I am convinced that the best “priests” are former “prophets.”

In my last article, I argued that the Church today is more in need of priests than prophets. I said this not because I believe that prophets are too radical or overly idealistic, but because I’m convinced that priests are called to preserve the Church’s identity as a prophetic institution. 

As I wrote previously: “What if the work in front of us is not to inspire more individuals to be prophets? What if the task ahead of us is actually priestly work – to attend to the rituals, texts, and structures that gather and define the people of God? And suppose this work is not opposed to the work of the prophet. Rather, what if the priestly vocation is to preserve and protect the integrity of a truly prophetic community?” 

In order for this to work, however, it means that our priests need to be shaped in certain ways. How can you lead a prophetic institution if you have never been a prophet? 

A PROPHET IN THEIR HOMETOWN

As a young minister, I was told that I should be a priest first, before I tried to be a prophet. The church needed to know I loved them, understood them, and considered myself one of them before I ever tried to reform long-held beliefs or slaughter any sacred cows.  

I understand the heart behind that advice. It was meant to protect both me and the church. But the experience of so many ministers (including myself) is actually the reverse. I wasn’t capable of being a priest until I had been a prophet. 

In some ways, this is to be expected. It seems to me that young ministers naturally gravitate towards a prophetic stance because they feel a disconnect between what the church aspires to be and what it actually is in practice. 

Beneath the voice of the prophet is often the voice of a young person grieving the disillusionment they feel over their community or tradition of origin. It turns out that it was not as good, or trustworthy, or safe, or true as they once thought it was. And they voice their protest as a desperate plea for that community to be what it claimed to be. 

And that almost never goes well. 

Both the Gospels and the book of Acts repeatedly note how prophets are often treated by those in their own community:

• “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town…” (Mark 6:4)

• “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Matthew 5:11-12)

• “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you…” (Matt. 23:37)

• “Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute?” (Acts 7:52)

As Daniel Berrigan was fond of saying, a prophet is simply someone who is willing to speak the truth and then pay up. 

Because, for the prophet, there is always a cost. Today, it looks more like being fired than being stoned to death (three cheers for progress!). But it is still the same pattern: the prophets speak to their own people, and their own reject them. As it turns out, the people of God continue to have a low tolerance for prophets living in their midst. 

FROM PROPHET TO PRIEST

And it is precisely at this moment – at the point of rejection – when every prophet has an opportunity to embrace the role of priest. 

It’s clear that Jesus entered Jerusalem as a prophet: “When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, ‘Who is this?’ The crowds answered, ‘This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.’” (Matt. 21:10-11)

He had certainly spoken to them like a prophet: calling them to deeper faithfulness, inviting them into another way, imagining an alternative future, warning them of dire consequences if they refused to change. 

And they crucified him for it. Jesus spoke the truth and then paid up. 

But as prophetic as his life and ministry were, I’m convinced that Jesus died as a priest. 

From the cross, having suffered the rejection and violent persecution of his own people, he speaks these shocking words: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).

And in that moment, he becomes a priest. 

Even though he was the victim of their sin, he chose to advocate for them before God. He stands WITH them, even as they stand AGAINST him! 

And I think that is precisely when we become priests ourselves, too. Can we learn to stand WITH the people of God, even when they stand AGAINST us? Can we bring ourselves to ask God to forgive the Church, even when we have been rejected by it? Can we refuse to let go of the Church, even when it desperately wants to let go of us? 

This is not easy. And many of us will not serve as priests in the same places where we had once been prophets. But we follow a prophet who became a priest – whose heart was not hardened against those who rejected him.

And for those called to serve His Church, that seems to be our journey, too.