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James Carroll Misunderstands the New Covenant Priesthood

(My latest for Catholic Answers Magazine.) James Carroll, an ex-priest writing for The Atlantic, recently argued for an abolition of the Catholic priesthood, mostly due to the abuse scandal. He is certainly right that the priesthood in general has its problems, as continuing revelations of abuse and cover-up have shown.

But I want to focus on another assertion Carroll makes: namely, that in the nascent Church, “There was no priesthood yet,” at least not by the time the great Jewish historian Josephus wrote about the early Christians, about sixty years after the first Easter. In other words, Carroll doesn’t see the priesthood as intrinsic to the New Covenant established by Christ.

This view is at loggerheads with that of the Catholic Church—that the priesthood of the New Covenant was established by Jesus himself and is foundational to the Church’s identity as the new Israel. Let’s take a look at one individual mentioned in Scripture who, despite being shrouded in mystery, leaves us an important clue in this regard.

St. Luke, writing in the Acts of the Apostles, introduces us to St. Matthias, who replaced Judas as the twelfth apostle (Acts 1:15-26). In so doing, Luke provides us with some unexpectedly rich apologetic material concerning the New Covenant priesthood, despite the relative obscurity of Matthias himself. He is never mentioned again in the New Testament, although later apocryphal accounts speak of his preaching to the Ethiopians. Both the early Church historian Eusebius and St. Epiphanius believed that Matthias had been one of the original “seventy” disciples of Jesus (cf. Luke 10:1).

As an aside, the fact that Judas had to be replaced at all reinforces the fact that “the Twelve” were an integral part of what Jesus had intended to establish with the New Covenant. Jesus’ selection of twelve apostles clearly evoked the foundational twelve tribes of Israel, which was not lost on his fellow Jews and certainly not on his opponents in the Jewish religious hierarchy. The titulus nailed above our crucified Lord’s head on the cross (cf. Luke 23:38) emphasized the main charge against him: that he claimed to be the “King of the Jews,” the King of Israel.

Israel was originally ruled by judges, not kings, because the Jews recognized God as their true King (in fact, the book of Judges views the people’s desire for a human king as an abomination—see especially 8:22-9:57). It was God who had founded the nation and established its twelve tribes derived from the sons of Jacob, who was renamed “Israel.” Thus, to claim the authority to establish a new (or renewed) Israel, with a new Twelve, is a strong claim to divinity on Jesus’ part.

This new Israel featured a new temple—the Church, a community of “living stones” (1 Pet. 2:5); a new sacrifice—the Eucharist, which in fact is the New Covenant in Jesus’ blood (Luke 22:20); and a new priesthood, celebrating this new sacrifice on a new altar. “We have an altar from which those who serve the tent [the Old Covenant priests, at the Jerusalem Temple] have no right to eat” (Heb. 13:10).

Luke’s two-volume work, comprising his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, is a masterpiece on many historical and theological levels. One of the things Luke does so well is to set the story of Jesus and the Church in continuity with the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament), often in remarkably subtle ways. One of the best examples of this is how Luke presents his account of Matthias’s selection:

“So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection.” And they put forward two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias. And they prayed and said, “Lord, you know the hearts of all men, show which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside, to go to his own place.” And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was enrolled with the eleven apostles (Acts 1:21–26).

A casual reader might assume that the method by which the eleven picked Matthias was a mere game of chance, leaving room for the Holy Spirit to make his sovereign choice. But remember, Luke’s gospel and Acts are a two-volume set, and Luke knows his readers will remember the beginning of the first book and connect it to the opening scenes of his sequel.

In Luke 1, we read about the “annunciation” to Zechariah, the future father of John the Baptist. Why is it that Zechariah, a priest, found himself on duty in the temple the day Gabriel appeared to him? “Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, according to the custom of the priesthood, it fell to him by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense” (Luke 1:8–9, emphasis added).

In other words, casting lots was a means of delineating priestly duties in the Old Covenant, and Luke shows that method was used again in selecting Matthias in the New Covenant period. This is something that the first readers of Acts would likely have noticed. The implication is that the office of priesthood is essential to the function of an apostle of Jesus Christ. This dovetails nicely with what Luke’s close companion in ministry, the apostle Paul, notes when he speaks of “the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in the priestly service of the gospel of God” (Rom. 15:15–16, emphasis added).

The New Covenant priesthood, contra James Carroll, was not something the Church “invented” later on; the early Christians saw the apostles (and their successors) from the beginning as sharing in a special way in the priesthood of Jesus Christ. There are many other reasons this is so, far more than we have space to discuss here. But this truth is confirmed in a unique way in Luke’s account of the selection of St. Matthias as an apostle.

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Pope Francis on the “Clear Test” of a Good Priest

f1cm4HOMILY OF POPE FRANCIS
HOLY THURSDAY CHRISM MASS
ST PETER’S BASILICA
28 MARCH 2013

Dear Brothers and Sisters, This morning I have the joy of celebrating my first Chrism Mass as the Bishop of Rome. I greet all of you with affection, especially you, dear priests, who, like myself, today recall the day of your ordination.

The readings of our Mass speak of God’s “anointed ones”: the suffering Servant of Isaiah, King David and Jesus our Lord. All three have this in common: the anointing that they receive is meant in turn to anoint God’s faithful people, whose servants they are; they are anointed for the poor, for prisoners, for the oppressed… A fine image of this “being for” others can be found in the Psalm: “It is like the precious oil upon the head, running down upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down upon the collar of his robe” (Ps 133:2). The image of spreading oil, flowing down from the beard of Aaron upon the collar of his sacred robe, is an image of the priestly anointing which, through Christ, the Anointed One, reaches the ends of the earth, represented by the robe.

The sacred robes of the High Priest are rich in symbolism. One such symbol is that the names of the children of Israel were engraved on the onyx stones mounted on the shoulder-pieces of the ephod, the ancestor of our present-day chasuble: six on the stone of the right shoulder-piece and six on that of the left (cf. Ex 28:6-14). The names of the twelve tribes of Israel were also engraved on the breastplate (cf. Es 28:21). This means that the priest celebrates by carrying on his shoulders the people entrusted to his care and bearing their names written in his heart. When we put on our simple chasuble, it might well make us feel, upon our shoulders and in our hearts, the burdens and the faces of our faithful people, our saints and martyrs of whom there are many in these times…

From the beauty of all these liturgical things, which is not so much about trappings and fine fabrics than about the glory of our God resplendent in his people, alive and strengthened, we turn to a consideration of activity, action. The precious oil which anoints the head of Aaron does more than simply lend fragrance to his person; it overflows down to “the edges”. The Lord will say this clearly: his anointing is meant for the poor, prisoners and the sick, for those who are sorrowing and alone. The ointment is not intended just to make us fragrant, much less to be kept in a jar, for then it would become rancid … and the heart bitter.

A good priest can be recognized by the way his people are anointed. This is a clear test. When our people are anointed with the oil of gladness, it is obvious: for example, when they leave Mass looking as if they have heard good news. Our people like to hear the Gospel preached with “unction”, they like it when the Gospel we preach touches their daily lives, when it runs down like the oil of Aaron to the edges of reality, when it brings light to moments of extreme darkness, to the “outskirts” where people of faith are most exposed to the onslaught of those who want to tear down their faith. People thank us because they feel that we have prayed over the realities of their everyday lives, their troubles, their joys, their burdens and their hopes. And when they feel that the fragrance of the Anointed One, of Christ, has come to them through us, they feel encouraged to entrust to us everything they want to bring before the Lord: “Pray for me, Father, because I have this problem”, “Bless me”, “Pray for me” – these words are the sign that the anointing has flowed down to the edges of the robe, for it has turned into prayer. The prayers of the people of God. When we have this relationship with God and with his people, and grace passes through us, then we are priests, mediators between God and men. What I want to emphasize is that we need constantly to stir up God’s grace and perceive in every request, even those requests that are inconvenient and at times purely material or downright banal – but only apparently so – the desire of our people to be anointed with fragrant oil, since they know that we have it. To perceive and to sense, even as the Lord sensed the hope-filled anguish of the woman suffering from hemorrhages when she touched the hem of his garment. At that moment, Jesus, surrounded by people on every side, embodies all the beauty of Aaron vested in priestly raiment, with the oil running down upon his robes. It is a hidden beauty, one which shines forth only for those faith-filled eyes of the woman troubled with an issue of blood. But not even the disciples – future priests – see or understand: on the “existential outskirts”, they see only what is on the surface: the crowd pressing in on Jesus from all sides (cf. Lk 8:42). The Lord, on the other hand, feels the power of the divine anointing which runs down to the edge of his cloak.

We need to “go out,” then, in order to experience our own anointing, its power and its redemptive efficacy: to the “outskirts” where there is suffering, bloodshed, blindness that longs for sight, and prisoners in thrall to many evil masters. It is not in soul-searching or constant introspection that we encounter the Lord: self-help courses can be useful in life, but to live by going from one course to another, from one method to another, leads us to become pelagians and to minimize the power of grace, which comes alive and flourishes to the extent that we, in faith, go out and give ourselves and the Gospel to others, giving what little ointment we have to those who have nothing, nothing at all.

A priest who seldom goes out of himself, who anoints little – I won’t say “not at all” because, thank God, our people take our oil from us anyway – misses out on the best of our people, on what can stir the depths of his priestly heart. Those who do not go out of themselves, instead of being mediators, gradually become intermediaries, managers. We know the difference: the intermediary, the manager, “has already received his reward”, and since he doesn’t put his own skin and his own heart on the line, he never hears a warm, heartfelt word of thanks. This is precisely the reason why some priests grow dissatisfied, become sad priests, lose heart and become in some sense collectors of antiques or novelties – instead of being shepherds living with “the smell of the sheep”, shepherds in the midst of their flock, fishers of men. True enough, the so-called crisis of priestly identity threatens us all and adds to the broader cultural crisis; but if we can resist its onslaught, we will be able to put out in the name of the Lord and cast our nets. It is not a bad thing that reality itself forces us to “put out into the deep”, where what we are by grace is clearly seen as pure grace, out into the deep of the contemporary world, where the only thing that counts is “unction” – not function – and the nets which overflow with fish are those cast solely in the name of the One in whom we have put our trust: Jesus.

Dear lay faithful, be close to your priests with affection and with your prayers, that they may always be shepherds according to God’s heart.

Dear priests, may God the Father renew in us the Spirit of holiness with whom we have been anointed. May he renew his Spirit in our hearts, that this anointing may spread to everyone, even to those “outskirts” where our faithful people most look for it and most appreciate it. May our people sense that we are the Lord’s disciples; may they feel that their names are written upon our priestly vestments and that we seek no other identity; and may they receive through our words and deeds the oil of gladness which Jesus, the Anointed One, came to bring us. Amen.

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Call No Man “Father”?

Today’s Gospel reading at Mass raises a very common question posed to Catholics:

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying,
“The scribes and the Pharisees
have taken their seat on the chair of Moses.
Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you,
but do not follow their example.
For they preach but they do not practice.
They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry
and lay them on people’s shoulders,
but they will not lift a finger to move them.
All their works are performed to be seen.
They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels.
They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues,
greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.’
As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’
You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers.
Call no one on earth your father;
you have but one Father in heaven.
Do not be called ‘Master’;
you have but one master, the Christ.
The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

-Mt 23:1-12

If Jesus condemns calling any man “father”, how is it that Catholics call their priests “Father”? For the answer, click here.

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The Year of The Priest Seminar

A new seminar I’m offering in this “Year of the Priest” in the Catholic Church is called “The Priesthood Explained: Understanding Father’s Priesthood – and Yours”. To whet your appetite, here’s an article I wrote on the subject for Catholic Insight magazine.

The Priesthood(s) Jesus Gave Us by Cale Clarke

A Catholic must, in the words of our first pope, “always be ready with an answer for anyone who asks you” (1 Peter 3:15) about the faith. And especially in this Year of the Priest, queries about the Catholic priesthood abound.

A fundamental question we are often asked is about the origin of the Catholic ministerial priesthood itself. Many doubt that Jesus meant to establish it. In fact, many see the priesthood as a later “invention” of the Church, a “Catholic accretion” to the gospel that must be done away with.

Speaking of 1 Peter, one major argument against the Catholic priesthood is found in 1 Peter 2:5, where all Christians are dubbed “a royal priesthood, a holy nation”. According to this text, the argument goes, since all believers are priests, a separate ministerial priesthood – the Catholic priesthood – is no longer necessary. We can return to the situation of Old Testament Israel, where all Israel was “a kingdom of priests” (Exodus 19:6). At the dawn of the Protestant revolution, Martin Luther made heavy use of the “priesthood of all believers” doctrine, as he understood it, to persuade people that they could in good conscience leave the Church of Rome.

This idea is only half true. All believers are, indeed priests. On this, the Catholic Church agrees with Peter, naturally! But that does not mean that we don’t need a separate ministerial priesthood – and, ironically, appealing to the case of Israel only strengthens the Catholic case.

As Fr. Mario Romero points out in his book Unabridged Christianity, the structure of Catholic priesthood in the New Covenant strikingly parallels that of the Old: there are three different types in each.

1. The High Priesthood. In the Old Covenant (cf. Lev. 16), The high priest was designated to enter the Holy of Holies in the Jerusalem temple and atone for the transgressions of the people on the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). In the New Covenant, Jesus Christ, our eternal High Priest, offers the one perfect sacrifice of himself in the true Holy of Holies (cf. Hebrews 7).

2. The Ordained, Ministerial Priesthood. Old Covenant Israel, of course, had the Levites as priests (Exodus 29 ff), who ministered on behalf of the other tribes. Some may say, “That was God’s response to the golden calf debacle, when only the Levites kept faith – prior to this, there was no unique priestly group. It is to this original state of Israel that God is calling us back to in the New Covenant”. This view fails to realize that, even prior to the establishment of the Levitical priesthood, there was already a separate priesthood (cf. Exodus 19:21,22).

The New Covenant also features an ordained, ministerial priesthood which ministers on behalf of God’s people. An oft-overlooked text that verifies this is Acts 1, when Matthias is chosen by lot to replace Judas in the apostolic band. Far from a game of chance, drawing lots is how priests were chosen for tasks in the temple (see Luke 1:9). Luke mentions this at the start of his second volume to link the new priesthood in the new temple (the Church) with the account of Zechariah’s Old Covenant priesthood in Luke 1.

Of course, there are also the stock texts one might turn to in support of a ministerial priesthood in the Church. In Romans 15:15-16, Saint Paul speaks of his “priestly service of the gospel”. The New Testament is replete with the ordinations of “presbyters” throughout – a Greek word that is translated into English as “priest” (eg. Acts 14:23, Titus 1:5).

3. The Universal Priesthood. This priesthood was shared by all Jews in the Old Covenant. It consisted of offering spiritual sacrifices to God. A similar universal, or “catholic” priesthood is conferred on all New Covenant believers at baptism, by which the believer shares in Christ’s threefold office of priest, prophet, and king (CCC 1268). All should offer the totality of their very lives (Romans 12:1) as their priestly offering to God – including their work and social lives, not simply their public and private worship. In both covenants, the ordained, ministerial priesthood is culled from the ranks of the universal priesthood.
This is the real “priesthood of all believers”. Contrary views must, sooner or later, be sacrificed on the altar of truth.

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