The Papacy’s Missing Link

One of the more remarkable documents that I have not been able to track down, because it does not seem to be available in English, is Rudolf Pesch’s, Simon-Petrus, Gechicte un geschichtliche Bedeutung des ersten Jungers Jesu Christi (Stuutgart, 1980). I would love to read this work.

Robert Eno, S.S. did read and comment on it. He said:

Pesch concludes, among other things, that neither the story of the historical Peter nor the image of Peter in the later New Testament traditions is of immediate importance for the primacy of the Roman bishops. Indeed, later references back to Peter in the New Testament, primarily Matthew 16:18, may sometimes appear almost to be an afterthought. For Pesch, an issue such as a general leadership of the Church is an open question. Even if Peter is conceived as a sort of leader among the Twelve, whether his “Petrine office,” if there was such a thing, had successors is also an open question. Even if one could argue for such a successor on the basis of the New Testament text, there remains the most elusive and fascinating question of all: is there a missing link in the first and second centuries between the historical peter and a bishop of Rome conceived of as a successor to him? (From Robert Eno, S.S., “The Rise of the Papacy”,pgs 15-16)

A while back I wrote a fairly extensive series on House Churches in first century Rome. I cited a number of authors, including Peter Lampe, William Lane, Robert Jewett, F.F. Bruce, and others, all writing on the house church network and the various roles of elders in and among these groups of early Christians.

This series – and other things I’ve reported on – documents the “missing link” – what was actually there in place of the grandiose stories of the early papacy that Rome bandied about for centuries.

In support of the “new” history of the nonexistent early papacy that we have, The Shepherd of Hermas is one of the best contemporary second-century Roman documents that we have access to. In his Introduction to this work, Michael W. Holmes (“The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations, Third Edition”, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, pg 442) writes:

The Shepherd of Hermas is one of the more enigmatic documents to have survived from the postapostolic period. Relatively simple in style and widely popular in the second and third centuries (there are more surviving early copies of The Shepherd than of many canonical writings), it stands as an important witness to the state of Christianity in Rome in the early to mid-second century. Expressing Jewish Christian theological perspective by means of imagery, analogies, and parallels drawn from Roman society and culture, The Shepherd reflects the efforts of its author(s) to deal with the questions and issues … of great significance and concern to him and to that part of the Christian community in Rome to which he belonged. 

Please note that Hermas, author of “Shepherd of Hermas”, lived and wrote in Rome in the first half of the second century. Note *carefully* what he wrote about the leadership of the church at that time:

As I slept, brothers and sisters, a revelation was given to me by a very handsome young man, who said to me, “Who do you think the elderly woman from whom you received the little book was? I said “The Sibyl.” “You are wrong,” he said. “She is not.” Then who is she?” I said. “The church,” he replied. I said to him, “why then is she elderly?” “Because,” he said, “she was created before all things; therefore she is elderly, and for her sake the world was formed.”

Afterwards I saw a vision in my house. The elderly woman came and asked me if I had already given the little book to the elders (presbuteroi, plural). I said that I had not given it. “You have done well,” she said, “for I have words to add. So when I finish all the words they will be made known to all the elect through you. Therefore you will write two little books, and you will send one to Clement and one to Grapte. Then Clement will send it to the cities abroad, because that is his job. But Grapte will instruct the widows and orphans. But you yourself will read it to this city [Rome], along with the elders (presbuteroi) who preside (proistamenoi – plural leadership) over the church.” (Vis 2.4)

Hermas could not be more clear. There is a plurality of presbyters who “preside over” the church at Rome. This is no fuzzy mention, as in Ignatius, of a church in “a place of honor”. This is a primary source document from within the city of Rome that provides support for all of the “scholarship” that some of you decry, the “snippets” which speak of a “gap” in the “unbroken succession within the first century of the church. But this is not all there is. Later, Hermas reiterates the structure of this leadership, and the fact that they are not leading, but rather that they fight among themselves. He calls them “children”.

Now, therefore, I say to you [tois – plural] who lead the church and occupy the seats of honor: do not be like the sorcerers. For the sorcerers carry their drugs in bottles, but you carry your drug and poison in your heart. You are calloused and do not want to cleanse your hearts and to mix your wisdom together in a clean heart, in order that you may have mercy from the great King. Watch out, therefore, children, lest these divisions of yours [among you elders] deprive you of your life. How is it that you desire to instruct God’s elect, while you yourselves have no instruction? Instruct one another, therefore, and have peace among yourselves, in order that I too may stand joyfully before the Father and give an account on behalf of all of you to your Lord.” (Vis 3.9)

Roman Catholics often point out much later sources about “papal primacy” and authority. But virtually all of these sources are wrong about the “pope and the scriptures vis-à-vis the origin of the holy Father’s authority”, as one Roman Catholic writer suggested to me. By the time of Augustine, and probably much earlier, the great Roman propaganda machine was well under way, extolling its own glories, its own authority, and why not? It had tremendous amounts of money, a tremendous level of influence within the city and later the surrounding regions.

But, “the Rise of the Papacy”, as Robert Eno, S.S. aptly titled his work, was not “development”. It was an act of conquest. There were armed insurrections. It took centuries. But when you’ve got money, power, and influence, you can “have your way” with a lot of lesser folk.

Hermas already, in the first half of the second century, provides us with a very clear picture of the leadership of the church of Rome at that time. Hermas is chastising the multiple leaders of the church at Rome. This is important to note because Hermas identifies himself as a slave (Vis. 1.1). It will not do to say that this is a group of priests who work for a bishop. The entire group “presides.”

Here, in the leadership of the church of Rome, there are multiple elders who “preside”; they are acting like sorcerers. Already, amidst the persecutions, they exult in their wealth. They take the seats of honor. They want to teach, but they are guilty themselves of having no instruction. They fight among themselves as to who is greatest.

This is very clear writing. Very clear reporting of what the church was like. For those of you who want to understand what the leadership structure of the church at Rome was like, it is hard to find a better primary source witness than Hermas.

There was no “Bishop of Rome” for the first hundred years. After that, Rome supported its own propaganda effort by the “back-fill” method which I’ve called “The Roman Catholic Hermeneutic”. Look for it, it’s there.

So by the late fourth, early fifth century, its no wonder that you’ve got bamboozled bishops like Augustine, thinking that a pope is something great. Once Augustine is bamboozled, later generations of Roman Catholics use HIM as well, to support the papacy. It all built on itself over the centuries. But it was built on a foundation of Hermas’s elders who fought among themselves over which one of them was greatest. 

The Significance Of Other New Testament Canons

Abbreviations

CNT = Bruce Metzger, The Canon Of The New Testament (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997)

FGO = Martin Hengel, The Four Gospels And The One Gospel Of Jesus Christ (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press International, 2000)

INT = D.A. Carson and Douglas Moo, An Introduction To The New Testament (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2005)

TCD = Lee McDonald and James Sanders, edd., The Canon Debate (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002)



The large majority of the earliest Christians whose writings are extant haven't left us a record of every book they considered scripture. We can identify a portion of their canon, but not its entirety. Martin Hengel observes that "of the second-century Christian writings known to us by title, around 85% have been lost. The real loss must be substantially higher." (FGO, 55) And we wouldn't expect the early Christians to discuss the full extent of their canon in the vast majority of the contexts in which they wrote.

In a recent post, I argued that Athanasius' twenty-seven-book New Testament was held by some of his contemporaries and by some before his time. Origen is the earliest source I'm aware of who advocates the twenty-seven-book canon in the records extant to us. Though Athanasius' Festal Letter 39 from the middle of the fourth century is often cited as the first reference to the twenty-seven-book canon, the evidence suggests that it was advocated at least more than a century earlier. Thus, the plausibility is increased that the twenty-seven-book canon was among the New Testament canons held by the many ante-Nicene sources who haven't left us a record of the full extent of their canon of scripture. Since we only have a partial record of the canon of most of the earliest sources, how close does the portion of their canon we know about come to the twenty-seven-book collection?

Even if a source is known to have held some other canon, it's important to know how different it was. It would be one thing if the earliest Christians had something like a five-book or eight-book collection of scripture. It would be something else if they had a twenty- or twenty-five-book canon, which would fall short of our twenty-seven-book canon by a much smaller margin. When critics of Christianity, or of Evangelicalism in particular, tell us that some Christians held a different canon, it's important to know how different those other canons were. The closer they come to the twenty-seven-book canon, the less significant the objection that's being raised.

Harry Gamble writes:

"It is recognized by all that (1) by the end of the second century the four gospels, the letters of Paul, and 1 Peter and 1 John had acquired very broad use and high authority in almost all regions of early Christianity...it is widely recognized today that Paul's letters were consistently known and used throughout the second century, and by the late second century had become fully and universally established as apostolic scriptures....both the Gospels and the Pauline Letters were shaped into firm collections during the second century" (TCD, 271, 286-287)

Those nineteen documents are nearly identical to the twenty Eusebius refers to as undisputed in his Church History (3:25), which he composed in the late third and early fourth centuries. He writes that his assessment of the documents is derived from "the tradition of the church" (3:25), and he appeals to how the documents were received in earlier generations, so he isn't just describing the state of the canon in his day.

In the research of Franz Stuhlhofer, we have further corroboration of this near agreement between the scholarly consensus Gamble refers to and Eusebius:

"First, drawing on the work of Stuhlhofer, Barton counts the number of times the New Testament (and other) books are actually cited by the Fathers in proportion to each book's length. He discovers there are three clear groups: those New Testament books that are quoted frequently (viz., the four gospels and the major Pauline letters), those quoted less frequently (the rest of the New Testament), and books that are scarcely quoted at all (viz., those that were excluded from the canon). In other words, there is a sharp demarcation in actual frequency of usage between the New Testament books and all other claimants: actual usage was establishing the canon." (INT, 733-734)

Whether we go with Gamble's nineteen books or Eusebius' twenty books, we have the large majority of the New Testament, more than two-thirds of it. But there are problems with how both Gamble and Eusebius arrive at their numbers. Both suggest that the number could be higher.

Eusebius changed his view of Revelation over the years (INT, n. 20 on 734), and he described the book and its acceptance as scripture by the church in different ways in different places in his writings. He'll acknowledge that Revelation could be classified as one of the widely accepted books of the New Testament, but will go on shortly afterward to comment that it could be placed in a lesser category as well (Church History, 3:25). As D.A. Carson and Douglas Moo note, Revelation seems to have been "almost universally recognized as Scripture in the second century" (INT, n. 20 on 734). Its more disputed status later shouldn't prevent us from including it among the widely accepted books in earlier generations. Gamble notes the early widespread acceptance of Revelation and acknowledges that the disputed status of the book that people often refer to arose later in church history (TCD, 289). If we add Revelation to the lists of Gamble and Eusebius, we have twenty and twenty-one books, respectively, that were widely received early on.

Gamble excludes Acts, but not because the evidence is contrary to Eusebius' inclusion of Acts among the undisputed books. Rather, he believes that "The early history of Acts is largely obscure and needs further investigation." (TCD, 288) But Eusebius had access to a lot of sources no longer extant. The relatively few sources who comment on the canonicity of Acts in the earliest generations, such as Irenaeus, are supportive of what Eusebius reports, and, as Gamble notes (TCD, 288), Acts is a companion piece to the gospel of Luke. It seems unlikely that Luke would be so widely accepted without a similar acceptance of Acts. I see no reason to not include Acts among the books widely accepted as canonical early on.

The history of Hebrews is similar to that of Revelation. It was widely accepted in both the West and East early on, but became more controversial later. The later disputed status of the book, referred to by Eusebius and others, shouldn't prevent us from including it among the books widely accepted as canonical early on. Gamble acknowledges some of the sources who accepted the book in early generations (TCD, 289), but neglects to mention others, gives no evidence of any significant early opposition to the document, and seems to read later opposition to the book among some in the West into the earlier generations, without any justification that I can perceive from anything Gamble says. Hebrews ought to be included among the books widely accepted in the ante-Nicene era.

That leaves us with five others: James, 2 Peter, 2 John, 3 John, and Jude. They all seem to have been less widely accepted early on, but I'm not aware of any reason to conclude that any of them were rejected by the majority in the earliest centuries. Rather, their widespread acceptance in the post-Nicene era, accompanied by some attestation earlier, suggests that they were accepted by a majority even in the ante-Nicene era, though a smaller majority than the other twenty-two books had.

Gamble argues that many people in the early centuries of the church included some books that aren't part of the twenty-seven-book canon we have today. He cites The Shepherd Of Hermas as his primary example, though he also mentions others:

"More widely popular than either of these [First Clement and The Epistle Of Barnabas], however, was the Shepherd of Hermas, which was fully acknowledged as scripture by Irenaeus (Haer. 4.20.2), Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 1.17.29, 2.1.9, 12), and Tertullian (Or. 16). Its strong representation among early Christian papyri discovered in Egypt probably reflects its popularity....the esteem and use attaching to them [documents like First Clement, The Epistle Of Barnabas, The Shepherd Of Hermas, and The Didache] was appreciably earlier, more continuous, and more widespread than to many of the writings that were finally accepted in the canon, including Hebrews, 2 Peter, James, and 2 and 3 John....If the scope of the canon had been determined in the second century, it seems likely that they would have found a place in it." (TCD, 289-290)

Notice, first of all, that Gamble only cites three patristic references to the scriptural status of The Shepherd Of Hermas, which is his primary example. Yet, he doesn't include books like Hebrews and Revelation among those widely accepted early on, even though both had much more early attestation and less opposition. And he even includes Hebrews among the documents that allegedly weren't as well attested as The Shepherd Of Hermas.

Second, notice Gamble's failure to interact with the early opposition to the canonicity of the documents he cites, even though he refers to their "more continuous" acceptance. As Everett Ferguson points out later in the same book in which Gamble wrote those comments (TCD, n. 60 on 308), Tertullian tells us that The Shepherd Of Hermas was excluded from the canon of the Christians of his day (On Modesty, 10). Tertullian's view of the document changed. Gamble cites Tertullian's earlier positive assessment without commenting on his later negative assessment, an assessment Tertullian tells us was shared by the Christians of that era in general. Tertullian's comments are corroborated by Origen, who tells us that The Shepherd Of Hermas wasn't generally accepted by the churches (CNT, 188). The dating of the Muratorian Canon is disputed, but most scholars place it in the second century, and it, too, rejects The Shepherd Of Hermas (CNT, 307). Apparently, the book was accepted only by a minority. I'm not aware of any early source who gives as negative an assessment of any of the books in our twenty-seven-book canon as Tertullian gives us for The Shepherd Of Hermas. Where does an early source tell us that Hebrews, 2 Peter, or Revelation, for example, has been as widely rejected as Tertullian claims The Shepherd Of Hermas has been? I don't know of any such source. Tertullian goes on, in the same document, to refer to Hebrews as more widely accepted among the churches than The Shepherd Of Hermas (On Modesty, 20). Gamble's analysis of The Shepherd Of Hermas is far off the mark, and it's his primary example.

Similar observations can be made about the other documents Gamble cites. Clement of Alexandria would often speak highly of non-canonical documents in one place, but then qualify those comments elsewhere. I've written about that tendency in Clement in another article. To cite an example involving one of the documents Gamble mentions, Clement referred to The Epistle Of Barnabas as inspired and wrote a commentary on it, yet in other passages he criticized the document (CNT, 134 and n. 43 on 134). Though Jerome thought highly of The Epistle Of Barnabas, he refers to it as "reckoned among the apocrypha" (Lives Of Illustrious Men, 6), apparently a reference to a general rejection of the document. Etc. Gamble gives a positive assessment of these documents that he doesn't sufficiently support, and he doesn't interact with the evidence against his assessment.

It seems that twenty-two of the twenty-seven New Testament documents were widely accepted during the ante-Nicene era, five were accepted by a smaller majority, and documents like The Shepherd Of Hermas and The Epistle Of Barnabas were accepted only by a minority. Bruce Metzger discusses which books were accepted by the writers of that era in the documents that are extant, and he concludes that there are twenty-two in Irenaeus (CNT, 155), twenty-three in Tertullian (160), twenty-two and sometimes more in Clement of Alexandria (134-135), twenty-two in Hippolytus (150), etc. The numbers could be higher. Men like Irenaeus and Tertullian don't tell us the full extent of their canon. As Metzger explains, the absence of a reference to a document like 2 or 3 John in Tertullian, for example, doesn't have much significance, since it would be easy for somebody to not cite such a short and unoriginal document, yet consider it scripture (160).

Lee McDonald lists the New Testaments of seventeen fourth-century sources (TCD, 592-595). Almost all of them contain twenty or more of the twenty-seven books.

Most of the New Testament canons that differ from the twenty-seven-book canon don't differ by much. Books like 2 and 3 John significantly increase the percentage of books that were disputed, but they don't make much of a difference in the textual length or theological content of the canon.

And the high number of books in so many of the early canons suggests that it's plausible that the twenty-seven-book canon was held by some Christians even earlier than Origen. If our incomplete knowledge of the canon of men like Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian leads us to the conclusion that they accepted twenty-two or more of the twenty-seven books, then our twenty-seven-book canon isn't too far off, and it may have already been present.

Hermas On Prayer To The Dead And Angels

I was recently reminded of a passage in The Shepherd Of Hermas that I'd forgotten about. It's addressing people who consult soothsayers, false prophets, and the like:

"For no spirit given by God requires to be asked; but such a spirit having the power of Divinity speaks all things of itself, for it proceeds from above from the power of the Divine Spirit." (Commandment Eleven)

Michael Holmes' translation renders it:

"For no spirit given by God needs to be consulted; instead, having the power of deity, it speaks everything on its own initiative, because it is from above, from the power of the divine Spirit." (The Apostolic Fathers [Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2005], 407)

It seems that Hermas didn't think we should pray to the deceased or angels. In a thread here, I discuss another passage in Hermas that points in the same direction. Use the Ctrl F feature on your keyboard to search for "Hermas". The discussion is near the end of the thread.

That same thread also discusses a lot of other patristic evidence against the practice of praying to the dead and angels. Use Ctrl F to search for Justin Martyr, Athenagoras, Lactantius, and other patristic sources. In a post here, I have a collection of links to my material on prayer to the dead and angels, including other threads in which I interact with advocates of the practice.

A couple of things that should be noted about Hermas are that he's early and Roman. His work or portions of it are dated anywhere from the late first century to sometime in the second. And he lived in Rome and apparently was the brother of a second-century Roman bishop (according to the Muratorian Canon, though later sources make the less likely claim that he was the Hermas of Romans 16:14), so his background makes him harder to dismiss from a Roman Catholic perspective.

The Development Of The Canon (Part 3)

Dave Armstrong writes:

At the Council of Nicaea, according to Protestant apologist Norman Geisler (How we Got the Bible, with co-author William E. Nix, Chicago: Moody Press, 1974, 109), the books of James, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, and Jude, were "named as disputed." Geisler seems, however (based on his comments on p. 111), to merely be talking about the time period of 325-340, and to base his conclusion on Eusebius' summary in Ecclesiastical History (III, 25, 3)...

In any event, there is considerable evidence that all these books were disputed by not a few until late into the 4th century: some of which I have discussed in other installments of this four-part reply.

Catholics often cite such disputes as if they're problematic for the Evangelical. But what does Dave think the disputes prove? They seem to have involved a minority's rejection of the books rather than a majority rejection. What does Dave think he's proving, then?

He goes on:

The Codex Sinaiticus manuscript from the late fourth century included the Epistle of Barnabas and the Shepherd of Hermas. The Codex Alexandrinus in the early fifth century included 1 and 2 Clement.

Again, what does Dave think he's proving? Manuscripts and Bibles often include documents that their producers or readers didn't consider scripture. Documents would often be reused or placed together in order to conserve resources, for example, or documents of a non-scriptural religious nature would sometimes be combined with documents viewed as scripture.

We often do such things today. Bibles will include passages or books that only some readers consider scripture, such as Apocryphal books in the Old Testament. Eldon Epp refers to some ancient manuscripts that contain New Testament books or portions of New Testament books, but also portions of documents obviously not considered scripture, such as "a history of Rome by Livy" and "a Christian letter" (in Lee McDonald and James Sanders, edd., The Canon Debate [Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002], n. 16 on p. 490). Epp also notes that Codex Alexandrinus originally included eighteen Psalms Of Solomon (p. 493). He refers to a codex containing the Nativity Of Mary and 3 Corinthians, for example (p. 492). Does Dave want to argue that there was significant ancient support for the canonicity of works like Second Clement, the Psalms Of Solomon, and the Nativity Of Mary?

It's true that a book like The Shepherd Of Hermas will sometimes be referred to as scripture by the patristic sources. Its canonicity seems to have been accepted by only a small minority of Christians, however. See here. As I note in that article, Tertullian refers to The Shepherd Of Hermas as generally rejected by Christians, and he contrasts that rejection with the wider acceptance of Hebrews (On Modesty, 10, 20). Even though Hebrews is often categorized as one of the disputed books of the New Testament, it seems to have been much more widely accepted than documents like The Shepherd Of Hermas.

Dave writes:

This is a strange place for Jason to try to make some sort of case for proto-Protestantism in the fathers, for the canonical disputes of those times are exceedingly complicated. The disputes are at the "edges" of the canon (mostly about books other than the Gospels and Paul's epistles).

In the same fashion, the disputes about the papacy and Roman primacy and the authority of same are about the "edges" and particulars: but not about the thing itself.

Keep in mind what I said earlier about the history of the papacy. The concept is absent and widely contradicted early on. When it first appears in the historical record around the middle of the third century, it's denounced by bishops in the West and East. Read what Firmilian wrote in response to Stephen. Do Firmilian's comments come across as part of a "dispute around the edges", but not about the papacy itself? When a Catholic historian like Joseph Kelly refers to the rejection of the Roman bishop's universal jurisdiction by the Eastern bishops at the Council of Nicaea (a council at which the large majority of bishops were Eastern), for example, does such a view of the bishop of Rome seem like a "dispute around the edges"? Is universal jurisdiction just a minor aspect of the papacy? If so, should we conclude that Eastern Orthodox accept the papacy, since they can affirm some type of "Roman primacy" without accepting the universal jurisdiction of the bishop of Rome?

As I've argued elsewhere, it seems that even the most disputed books of the New Testament were accepted by a majority during the ante-Nicene era. I'm not aware of any reason to conclude that any of the twenty-seven books had been rejected by a majority.

And it would be reasonable for a document like James or 3 John to not be mentioned often in the earliest generations of church history, given the brevity of the documents, the narrow scope of their relevance to what the early sources were discussing, and other factors involved. In contrast, the early absence of any reference to a papacy makes far less sense, if there was widespread belief in a papacy at the time. I explained some of the reasons why in an earlier response to Dave. If Irenaeus doesn't cite 3 John when arguing against the Gnostics, then his failure to cite that document doesn't have much significance for its canonicity. Why would we expect him to cite 3 John? But if he says nothing about a papacy when writing at length on issues of authority, even when discussing Roman primacy specifically, then that's a more significant problem for Roman Catholicism.

“One God almighty” in Irenaeus

Over at Old Life, Darryl Hart continues to hammer away at “the Callers” (Jason Stellman and the “Called to Communion” gang); meanwhile, an atheistic chap who goes by the name of “CD-Host” is taking great interest in the discussion for some reason, wasting what little is left of his pitiable naturalistic life trying to persuade the Reformed brethren that they too should become little atheists.

I responded to one of his comments:

Francis Beckwith's Reversion To Roman Catholicism

Francis Beckwith has done a lot of good work. Though his reversion to Roman Catholicism is a mistake, I'm grateful for the good work he did as an Evangelical, and I'm glad that he did the right thing by resigning from the Evangelical Theological Society. Much of what needs to be said about Beckwith's reversion has already been said by people like James White, at his blog, and Douglas Groothuis and Jeff Downs, at Beckwith's blog. I would add the following. Francis Beckwith probably would agree with some of what I'm going to say, but it's sometimes worthwhile to state something that people have been assuming without stating. Making these things explicit might be helpful to some people who are looking on.

1. There can be a large degree of agreement with Roman Catholic theology among the church fathers without the conclusion following that we ought to consider the fathers Roman Catholic or that we ought to consider Catholicism true. On some issues, such as the veneration of images or some Marian doctrines, what Catholicism teaches was widely absent or contradicted among the earliest patristic sources. I would argue that the earliest Christians, including the earliest church fathers, held views on a large number of issues that are far from what Roman Catholicism believes (church government, prayer, the veneration of images, the afterlife, Mary, etc.). The earliest post-apostolic Christians repeatedly put forward a view of the afterlife that didn't include Purgatory, they didn't pray to the deceased and angels, infant baptism was initially absent and only gradually became popular, etc. It's true that justification through works is more prominent in patristic sources than justification through faith alone, for example, but such a vague similarity to Roman Catholicism doesn't make the fathers Catholic or Catholicism true. Similarly, it could be said that the fathers generally held a higher view of Mary than Evangelicals do, but a higher view of Mary isn't equivalent to a Roman Catholic view, and patristic views of Mary are closer to that of Evangelicalism the earlier we go.

2. Justification through works can be defined in more than one way, and there were many views of justification among the church fathers. See, for example, Tertullian's treatise On Baptism and Augustine's description of the large variety of views of justification in his day in The City Of God 21:17-27. It could be said that Mormonism and Roman Catholicism both believe in some form of justification through works, but it doesn't therefore follow that they hold the same view of justification. There are significant differences. Similarly, the patristic sources who advocate some form of justification through works disagree among themselves widely as to which works are required and which sins allegedly cause the loss of justification, for example. One of the earliest fathers, Hermas of Rome (note the significance of his location), for instance, believed in the concept of limited forgiveness (The Shepherd, 1:2:2). Roman bishops living shortly after the time of Hermas would oppose the concept, illustrating the diversity of views that could exist even in one city within a relatively short period of time. The patristic sources who advocate some form of justification through works differ widely in how they define the concept.

3. The Biblical evidence pertaining to justification is more significant than many people suggest. The Biblical documents were written over a span of more than a thousand years, and they address thousands of years of human history. The fact that the last book of the Bible was written in the first century A.D. doesn't mean that the Bible is just one first century source written by one author, which people might easily misunderstand. It's not as if we can go to somebody like Justin Martyr or Irenaeus and get the clarification we need regarding what the entire Bible meant when it was written several decades earlier. The church fathers were far removed from the original context of the Old Testament, and some of them were far removed from the original context of the New Testament. And if we think that we need clarification on something in Paul, for example, why wouldn't we go to somebody like Luke or John for that clarification before going to somebody like Hermas or Augustine? The concept of having the fathers clarify Biblical teaching on justification for us requires not only that one source needs clarification, but also that a long series of other sources needs clarification as well (the other Biblical authors). If you can read dozens of Biblical authors, yet still think that you need later sources to clarify major elements of the doctrine of justification for you (not minor details scripture doesn't address much), then the problem might be more with you than with an alleged lack of clarity in the Biblical documents.

4. Justification through faith alone is Biblical. It's doubtful that Paul would have placed so much emphasis on Genesis 15:6 if he meant to argue for some form of justification through works. All that Abraham does in that passage is believe (sola fide). That's not the sort of passage one chooses to illustrate justification through baptism, giving to the poor, or any other work. Jesus repeatedly forgives people as soon as they believe, prior to baptism or any other work (Mark 2:5, Luke 7:50, 17:19, 18:10-14), and that sort of justification at the time of faith is treated as normative elsewhere in the New Testament (Acts 15:7-11, 19:2, Galatians 3:2-9, Ephesians 1:13-14). Paul's question in Acts 19:2 assumes that it's normative to receive the Spirit at the time of faith, not at the time of baptism or at the time of anything else other than faith. Paul repeats that theme elsewhere, such as in Galatians 3:2-9. It would be implausible to dismiss all of these Biblical examples of sola fide as exceptions to a rule, especially given that some of the passages in question are explicitly in a normative context. Much more can be said for the Biblical case for a Protestant understanding of justification. In addition to the passages I've just cited, a Protestant view of justification makes more sense of other Biblical themes, such as the substitutionary nature of Christ's righteousness and atonement, the concept of looking to Christ and His work alone (1 Corinthians 2:2, Galatians 6:14), the freeness of eternal life, etc.

5. As some patristic scholars have noted, justification through faith alone is found in some sources during the patristic era. Protestants in general have noted this fact from the time of the reformers onward. Some, such as Philip Schaff, have thought that the concept is only rarely found in the fathers, while others, such as Thomas Oden, have argued that it's widespread. I think it's more common than Schaff suggests, but not as common as Oden has suggested. As with other issues, some of the patristic sources in question seem to have been inconsistent on the matter. But the concept of justification through faith alone is found in the patristic era. For some examples of where various Protestants see sola fide in the patristic sources, see D.H. Williams, Evangelicals And Tradition (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2005) and Bruce McCormack, Justification In Perspective (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2006). The common Roman Catholic claim that nobody advocated justification through faith alone between the time of the apostles and the Reformation is false. The concept is found in some church fathers and in some other sources who lived during the patristic era.

6. In his article linked at the beginning of this post, Beckwith tells us that he began his reading of the church fathers and other sources relevant to his reversion this past January. And this is May. He seems to have made too quick a judgment.

7. His appeals to "the church" have to be reconciled with the fact that there have been disagreements about how to define that term since patristic times. And even some sources who advocated a view of the church significantly different from what a Protestant would be willing to accept also differed from a Roman Catholic definition in some ways. Similarly, the concept of apostolic succession can be defined in multiple ways and has some significant problems as it's commonly used in modern Roman Catholic circles.

The Medieval Biblical Canon Revisited

Protestants are frequently treated to the unworthy accusation that their “interpretive paradigm” (“IP”) produces “merely human opinion” whereas the Roman Catholic “IP” actually provides [the mere possibility] of providing a hard, clean line between “mere human opinion” and “divine revelation”.

For example:

the Protestant has no way, other than fallible arguments, to secure his account of what belongs in the canon, which account, in the case of the OT, runs counter to what the older traditions of Catholicism and Orthodoxy eventually concluded. Therefore, he has no way, other than the use of fallible arguments, to show how the canon should be identified. And if he doesn’t have more than that, then he has no way of making certain that the way he identifies the norma normans for the other secondary authorities is correct.

[For Roman Catholics] there is a principled as opposed to an ad hoc way to distinguish the formal, proximate object of faith from fallible human opinions about how to identify it in the sources. And that is the way in which the Catholic can distinguish the assent of faith from that of opinion.

Well, the Medievals, it seems, were in the same boat as the post-Tridentine Protestants, because the “infallible Church” with the “unbroken succession” during those centuries really hadn’t ruled authoritatively what the “infallible canon” was to be. In fact, the claim was, they didn’t need one.

So the “Catholics” of that day had the same problems that the Protestants had. As Richard Muller relates:

Brandon Addison’s Complete Response to “Called to Communion” regarding “the Nonexistent Early Papacy”

Anyone who reads this site knows that Called to Communion is one the most difficult Roman apologetics sites to deal with because of the lengths they are willing to go to, in order to maintain their dogmatic sophistry.

In the following, stunningly amazing piece of work, Brandon Addison has done a tremendous service for the entire church, squarely addressing the “Called to Communion” argument in favor of an early papacy in Rome, having tracked down and assembled virtually every scholarly writing on the topic of “Bishops in the earliest church” and the “development” of the office of “bishop”, especially in the city of ancient Rome.

In the process, he thoroughly and patiently analyzes the arguments that Called to Communion makes, he finds their weaknesses, he proposes and argues counter-arguments. The result is that the Called to Communion response to his original piece is seen to be as almost totally devoid of merit.

Here is how the whole piece breaks down:

Studying The Church Fathers

Thomas Keningley wrote:

Jason, where would you recommend someone start with the church fathers, both in terms of primary and secondary reading? It seems such a dauntingly large field to a non-specialist...

I'm going to broaden the subject to the study of the fathers in general, not just primary and secondary reading. I'll include an answer to your question, but I'll also address some other issues along the way.

13 Things You Didn’t Know About “the Papacy”

[Please note: Elsewhere I have written about the trip that “Pope Francis” will be making to Philadelphia, September 26-27, and also the street evangelism efforts that that a number of Reformed believers are going to be participating in. I’m offering this article here (or some edited version of it) as the text for the hand-out piece to be given to Roman Catholics who are coming to Philadelphia and adoring this “pope”. If you decide to read this through, please take a minute to comment -- let me know if I missed anything, or if there is a point that I should not be making -- thank you. - John Bugay.]

13 Things You Didn’t Know About “the Papacy”

Popes over the centuries have enjoyed great power and privilege as “the Vicars of Christ”. And in our days, we still see large audiences giving adulation to the particular man who holds the title of “Pope”.

But “the papacy” is not biblical, and nor was it affirmed by early church writers or councils.

In fact, this document will make the claim that “the papacy” as an institution is a later add-on to Christianity – kind of like a leech – a fraudulent institution that evolved by making claims for its own authority based on illegitimate criteria – these were criteria that earlier writers understood to be fraudulent, but which later history (aided by the wealth of the Roman emperors and the later fall of Rome) could not easily argue against or resist.

Have you noticed that we rarely hear of “the papacy” nowadays? In fact, the words “papal” and “papacy” are not used at all in the “Catechism of the Catholic Church”, despite its history of claiming both worldly and spiritual power. Now we hear of “the successor of Peter” or “the Petrine ministry”.

In fact, concepts like “Roman primacy”, “the Papacy”, and “the Petrine ministry” were concepts “developed” long after the Apostles lived, and they were superimposed back upon history as a way of consolidating papal power in the middle ages:

“It is clear that Roman Primacy was not given from the outset; it underwent a long process of development whose initial phases extended well into the fifth century” (Klaus Schatz, “Papal Primacy”, 1996, pg 36).

Skeptical Distortions Of The Canon

Dagood continues to make a lot of misleading comments about the canon. I'm not going to address every claim he makes. I don't have the time or desire to do it, and he isn't showing much concern for accuracy. Once you correct one of his posts, he moves on to a new post with a new series of arguments, without making much effort to be more reasonable. However, I do think that addressing some of his latest claims should be helpful to other people who read this blog.

Dagood asks how we know who is and isn't an apostle, for example. He asks how we know that there aren't apostles alive today. While it's true that the term "apostle" is used in more than one sense in the New Testament, just like other words in any language will be used in different senses in different contexts, the term isn't as flexible as Dagood suggests.

Some of the figures who are called apostles are described as having to meet requirements that nobody living today could meet (Acts 1:21-22, 1 Corinthians 9:1). They're also described as having characteristics that people today don't have (John 14:26, 15:27, 16:13). Regardless of whether we call these people "apostles" or something else, the fact remains that their role is different from the role of anybody in the modern church.

Dagood tells us that people today could have visions of Jesus like the ones Paul had, but visions don't determine apostleship. We accept Paul's apostleship because he was a witness of the resurrected Christ and because the apostles authorized by Jesus accepted Paul's apostleship. We don't accept Paul's apostleship because he had visions.

The resurrection appearances of Jesus, which weren't just visions, came to an end. That's why Paul can speak of himself as the last witness (1 Corinthians 15:8). That's why Paul has authority over Timothy and instructs Timothy to maintain the teachings he received, not add to them (2 Timothy 1:13-14, 2:2). Timothy and the other church leaders he was to oversee didn't have the authority Paul had. That's why men like Clement of Rome and Ignatius refer to apostolic authority as something in the past, refer to themselves as having less authority than the apostles, and treat their own writings differently than the apostolic documents (see, for example, Clement of Rome, First Clement, 42; Ignatius, Letter To The Romans, 4; Papias, in Eusebius' Church History, 3:39:3-4; Polycarp, Letter To The Philippians, 6; The Epistle Of Barnabas, 5). The apostles were the foundation of the church (Ephesians 2:20), and a foundation isn't laid twice. Similarly, Jesus remains the cornerstone without having to be replaced with a new cornerstone in every generation. The New Testament documents refer to men like Peter and Paul having authority that future generations wouldn't have, and we find widespread agreement among the earliest post-apostolic sources regarding the closing of the apostolic age and the uniqueness of the authority of those first century apostles.

To suggest that the foundational role of these apostles is doubtful, because the term "apostle" is applied to other figures as well, would be unreasonable. Whatever may be unanswered or unclear about apostolic authority, there are other elements of apostolic authority that are addressed and are clear. Among those clear conclusions are the fact that men like Peter, John, and Paul were apostles in the highest sense and the fact that nobody living since their time has had comparable authority. Complaining that other elements of apostolic authority aren't addressed or aren't clear doesn't present a significant problem for Christianity.

Dagood makes a series of claims about how documents like The Shepherd Of Hermas and The Gospel Of Peter were accepted as canonical in the early church. He offers no documentation. We need to be careful here, because some of the patristic writers would refer to documents as inspired without intending to suggest canonicity, much as we today might refer to music or a piece of literature as inspired in some secondary sense. Clement of Alexandria, for example, is often cited as including various books in his canon because he refers to those books as inspired in some sense. See, for example, the discussion in Martin Hengel, The Four Gospels And The One Gospel Of Jesus Christ (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press International, 2000), pp. 15-19.

Sources like Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, who wrote before Clement of Alexandria, tell us that our collection of four gospels was already long established in the church. The suggestion that Clement of Alexandria intended to add the Gospel Of Peter or the Gospel Of The Hebrews to the other four gospels is highly dubious. As Hengel observes:

"the knowledge of a widely recognized collection of the four Gospels which is used in worship is certainly substantially older than Irenaeus...Clement [of Alexandria] took it for granted that the collection of four Gospels was based on recognized church tradition and was unchallenged, since he does not have to defend it anywhere....Clement's relative generosity towards 'apocryphal' texts and traditions, which is connected with the unique spiritual milieu in Alexandria and his constant controversies with many kinds of discussion partners to whom he wants to present the true apostolic 'gnosis' of the Gospel, should not obscure the fact that even for him the apostolic origin and special church authority of the four Gospels was already unassailable. On this point, for all the differences there is no fundamental opposition between him and Irenaeus....We might also say that precisely because the unique authority of the four Gospels was indispensable for him [Clement of Alexandria], he could sometimes bring himself also to use 'apocryphal' texts which helped him in his argument, indeed turning the very texts of the 'heretics' against them, as is evident from the example of the Gospel of the Egyptians. Thus Clement is not arguing from a position of uncertainty but rather from one of strength." (pp. 14, 16, 18-19)

One of the points Hengel makes is that Clement of Alexandria is often careless in his use of scripture, meaning that he sometimes misquotes passages from memory, and he may have sometimes misremembered where a quote came from. Hengel also points out that Clement discusses the gospels in book 6 of his Hypotyposes, and Clement only mentions our four gospels. The Gospel Of Peter isn't included, nor is the Gospel Of The Hebrews. Hengel further notes that, in book 3 of his Stromata, Clement specifically refers to the number of gospels as four. Hengel explains that Clement would sometimes speak of documents as authoritative if he was addressing a group of people who considered that document authoritative, even if Clement himself didn't accept the document in the same way. To cite Clement of Alexandria as evidence that the Gospel Of Peter "was accepted as an apostolic teaching up until at least 200 CE", as Dagood puts it, would be misleading, and it's misleading for Dagood to cite Clement supporting the Gospel Of The Hebrews.

Dagood asks how we know where to draw the line in terms of what evidence to accept for or against the canonicity of a book. But the same question could be asked about the authorship of any historical document or the canon of any author's writings. How do we know where to draw the line with Tacitus' writings, for example? If somebody living 80 years after Tacitus tells us that Tacitus wrote the Annals, how do we know that 80 years is early enough? What if another source comments on Tacitus' authorship 120 years after Tacitus' death? Where do we draw the line? It's like asking when a pile of marbles becomes a large pile. Different people may define "large" in different ways. But do we give up using a term like "large", just because some uncertainties are involved? No. People may disagree about whether a pile becomes large after 50 marbles, 70 marbles, or some other number, but that disagreement probably won't keep most of us from agreeing that a pile of several million marbles is large. The existence of some uncertainties and some space for subjective judgments in our evaluation of the canon doesn't change the fact that many clearer and more objective factors are involved.

Dagood's objections could be applied to historical research in general, not just the issue of the Christian canon of scripture. Yet, historians are able to reach reliable historical conclusions, despite the involvement of factors like the ones Dagood has mentioned.

As I said earlier, Dagood makes some questionable or false claims without offering any documentation, but he is right about some early sources including books in their canon that Christians reject today. Dagood doesn't put that fact in a proper context, though. If a book is considered canonical by only one or two sources, whereas another book is considered canonical by every church around the world or the large majority of churches, it doesn't make sense to put the two books in the same category. And since we can read some of these documents for ourselves, we also have internal evidence to go by. We can read a document like The Shepherd Of Hermas for ourselves and see many indications that it was written after the time of the apostles and contradicts apostolic teaching.

Dagood ignores one of our most important sources on the canon, Eusebius of Caesarea. Eusebius lived and wrote in the late third and early fourth centuries. He tells us a lot about the canon. And we know that Eusebius wasn't just going by what the churches of his day believed. He repeatedly mentions that he's making his canonical judgments based both on what the churches of his day report and what sources of previous generations said. We know that Eusebius possessed many documents that are no longer extant, such as the writings of Papias, Quadratus, and Dionysius of Corinth. Thus, Eusebius was in a good position to assess the relevant evidence. What he tells us runs contrary to the assertions and suggestions of people like Dagood.

Eusebius explains that the large majority of our 27-book New Testament canon was undisputed. And the books that were disputed were accepted by the majority. Books like the Shepherd Of Hermas and the Gospel Of Peter are in another category. Dagood gives us examples of a book being accepted or rejected by one author, but Eusebius is reporting on multiple generations of testimony from all over the Christian world.

We also have some relevant evidence from non-Christian sources. We know that Christian documents were available to and read by the early enemies of Christianity, partly because sources like Aristides and Justin Martyr tell us so. I'm not aware of any early non-Christian source raising any significant objections to our 27-book canon. If a book like 2 Timothy was written 30 years after Paul had died, or 2 Peter was written 60 or 80 years after Peter's death, doesn't it seem unlikely that not only the Christian world, but also the early enemies of Christianity, would fail to take notice or would take notice without making much of an issue out of it?

I mentioned that most of the New Testament books were universally or almost universally accepted. For the sake of argument, let's temporarily limit ourselves to those books. I think that a good case can be made for disputed books like Hebrews and 2 Peter. But let's exclude those briefly, for the sake of argument. We would still have the entire Old Testament and 20 books of the New Testament. In other words, even if we were to limit ourselves to a higher standard for canonicity (universal or nearly universal acceptance of a book among the early sources), we would still have the large majority of our canon.

And the small minority of the canon that's disputed has been disputed for reasons that aren't too difficult to overcome. The book of Revelation, for example, has strong early evidence in its favor, but was disputed later. The later dispute doesn't overturn the high quality of the early evidence supporting the book. Thus, saying that Revelation was a disputed book is, in a sense, misleading. Similarly, the lack of early evidence for the second and third epistles of John isn't of much significance, given the shortness of those documents and the unoriginality of their content. I could give other examples, but the point is that even the more disputed books of the New Testament are credible.

If Dagood would give a proper place to factors such as the ones I've discussed in this article, his conclusions would have to be significantly altered. The same is true of other articles he's written. He takes a few elements of truth, mixes them with a lot of errors, misleading language, and ambiguities. Once he's been corrected, he moves on to another post and repeats the process, apparently not having learned much.

In closing, I would recommend that people read Glenn Miller's article on pseudonymity. As Miller demonstrates, determining the origins of a document wasn't just an issue for the ancient Christians, but for the ancient world in general, and many methods were undertaken to weed out the spurious from the genuine. Mentioning that documents like The Shepherd Of Hermas and the Gospel Of Peter existed, and mentioning that such documents were accepted by some people, doesn't change the fact that most people rejected those documents. It also doesn't change the fact that the ancient world knew about the dangers of false document attribution and took many significant steps to verify what they accepted.

“Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

That’s the last line of Hemingway’s classic, “The Sun Also Rises”. But it’s a completely impossible situation that’s just been proposed.

In a similar way, the Roman Catholic appeal to “unity in the church in the first millennium” is just an illusion. Especially when that appeal involves anything at all like an “early papacy”.

We should not simply question the unity of the supposed “visible hierarchy”, but the actual existence of such a thing. It did not exist in the pages of the New Testament. That’s been well-documented.

Nor does one exist in the earliest history of the church. Rather, it was a “pecking-order” that developed after much “pecking”, after much conflict – even much deadly armed conflict. All of which is a clear violation of Christ’s command in Matthew 20:25–26 “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you.”

Nevertheless, the command of Jesus regarding church leadership, and the clarification by Paul (1 Tim 3:1 ff), that “an overseer must be…”, was completely turned on its head by the Roman Church, to include not only, “an overseer [bishop] need not be”, but further, a matter of “you have heard it said, … but we say to you…”

No such hierarchy exists in the New Testament. Throughout the history of the church, the claim is made that the institution of the Church “must be understood in such a way that an awareness of what is essential and enduring … it develops only as a result of historical challenges and experiences.”

I’ve published this material in the past, but it is an apt reminder for all of us, and for those who consider themselves to be our friends at “Called to Communion”:

150 ad: the church at Rome is ruled by a plurality of presbyters who quarrel about status and honor. (Shepherd of Hermas). "They had a certain jealousy of one another over questions of preeminence and about some kind of distinction. But they are all fools to be jealous of one another regarding preeminence." Also note in Hermas: "Clement's" "job" is to "send books abroad." -- Peter Lampe does not think this Clement is the same individual from 1 Clement, but the time frame is appropriate. Perhaps “Pope St. Clement” was the church secretary.

235: Hippolytus and Pontianus are exiled from Rome by the emperor "because of street fighting between their followers" (Collins citing Cerrato, Oxford 2002).

258: Cyprian (Carthage/west) and Firmilian (Caesarea/east) both go apoplectic when Stephen tries to exercise authority outside of Rome.

306: Rival "popes" exiled because of "violent clashes" (Collins)

308: Rival "popes" exiled because of "violent clashes" (Collins again).

325: Council of Nicea: Alexandria has authority over Egypt and Libya, just as "a similar custom exists with the Bishop of Rome." The Bishop of Jerusalem is to be honored.

366: “Pope” Damasus: in a struggle with a rival, Damasus hired grass-roots supporters included squads of the notoriously hard-boiled Roman fossores, [actually a minor order in the church, made up of catacomb diggers generally armed with picks], and they massacred 137 followers of the rival Pope Ursinus in street-fighting that ended in a bloody siege of what is now the church of Santa Maria Maggiore” (Duffy, 37-38)

381: Constantinople: Because it is new Rome, the Bishop of Constantinople is to enjoy privileges of honour after the bishop of Rome. (This indicates Rome's "honour" is due to its being the capital.)

431: Cyril, "stole" the council (Moffett 174, citing "Book of Heraclides) and "the followers of Cyril went about in the city girt and armed with clubs ... with yells of barbarians, snorting fiercely, raging with extravagant arrogance against those whom they knew to be opposed to their doings..."

451: Chalcedon, 28th canon, passed by the council at the 16th session, “The fathers rightly accorded prerogatives to the see of Older Rome, since that is an imperial city; moved by the same purpose the 150 most devout bishops apportioned equal prerogatives to the most holy see of New Rome …” that is, Constantinople. It was rejected by the pope. But the Eastern church never accepted this.

Schatz, summarizing: In any case it is clear that Roman primacy was not a given from the outset; it underwent a long process of development whose initial phases extended well into the fifth century. The question is then: can we reasonably say of this historically developed papacy that it was instituted by Christ and therefore must always continue to exist?


That is there was no notion of an enduring office beyond Peter’s lifetime. There was no notion that Jesus expected Peter to have “successors,” nor that Matthew expected a successor to Peter (Schatz, Papal Primacy, pg 1).

Only after there was no longer a political power in the west to challenge papal claims, did the “awareness” of the “essential and enduring” nature of the papacy take hold.

* * *

One of the most significant, Protestant-like "divisions" in the early church may be found in the simple designations of "The School of Antioch" or "The School of Alexandria," both of which held differing views of Scripture, and later, of the person of Christ. This manifested itself in "The Great Schism," a schism of church governments of "The Church of the East," the separation of the Church of Alexandria (Egypt), from the “unified” “Greco-Roman” church.

Moffett describes it this way:

What finally divided the early church, East from West, Asia from Europe, was neither war nor persecution, but the blight of a violent theological controversy, that raged through the Mediterranean world in the second quarter of the fifth century. It came to be called the Nestorian controversy, and how much of it was theological and how much political is still being debated, but it irreversibly split the church not only east and west but also north and south and cracked it into so many pieces that it was never the same again. (pg. 169)

This is an ugly memory for the "Greco-Roman" church -- it is a far larger and messier divide than the 1054 schism between the Roman and Orthodox churches. It makes a lie of the "unified church" claims of today's Roman Catholic apologists. It is the clearest example that there never was a governmentally-unified church -- especially not "under the papacy" -- ever in the history of the church.

Sources:

Samuel Hugh Moffett, “A History of Christianity in Asia, Vol 1”, New York, NY: Maryknoll ©1998; second corrected edition; a revised and corrected edition; originally published HarperCollins (c@1992).

Klaus Schatz, “Papal Primacy, From its Origins to the Present”, ©1996 by the Order of St. Benedict, Inc, Collegeville, MN: A Micael Glazier Book published by The Liturgical Press.

Roger Collins: “Keepers of the Keys of Heaven: A History of the Papacy”, New York, NY: Basic Books, a Member of the Perseus Books Group, ©2009

Eamon Duffy, (“Saints and Sinners,” New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1997, 2001).

In order to maintain their “illusion” of the early papacy, the Called to Communion folks must simply deny, without addressing, the work of these individuals.

However, I’ve Moffett was affiliated with Princeton and “Maryknoll (Catholic Missionary Society). Schatz taught at the Gregorian University in Rome; and Collins is a professor of History at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland.

Eternal Security Before The Reformation

Roman Catholics sometimes claim that Evangelical beliefs are both highly objectionable and unprecedented in church history prior to the Reformation. But what if it can be shown that those beliefs not only were held before the Reformation, but were even held by Roman Catholic Saints or other people who are well-regarded in Catholic circles?

The concept that a person is certain of going to Heaven if he becomes a Christian (often called "eternal security"), whether in a form that concept takes in Calvinism or in some other form, is frequently criticized by Roman Catholics. In an article at the Catholic Answers web site, we read:

All they [people who believe in eternal security] have to do is "accept Christ as their personal Savior," and it’s done. They might well live exemplary lives thereafter, but living well is not crucial and definitely does not affect their salvation....

Scripture teaches that one’s final salvation depends on the state of the soul at death. As Jesus himself tells us, "He who endures to the end will be saved" (Matt. 24:13; cf. 25:31–46). One who dies in the state of friendship with God (the state of grace) will go to heaven. The one who dies in a state of enmity and rebellion against God (the state of mortal sin) will go to hell.

Elsewhere, in another Catholic Answers article:

It was not until the time of John Calvin that anyone would claim that it was impossible for a true Christian to lose his salvation. That teaching, which was not even shared by Martin Luther and his followers, was a theological novelty of the mid-sixteenth century, a teaching which would have been condemned as a dangerous heresy by all previous generations of Christians....

In time the "once saved, always saved" teaching even degenerated in many Evangelical circles to the point that some would claim that a Christian could commit grave sins and still remain saved: sin did not injure his relationship with God at all....

The early Church Fathers, of course, were unanimous in teaching the reality of mortal sin....

The idea that one could never lose salvation would have been unimaginable to them [the church fathers], since it was evident from the Bible that baptism saves, that the baptized can deny Christ, and that those who deny Christ will not be saved unless they repent, as did Peter.

It was equally unthinkable to predestinarian thinkers, such as Augustine, who, just two years before he died, taught in his book The Gift of Perseverance that not all who were predestined to come to God’s grace were predestined to remain with him until glory. This was, in fact, the teaching of all the high predestinarians (Augustine, Fulgentius, Aquinas, Luther)—until the time of Calvin.

Notice the use of terms like "novelty", "all", "unanimous", and "dangerous heresy". We're being told that eternal security is a highly objectionable doctrine that nobody advocated prior to the Reformation.

A lot could be said about the false or misleading claims, as well as some significant information that's not mentioned, in these Catholic Answers articles. I want to focus on the issue of whether the concept of eternal security, whether defined in a Calvinistic manner or otherwise, was held by anybody prior to the Reformation.

The second article linked above goes on to cite alleged patristic support for the Roman Catholic position on eternal security. Some of the citations are problematic. For example, Hermas of Rome (note the significance of his location) is quoted. But he believed in the concept of limited forgiveness (The Shepherd, 1:2:2). You could lose your salvation without any possibility of regaining it. Roman bishops living shortly after the time of Hermas would oppose the concept, illustrating the diversity of views that could exist even in one city within a relatively short period of time. The patristic sources who deny eternal security in some way widely differ with each other in how they do it.

Patristic scholars often refer to the large variety of views that existed among the church fathers, including on issues related to justification. An individual father will sometimes seem to be inconsistent on an issue, whether knowingly or not, and some fathers acknowledge that they've changed their mind on an issue. The same can be said of Christians who lived in the later centuries prior to the Reformation. We shouldn't conclude that a source couldn't have ever advocated a position on an issue just because he sometimes contradicted that position. People are often inconsistent, and their beliefs develop over time.

As Robert Eno noted:

"Origen of Alexandria (ca. 185-253) is not an easy author to interpret....The theological issues discussed depend very much on the words in front of him at any given moment. Bringing out one theological point here, he may stress another, even a seemingly contradictory point a few verses later." (in H. George Anderson, et al., edd., Justification By Faith [Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg Publishing House, 1985], p. 112)

In the same book, we read of "a bewildering variety" of views related to justification that existed in the late medieval period (p. 21). William Rusch refers to how "a variety of images and strands of thought on salvation existed side by side [in the church fathers] in ways that at least at first reading seem not to be compatible" (p. 134). D.H. Williams refers to "the developing views of soteriology in early Christianity" (Evangelicals And Tradition [Grand Rapids. Michigan: Baker Academic, 2005], p. 141), and he discusses a variety of beliefs, sometimes inconsistent, that existed among the fathers (pp. 127-140).

Augustine wrote about the large variety of views of salvation that existed in his day, including some that involved some form of eternal security:

"I must now, I see, enter the lists of amicable controversy with those tender-hearted Christians who decline to believe that any, or that all of those whom the infallibly just Judge may pronounce worthy of the punishment of hell, shall suffer eternally, and who suppose that they shall be delivered after a fixed term of punishment, longer or shorter according to the amount of each man's sin. In respect of this matter, Origen was even more indulgent; for he believed that even the devil himself and his angels, after suffering those more severe and prolonged pains which their sins deserved, should be delivered from their torments, and associated with the holy angels. But the Church, not without reason, condemned him for this and other errors...There are others, again, with whose opinions I have become acquainted in conversation, who, though they seem to reverence the holy Scriptures, are yet of reprehensible life, and who accordingly, in their own interest, attribute to God a still greater compassion towards men. For they acknowledge that it is truly predicted in the divine word that the wicked and unbelieving are worthy of punishment, but they assert that, when the judgment comes, mercy will prevail. For, say they, God, having compassion on them, will give them up to the prayers and intercessions of His saints. For if the saints used to pray for them when they suffered from their cruel hatred, how much more will they do so when they see them prostrate and humble suppliants? For we cannot, they say, believe that the saints shall lose their bowels of compassion when they have attained the most perfect and complete holiness; so that they who, when still sinners, prayed for their enemies, should now, when they are freed from sin, withhold from interceding for their suppliants. Or shall God refuse to listen to so many of His beloved children, when their holiness has purged their prayers of all hindrance to His answering them?...So, too, there are others who promise this deliverance from eternal punishment, not, indeed, to all men, but only to those who have been washed in Christian baptism, and who become partakers of the body of Christ, no matter how they have lived, or what heresy or impiety they have fallen into. They ground this opinion on the saying of Jesus, 'This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that if any man eat thereof, he shall not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If a man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever.' Therefore, say they, it follows that these persons must be delivered from death eternal, and at one time or other be introduced to everlasting life. There are others still who make this promise not even to all who have received the sacraments of the baptism of Christ and of His body, but only to the Catholics, however badly they have lived. For these have eaten the body of Christ, not only sacramentally but really, being incorporated in His body, as the apostle says, 'We, being many, are one bread, one body;' so that, though they have afterwards lapsed into some heresy, or even into heathenism and idolatry, yet by virtue of this one thing, that they have received the baptism of Christ, and eaten the body of Christ, in the body of Christ, that is to say, in the catholic Church, they shall not die eternally, but at one time or other obtain eternal life; and all that wickedness of theirs shall not avail to make their punishment eternal, but only proportionately long and severe....I have also met with some who are of opinion that such only as neglect to cover their sins with alms-deeds shall be punished in everlasting fire...But, say they [others], the catholic Christians have Christ for a foundation, and they have not fallen away from union with Him, no matter how depraved a life they have built on this foundation, as wood, hay, stubble; and accordingly the well-directed faith by which Christ is their foundation will suffice to deliver them some time from the continuance of that fire, though it be with loss, since those things they have built on it shall be burned." (The City Of God, 21:17-20, 21:22, 21:26)

Some other examples:

"Saint Jerome, though an enemy of Origen, was, when it came to salvation, more of an Origenist than Ambrose. He believed that all sinners, all mortal beings, with the exception of Satan, atheists, and the ungodly, would be saved: 'Just as we believe that the torments of the Devil, of all the deniers of God, of the ungodly who have said in their hearts, 'there is no God,' will be eternal, so too do we believe that the judgment of Christian sinners, whose works will be tried and purged in fire will be moderate and mixed with clemency.' Furthermore, 'He who with all his spirit has placed his faith in Christ, even if he die in sin, shall by his faith live forever.'" (Jacques Le Goff, The Birth Of Purgatory [Chicago, Illinois: The University of Chicago Press, 1986], p. 61)

"Jerome develops the same distinction, stating that, while the Devil and the impious who have denied God will be tortured without remission, those who have trusted in Christ, even if they have sinned and fallen away, will eventually be saved. Much the same teaching appears in Ambrose, developed in greater detail." (J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines [San Francisco, California: HarperCollins Publishers, 1978], p. 484)

"Like Hilary and Ambrose, Ambrosiaster distinguishes three categories: the saints and the righteous, who will go directly to heaven at the time of the resurrection; the ungodly, apostates, infidels, and atheists, who will go directly into the fiery torments of Hell; and the ordinary Christians, who, though sinners, will first pay their debt and for a time be purified by fire but then go to Paradise because they had the faith. Commenting on Paul, Ambrosiaster writes: 'He [Paul] said: 'yet so as by fire,' because this salvation exists not without pain; for he did not say, 'he shall be saved by fire,' but when he says, 'yet so as by fire,' he wants to show that this salvation is to come, but that he must suffer the pains of fire; so that, purged by fire, he may be saved and not, like the infidels [perfidi], tormented forever by eternal fire; if for a portion of his works he has some value, it is because he believed in Christ.'" (Jacques Le Goff, The Birth Of Purgatory [Chicago, Illinois: The University of Chicago Press, 1986], p. 61)

"we find Ambrosiaster teaching that, while the really wicked, 'will be tormented with everlasting punishment', the chastisement of Christian sinners will be of a temporary duration." (J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines [San Francisco, California: HarperCollins Publishers, 1978], p. 484)

In closing, I want to address some potential objections:

- It might be argued that sources like the ones I've cited aren't denying that salvation can be lost, but rather are denying that the loss is permanent. But I see no reason to conclude that all of these sources thought that even a temporary loss of salvation was in view. And even if they did have a temporary loss of salvation in mind, the fact would remain that they believed that one's becoming a Christian made it certain that he would eventually go to Heaven. If the alleged loss of salvation that could occur between becoming a Christian and reaching Heaven was sure to be only temporary, then how is such a scenario significantly distinguishable from a scenario involving God's discipline of His children rather than a loss of salvation? In other words, what a Calvinist or some other proponent of eternal security would classify as discipline is being classified, instead, as a temporary loss of salvation accompanied by a certainty of future restoration. But what significance is there in that distinction?

- Some people might object that somebody like Jerome allows for negative consequences to a believer's sin in the next life, not just this life. Thus, since he allows for something along the lines of Purgatory, his view, although wrong, is significantly less objectionable. But, in the context of disputes over eternal security, how significant is it to place some of the negative consequences of sin in the afterlife rather than this life? Critics of eternal security often claim that the certainty of going to Heaven is what's most objectionable, even if the proponent of eternal security allows for negative consequences to sin in this life. If acknowledging such negative consequences in this life doesn't remove the most objectionable element of eternal security, then why would acknowledging negative consequences in the afterlife do so? And what about the negative consequences that Evangelicals often include in the afterlife? For example, Erwin Lutzer, in his book Your Eternal Reward (Chicago, Illinois: Moody Press, 1998), argues for tears at the judgment seat of Christ and loss of rewards as a result of sin. In order to maintain an objection to a view like Lutzer's that wouldn't apply to a view like Jerome's as well, the critic of eternal security would have to develop a more nuanced objection than what we commonly hear.

It should also be noted that the Bible and the earliest church fathers often define the afterlife in a way that doesn't allow for anything comparable to Purgatory. Evangelicals have good reason for disagreeing with any Purgatory-like elements in the views expressed by men like Ambrosiaster and Jerome. Evangelical proponents of eternal security are correct in agreeing with such men about the certainty of a Christian's future in Heaven while disagreeing with them about the means by which God disciplines His children.

Whatever problems there are with some forms of eternal security (a diminished view of the connection between justification and sanctification, for example), the concept that anybody who becomes a Christian is certain of going to Heaven predates the Reformation. As with other doctrines, different people believe in eternal security for different reasons. But much of the same Biblical evidence and reasoning that leads modern Evangelicals to a belief in eternal security led other people to the same conclusions long before the Reformation.

Update On 5/2/24: Here's a series I wrote in 2024 that discusses this subject further.

A little perspective on things like “tone” and “unity”

There has never been “unity” in the church. Especially not the Roman church. Claims for, or appeals for unity, especially when coming from Rome, are simply specious. Here’s something I posted some time ago, under the title “The Spirit of the Roman Church”:

Paul had to caution them in Romans 16: “I appeal to you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions [Greek: “dissensions”] and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught; avoid them. For such persons do not serve our Lord Christ, but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the naive. For your obedience is known to all, so that I rejoice over you, but I want you to be wise as to what is good and innocent as to what is evil. The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.”

        

The emperor Claudius had ejected “the Jews” from Rome for “fighting” over “Chrestus”. Even in Paul’s day, there was tension. 1 Clement alluded to “jealousies” at the time of Peter and Paul, that led to their deaths.

Throughout the first half of the second century, the Roman church was led by a network of presbyters in a network of house churches, and these presbyters fought among themselves as to who was greatest. I’ve quoted Hermas from “The Shepherd of Hermas as saying, “They had a certain jealousy of one another over questions of preeminence and about some kind of distinction. But they are all fools to be jealous of one another regarding preeminence.”

This fighting continued on and on.

“In 235, two rival bishops of Rome, Pontianus (230-235) and Hippolytus (c.217-235) were exiled from the city by the emperor Maximin 1 because of street fighting between their followers.” (Roger Collins, “Keepers of the Keys of the Kingdom,” pg. 25)

and …

“Because of the house-church system, such rival bishops could co-exist for as long as they had the backing of some of the city’s many Christian groups. But the divisions usually resulted in violent clashes between the partisans of the two claimants, and in all cases the imperial government intervened to end the bloodshed and to send one or both of the rivals into exile, as happened in 235, and would do so again in 306/7 and 308.” (Collins 26)

Note that in 150 they were fighting, and in 235 they were fighting, and in 306-308 they were still fighting. See a pattern? These last two incidents mentioned were during the fierce period of persecution known as “the Great Persecution,” brought on by the emperor Diocletian and continued under his successors, until Constantine.

The pattern continued; as I mentioned, “Pope” Damasus (366-381), “a man of much practical shrewdness and self-assertive energy” (Shotwell and Loomis, pg 595), became pope as his followers “launched an assault on the Julian basilica, seizing control of it after three days of streetfighting. When the backers of Ursinus (Damasus’s opponent) occupied the Liberian basilica, it too was stormed. In the aftermath of the fighting, a neutral contemporary reported that the bodies of 137 men and women were found in the church.” Collins 52, originally reported by Owen Chadwick, “Catholicism and History: The Opening of the Vatican Archives, Cambridge 1978, pgs 110-116).

In this last incident, the killing of the 137 men and women was accomplished by a mob of professional grave diggers, armed with pick axes, hired by Damasus to help himself to “the papacy” as it existed in the fourth century.

Good Pope Damasus is, by the way, a Saint of the Roman Catholic Church.  

On church “authority” as a harmful impulse

In the search for “hard edges” of doctrine, a writer named Burton asked me this question:

I assume you believe in the necessity of some means of defining orthodoxy versus heresy regarding doctrine and morals. Is this what you mean by the ministerial role of the church? How, exactly, does the church exercise this ministerial role?

Do you see a distinction between heresy and schism? If so, how does the church in its ministerial role define and correct schismatics?

Too, Jason Stellman talked about an early church that thought of itself as authoritative:

Catholics believe they discover in Scripture and the fathers a church that is said to be, and thought of itself as, authoritative.

Aside from the concept of how “a church” might “think”, of this church, Jason equivocates,

The woman at the well eventually concluded that Jesus was the Messiah. Once she discovered this fact, her responsibility was to submit to and obey him all her days, right? But her initial discovery of who Jesus was did not come because he simply claimed to be the Messiah, but rather, he “told her all the things she ever did” (in other words, the initial discovery resulted from something independent of any claim Jesus made about himself). But just because that discovery was made independently, that did not mean she could continue to subject everything Jesus said to her own rationality or interpretive agreement.

It’s similar with people who become Catholic (it’s not a perfect illustration, but it conveys the basic point). They weigh the biblical and historical evidence and make a judgment. But once that judgment is made, they are responsible to obey the church because of its divine authority.

In response to both of these, I said:

Certainly there is a means of “defining orthodoxy vs heresy” and in that regard, a council such as Nicea (325) or Constantinople (381) or Chalcedon (451) is very helpful. But I think that conceptions of “authority” that the churches of these centuries had was not very helpful at all. Ephesus (431) is counted as one of the “ecumenical” councils, and yet, it was an embarrassment and blot on the history of the church. That is being kind to it. Such shenanigans led to major rifts in the church that have never been healed.

In a similar vein, historically, the papacy is at the pinnacle of those harmful claims to authority.

I have a series I’ve written, both at Triablogue and elsewhere, called “the nonexistent early papacy”. I’ve put together this timeline of the early papacy, which is necessarily incomplete but very revealing nevertheless:

135-150 ad: the church at Rome is ruled by a plurality of presbyters who quarrel about status and honor. (Shepherd of Hermas). “They had a certain jealousy of one another over questions of preeminence and about some kind of distinction. But they are all fools to be jealous of one another regarding preeminence.”

Also note in Hermas: “Clement’s” “job” is to “send books abroad.” — Peter Lampe does not think this Clement is the same individual from 1 Clement, but the time frame is appropriate.

235: Hippolytus and Pontianus are exiled from Rome by the emperor “because of street fighting between their followers” (Collins citing Cerrato, Oxford 2002).

258: Cyprian (Carthage/west) and Firmilian (Caesarea/east) both go apoplectic when Stephen tries to exercise authority outside of Rome.

306: Rival “popes” exiled because of “violent clashes” (Collins)

308: Rival “popes” exiled because of “violent clashes” (Collins again).

325: Council of Nicea: Alexandria has authority over Egypt and Libya, just as “a similar custom exists with the Bishop of Rome.” The Bishop of Jerusalem is to be honored.

366: Followers of “pope” Damasus [hired gravediggers armed with pick-axes] massacre 137 followers of rival “pope” Ursinus following the election of both men to the papacy.

381: Constantinople: Because it is new Rome, the Bishop of Constantinople is to enjoy privileges of honour after the bishop of Rome. (This indicates Rome’s “honour” is due to its being the capital.)

431: Cyril, “stole” the council (Moffett 174, citing “Book of Heraclides) and “the followers of Cyril went about in the city girt and armed with clubs … with yells of barbarians, snorting fiercely, raging with extravagant arrogance against those whom they knew to be opposed to their doings…”

451: Chalcedon, 28th canon, passed by the council at the 16th session, “The fathers rightly accorded prerogatives to the see of Older Rome, since that is an imperial city; moved by the same purpose the 150 most devout bishops apportioned equal prerogatives to the most holy see of New Rome …”

Again and again, “they argued among themselves as to who was greatest”. This is the story of the struggle for “authority” in early Christianity. As Jason Stellman pointed out in comment 296, as he studied the early church, he “discover[ed] in Scripture and the fathers a church that is said to be, and thought of itself as, authoritative”. This is the fruit of that urge to think of themselves as authoritative.

As I’ve stated repeatedly in this comment thread, the Eastern church “never”, ever accepted the claims of the papacy.


You asked, “Do you see a distinction between heresy and schism? If so, how does the church in its ministerial role define and correct schismatics?”

On the basis of the things I’ve written above, I’m willing to say, I don’t have all the right answers, but I’m certain it excludes the Roman way.