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When John Henry Newman said, “To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant,” his basic argument was that if you look at the early church and compare its doctrine and practice to Protestantism, you will observe that the early church was not Protestant, and since the early church was the true church, the true church is not the Protestant church. Variations on this basic historical argument against Protestantism continue to be heard from both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox apologists to this day. Many Protestants who are engaged in discussions with family, friends, and neighbors from these traditions have heard such arguments, and many are unsure how best to respond. In this article, I would like to point out several things that Protestants should keep in mind when facing this argument.
who were the earliest church fathers?
In the first place, if you have ever been in a discussion with someone who is Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox, you have probably heard something along these lines: “Just go read the early church fathers.” If you do this, you are told, you will see that the early church was not Protestant. The implication is that your only remaining options are Rome and Eastern Orthodoxy. Many Protestants will then take up the challenge even if they are not fully prepared to do so, and some will find themselves confused. But why? It is often because a very basic question has not been raised. When we are told, “Just go read the early church fathers,” we should ask, “What do you mean when you say ‘the early church fathers’?” The anti-Protestant apologist usually means the second- and third-century fathers, and these men certainly are early church fathers, but they are not the earliest church fathers. If we are talking about the new covenant development of the one people of God, the earliest church fathers are the Apostles of the first century, the authors of the New Testament. They are the foundation, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone (Eph. 2:20).
Why is this so important? First, the writings of the second- and third-century fathers are not the standard by which all else should be measured. Their writings are not God-breathed. Scripture is God-breathed (2 Tim. 3:16). Scripture is our standard because Scripture is the Word of God. The doctrine of sola Scriptura, at its heart, is a doctrine rooted in the Creator-creature distinction. God, by definition, has infinitely greater authority than any of His creatures (including the leaders of His church); therefore, God’s Word has infinitely greater authority than the word of any of His creatures. Scripture is God’s Word, so Scripture alone (i.e., God alone) is our final standard for faith and life. Second, the second century was an enormously significant transition point in the history of the early church, and understanding that transition can help us grasp some very important facts that will inform how we look at the historical argument presented by Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox apologists.
Consider, for example, the composition of the earliest church, the first-century church in the immediate decades after the death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ. Much of the history of this period is recounted in the book of Acts. The first followers of Jesus, His disciples and Apostles, were Jewish. On the day of Pentecost, after Peter’s sermon to the men of Israel who had gathered for this annual feast, some three thousand Jews were added to the church (Acts 2:41). Within a short period of time, more Jews believed in Jesus, and the number reached about five thousand in total (4:4). These Jewish believers traveled back to their homes across the Roman Empire and established small house churches composed primarily of other Jewish believers. Of course, there were some God-fearing gentiles among these Jews, and then Samaritans and more gentiles began to be added to the church, especially as Paul’s missionary journeys began at about the midpoint of the first century. But the majority of the church in the decades after Christ’s resurrection was Jewish. It is also significant that nearly all of the books of the New Testament were authored by Jewish believers. In short, the first-century church was fundamentally shaped by its Jewish constituency. These were people steeped in the Old Testament, in the Psalms, and in the synagogue.
Something happened, however, near the end of the first century that dramatically reshaped the composition of the church. The wars between the Jews and the Romans that began with the first Jewish revolt (AD 66–74) and ended with the Bar Kochba revolt (AD 132–36) had an enormous impact on the church throughout the Roman Empire. When we look at the first-century church, we see that it was primarily composed of Jewish believers in Jesus. When we look at the second-century church, we see that it was primarily composed of gentile converts. This is significant because the gentile converts were often not steeped in the Old Testament’s covenantal way of thinking. They were also not raised in the synagogue. What they were steeped in was the Greco-Roman world, its literature, its philosophy, its government, its way of thinking about life. What this means is that if we look at the second- and third-century church fathers and simply assume that they represent the purest doctrine and practice, we will get a somewhat skewed perspective. These writings need to be measured against the writings of the earliest church fathers (the New Testament), which sometimes present a very different perspective. It is hardly surprising, for example, that the form of church government described in the New Testament appears to be modeled to some degree on the Jewish synagogue, with its plurality of elders. That is what the Jewish converts knew. It is also hardly surprising that when we look at the second- and third-century church, largely dominated by gentile converts, the episcopal form of government modeled after the Roman form of civil government gradually begins to emerge. That was the form that they knew.
development or contradiction?
Once we’ve included the earliest church fathers in the discussion, we can look at the first-century church and compare its doctrine and practice with the doctrine and practice of later centuries. What we find when we do this is that those doctrines and practices that are distinctive to Roman Catholicism and/or the Eastern Orthodox Church are often very different from what we find in the first century. Among Roman Catholics, John Henry Newman is often called on for assistance at this point. Newman’s theory of doctrinal development is frequently used to explain the differences. Just as an acorn does not look like a full-grown oak tree, so too later doctrines and practices do not always look like the doctrines and practices of the earliest church. What Protestants need to understand, however, is that while it is true that we witness development in doctrines such as the Trinity, that is not exactly what Rome claims. There is a dramatic difference between a doctrine or practice that is present in the first century and yet undergoes clarifying development due to various factors, and doctrines that either appear ex nihilo in later centuries and/or directly contradict the doctrines and practices of the first century.
Take the Roman Catholic doctrines and practices concerning Mary, for example, and compare them with what you find in the New Testament. Mary is mentioned in the New Testament, but it’s primarily in those places where you would expect to see her mentioned, such as the birth narratives. After that, she fades more and more into the background. The last time that she is mentioned by name is in Acts 1:14. Paul refers to her once, but not by name (Gal. 4:4). The emphasis of the New Testament is on Jesus Christ and Him crucified (e.g., 1 Cor. 2:2). Compare that emphasis with the emphasis in Roman theology and practice. Mary is emphasized as much as, if not more than, Jesus. She is the Queen of the Universe and the Mediatrix of all graces (Lumen Gentium 62). In some churches and trinket shops, you can even find statues of Mary placed between the cherubim on the lid of the ark of the covenant. That is not development. That is idolatry.
We face similar problems with the Roman Catholic claims concerning the church and the papacy. Rome claims that the papacy was directly instituted by Christ and that Christ directly appointed Peter to be the visible head of the whole church. Rome also claims that the bishops of Rome are the direct successors of Peter. Rome further claims that the four Nicene marks of the church (oneness, holiness, catholicity, and Apostolicity) are all defined in terms of communion with Rome. In short, Rome claims to be the one true church founded by Jesus Christ. Historically, such claims are demonstrably false. They are defensible only if one has already committed oneself to the doctrine of the Roman church’s infallibility. If the Roman church is infallible, if it cannot possibly err in any way, then of course all its claims are true. But if you are looking for reasons to believe Rome’s claim to infallibility before accepting that claim, the reasons appear suspect. In other words, Rome’s defenses of its claims frequently assume Rome’s more fundamental claim to infallibility. They don’t prove it.
Space prohibits a complete demonstration of the falsehood of all of Rome’s erroneous claims, but it may be instructive to take a brief look at one or two. Consider first the claim that the pope is infallible when he speaks ex cathedra. This doctrine was declared to be dogma at the First Vatican Council in 1870. This means that if you accept the claim that Rome is infallible, this doctrine must have been the doctrine of Jesus and the Apostles. The problem is that this doctrine is nowhere to be found in the history of the church until the thirteenth century. As Brian Tierney has demonstrated in his meticulously researched book Origins of Papal Infallibility, 1150–1350, the doctrine first arises in an obscure dispute between various groups of Franciscans. Some Franciscans, the Spirituals, taught that their doctrine of “apostolic poverty” was essential to the true Christian life. In 1279, Pope Nicholas III sided with the claims of the Spirituals. The Franciscan Peter Olivi appears to be the first theologian to speak of papal infallibility. He promoted the idea at least in part so that a future pope couldn’t reject the idea of “apostolic poverty.” The canon lawyers at the time objected to this, arguing that a doctrine of papal infallibility would limit papal sovereignty. That is, future popes had a right to overrule previous decisions.
Things remained relatively calm until 1322, when Pope John XXII rejected the claims of the Spirituals and made a new statement about apostolic poverty. The Franciscans wrote letters objecting to this and appealed to Olivi’s doctrine of papal infallibility. Pope John XXII responded by rejecting papal infallibility because it was a threat to his authority. In 1324, the pope said in the bull Quia quorundam that the devil had led these men to teach that “what the Roman pontiffs have once defined in faith and morals with the key of knowledge stands so immutably that it is not permitted to a successor to revoke it.” In other words, according to this pope, the doctrine of papal infallibility was a doctrine of the devil. And yet, in 1870, it became a dogma of the church. This is not doctrinal development but rather novelty and contradiction.
Another of Rome’s claims is that the papal office was established when Peter was made the first bishop of Rome in the first century. The archaeological and historical evidence points in a different direction, however, and Peter Lampe has helpfully chronicled this evidence in his book From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries. The evidence indicates that there were various house churches spread throughout Rome and that there was no single bishop over all of them. As the churches grew, it became common practice to choose one elder to serve as the point of contact for communication with churches in other cities. Gradually, this position became, by as late as the end of the second century, a single Roman bishop. This was a hundred years after Peter’s martyrdom.
Another significant practice that has relevance for the historical claims of both Rome and the East is the practice of venerating icons. Here we have a practice that was universally condemned in the early church and first originated in the church in the sixth or seventh century. As Gavin Ortlund has helpfully explained in his book What It Means to Be Protestant, the veneration of icons entered the church after Christianity became the official religion of the state around the time of Constantine. There were huge numbers of pagan “converts” who flooded the church during that time to remain in good standing with the emperor, and many of them brought their pagan sensibilities and pagan practices with them. One such practice was the veneration of icons. So a practice that was universally condemned in the church for the first five hundred years of its existence became the accepted practice in the church. By the time the Second Council of Nicaea ended in 787, the unanimous view of the early church had been anathematized.
The Eastern Orthodox Church, though rejecting many of Rome’s distinctives, faces similar difficulties when its doctrines and practices are measured against the New Testament. Apart from the veneration of icons, the invocation of saints and paedocommunion are not biblically defensible. Moreover, the East’s emphasis on theosis, or “deification,” often imports Neoplatonic concepts of the soul’s ascent rather than relying on covenantal ideas of Scripture in which God condescends to us in Christ and conforms us into His image by His Spirit.
Contrary to the claims of Newman, to be deep in history is not to cease to be Protestant. In fact, to be deep in history is to understand why Protestantism arose in the first place. The Reformers saw how far Rome had fallen away from the teachings and practices of the Apostles and the earliest church. Protestants have no need to fear history, but they do need to study it deeply and widely to avoid falling for the confusing rhetorical tactics of Roman and Eastern apologists.