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”). 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.” 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.
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.
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 enables the church to imagine more richly what it means to be set apart as a holy priesthood.
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.
Beth Newman is professor of theology and ethics at Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. Her commentaries are distributed by ABP.