Contemporary religious leaders, and leaders more generally, often draw implicitly on the Biblical archetypes of kings, priests, and prophets. Because people are complex, leaders often hold conflicting roles and responsibilities, made all the more complex by the conflicting expectations put upon them by their followers. Here I provide a taxonomy for mapping different types of leaders and thinking about the advantages and disadvantages of their positions. According to pure type, leaders can be kings (rulers and drivers), priests (peace-makers and entertainers), or prophets (charismatics and rebels).
Priests are known as peace-makers. Aaron, Moses’s brother, was called a “pursuer of peace” and a “lover of peace.” One job that priests had in the Temple was to repair marital strife, as in the case of the Sotah (woman suspected of adultery). But even more generally, the whole point of the sacrificial system is to give people a chance who have erred to become whole again. You sacrifice an animal and, wham, you are atoned for. On Yom Kippur, the priest performs an atonement service on behalf of the nation.
During protests we often hear protestors chant “No justice, no peace.” This was a common cry during the George Floyd protests. And indeed the job of the priest is not to bring justice but to bring peace. Atonement and forgiveness are at odds with strict justice—one reason that Jonah the prophet resents his mission to the wicked city of Nineveh. For the prophet peace is not a priority. Prophets seek to disturb and agitate. Priests seek compromise and moderation. They represent everything that is wrong to protestors.
Moses is a consummate prophet when he is enraged. He strikes down an Egyptian task-master. He shatters the tablets when he beholds the idolatry that his brother, the priest, enables, and he strikes a rock in anger at the people. Moses is punished for his hot temper, but his pathos is also what marks him as a prophet. God is described as a much feeling god—sometimes translated as a “jealous” God (El Kanah). The prophet feels God’s emotions. It is an agonizing position described well by Heschel in his book on the prophets.
Priests are not just peace-makers. They are also entertainers. They wear fancy garments and put on a great theatre. If your Church or Synagogue service feels like a broadway play rest assured you are in the hands of a priest. Priests create a sense of magic. Incense and music help set the mood. They are tied to a place and to an institution. Priests are at risk of corruption, as the prophets frequently point out, but the core source of their corruption is cynicism. It’s hard to put on a show every day and not begin to think religion is purely “show business.” The King James refers to sacred breads in the Temple as “show breads,” which maintains the sense of theatre associated with the Temple. The entertainer-expiator priests offer a collective sense of catharsis by way of spectacle. If you have watched a TedTalk, been to a rock concert, or a political rally, or set foot in a mega-Church you were likely in the presence of a priest.
Prophets also engage in theatre. Many Biblical prophets performed miracles. Think of the 10 plagues. Think of Elijah resurrecting the dead. Think of Jesus feeding the masses with loaves and fishes or walking on water. But the literary prophets moved people not with miracles but with shock value. While the priests followed a tight script and could not deviate from it (Nadav and Avihu are punished for getting too creative), each prophet has a unique style. Ezekiel shares vivid visions of the divine chariot. Jeremiah forecasts doom. Isaiah offers utopian visions of “lions lying down with lambs.” In the case of the literary prophet, each has a unique message and, often, a message that people don’t want to hear. Unlike priests, whose job is to settle the people, prophets are appointed to unsettle them. Priesthood is passed down by heredity. Anyone can be a prophet regardless of class or social station.
We typically associate prophecy with charisma and priesthood with bureaucracy and technocracy. What matters in the Temple is not the identity of the priest, but the credibility of the institution. By contrast, a generation is defined by its prophets. There is no book of the Torah named after a priest or a king. The stories of Kings Saul and David are recorded in the book of Samuel. In 500 years we won’t remember the names of the presidents of Harvard, we’ll just remember Harvard.
The disadvantage of priests is that their role is constraining. They are not allowed to break the fourth wall. They are a pure role. Moreover, they are doomed to the Innovator’s Dilemma. The high cost of their production, combined with their sense of decorum, means they can’t evolve with the people. All Temples eventually fall. If the Romans hadn’t destroyed the second Temple, it would have been wiped out by declining membership.
Prophets are truth-tellers, but their position is often antagonistic and ineffective. If they tell the truth too harshly they’ll be ignored or forced into exile. Or God will reproach them for being too stern. Prophets are also often illegible as they carry a divine message too challenging for the average mind. In fact, there illegibility is part of their allure, a sign of their difference. If the priest wears a distinguishing tunic, the prophet’s presence—his radiant face—is his distinguishing mark. Moses’s face beamed with light; he didn’t need to wear a suit.
I think about priests when reading about intra-elite competition. The Talmud describes the Temple as increasingly competitive. Priest work was easily commoditized, with priests being interchangeable. I think about prophets when reading about counter-elite movements, especially conducted by those who grew up in the halls of power. This is a common story. Moses has credibility to face Pharaoh because he was raised in Pharaoh’s palace. Although prophets are often seen as outsiders, a good many of the effective ones are insider-outsiders. Joseph, Moses, and Esther all know how to code-switch.
And this is perhaps the Torah’s way of hinting that neither pure priest nor pure prophet nor pure king can win. The best leaders combine elements of all three and find ways to absorb and elevate their contradictions.
P.S.—I'm not the first nor the only to say it but for those curious about Tikkun Olam, I tell the story on Christian podcast “Plough.”
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I really liked this analysis. You made me laugh when you wrote that the second Temple might have fallen due to declining membership. It made me think of our modern temples with various rooms and areas carrying naming rights.
Another deep treatment of the theme is Arnold Schoenberg's opera, Moses and Aaron.