Category: Being a “priest”

I’m a priest in the same priesthood as all Christians. I’m also a priest in a different way from most Christians. And, oddly enough, that matters

The Priesthood of Adam and the Shape of the World

I’ve used the subtitle from An Offering of Uncles to give a hint of this post. When I first read Capon’s book I made no connection between the priesthood of Adam and the hiereus/priest. Over the years I’ve lent the book out twice and lost it twice and I’m holding on to this one (thanks to one of the online book sites specializing in out of print books) for dear life. Even after many years and a couple of re-readings, the penny hadn’t dropped. According to Capon’s assumption, Adam’s special role in creation was to be a priest. And though that priesthood has been marred through the Fall, it still remains an inescapable part of what it means to be human. To be a human is to be a priest. Which then begs the question – just what is a priest?

In my previous post I noted that: “The role of the hiereus/priest is adequately described in various encyclopedias both print and online. I was looking for more than a bit of religious anthropology.” However, we cannot escape that bit of religious anthropology if we’re to make sense of Capon’s assertion. According to Wikipedia (the source of all knowledge accurate or wildly inaccurate)

“A priest or priestess is a religious leader authorized to perform the sacred rituals of a religion, especially as a mediatory agent between humans and one or more deities. They also have the authority or power to administer religious rites; in particular, rites of sacrifice to, and propitiation of, a deity or deities.”

In other words, the work of the priest is to act as a connector between humanity and divinity, or better, between the common and the holy. This definition faintly echoes N.T. Wright’s understanding of the image of God in humanity at creation:

“This is what is meant by humans being made in God’s image: not that we simply are like God in this or that respect, but that as angled mirrors we are called to sum up the praises of creation, on the one hand, and to rule as wise stewards over the world, on the other. This is the vocation known as the ‘royal priesthood’, kings and priests.”

(“Mind, Spirit, Soul and Body: All for One and One for All Reflections on Paul’s Anthropology in his Complex Contexts” N.T. Wright, Paper give at the Society of Christian Philosophers: Regional Meeting, Fordham University; March 18, 2011)

The parallel between Capon’s theme and Wright’s definition of the imago dei hints that we may be onto something in the context of biblical anthropology. That something, the function of the priesthood of Adam, must wait until the next posting. In the meantime, here follows an update on the book in progress.

Of the Making of Many Books There Is No End

“And much study is a weariness of the flesh.” So speaks the author of Ecclesiastes. And the writing of books means the reading of books and each new development of a chapter prompts another look at a book that wasn’t already on the reading list. I’ve just finished a re-read of Leading Christians to Christ by Fr. Rob Smith. I looked up an old favorite, Systemantics by John Gall only to find he’d published a third, expanded, edition called The Systems Bible. (Yes, I ordered it and it’s on the growing stack. Damn you, Amazon.) Gall’s book isn’t a theological tome. But it is an amusing look at how systems don’t work. One of my favorite maxims is “Systems tend to oppose their own proper function.” If that isn’t a description of the Church I don’t know what is.

More word games: priesthood

This continues my posting from June 15, beginning with a recap of the word games around priesthood. At the end I will throw in a couple of tidbits about the book I’m writing.

The English word priest is misleading. It is derived from the Greek word prebyteros, but it is never used to represent that word in English. We use the word elder, which is fair enough as that is what presbyteros means. Instead, we use the word priest to translate a different Greek word altogether: hiereus. The hiereus is one who has the role of mediator between human beings and gods or God. It is used of the Temple hierarchy and of Jesus as mediator between God and humanity. In other words, regardless of etymology, a hiereus is a priest. Confused yet? But wait! There’s more! In order to continue with my chaotic thinking (and also to muddy the waters further) I’ll be using the terms hiereus/priest and presbyteros/priest to distinguish these two roles.

A long time ago, in a town far, far away, in 1978 to be exact, the world was young, the mountains green, no stain yet on the hills were seen. No, wait. That a Star Wars rip off and a poem from The Hobbit. Let’s begin again. In 1978 I was ordained a presbyteros/priest. I was already a hierus/priest though I didn’t know it at the time. In fact, I thought the two were the same thing. More than a decade after that event I was invited to join some fellow Episcopal clergy in a seminar on the theology of priesthood. It actually went nowhere. One of my classmates, a wonderful priest by the name of Sara Balcombe, observed that instead of a theology of priesthood we were actually examining a sociology of religion. But though the seminar went nowhere, it did start me thinking about priesthood and the difference between the priesthood of the church and the priesthood of Jesus in which all Christians participated. I understood a good bit about the role of the presbyteros/priest. I soon realized that I didn’t really know that much about the role and function of the hiereus/priest.

The role of the hiereus/priest is adequately described in various encyclopedias both print and online. I was looking for more than a bit of religious anthropology. Fortunately, I recalled a book I’d read in college called An Offering of Uncles. The part that made the book relevant was the subtitle: The Priesthood of Adam and the Shape of the World. The author, the late Fr. Robert Capon, was a very funny writer. So much so that sometimes the creative insights were lost in the wit. My last rereading also reminded me that, in terms of cultural reference points, the book is very dated. Something like goldenrod appliances left over from the 1970s. The key phrase that makes the book worthwhile and worth exploring is The Priesthood of Adam.

That’s where I’ll wrap up today. We’re off to volunteer at the Wild Animal Sanctuary and as it is an hour’s drive away, we leave early and get back late. However, I did promise some comment on the book in progress. Its working title is Converting the Church, which I suspect, in the long run, won’t work. It explores the idea of conversion with several examples, the problem of communal life and the fact that being a disciple of Jesus, in the Gospels, was an invitation, never a command.

I’ve been rather busy

Most of my energy has been directed towards completing an outline. The outline is for a book I’ve been planning to write for the last three years. For two of those three I was still Rector of Trinity Parish in Greeley. Now that I’m retired, I thought I could finally get to work, and I have. The book has (so far) 14 chapters plus an introduction and an appendix. Mind you, it’s only an outline. The actual work of writing is very hard work. It will not be some classic work of theology or ecclesiology or ascetical theology though it embraces all three.

Of course, the idea of writing a book in retirement is a bit of a cliché. Even if I finish it, finding a publisher is another matter. Even if it is published, I do not expect a wide readership for it is not written for a wide audience. Nonetheless, the topic is important to me and the experiences of four decades of ministry, particularly the last 15 in Greeley, gives me some substantial basis from which to write.

There are, however, other things on my mind than would be covered in this book. That’s the reason I started blogging as The Apprentice Priest. While being apprentices of Jesus is much of what my possible book is about, priesthood doesn’t really come into it. And yet, priesthood is something that has consumed my praying, my thinking and my living since 1972 when I first went to talk to my bishop about ordination.

At the same time, the priesthood I’m concerned with is not, for the most part, about holy orders. In fact, referring to the Order to which I belong as the “priesthood” is a major stumbling block to comprehending both that Order of ministry and the concept of priesthood in general. In order to sort that out I need to dive into the murky waters of etymology – the study of the origin and development of words.

Our word, priest, comes into English via a very circuitous route from a Greek word, presbyteros. While presbyteros occurs frequently in the Greek New Testament, the word priest is used to translate a different word entirely: heireus. That term is used for the Temple priesthood and also for the priesthood of Jesus Christ in the epistle to the Hebrews. Presbyteros, on the other hand, means elder. Where the word is used in the New Testament it almost always refers to someone who has responsibility for governing the life of the local church. Thus, regardless of the vagaries of language, the Christian priest is actually an elder.

Of course, there is much more to the problem of priesthood than that. The much more will have to wait until my next posting. Until then, I’ll leave you with three pieces of Scripture that give a hint of where I’m going and why.

Exodus 19:4-6 ‘You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words that you shall speak to the people of Israel.”

1 Peter 2:9-10 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

Revelation 5:9-10 And they sang a new song, saying, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.”

A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Pretty much all I write about in this forum has a fundamental assumption that can tie a number of disparate musings into a connected thread. One might call it my way of looking at the world. In fact, it is the troublesome word “world” that strikes near the heart of the matter.

In the New Testament the use of the word world most often translates a Greek term: kosmos. Although kosmos has come into our language as cosmos, its original meaning referred to an orderly arrangement, even a decoration. By implication it could refer to the whole created order, but that included the inhabitants of the world and the way those inhabitants organized life, including moral organization which could encompass politics, business or the whole value system of human societies. Because of the breadth of possible meaning, the New Testament is ambiguous in its application of the term. In the letter of James, we read that “friendship with the world is enmity with God.” But, famously, the Gospel of John tells us that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son…” There is one other use of the term world that further illustrates the ambiguity.

In John’s Gospel there is a recounting of a conversation between Jesus and the Roman Procurator, Pontius Pilate. When Pilate challenges Jesus about the accusations the Jewish authorities have lodged against him, the most common translation of Jesus’ reply goes like this: Jesus answered, “My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews; but my kingship is not from the world.” (John 18:36) But taking the term kosmos as orderly arrangement, a paraphrase called the Complete Jewish Bible gives this rendition: Yeshua answered, “My kingship does not derive its authority from this world’s order of things. If it did, my men would have fought to keep me from being arrested by the Judeans. But my kingship does not come from here.”

Thus, the reply of Jesus draws an immediate contrast between the order of things that Pilate knows and a different arrangement from which Jesus draws his authority. The example Jesus uses is the example of armed resistance. That is the behavior Pilate (and Caesar) recognizes. That is why Pilate cannot seem to grasp what Jesus is saying. In Caesar’s kingdom, Jesus simply doesn’t make sense.

And there we have the two kingdoms face to face. On the one hand, there is Caesar’s kingdom. We know that kingdom well. It is the arrangement of things that governs human life across the globe. It is the system of government, business, education, politics and social groups of all sizes in all cultures. If you have ever had the pleasure of engaging in church politics whether in a congregation or a convention, it is painfully obvious that churches more often than not, order themselves according to the rules of Caesar’s kingdom.

Some time ago a wise priest discouraged me from invoking Robert’s Rules of Order to govern church meetings. He pointed out that the origin of that protocol was to handle conflict. It assumes conflict. And when there is none, invoking those rules can occasionally create conflict. Robert’s Rules of Order are tailor made for Caesar’s kingdom.

The alternative to Caesar’s kingdom is, of course, the kingdom of God, even though God’s church all too often can’t seem to tell the difference. This second kingdom is the one that Jesus announces as he begins his ministry. Jesus announces that this kingdom is near, is at hand, is in our midst. This last comment (Luke 17:21) is often translated as the kingdom being within or among, but in your midst is a reading more consistent with Jesus’ other teachings on the kingdom. One commentator notes that: “The whole language of the kingdom of heaven being within men, rather than men being within the kingdom, is modern”

Perhaps there is no other clearer passage about the orderly arrangement (kosmos) of God’s kingdom than Jesus’ rebuke to his disciples as they were arguing who would be the highest officials in the kingdom Jesus was proclaiming. It is best to take the whole passage which gives the setting:

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to [Jesus], “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.” When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:35-45)

I have neither the qualifications nor the capacity to do a thorough exegesis of the contrast of the two kingdoms. Instead I want to underline that there are two kingdoms, that one of them, God’s kingdom, is at work in the midst of Caesar’s both undercutting its legitimacy and healing the wounds it causes. All else I write about blessing, priesthood or any other aspect of spiritual formation flows from my understanding of that reality.

If it ain’t broke…

… don’t fix it. That piece of homespun advice gets bandied about a lot, particularly when well-intended folks offer unwanted advice to people who are content with life. It’s also used to avoid dealing with self-sabotaging behavior when the prospect of change is too daunting, too painful or even just too inconvenient to face. My own experience is that sometimes when that expression is used we may be mistaken about what “it” is or how “it” is supposed to function.

That piece of advice came to mind while reflecting on what I wrote 2 weeks ago after the mass killing in Orlando. God had a different destiny for the shooter than the one he chose. “A human being, a child of Adam, destined to be a priest whose acts of love would weave meaning into the world, instead took up weapons…” And from a couple of paragraphs later “The priesthood of Adam has failed again of its hope.” Both of those statements imply a good deal of content and I hope to begin unpacking them here. At the same time, we dare not forget those killed and wounded in Orlando, nor let the deep wounds of individuals lost be buried under the sheer numbers of people killed by one person in a very short time. Each person who died was also destined by God to be a priest giving meaning to our world.

I’ve been referring to such actions as the Orlando killing under the heading of the “priesthood of un-meaning.” That does not mean that the killer exercised a different sort of priesthood than the victims or indeed all human beings. It is how that priesthood is acted out – does it give meaning and joy and purpose? Does it tear apart lives, destroy hope or further the brokenness of human life? One exercise of priesthood did just that at the nightclub in Orlando. But there were also many, many other acts of priesthood that occurred that evening. We know of a few of them like the bouncer who leapt through a crowd of panicking people to open a door for 60-70 patrons to escape. There were many more like first responders and victims comforting and working to save other victims. And each one of those acts were priestly acts that echoed God’s intent in creating humankind.

Even a broken priesthood can shine the light of hope through the deepest darkness. Even a broken priesthood can in some small degree heal wounds inflicted by the priesthood of unmeaning. But our acts of kindness and love and bravery and compassion cannot hide the fact that Adam’s priesthood is broken. When each act of horror occurs we can see clearly that brokenness. Yet at the same time each act of bullying in a schoolyard or a business office or a government office or a church is also the sign of a broken priesthood. Each act of abuse and betrayal is a sign of that broken priesthood. To add to the problem, human beings are capable of exercising both aspects of priesthood – blessing and unmeaning. We can exercise both acts in our relationships in the same day, even in the same hour.

Add to broken priesthood a history of anger, resentment and the feeling of powerlessness. Then mix in broken religion and an automatic weapon with a substantial clip and you have Orlando. Take those last elements away and you have abusive relationships and toxic workplaces. Yet, take away even anger and resentment and the feelings of powerlessness and you still have a broken priesthood that tries its best to bring healing good to our world and yet ever fails to fulfill its own vision.

That’s a long way around to the place I got stuck two years ago. But the getting stuck was not because we are without hope and without remedy. Rather, I was stuck because I had a hint that the remedy was so radical that I wasn’t sure I wanted to go there myself. It is time to start working on that journey and I’ll share those thoughts in a week or so.

The Priesthood of Unmeaning (Again)

It’s happened again. A human being, a child of Adam, destined to be a priest whose acts of love would weave meaning into the world, instead took up weapons and left — at last count — 50 dead and more than that wounded. The numbers are appalling. But to those who have lost someone they loved, there is a name and a face and a history that was killed. That person was one of 50. But he or she might have been one of 5 or one of 5,000 and the pain and the sorrow and the darkness would be the same.

The news coverage will fade quickly enough. Leaders here and abroad have expressed their sorrow, their outrage and their solidarity with all who have lost and were lost. A few politicians have said stupid things or made cynical use of tragedy. (Many people not in politics may do the same but they don’t get press coverage.) But when the press have moved on to other things and when the next tragedy happens there are still hundreds of people who will remember a name, a face and a history that is lost to them.

The priesthood of Adam has failed again of its hope. Unmeaning has been loosed upon us with echoes of the laughter of hell. Not even the new priesthood of the Christ will bring the lost back to life in our midst. Thus all who seek to exercise that new priesthood will struggle to go on in the face of the relentless tide of evil and unmeaning. But go on we must and go on we will. We will bless those within our reach with the blessing of the Christ. Following the instructions given to Aaron, we will place God’s Holy Name upon them. We will reach beyond the normal network of our relationships to bless those who react in horror and fear. And, this is the hardest part, we will bless those who curse and condemn Muslims and homosexuals and invoke the name of God over the carnage.

The priesthood of Adam may well seek to curse and condemn and judge in reaction. Those who exercise the priesthood of Christ will not be turned aside. We know the outcome of the battle against meaning and love and purpose. As the old Pentecostal preacher cried: “I took a peek at the back of the book and Jesus wins.”

Priesthood and blessing

I can’t recall ever being blessed by my father. It’s neither a complaint or a whine, just an observation. It could be that my father did bless me when I was an infant, but I’ve no recollection. I’ve also no blame for him. It would surprise me very much to learn that my father’s father had blessed him, even though my father was the first born son. And there’s no blame being assigned to my grandfather either. I don’t know how many generations it has been since the Church taught blessing as a Christian’s prerogative. But I do know that when I’ve asked how many people in a congregation of 100+ were ever blessed by their fathers, less than half dozen hands are raised.

Blessing is a priestly act, but it doesn’t require a priest in the sacramental/institutional sense. As Russ Parker notes in his book Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing, blessing is more than just good wishes or nice words. It conveys the presence of God on the person being blessed. It can mark the healing of old and deep wounds. It can also restore a sense of purpose in the life of that person. Most of all, blessing is a sacramental unsaying of the curses our world loves to give. When Jesus instructs disciples to bless those who curse you he is doing more than just breaking a cycle of meeting curse with curse. He is inviting his apprentices to engage in a ministry of healing the wounds the world inflicts.

That’s good news, but there is even better news. Even when there is no specific wound to heal, when there is no curse to lift, blessing builds. That’s why I do wish my father had known he had both the authority and ability to bless. Even today, when perhaps our children are grown and the opportunity to bless in childhood has passed, it is still possible to bless our children and teach our children to bless their own. In the ministry of blessing we incarnate Christ’s new priesthood. The fallen priesthood of Adam, so often a priesthood of unmeaning, will now never have the last word.

The Apprentice Priest is back – maybe.

In the nearly 18 months since I last posted anything I’ve mulled over many ideas on which to write. Then, of course, I got busy, or got behind, or got stuck or got so bored with what I was writing that I couldn’t bring myself to finish. Behind all of this was a need to follow up on a post from almost 2 years ago on the Priesthood of un-meaning. If you’ve not read this or read it so long ago as to have no clue what it’s about then follow the link and check it out. It’s not that long so I’ll wait….

 

The conclusion promised a further post on a new priesthood, a priesthood that could heal the carnage created by the human “priesthood of un-meaning:” those acts inescapably part of our human priestliness that are abusive, wounding and destructive. These acts can be anything from gossip to genocide and they all seek to rob human life of joy, meaning and hope. But how could I describe a priesthood, this new priesthood, that I knew in theory but wasn’t sure how to exercise? That question derailed the series and though I wrote some posts on different subjects, things were pretty hollow. In the last two years, without realizing it, I’ve been learning to exercise this new priesthood, almost by accident. So maybe I should retitle this blog from the Apprentice Priest to the Accidental Priest.

The key priestly act here is the act of blessing. There’s a good deal more to blessing that good wishes or kindly words. Blessing can do remarkable things in the deepest wounds of our souls. And that’s where I’ll posit an alternative to the priesthood of unmeaning.

The Priesthood of un-meaning

OK, it’s been 5 months since I’ve been online. This is not unusual. I’m still working through what it means to be a priest, whether presbyteros or hiereus but in the interest of full disclosure, most of these ideas come from a book written many years ago by a wonderful, witty and somewhat strange priest, Robert Farrar Capon. In his book An Offering of Uncles Capon examines the priesthood of Adam and the priesthood of Christ. In both of these he uses the meaning hiereus. His primary assertion is that Adam, as a figure representing all humankind, was created to be a priest and thus all human acts, intentionally or not, are priestly acts. But that leaves us with a conundrum and that’s where I pick up after the long delay:

The role of the hiereus priest is the transformation of the ordinary through oblation. Phew! That was loaded with jargon. However, jargon is a shortcut for a longer declaration, so let me try that instead. When we offer and embrace others in the love of God, change happens. Not big headline change, but a quiet and small change that has depth which shows itself slowly and in ways that build meaning and joy in life.

If that was all there was to it then life would look a lot different than it does. The painful reality is not all priestly offerings build meaning and joy. We are priests. We are created to be priests. All our offerings are priestly offerings. But that means that betrayal, abuse, deceit and other equally sinful acts are priestly offerings that rob meaning, rob joy from those caught up in the offering. Such offerings are part of a Mass, but it is Black Mass of unmeaning. Our world is full of such masses of unmeaning: the greed and immorality of the financial frauds behind the Great Recession; the kidnap and murder of three Israeli teens and the revenge killing of a Palestinian teen; schools shootings, innumerable incidents of stalking, spousal and child abuse, drug violence and even the tediously vile political advertisements and social media postings all evidence the human propensity for offering Black Masses of unmeaning. In the overwhelming tide of such awful priestly acts it seems like the priestly acts of building and blessing are like fighting all of Hell with a water pistol.

The problem we face is that the priesthood of Adam cannot be both the problem and the solution. A new priesthood is needed, not based in human history, but entering from outside. That’s just what has happened. A new priesthood, which is a fulfillment of old promises, is already on the ground. The nature of that priesthood and how we can participate in it will be the subject of the next posting — hopefully before the end of the year!

The Priest Part — Two

For a priest to become a priest he or she needs to enable others to find their priesthood as well. The first priest in that sentence is a presbyteros, the latter two are hiereus. But what does the hiereus do that can be shared and taught? Their primary task is to offer oblations, which doesn’t get us much further. Although in a more modern sense oblations were non-blood offerings to a deity and sacrifices were blood offerings, oblation is a proper name for the offering of anything to a deity. And sacrifice will do as well, for its roots are from Latin words meaning “to make sacred.”

Thus, what sort of sacrifices or oblations does the Christian priest (hiereus) offer? Pretty much everything we encounter can be offered. The objects we deal with, the people we encounter, the situations in which we find ourselves can be offered to Jesus, priest and messiah, for the purposes of holy transformation. And that’s the wonder of our priesthood that we share. There is no situation or circumstance that cannot be set on the path of blessing when we offer it as part of the royal priesthood of the messiah.

Our work becomes all the more important as there is also another priesthood at work in the world that has been part of our sorry history and still operates today. When we offer the people, the encounters and the objects of our lives as oblations to the loving and transforming Father, we reverse the actions of that other priesthood. But a further examination of that waits for another posting. Till then — The eye of God dwelling with you, the foot of Christ in guidance with you, the shower of the Spirit pouring on you, richly and generously.