This is unity week, and across the world the vexed question of sharing the Eucharist will cause friction once more. The Jesuit author of God of Surprises believes the Catholic approach is too restrictive. With an eye on the British and Irish bishops? document One Bread One Body, he pleads for a change of heart. FOR some people, the written word communicates sound as well as meaning. The written word can become sweet music to the soul: it can also scream at us from the page. Words can produce an endless variety of sounds, from entrancing music to hideous cacophonies.

Our senses are, in some ways, far more intelligent and perceptive than conscious minds. In giving individual retreats I have frequently met people who, in prayer, or just after praying, have become aware of a song or hymn tune playing in their minds. They recognise the tune, but not the words. When they eventually discover the words, they are amazed to discover how apt they are to what they were experiencing in prayer, and how listening to the sounds can lead them into new ways of understanding.

Recently, I reread One Bread, One Body, the teaching document of the bishops of Britain and Ireland on the Eucharist which includes general norms on sacramental sharing. When I first read the document, I felt uneasy, for although I could appreciate the emphasis it placed on the centrality of the Eucharist in Christian life, and on the intrinsic connection between the Eucharist and the visible Church, I did not see that the norms laid down for sacramental sharing followed from the teaching passages on the Eucharist which preceded them. When I reread the document, I paid more attention to the sounds it produced in my mind and then asked myself what thoughts the sounds evoked.

The words and phrases which sang to my soul were mostly scriptural quotations, but there were a few others. Here are some examples:

God wills to draw humanity into communion with himself and with one another, so as to share his life, the life of the Holy Trinity.

It is ultimately the conversion of human hearts that is God?s loving will. We receive the sacrament of Christ?s body and blood so that we might more powerfully be the sacrament of Christ and his salvation in the world.

To receive in truth the body and blood of Christ given up for us, we must recognise Christ in the poorest, his brothers and sisters.

As St Augustine reminded us, at the Eucharist we receive what we are, and we become what we receive.

When I reflect on the passages which sing to me, they are all to do with the universality of God?s call, the essential inclusivity of God?s kingdom, which excludes no one and nothing. These passages are in harmony with those passages of John and Paul:

In the beginning was the Word
the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
Through him all things came to be,
and not one thing had its being but through him (Jn 1:1?13).

As he is the beginning,
he was the first to be born from the dead,
so that he should be first in every way;
because God wanted all perfection
to be found in him
and all things to be reconciled through him and for him,
everything in heaven and everything on earth,
when he made peace
by his death on the cross. (Col. l:18?20)

The written word sings to our souls when it expresses something which touches the core of our being, making us aware of deep-down desire of which we may have been barely conscious. These passages from John?s gospel and Paul?s letter to the Colossians sing of the universality of God?s love for every single individual, for all living things, for all creation. The words touch the core of our being.

I love the Buddhist saying that the true Bodhisattva does not want to reach Nirvana, the state of complete blessedness, until the last blade of grass has been redeemed. When I hear those words, they are like the music of John?s prologue and Paul?s hymn in Colossians. The dream part of me hears in these words Mozart-like music, but I can also hear another sound, like the sound of a violin being played which is filled with wet sand. This tells me of my need to be sprung from the prison of my ego, so that I can delight in the reality of God, holding me in being.

The Eucharist is a sign, signifying a reality in which all creation lives and moves and has its being. Jesus, image of the unseen God, took a piece of bread, broke it and said, This is my body, given for you. Do this in my memory. Whenever the Eucharist is celebrated, we are not creating something, producing something which did not exist before: we are remembering a once-for-all happening, a once-for-all sign of a continuous reality. We celebrate our awareness that the love of God informs, sustains, gives life and being to everything, a love without limit, which does not discriminate even between the good and the wicked.

Jesus? parables emphasise this universality of God?s love, for example the parable of the Lost Sheep, of the Lost Drachma, the parable of the Wedding Feast, in which the king insists that everyone is to be invited, so the servants obey orders and tell the king that they have brought everyone in, wicked and good alike. We are to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who persecute us, turn the other cheek, walk another mile, give away our tunic as well, because that is the way of God, the God who is Eucharist, and who tells us that we are to be Eucharist to one another, seeing our lives as a gift to be shared, a gift to be given, so that others may live.

The kingdom of God is inclusive of everyone. When John tells Jesus, Master, we saw a man who is not one of us casting out devils in your name; and because he was not one of us we tried to stop him, Jesus said, You must not stop him (Mk 9:38?39). And in verse 42 Jesus says, Anyone who is an obstacle to bring down one of these little ones who have faith, would be better thrown into the sea with a great millstone round his neck. The kingdom appears to be inclusive of all, except of those who are intent on making it exclusive.

Although some phrases in One Bread, One Body sing to my soul, the overall sound is not of beautiful music but of cries of alarm and the screeching of brakes. The screeching is at its worst pitch in the latter part of the text, which presents norms for eucharistic sharing. The general ruling given is that Christians not in full communion with the Catholic Church may not receive the Eucharist at a Catholic Mass except if there is danger of death, or if there is some other grave and pressing need. Possible exceptions are then hedged about with restrictive clauses, for example:

The norms we establish apply to individual cases rather than categories of situations.

The Church?s law requires the need (to receive Holy Communion by one who is not in full communion with the Catholic Church) to be both grave and pressing.

The exceptions are limited to unique occasions, and these are explained:

We are thinking of an occasion which of its nature is unrepeatable, a one-off situation at a given moment which will not come again. This may well be associated with the most significant moments of a person?s life, for example, at the moments of Christian initiation, marriage, ordination and death.

The screeches become more shrill as the document develops its theme:

The Directory also envisages that a grave and pressing need may be experienced in some mixed marriages. Precisely because of problems concerning eucharistic sharing which may arise from the presence of other Christians, it is envisaged that a mixed marriage will usually be celebrated outside Mass.

The spouse who is not a Catholic (but who has received special permission to share in the Catholic Eucharist on the occasion of the wedding) remains, however, someone who is not in full communion with the Catholic Church, and for this reason the Directory stresses that eucharistic sharing can only be exceptional. Even when the bride or groom is indeed admitted to Holy Communion at a nuptial Mass, it is not envisaged that that this be extended to relatives and other guests not in full communion with the Catholic Church.

Exceptional sacramental sharing between the Catholic Church and these faith communities (i.e. communities which have their roots in the Reformation) cannot be reciprocal.

When I hear a screeching sound coming from the text, I also hear the screams of people I have known who have been excluded from the Eucharist for one reason or another: members of interchurch families, people who have been divorced and have remarried, people who hunger for the Eucharist but are not prepared to become full members of the Catholic Church. The pain felt by interchurch families is not caused simply by the difficulties they encounter in preparing to marry, or even by the form of the marriage service itself; but it is a pain which continues throughout the marriage, whenever they attend the Eucharist together in the Catholic Church. Their children, whom they want to be familiar with both their traditions, cannot legally receive Holy Communion in the Catholic Church if they also receive Communion in the Reformed tradition. The screams also come from many committed Catholics, distressed when they encounter signs of exclusivity in the Catholic Church.

Three earlier sections of the document, which lay the doctrinal foundations for these norms, also produce a screeching sound. In introducing the norms the document declares:

For the doctrinal reasons which run through this document, our starting point is the canon that Catholic ministers may lawfully administer the sacraments only to Catholic members of Christ?s faithful, who equally may lawfully receive them only from Catholic ministers.

Briefly, the core of the argument supporting the norms on sacramental sharing rests on the principle that:

The Church is the visible unfolding here and now of God?s gift of salvation, our sharing together in the eternal communion of God?s life of love.

The intimate link between the Church and its celebration of the Eucharist will be an essential point to remember when it comes to thinking about the meaning of receiving Holy Communion.

The Catholic Church claims, in all humility, to be endowed with all the gifts with which the norms set out to deal.

The document is declaring that only those in full communion with the Catholic Church may receive the Eucharist, apart from the exceptional cases.

WHY do I hear the screeching of brakes in these explanatory sections? First, because they present an image of the Church which is legalistic, sterile, devoid of mystery, for it is quite clear in this text that anyone who is not a full member of the Catholic Church is normally barred from a Catholic Eucharist. At the beginning of the Second Vatican Council, the bishops were presented with a draft document on the nature of the Church. This asked the council to make it quite clear who was in the Church, and who was out. The bishops rejected it. The idea of the Church underlying One Bread, One Body seems to be reverting to a much narrower vision than that presented by the Second Vatican Council. There is an intimate connection between the Eucharist and the Church, but the Church is ultimately a mystery. Its membership cannot be measured by counting the baptism registers. This is not to deny the essential visibility of the Church. The vine is a scriptural image of the Church. Its branches and fruit are visible: its roots, on which the branches and fruit depend, are invisible.

In the teaching part of the document, there are phrases which seem to suggest that the Catholic Church has the power to make Christ present:

Our first purpose in presenting this document is to reaffirm and to share with others our Catholic faith in the mystery of the Eucharist. This faith embraces the making present of Christ?s saving death and resurrection, the real presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.

When we celebrate the sacraments, we do not control God, or direct God, but reveal the reality of God, in which all creation has its being. If we refuse to administer the Eucharist to someone who approaches in good faith, are we not implying that we can control and put limits on God?s love?

But a sentence in the final paragraph of One Bread, One Body strikes a note of hope that the common study of these difficult questions may lead to a deeper understanding of the nature of the Church, and bring nearer the day when we can come together united in faith at one Eucharist.

? Next week, Margaret Hebblethwaite will put an opposing point of view.

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