First, some stories from college. (I've got to be somewhat post-modern here, don't I? I don't think I've told a single story on this blog so far.)
When we first got to college, my roommate/best friend since kindergarten and I decided that we would spend the first semester checking out churches, with no real commitment to join any of them until we decided on a church over Christmas Break. That didn't quite work out, as we got snagged by a wonderful church just after Thanksgiving, but it did give us a chance to visit churches that we knew ahead of time that we weren't going to plug in to, so we could see how other people do church. The first church we visited was an Orthodox Presbyterian church that was in the final stages of becoming a full member of that denomination (I don't know the proper terminology for that, but you get the idea). It had been started a short while before, apparently, and had been helped through the process by an Orthodox Presbyterian church in a neighboring town and was meeting in a hotel until they could get a building.
My roommate and I had a blast, even though we knew we weren't coming back. The people were very friendly, the sermon was good, if I remember correctly, and we discovered that some people actually sing Psalms as hymns, something I think is an awfully good idea, especially compared to the rather frustrating tendency of a lot of contemporary praise songs to just quote a verse or two from a Psalm instead.
One thing, though, bothered me. It turns out that the pastor of this church hadn't finished getting ordained or whatever by the Orthodox Presbyterians, so he wasn't allowed to give communion yet. So that this church could celebrate communion, every month or so this pastor and the pastor from the "mother church" would travel to each others' churches and the ordained pastor would give communion in this church while his church went without communion for a week. We happened to visit on one of those Sundays.
Another story: some of my friends, including my best friend, were in the college choir and thus went on the choir tour during spring break that year. I remember hearing that one of my friends, who is Plymouth Brethren, decided to have communion, I think with some apple juice juice boxes and some tortillas that were on the bus. It apparently took some major convincing of another of my friends for her to join in, because she wasn't sure you could "do that."
One of the most important doctrines in ecclesiology, I think, is the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers. Basically, it says that no one stands between any Christian and Christ, who is our High Priest and who stands between us and the Father, where He mediates for us. Not all denominations share this doctrine, obviously. The "higher" you go on the high church-low church spectrum, the less this doctrine is going to be held. Start with the Orthodox Presbyterians and other "mainline" churches, with communion only allowed to be "given" by those whom the synod or whomever has decided to allow and it gets worse and worse, from statements concerning priests absolving sins in the Anglican/Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, to the Catholic idea that the "Church" can decide that they don't like you anymore and excommunicate you, dooming you to Hell because they decide to withhold communion from you, depriving you of a vehicle of Christ's grace.
Obviously, pretty bad stuff. I would go so far as to actually say that it is downright evil.
The thing is, I think that this undermining of the priesthood of the believer is seeping into the low church. Remember the girl from my second story that wasn't sure you could "do that?" She's from a pretty low church background. And I don't think she's alone. What is the cause of this erosion? The "Superstar Pastor."
The idea is this: most evangelical churches today have pretty high standards for who they'll let lead them. Beyond the biblical requirements concerning character, they often require a seminary degree, which is quite an accomplishment, by the way. The pastor is also supposed to be a pretty good speaker, as well, because he'll be giving the sermons a few times a week. He's also got lots of other responsibilities, which he might share with the leadership team, whether that be in the form of other pastors, elders, deacons, deaconesses, or a mixture of all or some of them. On Sunday mornings, the pastor, along with the worship team/organist/pianist/choir does the morning service, which is on the level of a professional performance because, well, it is exactly that. All the power in the church, then, is concentrated in the leadership team, and, to varying degrees, is especially concentrated in the pastor. The pastor and his team have the training, skills, authority and audience that the laity don't.
Sometimes this works out pretty well so far as internal order and harmony go, for a few years at least, if not a few decades. Sometimes the pastor is a humble man of God who believes in and practices servant-leadership, fulfilling his responsibilities with a sense of awe and humility concerning the amount of power he has, putting his all into tending the flock God has entrusted him with. In short, sometimes churches invest this kind of power and responsibility into their pastor precisely because he can be trusted with it, despite the inevitable mistakes he'll make.
(Of course, this isn't always true. Anyone who's spent much time in evangelical circles has heard stories about, if not witnessed, pastors who have become corrupted by their privilege and power and have come to abuse their power and their flock, either on a regular basis or in the occasional power struggle. Some pastors have the gall to actually claim to be the "king" of their church. This is not an exaggeration, sadly.)
Despite how this concentration of power works out internally, it almost always works to destroy, to one degree or another, the priesthood of the believer in the minds of the congregation. The congregation starts to become passive, receiving and being fed (some would say breast-fed) from and by the pastor or leadership team. They might like to help, but, they reason, how good of a job could they do, compared to the very professional leadership team?
This attitude doesn't just affect how people contribute to the inner workings of the church, either. It affects evangelism and discipleship, the whole point of the Church. Evangelism? The laity isn't trained in that, they don't know how to do that. They'll just fund those who do have the training and know-how. They'll support missionaries and pastors, who can do that. After all, that's their job! Discipleship? How many of the laity have even been discipled in a group, much less been individually mentored? Given their lack of training, which has again been concentrated instead on the leadership team and the pastor, they hardly feel they can turn around and disciple and mentor others. This leads to a church where a few highly trained, responsibility-laden elites run around trying to maintain and serve a bunch of Christians who don't do a lot more than consume and pay their offering. Is it any wonder why pastor burn-out is so prevalent?!
I'd like to make this clear that this is an attack on the system of Superstar Pastors, not necessarily on those who play that role (with the notable exception of those who willfully abuse their position and call themselves "kings"). To a large degree, I think, this is an unhealthy system that hurts everyone, which people are engaging in because that's what they think they are supposed to do. The system is evil, but a whole lot of the people involved in the system are involved because they think that is what is best, because they think that the system is how things are supposed to be, because they think that it is possible for a church to operate in a healthy way within the Superstar Pastor system. They aren't out to exploit the church and power-trip.
Similarly, the laity whose parasitism victimizes the clergy aren't (usually) being parasites on purpose. They think they are doing what Christians are supposed to be doing. Sometimes they'll even try to help in ways they think laity can legitimately help. (Programs will then often sap their energy.)
At the same time, this doesn't negate the fact that the system is, in fact, evil. It needs to be eradicated and killed, just as the high churches need to disband. While people with good intentions live their whole lives in these systems, good intentions and sincerity don't make something right, and when you step back and look at all the damage, both internal and external, that disregard for the priesthood of the believer has done, and how lightly the doctrine is taken today, even among evangelicals, one can't help but be incensed. A little sense of history would tell those same evangelicals that they are willfully walking down a path the founders of the evangelical tradition died to avoid.