Three concessions first, because the Catholic case is
stronger with them than without them. Peter denied his Lord
three times and wavered at Antioch. Some popes have disgraced
the office as thoroughly as the left panel says. And the
solemn definition of infallibility does indeed date from
1870. None of this is denied; the question is what follows
from it — and what Scripture, read whole, actually
shows about the fisherman and his place.
The Portrait Scripture Paints
Set aside Matthew 16 entirely for a moment and simply watch
Peter. He is named in the New Testament roughly one hundred
ninety times; John, the nearest rival among the Twelve,
appears about thirty. Every list of the
Twelve puts him first, and Matthew makes the ranking
explicit: “first, Simon, who is called Peter”
(Matt. 10:2) — protos, though Andrew his
brother was called before him. He speaks for the Twelve at
every hinge: at Caesarea Philippi, at Capernaum
(“Lord, to whom shall we go?”), in the
courtyard, at the tomb, at Pentecost. On the night of the
betrayal, Jesus tells the apostles that Satan has demanded
to sift you — plural, all of them —
and then turns to one: “but I have prayed for
you” — singular — “that
your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again,
strengthen your brethren” (Luke 22:31–32). And
after the resurrection, the risen Christ asks Peter three
times — once for each denial — “do you
love me?”, and three times commissions him:
“feed my sheep” (John 21:15–17). The
sheep are Christ’s — my sheep —
and the shepherd under Him is Peter. This is not a
proof-text; it is a pattern, drawn across four Gospels and
Acts, and patterns are harder to explain away than
verses.1
Acts: The Pattern Continues
In Acts the pattern walks. Peter presides over the
replacement of Judas (Acts 1), preaches the Church’s
first sermon (Acts 2), works its first healing, answers for
it before the Sanhedrin, pronounces its first discipline
(Acts 5), and — by a revelation given to him and no
one else — opens the door to the Gentiles (Acts 10).
At the Jerusalem council, “after there had been much
debate, Peter rose” — and the debate ends; the
assembly falls silent (Acts 15:7, 12). James then applies
the decision Peter’s testimony has settled, as a local
president applies it, which answers the objection rather
than raising it: speaking last and framing the decree is
what a moderator does; ending the argument is what Peter
did.2
As for Antioch — Paul rebuked Peter’s
conduct, his eating arrangements, not his teaching;
and the sting of the episode depends entirely on
Peter’s example carrying unique weight. Nobody drafts
half of Galatians about the inconsistency of a nobody.
The Rock, the Keys, and the Office
Matthew 16 should be read with all this around it. The
wordplay objection dissolves in Aramaic, where Jesus spoke
one word — Kepha — and John preserves
it (John 1:42); and a man is not given a new name to
commemorate somebody else’s foundation. As for the
fear that a rock-Peter competes with the foundation that is
Christ: Scripture happily calls Christ the one foundation,
the apostles together a foundation, and Peter rock —
the metaphors serve different truths, as they do when Christ
is the Good Shepherd and Peter is told to shepherd. The
keys of Matthew 16:19 are the decisive detail, because they
come from Isaiah 22, where the key of the house of David
marks the office of the king’s chief steward —
an office that is not the king’s rival but his
deputy’s, and an office the Isaiah passage shows
passing from one holder to the next. That argument —
the steward, and the succession built into the image —
is made in full on
the apostolic succession page,
and this page leans on it rather than repeating it.3
Augustine’s two readings, honestly cited by the left
panel, are no difficulty: the confession and the confessor
are not rivals either — Peter is rock precisely
as confessing — and Augustine, who let both
readings stand, lived and died in communion with the Roman
see and appealed to its judgment.
What Vatican I Actually Defined
Now put the 1870 definition on the table, in its own words,
because almost no one who objects to it has read it. The
council taught “that when the Roman Pontiff speaks
ex cathedra, that is, when, in the exercise of his
office as shepherd and teacher of all Christians, in virtue
of his supreme apostolic authority, he defines a doctrine
concerning faith or morals to be held by the whole
church, he possesses… that infallibility which the
divine Redeemer willed his church to enjoy in defining
doctrine concerning faith or morals.”4
Count the conditions: the pope must be exercising his
office as shepherd of the whole Church, not musing at
dinner; he must be defining, not opining; the matter must
be faith or morals; the definition must bind the whole
Church. It is a negative protection inside narrow walls
— not sinlessness, not inspiration, not new
revelation, not a promise that popes will be wise, holy, or
even adequate. In that solemn form it has been exercised
twice in two centuries. The bad popes are therefore beside
the definition’s point — a claim about
protected teaching is not touched by unprotected
behavior — and the strongest historical
counter-example, Honorius, defined nothing at all, as is
shown where his case is treated on
the Orthodoxy page.5
1870, and What Was New in It
Was the dogma invented in 1870? What 1870 did was define
— under challenge, as definitions always come —
what the Church had long practiced. Within the first
century, with the apostle John likely still alive, the
church of Rome was already intervening authoritatively in
the affairs of Corinth — a Greek church with closer
apostolic neighbors — and the early record of
Rome’s acting, and being appealed to, is set out with
its sources on the
Great Schism page.
Definition following long practice is the normal grammar of
doctrine — the Trinity waited until 325, the canon of
Scripture until later still — and a Protestant who
accepts Nicaea’s late definition of Christ’s
deity cannot disqualify a doctrine merely for the date of
its defining. As for the minority bishops of 1870: they
doubted the opportuneness of defining, most of
them, not the truth of the doctrine — and after the
council, they accepted it.6
The Antichrist Clause
One last word about Westminster’s hardest sentence,
answered without heat. The exegesis behind it — that
the “man of sin” of 2 Thessalonians 2 is
the papal office — requires the Church of God to be
the seat of Satan through the very centuries in which that
Church, by Protestant reckoning too, preserved the
Scriptures, defined the Trinity, and carried the gospel to
the nations. The Westminster tradition itself retreated
from the sentence in 1789. What remains, once the polemic
is set aside, is the real question this page began with:
whether Christ gave His flock a visible shepherd under
Himself. The reader has now seen the evidence on both
panels — the verses, the pattern, the definition, and
the objections at full strength — and can weigh
whether the office Jesus described at the Sea of Tiberias
sounds like a human invention: feed my sheep.7
The full essay walks the whole case: Peter’s
place in the Gospels and Acts text by text, the keys
and the steward’s office, what Pastor
Aeternus defines and expressly declines to claim,
Honorius and the bad popes, and the development
question answered on its own terms. Download it from
the summary below — and the comments are open,
anonymously if you prefer.
Endnotes
- Matthew 10:2; Luke 22:31–32 (RSV; the Greek second-person plural and singular are explicit); John 21:15–17. On the counts of names in the New Testament, tallies vary slightly by method; Peter’s dominance does not. ↩
- Acts 1:15–26; 2:14–41; 3:1–10; 4:8–12; 5:1–11; 10:9–48; 15:7–12 (RSV). ↩
- John 1:42; Isaiah 22:20–22 (RSV: “I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut”); Matthew 16:19. ↩
- Vatican I, Pastor Aeternus (18 July 1870), ch. 4, in the translation at papalencyclicals.net; the definition concludes that such definitions are irreformable “of themselves, and not by the consent of the church.” ↩
- The two exercises generally counted are the definitions of the Immaculate Conception (1854) and the Assumption (1950). On what infallibility is not, see also the treatment on the apostolic succession page. ↩
- 1 Clement (c. 96), the letter of the Roman church to Corinth. On the council’s minority and its subsequent adherence, see the standard histories of Vatican I; Döllinger’s was the conspicuous exception, not the rule. ↩
- 2 Thessalonians 2:3–4; Westminster Confession XXV.6 (1647) and the American revision of 1789. ↩