“If you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift” (Matt. 5:23-24).
So many questions enter our minds when we read these words of the Savior’s great Sermon on the Mount. If a Christian has a disagreement with his friend, or with some enemy, or with a family member, is he forbidden to receive Communion until the disagreement is resolved? What exactly does it mean to be reconciled? Does everyone have to be happy with everyone else before any of them can approach the altar for the Eucharist again? Can I deprive a brother of the Body of Christ by refusing to reconcile with him?
First of all, the Sermon on the Mount is meant to challenge the usual human moral minimalism. The Savior in his New Law goes beyond the questions of how much and how far and how many. Questions of this sort throughout the Gospels always get a tough answer from him as he tells us how we should be.
But this particular teaching of the Lord’s legislation is revealing when it comes to what he is like as our God. He so wants us to be as one that he even places the urgency of our worship of him after our love for one another. He does not want our worship without our love, and the New Commandment of his New Law is precisely “Love one another as I have loved you” — that is, “I who am your God, I who on the night I spoke this commandment gave you my body and blood, which you thoughtlessly receive in this way.” He wants us to be like him. Why did he offer his body and blood? For those who had offended him. And will you now receive the crucified Savior’s body without forgiving those who have offended you or those whom you have offended? Why did he give it to us in Holy Communion, unless he wanted us to show love of neighbor as he has shown it?
We profess to be orthodox Catholics. Consider this fact: the dogma of the Lord’s real and substantial presence in the Blessed Sacrament of his body and blood together with his soul and Godhead, about which we would never ask, “How far do I have to believe this?,” was revealed by the same divine lips and came forth from the same divine heart that also said at the same time, “Love one another as I have loved you.” This last is also a dogma—indeed, it is a “super-dogma” that explains why the Lord sacrificed himself for us in the first place, as he said at the same Last Supper, “I have given you an example.”
Now that you and I both are beating our breasts, let’s answer the questions at hand. This is the only safe way to deal with love of neighbor: with fear and trembling that we may offend the love of Christ, and sadness and repentance if we ever do. And we do! As we pray for our daily bread, we tell the Lord also that we forgive those who have offended us. What’s the point of the Eucharist if not this?
The matter is pretty simple. If we have offended our brother in thoughts, we must repent in thoughts, if in words, then in words, if in deeds, then in deeds. And it does not matter if your brother was reasonable in being offended, whether you intended to offend or not. What the Lord wants is unity, the healing of wounds, the peace of his followers, not mind-reading.
After all, from where did we get the etiquette of Christian culture that holds it to be polite to say “excuse me,” or “pardon me,” or, if you are in London, “sorry!” even when it is obvious to both that no offense was meant, unless from the habitual Christian sense that we need to be reconciled with our neighbor?
A priest I know told me recently in a bustling airport, “All evil people begin by being inconsiderate.” There is a lot of truth in that. Yes, of course, some persons are hyper-sensitive and quick to take offense, but charity means to put up with them, too. After all, coming back to the Upper Room, it was the disciple who lay on Jesus’ breast who earlier had asked him to use his divine power to destroy a town by fire from heaven. It was to such a touchy one as that that our Lord showed his special favor—to the beloved disciple to whom he entrusted his Blessed Mother!
As for Holy Communion, the matter is simple: if the offense was a grave offense, a mortal sin, then we need to make amends to God and our neighbor before approaching the altar. If it is not possible to be reconciled because of distance or the refusal of the other, then the forgiveness of the heart and a good confession are good enough. This is a teaching drawn from Saint Augustine. A moral adage used by Saint Alphonsus is “no one is bound to do the (really) impossible.” But it is always possible to forgive from the heart even if external reconciliation is not possible for some good reason. But in singling out grave offenses, it is important to remember that unless we have the habit of humbly seeking pardon even in small matters, we are in danger of losing the sensitivity of love.
However, St. John Chrysostom approves of the faithful who, in the Constantinople of his day, would go up and reproach people who everyone knew were at grave odds with each other in the Communion line, and challenge them to be reconciled on the spot, and then to receive the Bread of Life. Well, if we can do that for immodest dress, why not open enmity? In his liturgy, there are several gestures of mutual request for pardon between priest and people and among the clergy before they offer up or communicate. What do we think the sign of peace is all about, after all?
And no, you can’t deprive a brother of Communion by refusing to be reconciled, as long as he tried himself to be reconciled with you. But you do deprive yourself.
Just keep this equation in mind: orthodox Catholicism equals true love of neighbor. The requirement of mutual love, loving as Christ does, which is practically mercy and forgiveness, is a dogma of the faith. God forbid that there be heretics on this point among believers in the Lord’s real presence!