted in Allison, 2011).

I do not follow Wesley here, because the Supper is the sacrament of union and there is nothing to participate in prior to union. His view that nobody arrives qualified is exactly right, and it is the instinct the whole treatment of 1 Corinthians 11 was defending.

To Conclude

Pulling the four questions into one paragraph, I think that this would be my ideal:

Take it often, ideally whenever the whole church gathers. Break one visible loaf before the trays go out, whatever is in the trays. Say the invitation out loud, put the line in front of people, and let them answer it themselves rather than being interrogated or quietly assumed into it. Give whoever is skipping the tray somewhere to go that is not shame. Welcome children and adults with disabilities who trust Christ, without requiring them to explain the mechanism first, since none of us can. And say plainly, every single time, that Christ is present and is giving Himself to His people here.

Nobody at the table is worthy of it. That is the point of it.

See also: The Table and the Body - Unity, Discipline, and Mission | 1 Corinthians 11v17-34 - Discerning the Body | Holy Communion

Sources