Bishop Robert Barron 'Priest, Prophet and King'

Feb 18, 2014

A classic characterization of Jesus is that he is priest, prophet, and king.  As priest, he sanctifies, that is to say, he reestablishes the lost link between divinity and humanity; as prophet, he speaks and embodies the divine truth; and as king, he leads us on the right path, giving guidance to the human project.  You might say that, as priest, he is the life; as prophet, he is the truth; and as king he is the way.

Not only is this munus triplex (triple office) a rich way to characterize the Lord; it is also a very good way to designate who the baptized are supposed to be.  According to Catholic theology, baptism is much more than merely a symbolic sign of belonging to the church.  It is the means by which a person is incorporated into Christ, becoming a member of his mystical body.  Baptism, accordingly, makes the baptized an alter Christus, another Christ.  This is precisely why, for example, every candidate for baptism is anointed with oil, just as, in the Old Testament, priests, prophets, and kings were anointed upon assumption of their offices.

So what does this look like in practice?  How does it show itself in the lives of ordinary believers?  Let us look at priesthood first.  A priest fosters holiness, precisely in the measure that he or she serves as a bridge between God and human beings. In ancient Roman times, the priest was described as a pontifex, bridge-builder, and this remains a valid designation in the Christian context.  The reconciliation of divinity and humanity produces in human beings a wholeness or integration, a coming together of the often warring elements within the self.  The same dynamic obtains on a grander scale as well:  when cities, societies, cultures rediscover a link to God, they find an inner peace.  And therefore baptized priests are meant, first, to embody the harmony that God wants between himself and those made in his image and likeness.  They affect this through their own intense devotion to prayer, the sacraments, and the Mass.  In their cultivation of a real friendship with the living Christ, they act out their priestly identity and purpose.  Then, they are sent out into families, communities, places of work, the political and cultural arenas, etc. in order to carry the integration they have found like a holy contagion.  If baptized priests stop praying, stop going to Mass, stop frequenting the sacraments, they will become, in short order, like salt that has lost its savor.

What does it mean for the average baptized person to be a prophet?  A person is a prophet in the measure that he or she bears the truth of God.  G.K. Chesterton said that in an upside-down world such as ours, the prophet is the one who stands on his head so that he might see things aright.  This is why, of course, prophets have always appeared more than a little insane.  In fact, the Hebrew word for prophet, "nabi", has the overtone of madman.  Well, of course:  in a world that has lost its bearings, those who speak the divine truth will, perforce, appear unhinged.  How does one cultivate this salutary madness?  Baptized prophets should exercise their brains by studying philosophy, theology, spirituality, church history, and the lives of the saints.  And they can’t be satisfied with reading superficial tracts designed for children.  Augustine, Origen, Bernard, Thomas Aquinas, Ignatius, John Henry Newman, Chesterton, and Ratzinger beckon. If those classic authors are a bit intimidating, Fulton Sheen, C.S. Lewis, Peter Kreeft, George Weigel, and Robert Spitzer provide more accessible but still meaty fare.  Having been illumined, these prophets are then sent out into their worlds as beacons of light.  God knows that in our increasingly secularized society, such illumination is desperately needed, but if baptized prophets stop studying and stop speaking, they are like lamps over which a bushel basket has been placed.

Finally, what does it mean for the ordinary Catholic to be a king?  In the theological sense, a king is someone who orders the charisms within a community so as to direct that community toward God.  In this way, he is like the general of an army or the conductor of an orchestra:  he coordinates the efforts and talents of a conglomeration of people in order to help them achieve a common purpose.  Thus, a Catholic parent directs her children toward the accomplishment of their God-given missions, educating them, shaping them interiorly, molding their behavior, disciplining their desires, etc.  A Catholic politician appreciates the moral dimension of his work, and legislates, cajoles, and directs accordingly.  A Catholic private equity investor saves a company that provides indispensable jobs in a declining neighborhood, etc.  How does one grow in the capacity to exercise kingly leadership?  One can do so by overcoming the cultural prejudice in favor of a privatized religion.  Most of the avatars of secularism would accept religion as a personal preoccupation, something along the lines of a hobby.  But such an attenuated spirituality has nothing to do with a robustly Biblical sense of religion.  On the Catholic reading, religious people—the baptized—come forth boldly and publicly and are more than willing to govern, to be kings, out of religious conviction.  If you are looking for examples of what I’m describing here, look no further than William Lloyd Garrison, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King and Fulton Sheen.  Baptized kings who refuse to reign are like a hilltop city covered in clouds.

The key to the renewal of our society is a recovery of the deepest meaning of baptism, to become priestly, prophetic, and kingly people.