There’s a question I get from time to time which runs something, amidst all its variations, like: “Why are you called a ‘priest’ when Jesus alone is the final priest between God and man?” quoting verses like 1 Tim. 2:5 or Heb. 4:14-16. It’s sometimes also asked relatedly of me that “the New Testament churches were lead by Bishops, Presbyters, and Deacons —why don’t we use those terms?”
These are fair questions and I am amiable to the concerns which often lies behind it: faithfulness to the Bible and the firm conviction that Jesus accomplished and fulfilled the Law and the Prophets.
…But I still think calling one’s pastor/elder a priest in the Anglican tradition is okay, certainly not mandatory, but helpful. Here’s some brief notes on why:
The English word “priest” actually comes from the Greek word for “elder” which is “presbyter.” It underwent a morphological change and then a truncation from “presbyter” to “prester” and finally to “priest”. So on one level when someone calls me a priest they are, technically, saying nothing other than that I am an Elder in the Church.
Later, when the Scriptures were translated into English, this truncated word “priest” was used for the Hebrew word “kohan” —the servants and guardians of Yahweh’s tabernacle/temple, sons of Aaron. These are the guys we think of now as “priests” in the Bible and who are called that in modern English versions of the Old Testament. So this got mixed-up with the image of the ministers of the Old Covenant.
Mix into this linguistic narrative some of the stranger parts of late medieval liturgical theology about the perpetual sacrifice of the Mass and the sacerdotal concept of the office of priest, or presbyter or elder, and you get the common misconception that anyone who regards their Anglican pastor as “priest” must be, intentionally or not, calling into question the priesthood and authority of Jesus as the Mediator.
A clarifying thing: no, Anglicans do not believe that the office of ‘priest’ or ‘presbyter’ is at all a devaluing of the High Priestly (in the other sense of the word, the Old Testament one) ministry of Jesus. Nor does any human priest/presbyter ascend to minister in the same capacity as Jesus. He alone enters the holy place by merit of his own blood, everyone else, clergy and laity, enter by his Blood not ours.
However (“oh, I knew you were a papist” “—no, no, just let me finish… ahem…”) there is good reason that Anglicans have knowingly kept the use of the term downstream of the Reformation, knowing all the ways it can be problematic if misunderstood. And that reason is that the role of the New Testament presbyter/elder/priest in the church today shares an ***analogous*** (key phrase here, folks) relationship with those other Old Testament priests/kohanim.
That relationship is one of service, instruction, and worship-leading. Christ has fulfilled all of the Law and the Prophets, and yet in fulfilling them he has ushered in new roles that are also fulfillments of old structures. Some examples may be profitable:
No longer do we need animal sacrifices, Christ is the once-for-all Sacrifice, but we still bring ourselves to his presence as Living Sacrifices (Rom. 12).
No longer do we come to Mt. Zion only to gather in Yahweh’s House, for His House is now many Houses —burning brilliant Dwelling places increasing in number and glory all across the world. But we still are instructed to gather together, to observe the Lord’s Day, to feast and hear from his Word, to hold sacred assembly with the Living God.
We no longer need washings in a bronze basin (Ex. 30:17-21), but we do need the Baptism of repentance.
So also, we are a people still led by God-given leaders who serve and guard and govern. Peter Leithart has argued persuasively that the best understanding of the Old Testament priest/kohan is a kind of palace-servant of the Living God. A sacred butler, if you will. Jesus has become the Great High Priest, the great Servant of All, the Grandest of all sacred butlers in his Father’s mansions, but this does not mean that he has abrogated any form of leadership or formal service in his fulfilled sanctuary or at his fulfilled and glorified altar-table.
This is, in fact, true of all the pastoral offices: Jesus is the true pastor, which is just the Latin word for “shepherd”, the Great shepherd. Does that mean Paul is wrong to use that word to refer to ministers? Certainly not. Jesus is literally described as the “deacon”, the Greek word for “servant,” the Great Servant. Does that mean the Apostles were wrong, and the Scripture themselves in that case, to ordain Stephen and the others to a unique diaconal ministry? Of course not. Jesus is the true Teacher, the true Prophet, the true Apostle, the True Overseer of the Sheep, the True Evangelist. What about the word Elder —“presbyter” remember? Isn’t Jesus the Ancient of Days —the Eldest of all things elderly? You see, far from destroying the human office, his High and Fulfilled Office anchors the differing ministries of leadership and governance in Who He Is.
One of the central promises in Jeremiah 3 is that God would give His people “shepherds after [His] own heart and they will feed you knowledge and insight” (Jer. 3:15). Precisely because He is the Good Shepherd can he make such a promise. We can say the same of the concept of “Priest.” Precisely because He is the Great High Priest, precisely because He fulfilled it, he can give little priestlings like myself to lead and serve his people —not in the equivalent mediatorial sense, but in a diffused, delegated and deputized way.
So call your presbyters “priests” or not. Do not let your conscience be bound, be free. But know that those who do are not making some ontological claim about our elevated status as sacrificial oblates between God and you. We are servants and ministers, called to lead Christ’s people in it vocation and calling, but we are not the One True Mediator. You, too, share in this one Priesthood together with all presbyters and deacons and bishops, and Our Lord Himself. We are a kingdom of Priests unto our God. Go, therefore, into the world and be the bread which Christ breaks and gives to a hungry world that it might have life.
Or perhaps a better simpler way to say it: we only break the bread, we are not the Bread Himself. In some sense that’s what being a priest has always meant.