Unsurprisingly, Jesus used prepared wine and baked bread at the Last Supper (Matthew 26:17, Mark 14:12, Luke 22:8)
Although Evangelical Protestants and Roman Catholics both recognize the institution of the Lord’s Supper and celebrate it regularly, one of the several differences between the two is that Roman Catholics have added a liturgical step that is generally unfamiliar to most Protestants. As part of the Eucharistic rite of Roman Catholicism, the priest mixes a little water with the wine prior to consecration. So indispensable to the sacrament is the mixing of water with wine that the 22nd session of the Council of Trent (1562-1563) anathematized anyone who denied that step in the liturgy (Council of Trent, Session 22, Canons on the Sacrifice of the Mass, Canon IX). It may therefore come as a surprise that, as indispensable as the mixing of the water is to their liturgy, Roman Catholics do not actually know why they do it, do not know how much water to add, are not sure how to administer it correctly, and are not even sure what it is alleged to signify. And that is a pretty thin foundation for a liturgical rite, the denial of which is considered to be an excommunicable offense. Continue reading The Mingled Cup, part 1→
At the Council of Nicæa in 325 A.D., Alexandria and Antioch were both located within the civil diocese of Oriens.
Last year we posted two separate entries, False Teeth and “Unless I am Deceived…,” both dealing with the anachronistic projection of late 4th century civil boundaries of the Roman Empire retroactively onto the early 4th century text of Canon 6 of the Council of Nicæa. The anachronism has obscured the meaning of the canon since the days of Jerome (398 A.D.), Rufinus (403 A.D.) and Innocent I (411 A.D.). Continue reading Nicæa and the Roman Precedent→
The Scriptures identify the transition from Legs to Feet.
Historically, the church has had very little trouble identifying the time periods of the Gold, Silver, and Brass of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in Daniel 2. The time periods of the Lion, the Bear, and the Leopard are as easily identifiable in Daniel 7, as are those of the Ram and the He-goat in Daniel 8. Those figures represent a series of world empires, each dominating the world in succession—Babylon, Medo-Persia and Greece. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 6→
The Scriptures identify the transition from Legs to Feet.
In this series, we have been discussing the dating of John’s vision on Patmos based on the scriptural evidence. Although Irenæaus seems to place the vision at the end of the first century, other early writers of his era place it before Paul’s epistles and even as early as emperor Claudius, as we discussed in Part 1. While the external testimony is inconsistent and contradictory, we believe the date of the vision can be found based on the internal testimony, especially in light of the Danielic nature of the angelic narrator’s language in Revelation 17:10. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 5→
The Scriptures Identify the transition from Legs to Feet.
One thing that can be said of Jesus’ and John’s eschatology is that it is certainly Danielic. Jesus refers to Daniel both directly (Matthew 24:15, Mark 13:14) and indirectly (Matthew 21:44, 24:30, 26:64; Mark 13:26, 14:62) when speaking of the immediate and distant future. John’s descriptions of the dragon of Revelation 12, the sea beast of Revelation 13 and the scarlet beast of Revelation 17 are all derivative of the four beasts of Daniel 7. The scene of the throne room of Revelation 4-5 with “ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands” (5:11) surrounding the Lord is clearly resonant of the same scene depicted in Daniel 7:10 where “thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.” Our eschatology, like Jesus’ and John’s, must be Danielic as well. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 4→
The Scriptures Identify the Transition from Legs to Feet
In the previous two weeks we have discussed the dating of the book of Revelation based on the internal evidence. As we noted last week, the angelic narrator provides textual cues as to the dating of the book, and three of those cues are found in Revelation 17: the placement of the “scarlet coloured beast” of Revelation 17 chronologically between the red dragon of Revelation 12 and the sea beast of Revelation 13; the description of the beast which “was, and is not; and shall ascend,” and the placement of the vision between the fifth and seventh king of the empire (Revelation 17:10). John’s narrator was clearly providing cues to the dating of the book, and was using Danielic imagery to do it. When understanding Revelation 17 through the lens of Daniel 2, there are only three possible periods during which Revelation could have been written—during the Legs, during the Feet, or during the Toes of the Statue. Last week we ruled out the period of the Toes because the vision takes place when the ten Toes or ten Kings are yet future, and “have received no kingdom as yet” (Revelation 17:12). This week, we will rule out the period of the Feet altogether. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 3→
The Scriptures identify the transition from Legs to Feet
Last week, we began a discussion on the date of authorship of the book of Revelation, highlighting the angel’s discussion with John regarding the “scarlet coloured beast … having seven heads and ten horns” (Revelation 17:3). That seven-headed, ten-horned beast is a figure used repeatedly in Revelation (Revelation 12:3, 13:1, 17:3), and shows the significant symbolic unity the book shares with Daniel’s prophecies in Daniel 7. The Four Beasts of Daniel 7 together have seven heads and ten horns (1 Lion Head, 1 Bear Head, 4 Leopard Heads, 1 Beast Head with 10 horns upon it). Whatever the differences that exist between the “red dragon” (Revelation 12:3), sea beast (Revelation 13:1) and the “scarlet coloured beast” (Revelation 17:3), they are unified in their symbolic relationship to Daniel 7. Because the beasts of Daniel 7 share a strong chronological unity with Gold, Silver, Brass and Iron kingdoms of Daniel 2, we can also draw on that chronological unity to understand the date of John’s vision. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 2→
The date of John’s vision is contained in the Scriptures.
The dating of the Book of Revelation has been a matter of no small controversy throughout the history of the church, some writers placing its authorship during the reign of Claudius (41 – 54 A.D.), others placing it during the reign of Nero (54 – 68 A.D.), and others placing it in the reign of Domitian (81 – 96 A.D.). In the realm of eschatology, Preterists choose an early date, while Dispensationalists and Historicists choose the later. It is not a matter that can be resolved by external testimony, because the external testimony itself is contradictory. But the internal evidence is quite compelling. Continue reading Legs of Iron, part 1→
Jesus warned us about those who would say, ‘The kingdom of earth is at hand!’
When John the Baptist was sent forth preaching, he went about saying “Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 3:2). When Jesus received the news that John had been imprisoned, He took up John’s message and went forth preaching, “Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17). When His disciples tried “to make him a king,” Jesus fled from them (John 6:15). When Pilate questioned Him about His kingship, Jesus insisted, “My kingdom is not of this world … my kingdom not from hence” (John 18:36). When the Pharisees asked him “when the kingdom of God should come” he said, “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there!” (Luke 17:20-21). When His disciples asked him if He would “at this time restore again the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 1:6), Jesus responded that the time for establishing an Earthly Kingdom was not theirs to know, and instead of seeking to establish an Earthly Kingdom, they should focus rather on the preaching of a Heavenly one: Continue reading “The Kingdom of Earth is at Hand”→
Measure Rome first by the Word of God. And then by what she hates.
In our article last week, Longing for Nicæa, we mentioned that Rome’s relationship with the Early Church manifests in a love-hate dichotomy. She loves to identify with the era in order to allege antiquity, but she hates what she finds there, for it betrays her later origins. Last week we showed how frequently Rome appeals to the Nicæan and ante-Nicæan era to prove the antiquity of her novelties, and how frequently she is rebuffed by the Early Church. This week we show how frequently Rome has to distance herself from the Nicæan and ante-Nicæan church because the Early Church was in fact a different religion from Roman Catholicism. Continue reading The Object of Her Irrepressible Scorn→
Rome will never have that for which she longs the most.
Roman Catholicism, as a religion, is a novelty of the late fourth century, but in order to be taken seriously she must at every opportunity claim Nicæan and ante-Nicæan origins for her novelties. Yet at the same time, there is nothing so foreign to Roman Catholicism as the Nicæan and ante-Nicæan Church. For this reason, while Roman Catholicism constantly attempts to lay claim to apostolicity, she must always at the same time distance herself from the practices and beliefs of the Church of the apostles. It is a love-hate relationship. Rome strives diligently to identify herself with the apostolic era, and then exhausts herself explaining why the Church of that era was so different from Roman Catholicism. What we find as we examine Rome’s vain striving for antiquity and continuity is an uncomfortable truth that lies beneath the surface of all of her posturing, a truth that can never be uttered aloud: She does not know whence she came. Continue reading Longing for Nicæa→
Decades after Nicæa, Alexandria was still located within the Diocese of Oriens.
Last week we addressed the portion of Canon 6 of Nicæa which has for many centuries been used by Roman Catholic apologists to advance the case for Roman primacy. Their argument is based on one of the most pervasive myths in the history of ecclesiology. The text of Canon 6 refers to a “similar custom” regarding the Bishop of Rome, and uses that “similar custom” as the basis for recognizing the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan of Alexandria within the three specified provinces of Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis. As we discussed in last week’s article, the problem facing the council of Nicæa was that under Diocletian’s reorganization of the empire in 293 A.D., the Metropolitans of Alexandria and Antioch were located within a single civil diocese—the Diocese of Oriens, or “the East.” Diocletian’s arrangement made it impossible for the council simply to define Metropolitan jurisdiction in diocesan terms. To do so would have perpetuated the very problem the council was attempting to solve. Continue reading “Unless I am deceived…”→
The Council of Nicæa recognized that the Bishop of Rome was a small fish in a big pond.
The Council of Nicæa, as church historians well know, was convened to address the errors of Arianism. Early in the 4th century, Alexander of Alexandria, sent a letter to Constantinople warning of the spreading error (Alexander of Alexandria, To Alexander, Bishop of the City of Constantinople, paragraph 1 (320 A.D.)). Within four years the dispute had captured the attention of the emperor, who sent his emissary, Bishop Hosius of Cordoba, to Alexandria to lend his prestige to the resolution of the matter (Socrates Scholasticus, Ecclesiastical History, Book I, Chapter 7). Finally, in 325 A.D., a general council was convened in Nicæa to address the matter and put it to rest. Because of its significance to the doctrinal health of the church, the Arian heresy typically receives first billing whenever the Council of Nicæa is described. But there was another significant matter, another dispute, that threatened the administrative health of the church. The way that dispute was addressed at Nicæa puzzled Patristic writers and church historians for the next twelve hundred years and led to one of the most pervasive myths in the history of ecclesiology. That dispute was the matter of Metropolitan jurisdiction and the boundaries within which a Metropolitan bishop was authorized to act. The myth that resulted from Nicæa’s solution was the false belief that the Council had acknowledged the primacy of the Bishop of Rome.
If Maurice de la Taille is right, then Jesus founded His Church upon a cumulative probability of zero.
Those who have read our recent article, Melito’s Sacrifice, or last year’s Removing Jesus, are by now familiar with the Roman Catholic propensity for moving Jesus’ sacrifice back to Thursday night at the Last Supper. Rome’s sacrifice of the Mass is ostensibly grounded in Jesus’ institution of the Lord’s Supper, and because Roman Catholicism considers the Mass to be a sacrifice, her apologists are ever eager to turn the Last Supper into a sacrifice of Jesus’ body and blood. As we have noted, apologist Art Sippo says “The Last Supper was the real sacrificial offering of Christ for sin” (Catholic Legate, Q&A on the Sacraments), and apologist Scott Hahn says “Jesus’ institution of the Holy Eucharist was nothing less than the sacrifice of the New Covenant Passover” (Scott Hahn, The Bible and the Sacrifice of the Mass, 9:00-9:10).
The Roman Catholic mass sacrifice is essentially meaningless if Rome cannot prove that Jesus actually sacrificed His body and blood on Thursday night. One of the main points in Hahn’s talk on the sacrifice of the Mass was that he did not finally understand this concept until he read the 2nd century work, Peri Pascha, by Melito of Sardis. Yet when one reads Melito’s Peri Pascha, there is simply no reference to a Thursday sacrifice. Every reference to Jesus’ sacrifice in Peri Pascha is a reference to the cross. What we found with Hahn we have found to be typical of Roman apologists—they must first read their beliefs into the Early Church first in order to get the Early Church to reflect their beliefs. Continue reading The ‘Certainty’ of ‘Cumulative Probability’→
The Early Church rejected as “unlawful” and “unholy” the Roman Catholic novelty of relic veneration.
Over the last month we reviewed the history of Roman Catholicism’s use of the Council of Sardica to claim Roman Primacy, focusing last week on Pope Zosimus’ and Pope Leo’s attempts to stamp that alleged primacy with Nicene authority. It was under their pontificates—and the intervening pontificates of Boniface, Celestine and Sixtus III—that the canons of Sardica (343 A.D.) were circulated as if they were the canons of Nicæa (325 A.D.), and thus were used to advance two errors simultaneously: 1) the claim that the Council of Sardica had affirmed Roman Primacy, and 2) the claim that Roman Primacy had manifested as early as the Nicene era. The error of Zosimus and the fraud of Leo are just one example of what we see consistently in Roman Catholicism: the attempt to stamp novel and idolatrous practices with Nicene and ante-Nicene authenticity. The more distant the origins of the idolatry from Nicæa , the more creative the historical revisionism necessary to “prove” the antiquity of the practice. Relic veneration is one more example of this propensity in Roman apologetics. Continue reading Diggin’ Up Bones→
In Rome, there is no evidence that cannot be adjusted to conform to a predetermined verdict.
Last week we concluded our analysis of the Council of Sardica in 343 A.D., as well as the correspondence leading up to it. As we noted, the council recognized Roman metropolitanism, but not Roman primacy. It is true that bishop Hosius said that those who choose to appeal in Rome should submit their appeal through Julius, the metropolitan bishop there. But he also said that any metropolitan in any metropolis in any province could handle appeals as well. The venue for appeal was up to the accused (Sardica, Canon 5), “[b]ut those who come to Rome ought” to appeal through Julius in memory of Peter (Sardica, Canon 9). Hosius’ particular reference to Rome was not because of Roman primacy but rather due to the fact that he had been commissioned to review the facts of the case, and the facts of the case included Athanasius’ appeal to Julius in Rome. When the facts of the case were related to an appeal to Alexandria (as in Canon 14), the deposed clergyman was “to take refuge with the bishop of the metropolis” in his province without demanding a resolution “in advance of the decision of his case.” Likewise, the deposing bishop was not to “take it ill that examination of the case be made, and his decision confirmed or revised.” Whether the matter related to Athanasius’ deposition, or Ischyras’ deposition, Constantine’s rules of appeal were to be followed. Instead of advancing the case of Roman primacy, bishop Hosius had rather codified the primacy of the Constantinian appeals process that widely expanded access to justice and minimized direct appeals to the Imperial Court, while keeping his court open as the final venue of appeal. Even the court in Rome was required by Sardica to compile its findings and “send them to the Court” of the Emperor for ratification (Sardica, Canon 9). Continue reading Anatomy of A Deception (part 4)→
In Rome, there is no evidence that cannot be adjusted to conform to a predetermined verdict.
Last week, we examined Hosius of Spain, and his more than five decade career as an accomplished jurist and prominent bishop, especially his efforts to codify Constantine’s judicial reforms in the canons of the church. Once the data is evaluated, it becomes very clear that when the Council of Sardica was convened—bishop Hosius presiding—its purpose was to evaluate the evidence collected and the sententiam issued by the lower court in Rome and prepare a judgment to forward to the Emperor in order, finally, to settle the dispute. The whole process was taking place under the rubric of Constantine’s judicial reforms. Julius’ complaint to the Eusebian (Arian) party, therefore, was not that they had failed to recognize Roman primacy, but rather that they had failed to comply with their obligations under Constantine’s reformed judiciary. Continue reading Anatomy of a Deception (part 3)→
In Rome, there is no evidence that cannot be adjusted to conform to a predetermined verdict.
Last week we discussed the Roman Catholic argument from the events leading up to and surrounding the Council of Sardica in 343 A.D.—particularly the claim that “pope” Julius of Rome asserted papal primacy in his letter to the Eusebian party at Antioch, as well as the claim that the Council of Sardica confirmed it. As we showed last week, Julius actually denied papal and Roman primacy, and rebuked the appellants in Antioch for writing to him alone when they should have written “to us all” so that “all” could render a decision together. Their failure to write to everyone (instead of Rome alone) was a violation of Church canon. Continue reading Anatomy of a Deception (part 2)→
In Rome, there is no evidence that cannot be adjusted to conform to a predetermined verdict.
Last week we concluded an eight-week series on the Early Church’s position on papal, Roman and Petrine primacy. As we demonstrated, the Early Church did not want or seek a chief earthly metropolis, did not recognize a chief episcopate in Rome, and did not believe there was a visible chief shepherd on earth. Her Chief Shepherd ruled the Church from heaven. Further, the early Church believed that every lawfully elected bishop on earth was a successor to St. Peter and sat in his Chair, and on some occasions it was necessary to correct, rebuke and separate from the bishop of Rome in order to preserve the Petrine unity of the Church. Continue reading Anatomy of a Deception (part 1)→
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