In the last month, we have witnessed the death of one pope and the election of another, and as typically happened, we saw reporters speaking in solemn tones about the unbroken line of succession from Peter to Leo XIV. Also, recent months have seen a spate of reports, mostly by evangelicals, claiming a large number of conversions of evangelicals (i.e., the Baptistic traditions) to Eastern Orthodoxy and Rome. A search of Google Ngram suggests, in fact, that public discussion of evangelicals converting to Eastern Orthodoxy peaked about 1979–80 and has been declining since. The same search for discussion of evangelical conversions to Roman Catholicism produces nearly identical results. Nevertheless, it is easy to find people discussing the perceived movement from the various evangelical traditions to Rome and to the Eastern churches. This is especially true on social media. Anecdotal evidence, for whatever that is worth, abounds. If this train exists, if it is not a ghost, I would like to pull the emergency brake to give potential converts something to consider.

It is not difficult to see why evangelicals might consider leaving their congregations for churches that have the appearance of antiquity, stability, and continuity. Apologists for the Eastern Churches boast that they represent the most ancient Christian church with an unbroken tradition reaching back to the Apostles. This, of course, is mostly apologetics and public relations. The Eastern Churches as we know them today certainly have, in important ways, roots in the ancient church, but so do the Western Churches. The truth is that the Greek Fathers of the second and third centuries, and for all that, the Greek Fathers of the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries, would not recognize significant aspects of today’s Eastern Churches. The most important aspect being the use of icons, which is central to the theology, piety, and practice of the contemporary Eastern Church. Those icons were not only unknown in most ancient Greek churches, but they were forbidden.¹ There were no glorious metropolises in the second and third centuries. Though the Eastern churches have preserved a good bit of Origen’s theology, much of their theology has more to do with the eighth century than it does with the second.

In this essay, however, I want to focus on the attraction to evangelicals of the Roman communion. In Recovering the Reformed Confession (2008) I tried to call attention to two sources of trouble in the Reformed churches. One of them is the Quest for Illegitimate Religious Certainty (QIRC). That tendency exists in every Christian tradition and it is a partial explanation of the attraction of Rome (and Constantinople) to fundamentalists, evangelicals, and even members of Reformed Churches. The QIRC is the attempt to find a kind of certainty that we should not seek. Invariably it is a kind of certainty that does not rest on God’s Word as confessed by the churches. The essence of the QIRC is the need to be right about something. In the case of evangelical converts to Rome, they are often looking for someone to relieve them of the uncertainty of late-modern life. They are looking for an institution, symbolized by the Roman Bishop, in which to place their implicit trust.

It is perhaps understandable that evangelical laity, tossed to and fro by scandals perpetrated by unaccountable “rock star” pastors, might look to a church that was not founded last week by a religious entrepreneur, where the liturgy seems grander than the latest praise songs, blue lights, drum kits, and smoke machines. After all, the Roman communion purports to be led by the direct successor to the Apostle Peter, the “rock” upon whom Christ founded his church (Matt 16:18). Rome professes to represent the apostolic ministry with an unbroken chain of succession, which ministers the literal (transubstantiated) body and blood of Christ. A given pope permitting, a zealous convert might even be able to find a Latin mass.

Of course, on investigation and reflection, what might appear true to the star-struck would-be evangelical convert to Rome, is not what it seems. First, our potential convert is merely trading one pope for another. The unaccountable Bible church pastor who leads his current congregation is a local pope with all the baggage that entails. If his pastor is charismatic, then the potential convert is exchanging one form of extra-canonical revelation for another. As for rock stars, have you seen the Popemobile? The papacy invented the rock-star pastor and his entourage puts Joel Osteen’s to shame. The sage of Houston might have a security team but he does not have the Swiss Guards. Even the grandest megachurch celebrity preacher cannot summon the college of cardinals or phone his own bank or send an ambassador to the United States. Even the greatest of the evangelical celebrities would not have the nerve to call himself Supreme Pontiff, but the Roman Bishop does it without blushing. Our evangelical convert is really just exchanging a low-brow local version of an older, richer, and bolder version of the same thing.

Yes, our erstwhile convert might object, all that may be true, but is the Bishop of Rome not the successor of the Apostle Peter? If we are doing history, the answer to that question is complicated and murky. In school we used to learn the list of presidents of the United States: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, etc. About that list, there is no doubt, but remarkably, the same cannot be said about the papacy.

Donald Trump is the forty-seventh president of the United States. He succeeded Joseph Biden, who succeeded Trump, who, in turn, succeeded Barack Obama. As we approach the 250th anniversary of the USA, we know with certainty that Adams succeeded Washington, but within a century of Peter’s death, there was already confusion over exactly who succeeded him.

Rome claims,

When Christ instituted the Twelve, “he constituted [them] in the form of a college or permanent assembly, at the head of which he placed Peter, chosen from among them.” Just as “by the Lord’s institution, St. Peter and the rest of the apostles constitute a single apostolic college, so in like fashion the Roman Pontiff, Peter’s successor, and the bishops, the successors of the apostles, are related with and united to one another.” ²

That the Bishop of Rome is Peter’s successor is crucial to the claims of the papacy, but those claims hang by a thin exegetical and historical thread. First and briefly, the exegetical problems. It is most probable that our Lord did make Peter the rock on whom he would build his church, but did he, in that statement, institute the papacy? Hardly. If that inference holds, then we must also say that our Lord instituted the Antichrist. After all, when Peter confesses Jesus to be the Christ, he is the rock but when (just five verses later) he seeks to prevent Jesus’ death he is Satan: “But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan!'” (Matt 16:23). The second passage, a direct parallel to the first, demonstrates that Rome’s claim about Matthew 16:17 is untenable. What makes Peter “the rock” is his profession. This is not some radical Protestant interpretation. It has roots going back to Ambrose of Milan.³

If Peter was the vicar of Christ on the earth, the Bishop of Rome and the universal Bishop of the Church, no one told the Apostle Paul. He wrote an epistle to the church at Rome and he forgot to greet the Pope. Peter did not even warrant a mention in chapter 16, even though Paul has quite an extensive list of people to greet. Were Peter actually Pope, Paul’s failure to acknowledge him would be nothing less than a massive affront.

Moreover, though there is some evidence in the early church that Peter was in Rome, there is no evidence in the New Testament that he was in Rome nor is there any evidence in the New Testament or in the second century, in the early post-Apostolic church, that 1) there was a papacy or 2) that Peter was regarded as Christ’s successor as Papa or Pontifex Maximus. It was not until Damasus I (AD c. 304–84) that a Bishop of Rome thought to call himself Papa. No Bishop of Rome called himself the “Vicar of Christ” until the eighth century.

Whoever wrote 1 Clement (c. AD 90–110) certainly did not regard himself as Pope. In fact, we do not even know who wrote that epistle to Corinth that we call 1 Clement. Ignatius of Antioch, writing in the very early second century, was a senior pastor of the church in Antioch with a high view of the episcopal/pastoral office, but he also had a high view of the presbyterial and diaconal office. There is nothing in Ignatius about a papacy nor do we see him teaching that the presbyterial and diaconal offices descend from the episkopos.

As I suggested earlier, there is still a greater problem with the very idea of a continuous episcopal succession in Rome. The lists do not agree and Roman Catholic attempts to fix this problem are, frankly, from a historical perspective, question begging (assuming what must be proved), and unpersuasive.

Irenaeus wrote in AD 180s:

The blessed apostles, therefore, having founded and built up the Church, handed over to Linus the bishopric for administrating the Church. In his epistle to Timothy, Paul mentions this Linus. Anacletus succeeded him; after him, in third place from the apostles, Clement acquired the bishopric. He both saw the blessed apostles themselves and conferred with them, and still had the preaching of the apostles ringing in his ears and their tradition before his eyes. In this he was not alone, for there were many others still left at that time who had been taught by the apostles.⁴

First, Irenaeus did not say that Peter handed over to Linus the bishopric. He specifically cited the apostles, which suggests a collegiate understanding of the seat of authority rather than a monarchical understanding, which the Roman claim requires, and this is the earliest evidence we have of any kind of succession.⁵

Second, we know virtually nothing about Linus. Paul mentions a Linus in 2 Timothy 4:21. This is a very thin bit of evidence. Most of what is claimed about Linus and Anacletus is drawn from the Liber Pontificalis (the Pope Book), the earliest version of which dates to the early sixth century but which was expanded over the centuries.⁶

Tertullian, however, writing in the very early third century, had a different order:

But if any heresies venture to plant themselves in the apostolic age, so that they may be thought to have been handed down by the apostles because they existed in their time, we can say, Let them exhibit the origins of their churches, let them unroll the list of their bishops, coming down from the beginning by succession in such a way that their first bishop had for his originator and predecessor one of the apostles or apostolic men; one, I mean, who continued with the apostles. For this is how the apostolic churches record their origins. The church of Smyrna, for example, reports that Polycarp was placed there by John, the church of Rome that Clement was ordained by Peter. In just the same way the other churches produced men who were appointed to the office of bishop by the apostles and so transmitted the apostolic seed to them.⁷

So, who succeeded Peter, Linus or Clement? Within the space of about three decades two early fathers disagree. This is roughly equivalent to someone during the Jackson administration positing that Jefferson succeeded Washington. That sort of ambiguity would seem to be significant. It suggests that no one in the late first century or even in the early to mid-second century was concerned about this matter. People simply were not thinking of Peter as the Pope nor were they worrying about his successor.

Eusebius (AD c. 260–c. 340), in the early fourth century, thought that Linus succeeded Peter as episkopos of Rome.⁸ Writing in the late fourth century Epiphanius of Salmis (c. 315–403) offered yet a different list:

For the bishops at Rome were, first, Peter and Paul, the apostles themselves and also bishops—then Linus, then Cletus, then Clement, a contemporary of Peter and Paul whom Paul mentions in the Epistle to the Romans. And no one need wonder why others before him succeeded the apostles in the episcopate, even though he was contemporary with Peter and Paul—for he too is the apostles’ contemporary.⁹

In this case, Epiphanius, who was a stout defender of Christian orthodoxy, writing about two centuries after Irenaeus, thought that both Paul and Peter were bishops of Rome. Where is Petrine supremacy and papal succession now? If there is an unbroken succession of popes beginning with Peter, one would expect a much clearer picture in the sources.

I understand the frustration experienced by evangelicals looking for something more profound, something more historical, a tradition with gravitas. Whatever the Vatican may claim and whatever talking points the media figures may repeat, the history is not what is often claimed. Christ, not the bishop of Rome, is head of his church. He is the sole object of saving faith. He has instituted a visible church. The confessional Reformed churches are descended from the apostolic church and the early post-apostolic church. In the Reformation we sought to recover the best theology, piety, and practice of the ancient church. We sought to recover the worship of the early church. It is true that many Reformed churches in our time have drifted from the Reformation vision of church and worship but the seeds of the ancient practice are still present. Unlike the Roman communion, the Reformed churches are reformable. We have a confession. We are committed to the final, unique authority of God’s Word. We have the gospel, sacraments, and discipline and accountability for her pastors. You do not need to go to Rome, as it were, to find the church for which you are looking. It is nearer than you know.

notes

1. See our Resources of Image of Christ.
2. Catechism of the Catholic Church, second edition (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997), §880.
3. ” It is clear that Ambrose’s exegesis of the great Petrine texts which were to supply that jurisdiction with its theological substructure was inconsistent, and in any case fell short of identifying the apostle with the later popes. If, for example, he sometimes interprets Matt. 16:18 as implying that the Church was erected upon St. Peter, even adding that ‘where Peter is, there is the Church’, his fuller discussion of the text suggests that the rock mentioned in it was not the apostle’s person so much as his faith in Christ’s Messiahship or divinity, or even the Saviour Himself, the object of his faith.5 Similarly, while sometimes attributing special authority over the Church to St. Peter himself, he also states that the gift of the keys was not bestowed on St. Peter personally or exclusively, but as the representative of the apostles and of all Catholic bishops descending from them.” J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, Fifth, Revised (London; New Delhi; New York; Sydney: Bloomsbury, 1977), 418.
4. Irenaeus of Lyons, St. Irenaeus of Lyons: Against the Heresies, 3.3, ed. Irenaeus M. C. Steenberg, trans. Dominic J. Unger, vol. 64, Ancient Christian Writers (New York; Mahwah, NJ: The Newman Press, 2012), 32–33.
5. Cf. J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, Fifth, Revised (London; New Delhi; New York; Sydney: Bloomsbury, 1977), 205–06.
6. The Book of the Popes (Liber Pontificalis, trans. Louis Ropes Loomis (New York: Columbia University Press, 1916), 6–7. The compiler relied upon the Liberian Catalogue, an early lists of popes dated c. AD 354.
7. Tertullian, The Prescriptions Against The Heretics, §32, trans. in Early Latin Theology, Library of Christian Classics, trans. S. L. Greenslade (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956), 52–53.
8. “After the martyrdom of Paul and Peter, Linus was the first appointed to the bishopric of the church of Rome.” Eusebius, The Ecclesiastical History, 2.1, ed. T. E. Page et al., trans. Kirsopp Lake and J. E. L. Oulton, vol. 1, The Loeb Classical Library (London; New York; Cambridge, MA: William Heinemann; G. P. Putnam’s Sons; Harvard University Press, 1926–32), 191.
9. Epiphanius, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, 27.6,1, 2nd edition, Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies vol. 63, trans. Frank Williams (Leiden: Brill), 113.

©R. Scott Clark. All Rights Reserved.

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Post authored by:

• R. Scott Clark

  

  R.Scott Clark is the President of the Heidelberg Reformation Association, the author and editor of, and contributor to several books and the author of many articles. He has taught church history and historical theology since 1997 at Westminster Seminary California. He has also taught at Wheaton College, Reformed Theological Seminary, and Concordia University. He has hosted the Heidelblog since 2007.

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