(ABP) The upcoming Celebration of a New Baptist Covenant, with its promotion of religious liberty, raises the question of how as Baptists we ought to understand true Christian freedom.
In recent discussions about Baptist identity, the phrase “spiritual master” has been seen as a roadblock to Christian liberty. And why not? “Master” sounds so, well, oppressive. Perhaps you are familiar with William Ernest Henley's poem “Invictus” (i.e., “Unconquered”), which has been called the best-known bad poem in the English language. It concludes with these lines:
It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll.
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Henley's own life was lived in the face of many physical difficulties, and the poem remains for some a stirring refusal to be destroyed by circumstances. But although the poem may not be remembered, its sentiments are familiar. Deeply engrained, especially in the American psyche, is the idea that each of us is her own master, that each one of us “can do” whatever one puts one's mind to.
Would any Baptist really say that one is free to do or say or believe whatever one thinks? If so, he or she resembles Humpty Dumpty in Alice in Wonderland: the question is not what a word means but who is master. If not, then the question is what language gets us the clearest understanding of Christian freedom.
Some dispute the concept of “spiritual masters,” saying that it undermines the Baptist emphasis on the priesthood of all believers. The concern is that if only some are designated as masters (or priests), then how can everyone be a priest? Even worse, the elevation of some over others negates “direct access” to God that all have. It seems as if we must choose between an elite corps of “spiritual masters” (who potentially hamper freedom) or the priesthood of all (which allows for freedom).
I want to suggest, however, that “spiritual masters” make true Christian freedom possible. Like all Christian speech, we must turn to the scriptural and theological context that gives words like “master,” “freedom,” and “priesthood” their meaning. “Master” and “slave” in a positive biblical context bespeak a path to freedom, not an oppressive economic relationship. How can this be? Imagine a budding musician sitting at the feet of a master violinist and what comes to mind is apprenticeship, formation, discipline and a shared joy in the excellence of music. A “spiritual master” is like the master violinist.
When the Apostle Paul urges the early Christians to “imitate him,” he is setting himself up as a kind of spiritual master. To modern ears, Paul's command appears to lack humility, and yet it is an evasion of responsibility to say, “Don't look at me” (the “please” is implied). Even more, Paul interpreted his life not as his own work but as the total work of Christ: “Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ” (Philippians 3:7).
Paul is telling his readers to imitate him only to the extent that his life imitates Christ. He functions like a spiritual master because, like the master violinist, he apprentices Christian converts into a way of life, sharing with them the joys of discipleship and of being members one of another.
The language of spiritual master, rather than undermining our shared priesthood, enhances it by revealing the depth of what it means for disciples to be designated “priests.” Here again, in other contexts, a priest could bring to mind false sacrifice (i.e., witchcraft or superstition) or someone who lords power over another. But when the Scripture speaks of our communal priesthood (1 Peter 2:5, Revelation 1:5), it refers to disciples being set apart for a specific purpose: to offer spiritual sacrifice to God through Jesus Christ. Such a designation carries with it the call to proclaim the gospel and to serve the world.
The church universal has, in every generation, set apart (whether formally or informally) “spiritual masters” who have faithfully embodied cruciform lives of sacrifice and service in excellent ways. Most of us are familiar with Saint Francis' story of voluntary poverty, kissing the ostracized leper, and radically embracing the peace of Christ. He functions as a spiritual master not because we today must try to imitate him exactly. Rather he offers us a vision of what the gospel looks like in a context where, as he heard in a vision before the crucified Christ, “God's house is being destroyed.” He enables the church to imagine more richly what it means to be set apart as a holy priesthood.
While Francis is well known, God gives our local congregations persons who function as “spiritual masters” in similar ways. Of blessed memory to me is Maxine, a woman of profound faith and practical holiness, whom most in our congregation considered a “master” or “saint,” though she would not have given herself such a designation.
Scripture reminds us that “people are slaves to whatever masters them” (1 Peter 2:19). Being slaves to the wrong master causes us to lose our freedom. That means that Christian freedom is a byproduct of the kind of life we lead. “Spiritual masters” are those disciples who have become slaves to Christ in particularly compelling ways. In doing so, they ironically embody Christian freedom. Without such embodiments of holiness, we might know in an abstract sense to what priesthood refers, but we would not know what it looks like.
Just as Christ incarnates God, so “spiritual masters” reflect Christ, reminding us all how to be a priestly people for and on behalf of the world.
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— Beth Newman is professor of theology and ethics at Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. [email protected]
Read more:
Mercer president-elect decries 'spiritual masters' who limit freedom (1/24/2006)
'Manifesto' supporters say role of community misinterpreted (2/01/2006)