Worship in the Presbyterian Tradition: A Holy Priesthood

I Peter 2:1-10

​We are a holy priesthood, Peter tells us. An extremely lofty honorific which we are sure does not fit us. In fact, I imagine we simply dismiss this statement out of hand. Peter is wrong. There is nothing especially holy about any of us compared to anyone else in this world, and certainly you and I are not performing priestly, cultic duties. 

Mesopotamian ancient priests would sacrifice a sheep and take a close look at its liver to reveal God’s will. The oracle of Delphi would inhale volcanic fumes, enter into an ecstatic state to induce prophecies. Over the millennia, the priestly acts evolved, and in ancient Jewish times the priest would burn parts of the harvest on the people’s behalf as an offering of thanks to God, and once a year they would slaughter one goat, and the second goat—the scapegoat—would symbolically take on the sins of the people by being sent into the wilderness.

It was understood in all of these traditions that the priest was a holy person appointed by God to divine truth and take away the sins of the people. As Christianity developed, the priestly role included consecrating the communion elements through which the bread and the wine literally became the crucified Christ’s body and blood. In this instance, Jesus is understood as the sacrificial lamb and the scapegoat to take away our sins.

During the time of the Reformation, amongst its theological leaders—John Calvin, Ulrich Zwingli, and Martin Luther—there was a recognition that the role of the priest had become distorted and did not reflect biblical principles seen through the lens of Christ.

The book of Hebrews is definitive on this point:

Nor was it to offer himself again and again, as the high priest enters the holy place year after year with blood that is not his own, for then he would have had to suffer again and again since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to remove sin by the sacrifice of himself. — Hebrews 9:25–28

Once and for all.

If this is done once and for all, then the priestly role of sacrifice no longer is relevant. And since the point of the sacrifice was to forgive the sins of the people, the people no longer needed the priest in order to receive forgiveness. This is a critical point, an inflection of power asserted through the divine truth of Scripture. And for the people of the Reformation, this meant the church no longer held sway over our souls.

On this Kirkin’ of the Tartans Sunday, we give thanks for our history traced through Scotland and the entire Reformation that set us free from the tyranny of the church and the tyranny of the king. At the time, the king had a vested interest in high church authority. In fact, James I (aka James VI of Scotland!) was adamantly against a Presbyterian church order because he felt it would undermine his kingly authority. As he said at the Hampton Conference in 1604,“No bishop, no king!” He did his best to quash this movement.

This brings us back to First Peter. In light of this history and biblical understanding, what does this mean—that we are a holy priesthood? First, our holiness is not derived from any inner quality. We are not holy because we are morally pure. Rather, we are holy because God has given us a holy calling, which Peter tells us, “in order that you may proclaim the excellence of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

And the central place we are called to this proclamation? —Worship. And so, our Presbyterian Book of Order, W-2.0201, declares:

In Jesus Christ, the Church is called to be a royal priesthood, giving glory to God in worship and devoting itself to God’s service in the world...The order of worship should provide for and encourage the participation of all; no one is to be excluded.

The sacrifice of Jesus leveled the playing field of faith, which means that I and Rev. Unzaga don’t perform any cultic rites on your behalf. We are all holy; we all have this calling. Furthermore, Presbyterian worship is not made authentic or more faithful by designated priests but is an act of the whole people of God, which informs our liturgy every Sunday.

Liturgy is all the different parts of the service—the prayer of confession, the assurance of pardon, the affirmation of faith, the offering, and so on.

Liturgy literally means “the work of the people.”

And we understand that all worship is the work of the people. And so, the whole congregation, no matter the quality of their voice or their age, sings to God. Church members offer prayers and collect the offering. Even the sacraments are not solely the province of the pastors. In fact, we cannot perform the sacraments without the participation of elders or deacons. During the baptism, an elder introduces the family. During communion, they uncover the elements and, along with the pastors, distribute the bread and wine to the people. Not only is the Scripture translated into the language of the people, but the people read it in worship. The authority and holiness of Scripture does not rest in the ancientness of its language but the truth contained within it—the truth available to all. The truth of your priesthood and mine is the promise of the most wonderful thing in all of the universe—to fully ascend the ladder of love.

Plato, in his work Symposium, described this ladder. Love begins most often with a sense of physical attraction. This is the recognition of the physical beauty of another person. We then move to the love of the beauty of souls, the love of knowledge, and finally the love of beauty itself.

Think about that flush of attraction which drew you to your life partner—an incredible feeling. You love being with them for how they make you feel, and you want to spend the rest of your life with them. They bring you a sense of security, and their embrace brings comfort. But whether this is a romantic partner or a dear friend, at some point this love hits a wall. You’re frustrated with their idiosyncratic behavior. And perhaps the love grows dim. They no longer meet your needs.

You realize you’ve only loved them for the way they make you feel, for what they do for you. And this is where many become stuck—stuck in the lower forms of love, and so too it is with our love for God. If we suffer, if we go hungry, if we don’t get the job we want, we become frustrated, angry, and distant from God. And in so doing, we have disclosed something about the nature of our love—it is transactional; it has conditions. Our limited sight, our creaturely nature, makes it impossible for us to ascend higher on the ladder of love.

But through Christ all things are possible, for through him we have all become priests.

The priest can enter into the Holy of Holies. The priest can enter into the very presence of God. And to be in God’s presence is not simply to feel love, but it is to know love itself—the most beautiful thing in existence. To enter into this place requires courage—courage to leave behind the lower forms of love. Courage that the prophet Habakkuk showed in the most desperate of times:

Though the fig tree does not bud and no fruit is on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though the sheep are cut off from the fold and no cattle are in the stalls, yet I will exult in the LORD; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation! — Habakkuk 3:17–18

And when we are finally able to love God without any conditions or expectations, it is then that we can truly love each other, knowing that there is a seed of God planted in every one’s soul. Amen.