Why I Hesitate to Call Myself, “”

Words matter, and the word, “priest,” is definitely not a throwaway word. Our understanding and use of it has implications for how we think God relates to humanity and what we think living as a Christian is all about.

The , priest, in the Anglican tradition refers to one office in the threefold ministry of “”: , , and . Historically understood, priests are persons called and set apart for spiritual leadership in a congregation (preaching, teaching, pastoral care, etc). , of course, is not the only Christian tradition to call their priests, and the title is not used consistently among Anglicans, but it has been used, more-or-less, from the beginning of the movement in the 16th century.

Honestly, the title, “priest,” has always made me a bit uncomfortable. Some of my discomfort came from growing up in a Christian tradition that has an allergy to anything that sounds Roman Catholic. This environment trained me to see “priests” through the lens of Martin Luther’s critique of the in the 16th century: disconnected, ritualistic, and even abusive.

Priests were cast as the brand of ministers who preached works righteousness, sold indulgences, and pretended to do things only Jesus can do (like forgive sins). They were qualitatively unlike the I knew and trusted, who bore the clerical title, “.”

Over time, however, I learned that even those ministers I called “brother” were not immune to the same leadership abuses and failures that plague those called “priests.” I also learned that, while Luther’s critique was and is appropriate in some cases, my categorical bias against that tradition was narrow and misinformed.

Even still, while I affirm that the title, priest, has its place within Anglicanism and should not be shucked completely, I often hesitate to use it as a self-description. I hesitate because that title can often become an unnecessary hazard, rather than a help, to discipleship and mission.

In other words, using “priest” as a primary way of referring to my function as an ordained feels like trying to swim upstream, against the current, in order to get downstream. The word is not wrong per se, but the image of ministry it evokes tends to misrepresent and convolute, creating unnecessary hurdles both for Christians and non- Christians, rather than evoking images that clarify and empower others to trust Jesus.

A hazard rather than a help? The title is a hazard, rather than a help, to mission because it often creates a sense of distance and otherness (at best) or suspicion and distrust (at worst) for those who are far from Jesus. Rather than engendering a safe space for meaningful conversations about Jesus, identifying myself as a priest tends to slam the door permanently on the possibility of vulnerability or erect walls that will need deconstructing. It’s not always or universally a hazard, of course, but it is often enough for me to be hesitant.

Priest, moreover, is often a hazard, rather than a help, to discipleship because the misunderstanding that word can create about my role as a minister (see below) often dis- empowers non-clergy to be and make disciples by undercutting a core Anglican affirmation of faith – the priesthood of all believers.

In God’s kingdom in Christ, the Spirit empowers and gifts all believers to participate in the work of the ministry – building up the body of Christ (see Eph. 4; Romans 12; and 1 Cor. 12). All in Christ are priests in God’s kingdom (1 Peter 2). Truly, not everyone is called and set apart to function as a leader, but the ministry of being and making disciples is an entire community affair.

Discipleship gets undercut when churches function as if the work of ministry is the exclusive job of the professional, ordained clergy – as if clergy bear all the gifts. Through both our rhetoric and actions, we often centralize ministry among a few “professionals” such that, at best, the rest of the congregation can only volunteer to support the clergy’s ministry, rather than be empowered by the clergy to live into their gifts and share-in the work of ministry.

Churches with leaders of all kinds of have this problem, but the title, priest, is particularly a hazard, rather than a help, to lay people embracing their priesthood in God’s kingdom. For this reason, I hesitate.

Technically speaking… Technically, the title for the office into which I have been called and ordained the calls “presbyter” (and the service for in the Book of Common Prayer uses the title presbyter interchangeably with priest). Most modern English translations render this word as “” (for example: 1 Tim. 5:17ff and Titus 1:5-9). Presbyters, along with deacons and overseers (aka, bishops), are individuals whom the community identifies and sets apart for spiritual leadership: teaching, administration, and pastoral care.

Within the first several centuries of Christian history, Latin became the dominant language of the church. The office and function of ordained ministry became connected with the Latin word sacerdos, which is the Latin translation of the term used for “priests” in the Old Testament, not the New.

The problem is not simply semantic. The role of a priest in the Old Testament is fundamentally different than the role of a presbyter in the New, and the difference has major theological implications. Priests in the OT were ministers of the Temple system – performing sacrifices and functioning as mediators between God and Israel. Moreover, priests did not simply perform a unique function within the community, they also had special access to holy things, holy places, and Holy Presence that non-Levite Israelites did not have.

The role called presbyter, on the other hand, has only to do with function within the community, not access to God or ability to do certain “holy” things that other Christians do not have or cannot do. Not everyone is called to function as a presbyter, but everyone in Christ is, by the Spirit, a priest in God’s Kingdom.

The author of Hebrews, for instance, argues at length that Jesus Christ made obsolete the sacrificial system – needing continual sacrifices and a mediator – by becoming the perfect priest and sacrifice, once and for all. The curtain is torn – mediation is no longer necessary – Jesus gives access for all God’s people to God’s life.

The implication is that, even if we translate presbyter as priest, we would have to keep in mind that the priest in Christ’s church is not equivalent to and does not function in the same capacity as the Levite in the Temple.

This reality leads me to ask myself, “If the title is not scripturally, theologically, or practically necessary or clearly helpful, then why not lean toward more helpful and accurate words and images?” Anglicans regularly use titles like presbyter, , and to describe the unique office of ordained leadership in ministry.

Whatever you feel comfortable calling me, my hope is that we would both know and live in light of this: (1) Just because I am ordained does not mean that I have special powers, access, or privileges to God’s presence that you do not have; (2) we are both gifted by the Spirit to build up the body and be on mission; (3) I see my primary job as an ordained minister as leading by empowering you to trust and follow Jesus.