I've mentioned that Eucharist is celebrated every morning at Taizé during the morning service. And in their Eucharistic practices we find another charism of Taizé.
In an increasingly post-Christian world it seems that many churches face a choice. On the one hand, there is the move to make Christianity more inclusive and welcoming by making everything in the faith mean less. Christian faith is therapeutically demythologized, so you don't have to believe anything. Christian praxis simply becomes social justice, so your ethics can remain exactly as they are. And so on.
Pushing against this trend, the other choice is to make everything mean more. Double-down on all that is the weird, supernatural, and doctrinal in the faith. Invest in the strangeness. Instead of making Christianity fit in with the reigning moral and therapeutic consensus of the world, stand apart from the world. Draw a line and make a contrast.
In my own faith journey during the season of this blog (2007 to the present), I've made a journey from the former to the latter option. Early in the history of the blog, I was a part of the trend to make Christianity mean less so that it could be more inclusive and welcoming. Today, however, I see the pointlessness of that activity and now stand as a critic of those progressive voices still engaged in this project. This is a part of why I call myself a post-progressive Christian.
And yet, post-progressive doesn't mean anti-progressive. I still want Christianity to be inclusive and welcoming. I just want it to accomplish that by making Christianity mean more rather than less. Trouble is, you just don't see a lot of examples of this. Making Christianity mean more often involves barriers and boundaries. This makes a lot of sociological and psychological sense. If you want something to mean more, to experience something as unique and special, you have to set it aside and protect it. Imagine a cherished heirloom like china dishes. You put those dishes in a cabinet and don't use them very often. A similar logic holds in the religious world as well. Just look at the book of Leviticus.
So you appreciate the predicament. How do you make Christianity mean more yet keep it open and inclusive? That question brings me back to Taizé.
In my estimation, in their Eucharistic practices, Taizé pulls off the trick of making something mean more while extending an open invitation. Eucharist means more at Taizé compared to most churches. You begin each day with the celebration. And the liturgy around the ritual is rich and beautiful. At Taizé, the mystery of the Eucharist is elevated rather than diminished.
The practices here are even more interesting. Accurate details are hard to confirm, so any knowledgable readers can clarify, but my understanding (and online research) suggest that the bread and wine offered at Taizé have been consecrated in a Catholic service that takes place prior to the morning prayer service. Blessed bread is available for the unbaptized, but almost everyone in the service--Catholic and non-Catholic, baptized an unbaptized--go to the brothers during communion. Given Taizé's call toward ecumenical reconciliation, this practice isn't discouraged. So, if I have the details right, Taizé is the one place where non-Catholics, and even the unbaptized, can receive consecrated bread and wine.
If I have these details right, and the Taizé community doesn't frown on or discourage this practice, this is another, very unique, example of making something mean more while also making it radically open. If the bread and wine at Taizé are consecrated, Eucharist can't get any "more" than that. And if Taizé is practicing an open table, then you can't get any more "open" than that.
Regardless, even the bread is not consecrated in a Catholic mass, the daily morning liturgy around Eucharist at Taizé makes the ritual mean more rather than less. You experience the "real presence" of Christ. And the welcome extended to the Table is generous and hospitable to all.
When you worship at Taizé you see how it is possible to make Christian life and practice mean more without it becoming exclusive, judgmental and insular. You don't see it very often, but more can mean open. And in my estimation, this More + Open option provides rich evangelistic opportunities in a post-Christian world. To be sure, I have some readers (you know who you are) who will push back on this, arguing that More Means Closed is the only faithful way forward. (A voice like Pope Benedict comes to mind here.) But as a post-progressive (rather than anti-progressive) Christian, I think More + Open, as you experience at Taizé, has a lot of evangelistic upside in an increasingly post-Christian world and provides better spiritual formation for churches whose insularity makes them vulnerable to dysfunctional leadership and prone to culture war capture.
