George (Yorgos) is a priest (papas) of the Greek Orthodox Church, but only his cassock reveals his professional standing in society. Everything else about him seems out of character. He sports a long pony tail and a neatly trimmed beard; he wears cowboy boots even during the liturgy. He is a cigarette-smoking, ouzo-drinking, girl-watching enigma! But when he sings the liturgy, his deep mellow bass voice obscures his man-of-the-world trappings in favor of his priestly image, and one can only see the dispenser-of-the-bread-of-life. When not performing the most sacred mystery of the faith, he manages his own small farm, tends to the needs of his own family, and visits the kafeneion (coffee shop). Except for his priestly garb he is not unlike other men very much at home in the world.

     What makes someone choose such a high profile role standing on the edge ostensibly between the profane and the sacred?

     I don’t really know, and I doubt any one does. But the question sets me to thinking about what motivates these high profile practitioners of the “religious arts.” Positive motivation (surely there is negative motivation—think Elmer Gantry!) must lie in the distinctive religious practice of each Christian group. Speaking broadly, there appear to be three primary motivations for entering upon the religious arts; these motivations lie at a level deeper than the usual cultic practices of Christian religious groups such as marrying, burying, indoctrinating neophytes, and other such similar activities.

     In the liturgical traditions (Roman Catholic and Orthodox) lies the obvious appeal of dispensing the primary sacred mystery of the faith—handling the actual body and blood of God (see John 6: 52-59); this heady responsibility sets the priest apart as the most holy point where the sacred and the profane coalesce in the modern world. Essentially, the appeal is the priestly function.

     “Protestant” groups feature the appeal for an individual to become God’s authoritative spokesman who proclaims God’s Word that leads to correcting the tragic human condition. The religious professional is viewed by self and congregation as God’s messenger through whom one hears the voice of God and hence they come to know the will of God. Essentially, the appeal is the prophetic function.

     A new form of Christianity is rapidly becoming a serious competitor to these two models of the faith—the ancient and the Reformation. Churches practicing this recent form of Christianity describe themselves as progressive in Christian faith. There is no central authority but Progressive churches seek a loose and unofficial association for collegial purposes. Such churches represent a reform movement among the traditional churches left over from the 16th century Reformation. They aim at reinterpreting the mythical and mystical categories in which the older forms of Christianity expressed themselves. Whereas the earlier forms focused on bringing the divine to expression in a secular world, Progressive churches view themselves primarily as Helpers of human beings—feeding the hungry, helping the poor, and such like. They practice an aggressive social activism aimed at justice in the social order seeking to improve the world for all God’s creatures. Essentially, the appeal is being a Helper of human beings. Oddly there was such a spiritual role in the Pauline churches of the first century. A Helper was a person set aside by God (1 Corinthians 12:28). The function of the Helper is not described but I suppose a Helper was one who gave rather than received.

     Do all these essentially different views of the role of the religious professional in the modern world have anything in common, except the designation “religious,” however broadly construed?

     That is a tough question, having many possible answers. The more I think about it, however, George’s cowboy boots may turn out to be more than what they seem—suggesting a metaphor for the entire field of religious professionals. The cowboy is an iconic figure of the Old West. As portrayed in American western films of the 40s, the cowboy was a resourceful solitary figure who rode into a tragic human situation with the “right stuff” for righting wrongs and restoring the breach in the common good. What’s not to admire about such a figure? Every kid in my generation wanted to be the cowboy who wore the white hat and pearl handled revolvers.

     The iconic cowboy, as I describe him above, is also not a too far-fetched description of Jesus of Nazareth as portrayed in the canonical gospels—“a solitary figure with the right stuff, enters a tragic human condition, heals the breach in the common good.” Well, OK; you will have to re-baptize the language religiously, but it is really not a bad fit.

     Hmmmm! No wonder I hear ringing in my ears Willie Nelson’s cautious warning: “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” Think about it! Would you want your baby to end up as Jesus did?

Posted from Karpathos September 2011

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

Posted by Charles Hedrick at 10:23am