An Infant Theology

All of life is theological.  Every human experience, every part of human existence, relates to the true Trinitarian God in some way, because man is created in the image of God.  Our emotions, responses, even the most mundane things like eating and breathing have something to teach us about God and how he relates to his creation.

One thing that I’ve been thinking of is how attachment psychology relates to God’s dealings with us.  Particularly attachment in infants.  A lot of study on child psychology and development has taken place in recent years, leading to a resurgence in practices like co-sleeping, baby wearing, and even breast feeding.  One article I came across has a good overview of how parental practice affects attachment in infants and parents.

It’s interesting.  When a mother nurses her infant, the hormone oxytocin is produced both in the mother and the infant from the close physical contact.  Oxytocin is directly associated with attachment and bonding between people, whether between spouses or between a mother and her child.  Not only does the infant produce oxytocin, but it obtains a “double dose,” as it were through its mother’s milk.  Nursing is God’s designed way of bringing a mother and her infant into close fellowship, attaching them to one another, and providing a physiological foundation for the mother to joyfully and effectively raise her child.  This stage of attachment is particularly important for the healthy development of an infant.  You can’t wait a few years to bond and hope for the same effect.  An infant who does not attach may suffer severe consequences throughout life, well into adulthood.

It’s an amazing thing, God’s great design.  But the purpose of my posting this isn’t to argue the benefits of breast-feeding infants.  There are plenty of good articles that do that by much more qualified people.  I’m posting this to dig a little deeper.  Like so many aspects of humanity, nursing does not stand alone, and it’s not merely utilitarian.  A psychologist may be able to describe what is happening physiologically, but he cannot tell you why it is so in a deeper sense than that of natural cause and effect.

It’s no accident that feeding a child is directly associated with attachment in the design of this universe.  The one who feeds attaches.  In fact, God uses the imagery of nursing children and other images of feeding to describe  his love for his chosen people.  The passage comes first to mind is Isaiah 66:10-13.

“Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her,
all you who love her;
rejoice with her in joy,
all you who mourn over her;
that you may nurse and be satisfied
from her consoling breast;
that you may drink deeply with delight
from her glorious abundance.”

For thus says the LORD:
“Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream;
and you shall nurse, you shall be carried upon her hip,
and bounced upon her knees.
As one whom his mother comforts,
so I will comfort you;
you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.

God promises his people that in the day that he extends peace to Jerusalem, he will feed them.  And not merely feed them, but nurse them.  They will be nourished and comforted.  And when did this happen?  When did God give Jerusalem peace, that his people might rejoice and be fed by her?

Of course, the final peace of the true Jerusalem, the Church, is found in Christ.  It’s interesting to note that it is specifically Jerusalem who feeds us in the prophecy.  Also striking is the imagery of Jerusalem’s citizens as nursing babes, all of them.  While it is Jerusalem who feeds, it is God who comforts in Jerusalem.  The juxtaposition of nursing with comforting is clear as well.  Long before our modern psychological studies, the prophets knew that nursing and comfort and attachment all to together.

And today in the Church age after the coming of Christ and the extending of God’s peace to us, Jerusalem does feed us, through the meal that Christ gave us in his Lord’s Supper.  Through the Supper we are continually spiritually joined to Christ and his body, the Church, the New Jerusalem.  It’s a vital part of our attachment to Mother Kirk.  Without its faithful partaking, as with the infant without a nursing mother, it is not impossible that we should grow in the Church, but it is against God’s design, and only makes things needlessly difficult.

Finally, I did mention that nursing is critical in infancy, because of that child’s development.  If the first months are neglected, all is not necessarily lost, but both infant and mother have been deprived of God’s designed way to facilitate a loving bond.  Neither mother nor child might even realize what has been missed.  Obviously, the infant has no conscious understanding of what is happening when it nurses.  But something has been lost, which cannot easily be recovered.

Likewise, if we neglect God’s designed way to nourish and strengthen the bond between the Church and her members, and if we say the Church should not feed her little ones, we shouldn’t be surprised if they do not attach, and later grow away from Mother Kirk.  As with an infant, it is not so much the understanding of being fed that is important.  It is the feeding itself.

And so the Church must feed its children, especially the little ones.  Because it makes the faith of the Church the faith of the child.  A son of the Church will grow with and into the conscious understanding that it is not his parents who ultimately give true spiritual food, it is Jesus Christ Himself, working through his Bride and Body the Church.  The daughter of the Church will know from experience that it was not her own understanding that saved her, but only Christ who set her apart at birth and fed her from the day she could handle solid food.

Redeemed for What?

I was reading the Exodus story in the past couple days, and was struck by a few things that I want to share here.

The story of the deliverance of Israel from Pharaoh is a type for the deliverance of the Church from sin and death.  God comes to redeem His people, his chosen ones, and to bring them into a land flowing with milk and honey.  But as we read Exodus, we find that God early on gives a specific purpose for Israel to leave Egypt.

Afterward Moses and Aaron went and said to Pharaoh, “Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, ‘Let my people go, that they may hold a feast to me in the wilderness.’” But Pharaoh said, “Who is the LORD, that I should obey his voice and let Israel go? I do not know the LORD, and moreover, I will not let Israel go.” Then they said, “The God of the Hebrews has met with us. Please let us go a three days’ journey into the wilderness that we may sacrifice to to the LORD our God, lest he fall upon us with pestilence or with the sword.”

~Exodus 5:1-3

There are a couple times before Israel’s final deliverance that Moses and Aaron make this less drastic request of Pharaoh.  And of course, as God had told Moses He would, He hardened Pharaoh’s heart against this request.  But I want to point out that there is a particular purpose in the request itself.  YHWH tells Pharaoh to let Israel go in order that they might hold a feast to Him.

Now, as we continue reading through the Pentateuch we find that a feast has a specific purpose.  It is not just a grand ol’ time where the people of God gorge themselves and get drunk like the pagans at their feasts.  Rather, it is a solemn occasion of remembrance.  Yes, the feasts are joyous celebrations, but they are held for one purpose: worship of the One True God.  So essentially, God is telling Pharaoh to let Israel go out into the wilderness to worship, and the means by which they are to worship is the feast.

When Moses restates YHWH’s demand, he makes this even clearer.  Now  rather than call it merely a feast, he says that they must go to sacrifice to YHWH.  The feast and the sacrifice are inextricably linked.

In the same way, God has redeemed us from the power of sin and death . . . for what?  To worship.  It is the expressly given purpose of our deliverance.  It is the chief goal of man’s existence, which we can only fulfill in Christ.  And when we gather as the Church to worship, we offer the sacrifice of our songs and praises, our acclamations, and of our very selves.  And we partake in a feast to the LORD our God, which Christ gave us at his last supper before going to the cross.

There is another interesting point we can glean from the various encounters with Pharaoh.  Initially, the demand is simply that he let God’s chosen people go out into the wilderness for three days to observe the feast and the sacrifice.  But we know, of course, that Pharaoh will not comply with these demands.  Not until his nation has been destroyed by plagues and he himself lies drowned in the Red Sea.  At that point the deliverance promised by God to Israel is complete.  It is not only for a short time that He delivers Israel to observe the feast, but it is a permanent deliverance.

Just so, when God commands us to worship, we cannot do so until He has ultimately delivered us.  There is no going to worship God and then returning to Egypt.  That is an impossibility.  Sin and death as principalities are cruel and unyielding masters that will not allow us to leave for a time, worship God and then return to them.  In order to engage in true worship, we must be freed in a permanent and ultimate way with no thought of going back to the place from which we came.

I think there is some significance to the three days journey into the wilderness even though the journey never happened as first asked of Pharaoh.  It is perhaps enough that Moses stated the three days as the original demand.  Israel must go into the wilderness for three days to make sacrifice.  Christ as the ultimate representative of Israel is the final fulfillment of this.  For on behalf of His chosen people, after instituting the feast of the Lord’s Supper He journeyed into the wilderness of death for three days, Himself being the final sacrifice to atone for sin.

There is one more thing I want to bring out from this part of the Exodus story.  Sometimes Pharaoh seems to be on the verge of complying with the demand of YHWH, but he always seems to put limits on his obedience.  At one point, Pharaoh even tells Moses that he will let the people go . . . but there’s a catch:

Then Pharaoh’s servants said to him, “How long shall this man be a snare to us? Let the men go, that they may serve the LORD their God. Do you not yet understand that Egypt is ruined?” So Moses and Aaron were brought back to Pharaoh. And he said to them, “Go, serve the LORD your God. But which ones are to go?” Moses said, “We will go with our young and our old. We will go with our sons and daughters and with our flocks and herds, for we must hold a feast to the LORD.”

But he said to them, “The LORD be with you, if ever I let you and your little ones go! Look, you have some evil purpose in mind. No! Go, the men among you, and serve the LORD, for that is what you are asking.” And they were driven out from Pharaoh’s presence.

~Exodus 10:7-11

Pharaoh will allow Israel to go . . . but only the men.  It is as if Pharaoh says, “Isn’t that enough?  Your covenant heads may go and worship and sacrifice.  The children need not.”

No doubt some will point out that he simply wished to keep the children behind as a guarantee that his slaves would actually return.  And as far as Pharaoh is concerned this is probably true.  But I think there is more than just that going on here.  Moses will not concede these limits put on God’s demands, and he gives the reason.  The whole family unit must be allowed to go.  The men, the young and old, their sons and daughters must go . . . why?  For we must hold a feast to the LORD.

What does this tell us about how God regards the children of believers in relation to worship?  Simply this: they must be included in the worship of God’s people, and in the feast.  It is not right for the parents to worship and leave the children aside.  God wants even the little ones to observe the feast and the sacrifice.  The old and young, our sons and daughters alike must be taught to worship.  It is for this reason that He redeems the little ones as much as the men (the covenant heads) from sin and death, just as He would not accept that Israel’s little ones should be left in the hands of Pharaoh.

Eucharistic Memories: Age 2-4

Quoted sections are from chapters 66 and 67 of
Justin Martyr’s First Apology, c. AD 150

For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Saviour, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh. For the apostles, in the memoirs composed by them, which are called Gospels, have thus delivered unto us what was enjoined upon them; that Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, said, “This do ye in remembrance of Me, this is My body;” and that, after the same manner, having taken the cup and given thanks, He said, “This is My blood;” and gave it to them alone . . .

I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone about this before, and am not sure what prompts me to write about it now. But . . . here it is:

I was not baptized until age 8 when we joined an OPC congregation. Obviously, neither was I welcomed to the Lord’s Table until after that. Since for almost six years after my 12th birthday my family attended a church that required confirmation to gain access to the Table, the first time I took communion I was a teenager. Well, at least officially . . .

The practice of Lord’s Supper always fascinated me. Since the age of two I can remember watching my parents participate in it along with the rest of the adults in church. I took it for granted that it was not for kids.  Of course, I didn’t know why.  That was just the way it was.

Once, when we brought an African American boy with us to church as part of some evangelical outreach, he became very excited when the elders began to pass around bread and . . . grape juice.

“Hey,” he said aloud, “they’re giving us food!” I hushed him quickly, explaining to him in a terse whisper that the food was for the grown-ups. He didn’t quite get it, and I saw the confused and slightly offended look on his face when the elders passed us by without giving us any. Well, duh, I thought (no, I didn’t actually know the word “duh” yet). It’s not for kids.

But even though I knew it was a grown-up thing, I imagined having a part in it, similar to the way that at the age of 3 I packed a little briefcase (actually the case to a toy medical kit) and pretended I was going to the office with my father one morning. I knew what communion was and what it meant, as much as a three-year-old can understand. The grape juice represented Jesus’ blood and the bread his body. I didn’t really know what that meant (who really does, fully?), but it was something Jesus did, and that meant it was a good thing. To me, a piece of bread together with a cup has been iconic of the Lord’s Supper for as long as I can remember.

Whenever I had grape juice at home, I’d ask for bread too, secretly pretending I was having communion. I remember unsuccessfully trying to pretend once with bread and orange juice, since grape juice was unavailable at that moment. I glibly told my mother that I was having communion, but she told me I shouldn’t pretend that. I conceded, yeah, orange juice was not very authentic.

Our church, Cornerstone Bible Church, where my father was an elder, met in a college classroom. After church service I’d drag my friends into some adjoining classroom and pretend to have another service, pushing a chair to the front of the room so I could climb up onto it and stand behind the podium to speak. Sometimes they humored me.

Early on at Cornerstone, after service my mother would let me have the bread that was left over from communion. Yep, that’s right. The actual bread that had sat in the communion tray and had been consecrated for holy use, as much as that meant to us back then. For my part, I never considered that a normal afternoon snack. There was something special about that bread, even if I couldn’t express exactly what it was. After all, as one can see from the examples above, even though my family had a more or less baptist understanding of the sacraments at the time, I’d been raised with a healthy respect and a deep appreciation for the Lord’s Table, and it sure took. As much as I liked to pretend when I could with bread and grape juice, this was different. This was the real thing.

For whatever reason, I stopped getting the “leftovers” fairly early on, much to my disappointment.¹ But I’ve remembered it to this day, and, at least as far as the church fathers would have seen it, that would have been my first conscious participation in the Eucharistic elements, even if there never seemed to be any leftover grape juice.

And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons.

At that age, somewhere between 2 and 4, I was like one who had been absent from the table (though I was never absent from the worship service) and was given the elements after the dismissal. Though there certainly was an amount of impropriety about my taking the elements then, since I hadn’t yet been baptized, I took them (or one of them, at least) nonetheless.

It made me feel a part of something bigger. It gave a sense of belonging along with the grown-ups of the church. I suppose if I can put words to the exact feeling it gave me, I’d say it made me feel special. But isn’t that one of the central points of Communion? It’s an expression of unity among and within the body. A meal reserved for the called-out ones.

Can I say that I derived any real spiritual benefit from it? Perhaps, if we acknowledge the objectivity of the sacraments and the real presence of Christ in the Supper when it is presented beside the preaching of the Word.

Even as Eucharist means to give thanks, that is what I do. I’m thankful every day that I was raised in a Christian home where I was always aware of the goodness of God. Where Christ was presented to me in Word and sacrament every single Lord’s Day (well, sacrament was once a month), even if I was not officially welcome to partake of the latter.

The lesson to be learned is simple: Never underestimate how much your little children understand or how even the slightest bit of inclusion in the life of the Church will benefit them, both now and in the future. And don’t discount the messages that exclusion sends them either.

It is said that a child’s most formative time of life is at about age 3. For the rest of their lives, long after they may have forgotten details or even whole events, that period of growth remains etched in their subconscious, molding their perceptions of the world.

Children are born to instinctively imitate their parents unless and until they are taught otherwise. If we really want them to imitate us in faith, then why should we, by our actions, teach them not to during their most formative years? If you want your children to follow you in faith, then teach them how to by including them in it. And teach them early.

Psalm 22:9-10
Yet you are he who took me from the womb;
you made me trust you at my mother’s breasts.
On you was I cast from my birth,
and from my mother’s womb you have been my God.

Chrismation, Confirmation, and Excommunication

Liturgists throughout the ages have long recognized the principle of lex orandi, lex credendi. The law of prayer becomes the law of belief. So if you want to reform the theology of the church, first reform its worship. Belief will follow. The same holds true of the reverse. A little superfluous drama or symbolism, a little unwarranted addition to the service of worship, can have far reaching negative consequences. In this short article I want to address the question of how children came to be barred from participation in the Lord’s Supper.

In the early church, the newly baptized were admitted immediately to the table. There is a great deal of evidence from the writings of the church fathers that this was the case even for infants.

At some point in the first couple centuries of the Church, someone had the slick idea to add a little oil to the waters of baptism. More precisely, a small element was added to the rite of baptism in which the newly baptized was anointed with oil to symbolize the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This anointing, called chrismation, was originally viewed as simply a part of the baptismal rite. It is an extra-biblical addition to the sacrament. It must have been a fairly early tradition, since it is found everywhere in the ancient churches, and also in denominations today that hold claim to the ancient church. So the alien element of oil was interposed between water and supper.

In the Eastern Orthodox churches, we can see something similar to what this rite might have looked like in the ancient church. Baptism is immediately followed by anointing with oil, and the newly baptized and chrismed is immediately admitted to the Eucharist. This immediacy in administration of the sacraments is maintained in the East because any priest could both baptize and chrismate, and then administer the elements. In the West, the story is quite different.

Conscious to guard the hierarchy of the bishopric, which it considered to be essential to the doctrine of apostolic succession, the Roman church ruled in the West that while the priesthood could baptize and administer the Eucharist, chrismation required the services of a bishop. Without the anointing, the baptism was deemed incomplete. As the church spread throughout the empire into more rural areas, it became hard to come by a bishop. Priests could administer baptism, but without the authority to perform the rite of chrismation, they could not complete the initiation of converts or their children into the new faith.

More and more, chrismation had to be delayed until a bishop passed through the area. Because chrismation was technically a part of the baptismal ritual, the baptism was not complete until this anointing of oil had been given. The result was that administration of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was also withheld from those who had been baptized but whose baptism had not been “confirmed” by a bishop in chrismation.

Often it could be years before the services of a bishop were available. A traveling bishop would pass through, chrismate all those who had been baptized but not confirmed, and then admit them to the table of the Eucharist. By then, those who had been baptized as infants but had never been chrismated would be old enough to be aware of what was taking place. In order to prepare these children for the anointing of oil and the partaking of the Supper, a system of catechism was introduced. The baptized would be instructed in the doctrines of the church and so made ready for chrismation and communion.

And so the Western rite of Confirmation was born. As chrismation was increasingly separated from baptism in the greater part of the Western church, confirmation came to be seen as a separate sacramental rite—one that drove a man-made wedge between baptism and communion. If you consider that chrismation with oil, whether in baptism or years afterward, is an extra-biblical practice, then the fact becomes unavoidable that this later development amounts to the unnatural and unlawful excommunication (barring from the table) of baptized Christians.

It is a curious thing that this rite continues even in Reformed churches today, albeit without the oil. Granted, they don’t consider it a sacrament, and Confirmation as such is sometimes optional or simply called something else. But the essential idea continues that there must exist a period of instruction between baptism and communion, at least for those who are baptized as infants, and a “credible confession” must thereafter be made in order to gain access to the table.

By introducing catechism as a prerequisite for chrismation, the Western Roman church placed an emphasis on understanding as a requirement for confirmation (of baptism), and thus for communion in the Eucharist. When the Reformed church rightly did away with the oil of chrismation, they nevertheless retained the rite and all its implications for the sacraments. I find it ironic that a controversy regarding the communication of children today in Reformed churches has its roots in two erroneous Roman practices: the chrismation of oil in baptism and the safeguarding of apostolic succession in the hierarchy of the church by requiring that a bishop must confirm a baptism administered by a priest.

The lex orandi of the Roman church has become the de facto lex credendi of of Western Christianity, including many Reformed Christians.

Bibliographic Sources:

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