The Communion and Communicant — Story, Setting & Ideas

A Pastoral Approach to a Fearful Text

Hoare treats the 'startling words' of Paul with reverence—'that man must indeed be a bold transgressor, who does not feel awed'—but he refuses to let fear become the final note. His pastoral strategy is to redirect attention from vague anxiety to precise scriptural study: 'He ought rather to take the Word of God, and study it carefully, in order to ascertain the real nature of the service, and the kind of character to which the words refer.' This move from emotion to exegesis defines Hoare's voice. He writes as a minister addressing conscientious doubters, not as a theologian debating abstract points. The tract's structure follows this logic: after establishing the authority of the institution, Hoare examines the danger of unworthy reception, then the character of the worthy communicant. Each step is grounded in the biblical text, not in church tradition or personal opinion.

Misapplied Warnings: Hoare's Correction of Common Fears

Hoare devotes considerable space to cases where Paul's warning is 'sometimes applied in practice, though not in Scripture.' He lists three groups who mistakenly exclude themselves: those 'actively engaged in the business of life,' young or inexperienced believers, and those who feel their spiritual state is too weak. To the first group, he argues that 'diligence in business' is itself a biblical duty—'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord'—and that worldly cares should drive a person to the means of grace, not away. He illustrates with a vignette of a servant who postpones communion until she is 'settled,' then 'less harassed,' then free from family cares, until 'she goes to her grave having spent her whole life in waiting.' The concrete example reveals Hoare's awareness of his audience's daily realities.

Biblical Precedent for Active Saints

To counter the notion that worldly engagement disqualifies one from communion, Hoare cites Enoch, Moses, and David—figures who managed families, led nations, and governed while walking with God. The argument is not merely illustrative but structural: if these saints could partake, so can the Victorian shopkeeper or servant. Hoare's diction here is direct and practical: 'If we are exposed to great temptation, then we need great strength; and if harassed by the world’s influence, we need the more peculiar help.' The conditional 'if' clauses build a logical case that turns the objection on its head. Hoare does not promise ease; he acknowledges that cares can 'choke the word,' but insists that the remedy is not withdrawal but engagement with the sacrament. The tone is firm yet compassionate, urging readers to examine their hearts: 'Do you intend to abandon yourself to the spirit of the world? If you do, by all means abstain.'

The Conscientious Spirit and the Danger of Mistaken Dread

Hoare distinguishes between two kinds of fear: the healthy solemnity that Paul intended, and a 'mistaken dread' that keeps sincere believers from the table. He writes that those who 'tremble at the thoughts of communion' because they see 'great defects' in themselves possess a 'conscientious spirit' that 'must be respected greatly, and treated tenderly.' This is not mere rhetoric; Hoare explicitly warns against discouraging 'beginners' or holding them back 'until they reach a certain point in spiritual attainment.' The tract's closing sections reinforce this inclusive vision: the sacrament is not a reward for the perfect but a means of grace for the struggling. Hoare's language remains anchored in the biblical text, but his pastoral heart is evident in every paragraph. The reader is left not with a checklist of worthiness but with an invitation to study the Word and approach the table with informed confidence.

Hoare's tract is best read as a sermon in print—structured, exegetical, and aimed at a specific pastoral problem. Its value lies not in originality but in the clarity with which it addresses a perennial anxiety: the fear of partaking unworthily. Readers interested in Victorian Anglican piety or the history of communion preparation will find here a concise example of how one minister balanced the solemnity of Paul's warning with the comfort of the gospel. The 1847 edition, transcribed from the original, preserves Hoare's paragraph breaks and italics, which signal his emphases. Approach the text as a period piece of practical theology, not a systematic treatise.

Hoare’s words made the table feel less like a test and more like a homecoming, the sort of quiet relief that stays with you. It reminded me of another gentle story, where a child’s brief death becomes a door back to ordinary life. Both left a soft ache of hope. The Child Who Died and Lived Again — Reading Notes carries that same tender weight.