The Priesthood of All Believers
John Wilkinson Third
Presbyterian Church
October 22, 2006
Hebrews 5:1-10/Mark 10:35- 45
This week an inauguration address, a biographical reminder,
and two texts from holy scripture served as a kind of catalytic
moment for me, providing purpose and clarity.
(Parenthetically, some of you wonder about the lectionary.
It’s a list of four scripture readings every Sunday, Old
Testament, Psalm, Epistle, Gospel. We use it most Sundays. I
remember a seminary professor who said that the lectionary allows
scripture to choose you, rather than the other way around.)
The address was heard by many of us on Monday evening here
in this place for the CRCDS inauguration by David Bartlett,
Professor of New Testament at Columbia Seminary. It reminded
us of a figure from our past, Walter Rauschenbusch, whose ministry
was renown in the early 1900s.
Rauschenbusch was the key proponent of something called “social
gospel theology.” He had been a minister in New York’s
Hell’s Kitchen, and then came to Rochester to teach at
Rochester Theological Seminary, when the school, in fact, was
just down the street from us. He is portrayed in stained glass
in our Sanctuary, just there above the basses, which seems both
appropriate and comforting. Rauschenbusch was a good friend
of Paul Moore Strayer, predecessor in this pulpit. Legend has
it that Rauschenbusch and Strayer took daily walks together
after lunch.
As I was reminded of that story, I also was reminded that Strayer,
though not an opponent of World War I, was very thoughtful about
our country’s participation in it. On every Sunday evening,
he would head down to the union halls and preach to the laborers.
Professor Christopher Evans reminds us of Rauschenbusch’s
articulation of the social gospel. That theology served to be
a corrective to the piety of the late nineteenth century, when
most church-going folk were more concerned about their individual
salvation, their personal faith, a kind of evangelicalism that
would earn them a ticket into heaven, but not much here on earth.
Rauschenbusch and his colleagues lifted up an alternative version
of the faith, a belief not only in personal salvation, but in
social salvation as well. He insisted that the world and the
church think about war, and business, and poverty not only as
ethical and political issues but as issues of faith. Rauschenbusch
believed that the church could make a difference, that Christians
could change the world, and that the church would be the institution
to help usher in progress in every life setting, to save society
as well as souls.
We all know that on the front page and on the front burner
these days, issues of church and state are flurrying all around.
Some of that flurrying is helpful, some of it not. There’s
a book by a pundit on the right called Godless; it’s been
responded to by a book by a pundit on the left called Soulless.
Seems rather like a playground fight to me.
And yet other leaders are making contributions to the debate,
among them authors Barack Obama, Democratic Senator from Illinois
and Republican Senator John Danforth from Missouri. They are
seeking to have a true and honest conversation about the useful
and appropriate interaction of faith and politics.
This is not intended to be a political science colloquium,
nor a civics lesson. So we need to say what scripture has to
bear on all of this this morning.
Quite strikingly in the letter to the Hebrews, the writer tells
us that God deals gently with the ignorant and the wayward,
and therefore so should we. And I couldn’t help but think
in the clutter and the clatter of today’s debates, who
dares think about gentleness --- gentleness? --- without being
laughed out of the conversation?
We dare not say who the ignorant and wayward are, for at our
honest best, we realize that they are not “them,”
whoever “them” may be, but could easily be us.
And so we lift up gentleness, gentleness and the fellowship
of Jesus that it might help steer our course.
And then, in Mark’s gospel, James and John, fraught with
anxiety about their job security, approach Jesus asking him
if one of them could sit at his right and one at his left when
he comes in glory, a kind of succession plan unfolding in their
imaginations.
Jesus says, “Can you drink the cup that I drink?”
And it is clear that they have no earthly clue what he is talking
about, the nature of the sacrificial love that will unfold in
his weeks and months to come, culminating with the events of
Holy Week.
And then he offers up what seems to me a rather convoluted
mathematical equation. If you want to be great, you must be
a servant; if you want to be first, you must be a slave.
Who dares talk about – in the clutter and clatter of
these days humility --- humility?--- without being laughed out
of the conversation?
We dare not say who should be first or who should be last,
but at our honest best, we realize that the least are not “them,”
whoever we understand “them” to be, but could very
easily be us.
And so with gentleness, we discover humility, a spirit of sacrifice
and obedience and the fellowship of Jesus that surely will help
steer our course.
Now as challenging as all of this is --- and it surely is,
countercultural, difficult --- it is good news. It is good news
about us, it is good news about God’s vision of how the
world operates in the kingdom of God that provides such an alternative
reality.
And that was the catalytic moment, a reminder of a theological
vision that insists that we are all in this together. We called
it the “priesthood of all believers” once upon a
time. I like to think of it as all of God’s children sitting
down at a table together. There is no hierarchy, but rather
a common humanity between the weak and the powerful, the poor
and the rich, the insider and the outcast, every race, every
creed, every station, every status, every orientation. All of
it, all of us together, sitting down at table.
And in fact, Jesus might insist that the cultural, and political,
and economic winners, the rich and the powerful, are perhaps
not winners in that deeper sense. They’ll have a place
at the table, but it may not be the best seat.
In a few moments we will sing and then we will hear versions
of Mary’s Magnificat. Pay attention to those words in
this non-Christmas setting, what God is doing, in the interrelation
between the powerful and the lowly, the hungry and the rich.
This is not a political discussion, but perhaps it does, in
the context of this good news, reorient our politics.
I am John Wilkinson, and I approve this message, [laughter]
not because it’s politically correct, or politically conservative,
or politically liberal, but because it is the gospel.
And since it is the gospel, then the question we ask of ourselves
in this place is what does it begin to look like?
In terms of the life of this congregation, it will surely impact
our vision and our resources. This is the biblical mandate for
what we call our outreach program, a ministry of compassion
and hope, infused with the humility and gentleness of Jesus.
John Malach’s stewardship litany laid out the programs.
We know them, we participate in them, we support them. And we
do so not simply to make us feel good, or for some civic usefulness,
but because the Bible tells us to.
Everything we do is connected to a vision to bring resources
to the weak, whether it’s food, or shelter, or education,
or hope, or simply a voice. And when we do that (and you know
what I’m talking about) we realize that the line between
the weak and the powerful is not all that significant, but the
roles change and transform. We realize that by offering something
--- anything --- in the name of the one who offered everything,
the old equation is erased, and a new one is established.
What might that look like beyond the life of this church? Any
church for that matter? And how can we as citizens contribute
to this vision of the gospel? Clearly it cannot be a Democratic
or a Republican vision, but something entirely different altogether.
It must include the biblical mandates of love, and peace, and
reconciliation of justice and mercy. Whatever vision it is that
we craft together as we engage the word by the spirit, our politics
needs to be driven by those values.
The tactics may differ. There may be legitimate and honest
party differences, but whatever we do, not only in how we sing,
and pray, but how we vote and spend our money, it is called
to reflect that vision.
Theologian John Gladwin says that “social action is not
a luxury on the edge of church life, but is integral to its
identity as a gospel institution.” I believe that. I believe
that integral identity of gentleness and humility may shake
our foundations, but it may also shore them up.
A politics of gentleness and humility in the face of power
--- we almost can’t envision it! But when we do, and get
even the most brief and beautiful of glimpses, we reject the
argument that the church has no role in transforming the world.
Now we do need to be careful and thoughtful. We can’t
tell others how they should worship. We can’t bless any
or baptize any one platform or program. And in fact we are often
at our best when we critique every political party.
But if this biblical vision is to become a political one, it
must insist that all are welcome, that all somehow realize from
the bounty of abundance that God has given to us, and that we
who have voices speak on behalf of those with no voice, the
poor, the weak, the powerless, the sick, the young, the old,
the outsider, the Earth itself.
We have always prayed for those in power, whether they be residents
of the White House, or the state house, or city hall. But in
the same breath we have been wary because we know what power
can do.
James and John show up and talk to Jesus and awkwardly claim
their entitlement. And rather than dismissing them or brushing
them off, Jesus redirected their vision. Real power is in service.
Real strength is in weakness. Might we remember that in our
own lives, when we feel we’re living on one side of the
equation or the other?
But in real ways, might we remember that for those who are
weak, who have no voice.
For when we pray Thy kingdom come, it is not wishful thinking,
but a call to faithfulness and action, a call to gentleness
and humility.
God will save souls, but perhaps by God’s grace, we can
help save the world, the broken world that God loves so much.
AMEN.
