Recently I was listening to Roman Hurko’s Liturgy No. 3 (English), and was struck by something I heard just before they sang the Nicene Creed. The celebrant chanted: The doors! The doors! In wisdom let us be attentive!

Now, this is the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom—an ancient pattern for worship still in use among the Orthodox today—beautifully adapted for Anglophone audiences. I myself am, in the words of a Monty Python skit, “Protestant! And fiercely proud of it!” So I knew this phrase had significance, but I didn’t know what it was.

So I enquired of St. Google what these words mean. It turns out that they are meant to create a strict partition in the worship. They are literally an instruction for the deacons to usher the unbaptized out the doors, in preparation for holy communion. Those who are not in Christ are led out of the assembly, and the doors are closed, before the church prays and prepares to share in the body and blood of Christ.

This practice arose in ancient Christianity, when the demarcation between the Church and the World was sharp, indeed. In that time of prejudice and persecution, you did not know if a visitor might be a spy, or someone seeking to go out and discredit the church.

All were welcome to come and hear the Gospel proclaimed. But the presence of those who had not yet joined themselves to Christ by a proclamation of faith and baptism did not inform the practice of the church. In other words, the ancient Christians were hospitable, but not “seeker-friendly.” Their most sacred and precious practices were guarded; not because they were ashamed of them, but because they had a well-cultivated sense of the holy.

Our Lord once warned: Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you (Matthew‬ ‭7‬:‭6‬ ‭KJV‬‬). One application early Christians made of this passage was to guard holy communion from those who had no share in Christ. Just as, under the Old Covenant, the Lord had commanded that there shall no stranger eat of the Passover lamb (Exodus 12:43); the early Christians secluded themselves from outsiders when it came time to eat and drink the New Covenant meal, the bread and wine which Christ had sanctified by saying: Take, eat; this is my body; and, this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins (Matthew‬ ‭26‬:‭26‬, 28 KJV‬‬). Why would you give someone who has no share in Christ’s body, who has not been sanctified by his blood, a place at the table?

And so, as they moved toward the Lord’s table, ancient Christians sent their guests away, and they closed the doors behind them. This was making a visible and tangible distinction between Church and World.

I have not written all this merely to argue for closed communion, per se. Rather, my concern is that the churches today do not keep this distinction between Church and World, neither in our worship, nor in our church cultures. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died (1 Corinthians‬ ‭11‬:‭30‬ ‭ESV‬‬). Because we have not been wisely attentive to our doors; that is, what we let in, and what we keep out.

We have let in secular intrusions—in our worship, our word, and our culture. Indeed, in many churches, we have allowed the unbelievers set the tone for what we will preach (or not), how and what we will sing, and what our church cultures will look like. We have not only given unbaptized ideas and desires and imaginations a place at our table—we have allowed them to set the agenda, the terms, and the pace.

We have closed our doors to the Law of God, to convict sinners and drive them to Christ, and to guide believers with doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness (Timothy‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬). We have opened them to a generic pragmatism, sentimental stories, inoffensive life hacks, and moralistic pep-talks, in a never-ending quest for “relevance.” This is neither Gospel nor Law, so it can neither comfort nor convict—and certainly cannot save anyone.

We have closed the doors on the Gospel: the naked proclamation that Christ, who is the fullness of God dwelling in human flesh; shed actual blood for real sinners, accomplishing everything necessary for salvation. We have opened them to a therapeutic decisionism that makes Christ a happy option to achieve happiness and fulfillment.

We have closed the doors on Christ as the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, and the key who opens up all the Scriptures. And we have opened the doors for a narcissistic method where instead of Christ being the meaning of the Bible, we are.

We have closed the doors on discipleship and vocation—the idea that God has commandeered your life for His own purposes, for His glory and the good of your neighbor. We have opened the doors on a sort of TV dinner approach to the Christian life, often labeled “next steps.”

We have opened the doors to corporate management culture, turning pastors into bureaucrats and bean counters in a technocratic nanny state. We have closed the doors on soul care and church discipline.

We have closed the doors on simply trusting that the Gospel of Christ is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth (Romans 1:16-17). We have opened the doors to techniques and tactics of emotional manipulation that border on New Age mysticism and witchcraft.

We have closed the doors on sound doctrine, norms, and cultivating the life of the mind. Again, the phrase, The doors! The doors! In wisdom let us be attentive!; is chanted just before the Nicene Creed:

I believe in one God,
the Father Almighty,
Maker of heaven and earth,
and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,
the only begotten Son of God,
begotten of the Father before all worlds;
God of God,
Light of Light,
very God of very God;
begotten, not made,
being of one substance with the Father,
by whom all things were made.

Who, for us men and for our salvation,
came down from heaven,
and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary,
and was made man;
and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered and was buried;
and the third day he rose again, according to the Scriptures …

We have closed the door on demanding that those who call themselves Christians must believe these things, and that they ought to meditate on them, be awed by them, love them, and take refuge in them. Instead, we have opened the door to thousands of subjective understandings of truth, propped up on stilts of vaguely religious-sounding platitudes.

No one is going to stake their life on: Whenever God shuts a door, He opens a window. No one is going to say: My only comfort in life and in death is that God will never give me more than I can handle.

Beloved, we have not in wisdom been attentive to our doors. We have ushered in the unbaptized ideas, worldviews, and techniques, and let them talk us into removing the ancient landmark which our fathers had set (Proverbs 22:28). And we have ushered out the great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), and the rich inheritance of faith they laid up for us—even at the cost of their own lives—and shut the doors in their faces.

For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God (1 Peter 4:17 KJV): but, if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged (1 Corinthians‬ ‭11‬:‭31‬ ‭KJV‬‬).

The doors! The doors! In wisdom let us be attentive!