Jimmy Akin

Since the subject came up in the combox of Jimmy’s post on calling priests "father" in Latin, a few quick thoughts on the subject of the custom of calling priests "father" at all. 

Protestants who object to this practice (not all do object, of course) focus their objections on Jesus’ words in Matthew 23:9. Here’s the passage in context:

[1] Then said Jesus to the crowds and to his disciples,

[2] "The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat;

[3] so practice and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they do; for they preach, but do not practice.

[4] They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger.

[5] They do all their deeds to be seen by men; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long,

[6] and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues,

[7] and salutations in the market places, and being called rabbi by men.

[8] But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren.

[9] And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven.

[10] Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ.

[11] He who is greatest among you shall be your servant;

[12] whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

How are we to understand this passage? Does Jesus really mean to absolutely forbid his followers to call men "father"? If not, what does he mean? What can we say about this?

As Christians who take the Bible and Jesus’ words seriously, we should be cautious about too quickly or easily concluding "He didn’t really mean what he said." It is certainly true that Jesus’ teaching included a lot of figurative and non-literal language. Classic examples include "I am the door" and "You are the salt of the world." There are also cases where we would likely go astray if we sought literally to follow Jesus words, e.g., cutting off limbs and plucking out eyes in order to avoid sin.

On the other hand, Jesus also meant what he said a lot too, even when some people try to make out that he didn’t really mean it. "Love your enemies," for instance. And "If you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." There are those who would like to explain away his warnings about the outer darkness and weeping and gnashing of teeth. But he meant that too.

As Catholics, too, we take Jesus literally at points where many or most Protestants spiritualize or otherwise water down his teaching: "My flesh is  food and my blood is real drink," for example. (Note the unusually insistent language: He doesn’t say "I am a real door" or "You are real salt.") And "He who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery."

What of the present case, "Call no man on earth father"? Is that a dramatic, parabolic expression, or a literal proscription?

Perhaps the first point to note is that it is not only calling men "father" that is discussed here. Verse 9 mentions calling men "father," but the adjacent verses immediately preceding and following, 8 and 10, likewise forbid the titles (translations vary) "teacher" ("rabbi") and "leader" ("master") on the identical grounds that we have one teacher and leader, the Christ. Yet even among Evangelicals that object to the Catholic custom of calling priests "father," it is common to encounter terms like "worship leader" and "Bible teacher."

Of course this doesn’t prove that Jesus didn’t mean what he (literally) said. It could be that Evangelicals and Catholics are both guilty of violating Jesus’ teaching here.

On the other hand, if we do take Jesus’ teaching here as a literal prohibition, it looks like we may also have to ding both St. Paul and St. John for breaking Jesus’ teaching in holy Scripture itself.

St. Paul, speaking to the Corinthians, calls himself a "father" to them (1 Cor 4:15), since he fathered them in the Gospel. It’s true that St. Paul’s usage doesn’t exactly parallel the Catholic usage of calling any priest "father," since St. Paul considers his role in bringing the Corinthians to the Gospel a unique one, and contrasts it with the countless "instructors in Christ" they may have. To follow St. Paul’s usage exactly, we might call a priest "father" who brought us to Christ, but not other priests.

However, the point is not that St. Paul’s usage provides an exact precedent for the Catholic usage. Rather, it is a data point in our effort to understand Jesus’ prohibition on calling men "father." Although Jesus says "call no man on earth father," St. Paul calls himself the Corinthians’ father and encourages them to think of him in that way. At the very least, this suggests that we should not understand the unique divine Fatherhood Jesus cites as excluding any and all spiritual fatherhood on a human level.

Also worth noting is the usage of St. John in 1 John 2:13-14, where he addresses "fathers." Note that throughout the letter John addresses his readers as "children" or "little children," certainly not meaning literal minors only; "childen" is a metaphor, presumably in the same spirit as Jesus’ teaching that we must "become as little children"; similarly, it seems likely that "fathers" is likewise addressed not to biological fathers only, but to elders or leaders in the community, i.e., to spiritual fathers. 

Granting this, however, isn’t the same as explaining Jesus’ words in Matthew 23. Toward this end, let’s consider another passage in Matthew’s Gospel, from the Sermon on the Mount, that I think is similar in construction and spirit, and which in fact addresses the same spiritual condition:

"Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matthew 6:1-4)

So far so good: but now compare this verse, also from the Sermon on the Mount:

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 5:16)

See the problem? Which is it? Are we to let our light shine before men so that they can see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven? Or are we to beware of practicing our piety to be seen by men, to the point of giving alms in secret? We can’t possibly do both — at least, not at the same time. Are we supposed to alternate between one and the other? If we make a point of doing good deeds like almsgiving in secret, how can men see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven?

Interpreted as literal prescriptions of specific acts, Jesus’ teachings here seem flatly contradictory. I think it’s safe to say, though, that the real point of these exhortations is, for one thing, the actual likely consequences in any particular situation, and more importantly the attitude of the heart.

Note how 6:1-4 begins with a warning relating first of all to motive, not action: "Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them." What follows is meant, I think, in the spirit of a cautionary parable, a vivid pictoral exhortation addressing the temptation of practicing piety in order to be seen by men: Don’t even let people see what you’re doing; do it in secret, and then your father will reward you.

Not entirely unlike the teachings about chopping off limbs and plucking out eyes, it says, "Prefer this behavior to a sinful alternative." This is not of course meant to suggest that we should not literally do good deeds in secret — we should. But neither is it meant to suggest that doing good deeds in a visible way is necessarily sinful behavior. On the contrary, it can be meritorious behavior, as Matthew 5:16 makes clear.

The structural and thematic similarities of Matthew 6:1-4 and Matthew 23:5-10 are striking. Both begin by explicitly addressing an attitude of the heart, of motive; in Matthew 23 the warning is against the attitude of those who "love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the market places, and being called rabbi by men." (See also verses 11-12, which return to the theme of humility.)

In both passages, the heart attitude involves aspiring to the honor of men, and in both cases Jesus exhorts us to see where we really stand before our Father in heaven. In Matthew 6:1-4, we are urged to aspire to the honor of God; in Matthew 23:5-10 we are urged to remember that God’s honor is unique.

Finally, in both passages Jesus exhorts a course of action contrary to this temptation: Don’t even use titles like teacher, father or leader, for only the Christ is your teacher and leader, and only God is your Father. Like the exhortation not to let men see our good deeds, I take this as a vivid pictoral or parabolic example dramatizing the humility we are meant to have. It is not meant actually to forbid us to use titles like teacher, father and leader, any more than Matthew 6:1-4 is meant to forbid us to do good deeds in a visible way, as long as our motives are right.

What would make the parallel complete, of course, would be if we had a countervailing example elsewhere in Jesus’ teaching, in which, say, he exhorts those who are teachers, or fathers, or leaders to glorify God through their carrying out of their responsibilities.

Lacking that, though, the examples of 1 Cor 4:15 and 1 John 2:13-14 seem to me to suffice to establish that there is nothing per se wrong with calling or being called father (or teacher or leader), as opposed to loving the honor of such titles.

SDG here. In my first post, I noted that while it is true that the NT writers do not use the word "priest" in relation to Christian ministers, it is equally true that — with the obvious exception of Hebrews — they also avoid using it in relation to Jesus.

In fact, in the NT the word "priest" overwhelmingly means one thing: the Levitical priesthood. (There are only a few passing references to the universal priesthood of all believers, and perhaps only a single reference, in Acts, to priesthood in a pagan context.)

This does not mean that the NT does not present Jesus as a priest. It does, and not only in Hebrews. Although only Hebrews uses the word itself, the theology of Christ’s priesthood in Hebrews is found throughout the NT.

Above all, Hebrews sees the priesthood of Christ in relation to Psalm 110:4: "The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind: You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek."

Although this specific verse is quoted in the NT only in Hebrews, Psalm 110 is the single OT passage most quoted in the NT. Significantly, Jesus himself implicitly applies Psalm 110 to himself, challenging the Pharisees to explain the Messiah’s precedence over his own father David in the opening verse:

"What do you think of the Christ? Whose son is he?" They said to him, "The son of David."

He said to them, "How is it then that David, inspired by the Spirit, calls him Lord, saying,

‘The LORD said to my Lord,

Sit at my right hand,

till I put thy enemies under thy feet’?

If David thus calls him Lord, how is he his son?"

"The LORD" God here speaks to "my lord" the Davidic king, the son of David who is also somehow his lord. Since Jesus assumes that his hearers recognize this to be the Messiah, it follows that it is also the Messiah to whom the LORD God speaks in verse 4: "The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.’"

Jesus thus implies that the Messiah, the Christ, is a priest — not in the usual sense of the Levitical priesthood, but of an older order, the priesthood of Melchizedek aspired to by King David and the Davidic monarchy.

This, however, raises another notable point: Although Jesus effectively implies that the Messiah is a priest after the order of Melchizedek, the term "Messiah," like that of priest, is one with which Jesus avoids openly identifying throughout much of his ministry. In fact, when others recognize him as the Messiah, he orders them to secrecy (the so-called "Messianic secret"; cf., e.g., Mark 8:27-30, Matt 16:16-20, Luke 4:41).

A similar reticence seems to emerge at his trials, where Jesus gives the affirmative but ambivalent response "You say that I am" in response to questions ranging from "Are you the Christ?" (Matthew 26:63-64) to "Are you the Son of God?" (Luke 22:70) to "So you are a king?" (John 18:37).

These responses are apparently affirmative (Mark’s Gospel has Jesus saying simply "I am"), but also seem to express some level of reservation or evasion, perhaps a disclaimer regarding misunderstanding. I like the rendering in The Miracle Maker: "These are your words." Jesus seems to be saying something like: "Yes, it is true to say that I am [the Christ, the Son of God, a king], though what I mean by that and what you mean may not be the same thing."

A well-known triple formula (noted in the combox of my first post) acclaims Jesus as "prophet, priest and king." "Prophet" correlates with his messianic role (the "prophet like Moses"). "Priest" is the term under discussion. As for "King," Jesus was acclaimed "king of the Jews" by the Magi at his birth, and died under a titulus bearing that title; yet although he preached constantly about "the kingdom" of God or of heaven, he had very little to say about being a king, except in that ambivalent response to Pilate.

Although each of these terms is rightly ascribed to Jesus, and although he claimed them all in different ways, Jesus also distanced himself from each of them in certain ways as well. Disclaimers like "My kingdom is not of this world" offer a reasonably clear window into this ambivalence, certainly as regards "king" and "Messiah." In the first-century Judaism of Jesus’ day, such language was implicitly understood as a political and military challenge to the Roman empire; and whatever challenge Jesus’ teaching might have had for the Roman empire, he was not a revolutionary in the usual sense. Jesus was the heir of David, not of Judas Maccabeus. 

But it was more than that. If Jesus’ mission could be understood in terms of the Davidic and messianic hope of Psalm 110, it must also be understood in terms of the still older archetype to which, in that very psalm, the Davidic monarchy itself aspires: the royal priesthood, or priestly kingship, of Melchizedek, "king of Salem" and "priest of God Most High" (Gen 14:18).

Although Psalm 110 attests the hope of the Davidic monarchy for a restoration of this double office of priest and king, it was a hope never completely fulfilled in the Davidic kingdom. The Davidic kings did exercise some priestly functions, particularly in the early years, but the priestly function remained with the Levitical establishment, where it resided since Exodus 32.

It would be a mistake to reduce Jesus’ mission to any Old Testament type. Only Jesus is Jesus: He is unique, the one and only Savior. He is not simply the son of David, the Messiah or even the new Adam.

Still, the primeval blend of priest and king represented by Melchizedek, reaching back before such specifically Hebrew institutions as the Levitical priesthood and Davidic monarchy — a priestly kingship with one foot in the pre-Abrahamic world of the early chapters of Genesis — clearly represents an important touchstone in NT thought for understanding Jesus’ mission, one going back to Jesus himself.

In this connection, it’s helpful to remember that both the Levitical priesthood and the Davidic monarchy were institutions with origins in sin and rebellion. The origins of the Levitical priesthood are directly connected with the worship of the golden calf; the Davidic monarchy succeeded to the kingship of Saul, crowned by Samuel at the insistence of the people in spite of God’s warnings. Neither of these provisional and concessionary institutions is an adequate background to understand Jesus’ mission. If Jesus is a king and a priest, he is in a way less like Aaron and Levi, or even David and Solomon, than like Melchizedek.

All of this, though, is a nuance liable to be lost in a world in which words mean what people use them to mean. For first-century Jews, a "priest" was a Levitical priest — period. A king was either someone like Herod or Caesar, or else someone who would challenge the rule of these foreigners and restore the kingdom to Israel. For Jesus to openly claim titles like "king" or "priest" would inevitably have meant something to his hearers Jesus didn’t intend.

This continued to be the case in the early decades of the New Testament church. The process by which the Church’s sense of its own identity as a phenomenon separate from Judaism (or of Judaism’s emerging identity as a phenomenon separate from following Christ) has been much studied; here it’s enough to note that there was a process. In the very earliest days, the Christians continued worshipping in the Temple; as time went by, the Church continued to understand itself in relation to Judaism, though that relationship was increasingly one of opposition as well as continuity.

Although in time the language of Jesus as "our high priest" would be unreservedly embraced by the early fathers, especially after the destruction of the temple in A.D. 70, the Levitical and Temple establishment continued to dominate the early Christians’ understanding of "priesthood" for decades. Jesus laid the foundations by quoting Psalm 110, but it was still a bold leap for the writer to the Hebrews to identify Jesus as "our high priest."

(To be continued)

SDG here with the first post in a series on Christian priesthood and sacrifice.

Among the doctrines of the historic Christian faith rejected by the Protestant Reformers was the understanding of the Eucharist as a sacrifice offered by a ministerial priesthood.

Although this language of priesthood and sacrifice was ubiquitous in the early Church, going back to the earliest days of the apostolic and post-apostolic church, and was both widespread and uncontroversial, Protestantism from its inception has considered considered it unscriptural.

For the New Testament writers, Protestants contend, the only Christian priesthood is the high-priesthood of Jesus Christ (especially in Hebrews) and the universal priesthood of all believers (cf. 1 Peter 2:9, Revelation 5:10); the only sacrifice is that of the Cross.

It must be acknowledged that the New Testament writers had the word "priest" (Gk hiereus) available to them; indeed, they used it to refer to the Levitical priesthood as well as the priesthood of Christ and of all believers. Yet for Christian ministers they appear to have scrupulously avoided this usage, preferring instead terms such as "elder" and "bishop" for church leaders, and never once designating such leaders as "priests." This usage cannot be dismissed as inadvertent; it is clearly intentional.

This is indeed a striking fact. Yet the usage of the apostolic and post-apostolic Christ is equally striking and equally intentional. The Fathers possessed and venerated the sacred scriptures, yet they unhesitatingly chose language that went beyond the NT record: From the beginning, Christian ministers were called priests (Gk hiereus, Lat sacerdos), and sacrificial aspect of the priesthood was explicitly developed in relation to the Eucharist.

This language of priesthood and sacrifice applied to Christian leadership and Eucharistic worship can be found from Clement, Ignatius, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, and so on. Moreover, Christian history records no resistance, opposition or resistance on the part of any Father to this widespread usage.

From the facts briefly described so far, it appears only two conclusions are possible:

(a) Either the usage and theology of the apostolic and post-apostolic Church departed very early and very thoroughly from the biblical pattern, so much so that a covenant ordinance was converted into a sacrificial rite and a presbytery into a ministerial priesthood without anyone apparently noticing; or else

(b) the usage of the apostolic and post-apostolic Church represents the theology but not the language of the NT; in which case it is necessary to explain why the NT writers so carefully avoided terms readily available to them.

In seeking a solution, it should be noted from the outset that the biblical data has been somewhat oversimplified. It is true that the NT writers had the word "priest" available, and used it readily for the Levitical priesthood. Yet within a Christian context the word "priest" does not seem to have caught on particularly easily in any connection — either with respect to the priesthood of Christ or the universal priesthood of believers. 

Although it figures prominently in Protestant thought and is equally valid in Catholic theology, the universal priesthood of all believers is mentioned only fleetingly in two late NT books, 1 Peter and Revelation.

More strikingly, and crucially, throughout the NT the word "priest" is never once applied to Jesus Himself in any book but one — that one, of course, being the gigantic and enormously significant exception, the book of Hebrews.

Unquestionably, the magnificent treatment of Christ’s priesthood in that book more than makes up for the silence elsewhere, and (insofar as the canonicity of Hebrews is accepted as a settled matter) establishes this doctrine as unquestionably scriptural. Still, it leaves the question: Why did all the other NT writers consistently avoid applying the term to Christ?

It is not that the theology of Christ’s high-priesthood is contrary to the rest of the NT, or even that it is simply unknown to the other writers. Rather, the priesthood of Christ is present, though implicitly, in the teaching of Christ Himself and of the rest of the NT, and made explicit only in Hebrews.

But this only refocuses the question in a new form: Why teach the theology but scrupulously avoid the term? Why were the NT writers (with one major exception) so reticent to call Jesus a priest?

In considering this question, we may cast light on the NT church’s preference for the language of the presbyterate and episcopacy over the priesthood for its own ministers. It may be that whatever is at the root of the reticence here is also the reason that the term was not applied to church leaders.

(Continued in part 2)