Peter priesthood priesting
“And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Matt 16.18
I found myself chuckling again today over the biography of that delightfully eccentric priest, Brian Brindley, remembered with affection by many of us here.
Damian Thompson describes his memory of him striding through Sainsbury’s, dressed in all the finery of a Roman Catholic Monsignor – patent buckled shoes with huge scarlet heels, clip clopping across the linoleum in search of ever creamier puddings. His fatness was covered by a soutane with 39 red buttons. As Brian explained “one for each of the 39 Articles I don’t believe in!”.
Well I don’t think William will be following quite in Brian’s footsteps, but it raised the question again for me ‘what is a priest?’
We know what a deacon is: as one of my Sunday school children explained when another child asked what a deacon was: “it’s something you put on a hill and set fire to.”
But to be a priest in today’s world, indeed, in today’s church, is a high and difficult calling.
Of course there has been quite a movement in the last 40 years to try and make out that a priest is just an ordinary person like any other Christian.
I think it was that great 60s theologian Spike Milligan who saw through the shallowness of this: “never trust a clergyman who wears a rollneck sweater and says ‘call me Ken’”.
Paul Avis in his latest book A Ministry Shaped by Mission, has redressed the balance, and reminded us that although all Christians are called to discipleship, only a few are called to that onerous ministry of priesthood, which is a special gift to the Church.
Now I don’t want to get into a big debate about priestly identity. As Pope Benedict said when he was but a lowly Prefect in the wake of Vatican Two: “we are tired of discussing priestly identity!”
Rather I want to suggest that we display our priesthood in two ways: by sign and by service.
And these two ways reflect our Lord’s instructions to all Christians, priests and people, that they are to be a light to the world, and the salt of the earth.
I remember Bishop Richard saying at a deanery chapter as he looked round the room at those few not wearing dog collars: “I want no anonymous priests in my diocese!”
[Two priests decide to go to Hawaii on holiday. They’re determined to make this a real holiday by not wearing anything that would identify them as clergy. As soon as the plane lands, they buy some outrageous shorts, shirts, sandals & sunglasses.
The next morning sitting on the beach, enjoying a drink, a gorgeous blond in an imaginative bikini walks by. She smiles at them and says, "Good morning, Father, Good morning, Father."
They were both stunned. How in the world could she have known?
The next day, they bought even more outrageous outfits - so loud, you could hear them before you saw them. Well after a while, the same gorgeous blonde, this time accompanied by a stunning brunette, walk along the beach, turning heads as they go.
As they pass they both nod and say "Good morning, Father, Good morning, Father."
Astonished one of the priests shouts out “How do you know we’re priests?”
The blonde turns with a puzzled look and says, "Father, it's us, Sister Angela and Sister Monica!"]
But it is of course more than simply donning clerical dress, or for the laity, wearing a cross or some other Christian symbol, or carrying a large black Bible and reading it on the tube.
As lights to the world, we are to be signposts to the transcendent God. What does that mean?
At some social function this week I found myself, for the umpteenth time, trying to explain what a priest does.
People are generally happy with your doing good about the community, but what genuinely puzzles most of our contemporaries is any sense of devotion to God; of meaningful engagement with the Almighty through prayer and by the sacraments; of saying you can’t meet them for drinks till 7 because you are saying your prayers.
They don’t understand why I should spend so many hours in church every day or week. They do not understand that a priest’s engagement with the world is dependent upon his or her engagement with God.
It is especially in this way that the ordained are called to be the focus of transcendence; an archetype of the priesthood of all the baptized. Our life in Christ should be a challenge to those round about us. It is a signpost to the transcendent God.
We must not be tempted to hide our light under a bushel, with some false humility that argues: ‘I’m such a poor priest that I’d better keep quiet about it.’ As the lady said to the Vicar on the door after a particularly fiery sermon: “Oh Vicar! We never knew what sin was until you came to the parish!”
Our involvement with church must be seen to be an involvement with a God whom we believe to be there; and not just as president of a local social club with nice music. William has not chosen a career – he could find much more profitable ways of using his talents! – he is answering a calling, which has been recognized by the church, whose representatives are here tonight.
Religious faith has become so internalised over the last 50 years - it’s all a matter of private belief - that many in western society find it very strange when Christians assert that it is a public truth. That the transcendent God has revealed himself to us in Christ, and that we are all called to respond.
So a priest is, in a very particular way, a sign, a light to the world.
But secondly, and more briefly, we also exercise our priesthood in service. We are to be the salt of the earth.
In the threefold office of the church, we are ordained deacon first, then priest, and if the Prime Minister calls, bishop. But a priest or a bishop is still a deacon.
Often when we lay out the bishop’s vestments, we have a lightweight dalmatic which he puts on over his alb, and this is to remind him that he is still a deacon - a servant of the church.
Paul Avis again in his book makes the case that the Diaconate is the pivotal office of the Church. It is where we all started our ordained life; he calls it the flagship of ministry.
Jesus himself set us the example:
“the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Matt 20.28)Salt that remains forever in the saltcellar is of no use. As priests and deacons we should have a strong sense of public service. In the simplest of terms, we should be known to be people who are kind and who do good in society.
In the history of the Anglo-Catholic movement we read time and again of great public funerals of priests in many of the deprived cities of our land. They were loved and honoured because they served Christ as salt in society. Of course we must shut ourselves away to say our prayers, but we must also be open to the world, ready to infect society with godliness.
Today’s epistle is a lovely story – the church are locked away praying fervently, and presumably believingly, for Peter’s release. An angel of the Lord releases him and he turns up at the door of the prayer meeting. When the door girl tells them all he’s there, they think she’s mad! Our prayers are to take us out into the world where God is already at work.
As salt and light, we will be following the example of Our Lord, and of the apostle Peter. And in so doing, what our Lord said of Peter, he will say to all of us – priests and people:
“And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Matt 16.18
