Are You a Priest?

It’s a question I’ve been asked on more than one occasion.  The questioner usually is asking if I am an ordained member of the clergy of the Episcopal Church.  The answer, for the record, is no (although I have considered it from time to time).

It’s easy to see where this question might come from.  I am a paid youth leader at my church, and am thus sometimes referred to as a youth minister (a word with clerical implications, of course).  I hold an M.Div., the traditional clerical degree, from a seminary.  When I have the opportunity, I write about and attend conferences and seminars about religion, spirituality, and prayer.  I am actually licensed in the Baptist church, which in most states means I can legally perform weddings (I became an Episcopalian only a few years ago).  And this fall, I will be a graduate student in Christian Spirituality (my eventual career goal is to be a professor of spirituality and spiritual formation).  So I spend a lot of time doing some priestly things (teaching, leading church programs), and often move in the same circles as a lot of clergy.  If it walks like a duck, and all that . . . so I understand the question.

The other question I get, of course, is, “Are you thinking about becoming a priest?”  The answer to that is also no.  For right now, I’m much happier teaching classes than leading churches.

But what is a priest, anyway?  A priest is one who mediates between humanity and God:  demonstrating who God is for humanity and representing humanity before God in prayer.  Scripture refers to Jesus as our Great High Priest.

Our practice, of course, is to designate certain people who do this work of mediation for a career as priests, professional clergy persons—where priest is a job title.  We also give these spiritual people the task of running our churches (though spirituality does not necessarily translate into managerial abilities or inclination.)  Thus when we talk about priests, we are usually talking about a class of professionals who have careers in religion/spirituality and church ministry.

Yet aren’t we all called to mediate God’s grace and blessing to our fellow humans?  And shouldn’t we all represent each other before God, praying for each other’s needs?  In that sense, aren’t we all supposed to be priests?  (Scripture does, in fact, suggest this.)

I am not a professional clergy person.  But, whatever my career, it is my calling to be a channel of grace to the world, and to pray on behalf of others.  So, yes, I suppose I am a priest.

Are you a priest?

Living on Holy Saturday

“Most of human life is Holy Saturday. . .” ~Richard Rohr

It’s Eastertide.  Christ is gloriously risen!  Death has been dealt its deathblow.  The ashes of Lent have given way to the lilies of Easter.  For the Church, this, much more than Christmas, is the most wonderful time of the year.

The trouble is, I don’t feel it.  I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I find myself in a funk, an emotional low that just won’t seem to lift.  The cold/flu thing I’ve been battling for this past fortnight just won’t let go.  In the face of rising costs and mounting bills, nagging doubts about God’s ability or will to provide still haunt me.  The to-do list remains ever long.  And my sense of futility, that no matter how much I accomplish, I still make no progress, clings like fungus on my soul.

It doesn’t feel like Easter.  I don’t feel resurrected; I don’t feel hope of being resurrected.  I don’t really feel anything, except a pervasive weariness.  For me, it’s still Holy Saturday.  Christ is still in the tomb; we are still in the period of anxious waiting, wondering what has happened to all our dreams, wondering what will happen next.

It’s comforting, to some degree, to know that I am not the only one who feels this way.  As the modern contemplative Richard Rohr notes so astutely, life is mostly a waiting game, fervently anticipating the resurrection we know someday must come.  Moreover, that resurrection is not something we can make for ourselves.  God must raise us.  And someday, God will.

I don’t feel it.  I suppose I don’t have to.  For me, as for so many, it still feels like Holy Saturday.  But the Church’s celebrations today remind me that there was an Easter Sunday, once.  By God’s grace, it can happen again.

“Saying Grace” by G. K. Chesterton

My friend Beth recently discovered this marvelous quote by G. K. Chesterton and posted it on her blog.  I think Chesterton has it right.  Everything is miracle; everything is gift.  We are grateful far too little.  Let us give thanks (say grace, in Chesterton’s words).

“You say grace before meals.

All right.

But I say grace before the play and the opera,

And grace before the concert and pantomime,

And grace before I open a book,

And grace before sketching, painting,

Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;

And grace before I dip the pen in the ink.”

G. K. Chesterton, from an early notebook (mid-1890′s)