“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” —1 Peter 2:9

In a recent interview on NPR’s “All Things Considered,” while discussing how he began his latest book, writer E. L. Doctorow said, “first lines are crucial...they give you the voice. They are the acorn from which the oak grows. You can find the entire book in that first line.” If we were to take that approach in looking at the story of Baptists we would see that our first line represents a voice of dissent. The Baptist acorn is one of dissent, and it has remained a significant identification embodied by the oak tree that has steadily grown for the last 400 years.

One of the most significant ways in which Baptists exercised dissent from the status quo religious structures of 17th century England was to listen again to texts like the one quoted above. Listening to such texts and reinterpreting them on the margins of the established, state-sanctioned, orthodoxy of the church of England, they concluded that the priestly hierarchies of the Church of England were not the sole arbiters of God’s revelation and will. This liberated act of biblical interpretation was one of several that led to the need for these first Baptists to escape to Amsterdam, the location where the first congregation was formed.

The value of priesthood originated among Baptists, I believe, as a desire to both embody an authentic expression of faith, and a prophetic protest to the church. In its simplest form, the doctrine of priesthood serves to liberate every person unto the possibilities of living as God’s priest on earth. However, as priesthood became contextualized by modernity’s individualistic foundations, and the ensuing project of “civilization,” it paradoxically became captive, and captivating. The fruits of which can be dialed up in one’s imagination when you read and hear statements like “chosen people,” “holy nation” and “God’s special possession.” These, and phrases like them, have been invoked by white European and American political leaders and preachers for much of the last several centuries. While they may have brought comfort to the hearers in “western” lands, such phrases spoke with an oppressive voice of conquest and occupation among regions of the world such as South America, Africa and Southeast Asia.

Thankfully, the Baptist value of priesthood has not ceased to evolve. A new context for interpreting priesthood has been emerging for the last 50 years or so, a context that is now defined more by pluralism than by individualism. While its still too early to tell, there are some Baptists who are heading back out to listen again to the texts on the margins of both Christendom and established Baptist orthodoxies. Unsatisfied with the status quo interpretations of both liberal and conservative modern-day Baptists, emerging Baptists are re-imagining priesthood, and for many of the same reasons our fore fathers and mothers did.

In honor of the “first line” in the Baptist story, some are dissenting from interpretations of priesthood that have limited the possibility of its being only for those who are like “us” and not like “them.” Priesthood is often found better embodied outside the church in organizations, communities and persons who may or may not be Baptist, or even Christian. Some are also dissenting from the notion that priesthood somehow gives one the authority to make others in one’s own image—that priesthood is less about making copies and more about naming where God is present in diverse and unique ways.

While Baptists enjoy waving the banner of priesthood, the joke that frequently gets whispered is that we honor it in theory and not in practice. By practice, some would argue that Baptists truly honor “preacher-hood.” It’s the holy grail of church leadership and still the main emphasis of our institutional formation for ministry. Some Baptists are dissenting from this interpretation of priesthood as well. Priesthood can be exercised anywhere by anyone, and often those most free to practice it are not numbered among Baptist clergy.
I am fascinated and hopeful about the possibilities for priesthood. My concern is that those possibilities can only work when we are free to live into the future because we are not captive to our past. For many emerging Baptists like myself, there is a mountain of disappointments that cast a heavy shadow over our personal histories within the Baptist church. If we are to be liberated by, and unto, new possibilities of priesthood, we will first need to forgive and come to terms with our respective pasts. The measure of which will be evidenced in two forms: in our ability to infrequently speak of that past without contempt or condescending judgment, and in our newly formed habit of frequently articulating a future.