A Quaker Meeting in London in the early 1770s). Photo: Engraving by Bernard Picard (1673-1733).
Exploring priesthood
John Peirce writes about the Quaker notion of priesthood
When early Friends affirmed the priesthood of all believers it was seen as an abolition of the clergy; in fact it is an abolition of the laity. All members are part of the clergy and have the clergy’s responsibility for the maintenance of the meeting as a community…
- Quaker faith & practice 11:01
In the early part of 2017 I was encouraged by a Friend to apply for an Eva Koch Scholarship. I had been wrestling for some time with trying to understand the essential nature of priesthood – as distinct from its usual manifestation as being a job, profession or calling as vicar of a parish or minister of a church, a chaplain of a hospital or prison and so on. Since coming to Quakers I was concerned to know better what we mean by the ‘priesthood of all believers’.
The well-known quotation from Quaker faith & practice (above) is a challenging one. Many Friends take a negative view that Quakers do not have, – and do not need – priests. They are against the whole notion of priesthood, as somthing medieval and superseded. Our passage is altogether more positive: we are all priests and we all share in priestly responsibility for our Meeting, its spiritual health and for one another within it.
My next challenge was to explore more deeply what the ‘priesthood of all believers’ might learn from the practice of ordained priesthood in other churches – and vice versa: what might Quaker experience of shared or mutual priesthood offer to a fuller understanding of ordination to the wider church. What can we offer to, and learn from, one another? This is not just an academic exercise. I realise that just considering these questions might take us beyond our personal comfort zones, challenging our very beliefs.
Quakers’ opposition to the notion of priesthood goes back to the earliest days of Friends and George Fox himself. Born in 1624 at Fenny Drayton in Leicestershire, he left home at nineteen, an unhappy young man seeking religious truth. The clergy he met and consulted could offer him little of comfort or inspiration. Indeed, these were troubled times for everyone. The Reformation under Henry VIII had been partial and largely political in purpose. It was followed by violent swings between Catholicism and Protestantism under succeeding monarchs. Thousands suffered and many died cruelly in the process.
A few years into George Fox’s quest even the monarch of England was publicly executed. Civil war was in the air. Puritanism was in the ascendant and there were many conflicting groups. George Fox recorded: ‘But as I had forsaken the priests, so I left the separate preachers also… for I saw there was none among them all that could speak to my condition.’
He rejected not only the priests of the historic churches but also the ministers of the various newer sects. George Fox is anguished by this – and from his Journal we can see that this is not too strong a word – anguished until he discovers for himself that he can have a direct experience of the Spirit: the Spirit communing with his spirit without the need for human intervention.
The verse from saint Peter’s first letter, which reads ‘you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood…’ (1 Peter 2:9), comes from the earliest days of Christianity. It was probably written late in AD 63 and by (or in the name of) the man called ‘The Rock’ – the foundation of the Church. Peter names his readers ‘a royal priesthood’: the members of that early Christian community are themselves its priests. We can see George Fox’s insight about priesthood harking back to this first principle, and that membership of the community of faith – that priesthood, is based upon direct and personal experience of the Spirit: what those early Quakers called ‘convincement’, which they knew ‘experimentally’ (we might use the word ‘experientially’) – no need, then, for an intermediary professional priest with sermons and sacraments, one might suppose.
We must guard, again, against the purely negative view. George Fox himself preached – and at length. It wasn’t long before preachers, modelling themselves on the seventy sent out by Jesus – were sent off around the country evangelising, calling people to faith, setting up Local Meetings and establishing many of the structures and procedures that Quakers still use.
They began a long Quaker tradition of ‘travelling in the ministry’ – with a ‘note’ to validate their preaching and to distinguish them from common vagrants. They may not have been paid for their work but it was expected that they would be welcomed, fed and accommodated. So, a ministry, even if it was not designated a ‘priesthood’, was established early in Quaker history that in a variety of ways continues to this day.
In our largely silent worship we hold ourselves in readiness to minister – by which we mean we are open to speak aloud if so led by the Spirit. Some say (perhaps out of some misplaced modesty): ‘Oh! I would never speak in the Meeting’, and attempts to accommodate this have seen the emergence of ‘afterwords’ or books for writing further thoughts. But, ideally, we are all priests, and the Spirit should be free to speak or prophesy to and through each and any of us. We have this warning from Pope Francis: ‘Where there is no prophecy among the people, clericalism fills the void.’
It is this clericalism that so stuck in the gullet of George Fox and his followers: seeing priesthood as a status above others; dominating through a rigid hierarchy (the word once meant priestly rule); exacting payment through tithes; reserving the mediating of the Spirit through themselves; and claiming the moral high ground.
So, avoiding clericalism, what should our common priesthood look like? Certainly, it should mean being willing to speak in Meeting if the Spirit so moves us. It should also mean having a pastoral care for one another.
Do we really know each other? Have we a readiness to share ourselves, our insights, our fears, our skills, our grief and our joys, and to facilitate others in doing likewise; sharing the gifts of encouragement; and studying to expand our understanding?
Comments
We are a small elderly Meeting, and a number of Friends are either confined to their house or in a care home. It is very difficult to know if one is being intrusive when visiting Friends at home if they haven’t asked for a visit.
I have recently been nominated as “reporter” to the two AM Friends who are responsible for safeguarding. One I have in mind speaks her mind and gains a reputation for being difficult and is consequently not heard. This is borderline abuse in my mind. How can we draw the line?
Would an ordained priest have the same problem?
By john0708 on 7th July 2018 - 8:42
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