In this post, Matthew Dugandžić, Assistant Professor of Moral Theology at Saint Mary’s Seminary and University, addresses the concerns many have about not being able to receive Communion.
In view of the COVID-19 health crisis, Governor Larry Hogan of Maryland, where I live, issued a stay-at-home order yesterday. The Archdiocese of Baltimore responded by closing all parish churches, such that no more than ten individuals will be allowed to pray inside a church at any one time. As is happening throughout the United States, masses are no longer taking place publicly, but will be livestreamed so that the faithful can watch them from the safety of their homes. The sacraments – including reconciliation – are to be performed only when an individual is in danger of dying.
Many wonder if this is the correct course of action. It does seem unwise to suspend baptisms – which could easily be performed with a crowd of ten or fewer – but what of the cancellation of public masses? Of particular note, Rusty Reno at First Things, has argued that, even if the COVID-19 pandemic be serious, the bishops ought to keep their churches open for prayer. Open, that is, to more than ten people at once. People can make their own decisions about whether to go to mass or not, but the Church herself should be concerned with “the spiritual health of those entrusted to her care,” rather than “imitate the … worldliness of those who work for public health.” First, we must “grow in our love for God, for only then will we have the firm foundation on which to endure the sacrifices and responsibilities that come with loving our brothers.” In short, spiritual concerns trump temporal ones.
No Christian would deny that loving God is our first priority, or that spiritual goods are higher than temporal goods. But the way Reno paints the picture, there is some conflict between loving God and loving neighbor. We must love God first, and then we can love our neighbor. Closing churches for the sake of people’s health is an inversion of priorities. But the Gospel tells us that whatever we do for the least of Jesus’s brothers, we do for God himself (Matt. 25:40). This includes providing for the temporal needs of our brethren, which can be an act of charity, and all acts of charity are done to show God love (ST, II-II, q. 27, a. 6). Caring about our neighbor is loving God – there is no conflict. Accordingly, there is a time for everything, as Qoheleth says, a time to show our love for God by going to church, and a time to show our love for God by staying home.
Understanding this boils down to a simple axiom that Aquinas often repeats: affirmative precepts are always binding, but they do not always bind. Take something tangible: We should honor our parents. But does that mean that we should be actively engaged in the act of honoring our parents at each and every moment of our lives? No. That would be impossible. Keeping the fourth commandment means never dishonoring our parents and honoring them when the situation calls for it. (De malo, q. 2, a. 1, ad 11). Even when it comes to something as important as confessing the faith, which we give great honor to the martyrs for doing at the expense of their lives, we are not bound to do this at all times, but only “in certain times and places” (ST, II-II, q. 3, a. 2, co.). Going to church on Sunday is an affirmative precept; it ought only be done at the right time.
Accordingly, although loving God is our top priority, we do so in different ways at different times. Some activities, like contemplation, are directly concerned with our love of God. Others, like eating a sandwich, are less so. Saint Paul does say, after all, that whether “you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God” (1 Cor. 10:31). As Aquinas explains, this means that we ought to refer these lesser acts to God habitually (De malo, q. 7, a. 1, ad 9). We eat our lunch as creatures who love God and wish to glorify him, but who also must strengthen ourselves by eating now so that we might glorify him in a better way later. Similarly, a cleric who is normally bound to say matins in the morning might instead say them in the evening if something important – like his duty to teach a class – prevents him from saying matins at the normal hour (Quodlibit q. 14, unic.). We, as temporal creatures, simply cannot be in a state of prayer at all times (ST, II-II, q. 83, a. 14, co.).
This is all to say something simple: life is full of goods – both spiritual and temporal – that we ought to pursue. And these goods are certainly hierarchical, with the good of loving God at the very top of the hierarchy. And yet we are not called to pursue every one of these goods explicitly at every time, but rather at the right time. And some situations call for us to pursue a lower good than the one that we might otherwise pursue. If a person were at Sunday mass and a fire broke out in a building across the street, should the person wait for mass to end before going to help people out of the burning building? Or should he leave mass and help the people in need before it is too late? Clearly, if a person who is merely sick with a contagious illness does not have to attend Sunday mass (and, indeed, ought not, since the person should take care of his health now so as to render due worship to God later, and should be mindful not to spread his disease to people who may be vulnerable to it), then certainly neither does the person who has an opportunity to help those in grave need right now.
And this is not so much different from the situation that we are in. Our neighbors are in grave need. They are in need of us not to go to mass. Many of us could be carrying the novel coronavirus without knowing it. We could easily pass it on to those who may suffer gravely from it. Simply telling everyone to make up their own minds about whether to go to mass would not suffice. Many people who should not go will end up going, some out of ignorance, some out of misplaced guilt at missing Sunday mass, some for other reasons. The most effective way to deal with the preset problem is to make it clear to people that they, in these circumstances, have no obligation to go to mass and indeed ought not. This is not a paternalistic imposition, but rather a service that those who have authority over us are providing for us.
This decision to close churches for public prayer need not be seen as spiritual abandonment. And it is not. The faithful still have means at their disposal to receive the grace of the Eucharist in spiritual Communion. There are dozens upon dozens of options available for Catholics to livestream different liturgical services. The sacraments can still be physically administered in cases of grave need. But more importantly, this is an opportunity to forego a great good for the sake of helping our neighbors, all in view of rendering glory to God. It so happens that in this circumstance, the way we should render God his glory is not by going to mass, but by depriving ourselves of this blessed opportunity for the sake of our brothers in Christ. Being deprived of the opportunity to worship in communion and to receive the Eucharist physically is an opportunity to reflect on just how great these gifts are, which should cause us to long for them even more than we normally do, and to find even more joy in them when we finally get to return to them, thus showing God even greater glory. Worshiping in communion is a great thing. Receiving the Eucharist physically is a great thing. Normally, we ought to do these things. But now is not the time.
