On Papal Supremacy: a debate between a Papist and Reformed Catholic (final part)
Preface
As with the first article, this entry continues my response to a Papist who seeks to defend the doctrine of Papal Supremacy—both from Scripture and from the writings of the Fathers of our beloved and Apostolic Church. His reply, which will be presented and addressed in detail below, was meant to strengthen his earlier claims. Yet, as you will see, much of what he offers only repeats or worsens his former errors.
Note carefully his evasions, his misrepresentations, and the way he twists the words of those bright witnesses of the ancient faith. I pray that, in reading, your heart is stirred—not with bitterness, but with a righteous zeal and holy indignation against the spirit that animates such distortions—the very spirit which, in its full expression, characterizes the Roman system.
Rome has sat upon her seven hills long enough, clothed in borrowed robes and quoting dead men she never understood.
She says, "I sit as queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow."
But the voice from heaven says:
"Come out of her, my people..for her sins have reached unto heaven."
The Papist begins his refutation of my response with these words of acknowledgment and preface:
“I see where you're going with this you're citing early Church Fathers who interpret Matthew 16:18 as referring to Peter's faith rather than his person, implying that the Church is built on faith in Christ, not on Peter himself. This is a common Protestant argument against papal primacy.”
That, of course, was not the whole of my presentation—though I certainly devoted several slides to the matter—demonstrating clearly that many of the Church Fathers held the view that the “rock” in Matthew 16 refers, properly speaking, to Peter’s confession.
I. Multiple Interpretations
To this you respond with exclamation: “The Fathers offered varying interpretations—some say Peter himself is the rock, others his faith—but these are not in conflict. Peter is the rock in his person, and that authority continues in the Bishop of Rome.”
You go so far as to suggest that this diversity of interpretation among the Fathers somehow supports the claim of papal primacy. But such reasoning is fantastical. It is as if one were to say that because scientists disagree on the nature of quantum mechanics, they therefore all affirm that Einstein was Pope. Mere contradiction does not produce unity, much less doctrinal authority.
Let us then examine the citations you bring forward as evidence of Peter’s unique role—those which, you claim, show that Christ formally identified Peter’s person, and not merely his confession, as the rock. Chief among these, you appeal to Augustine, quoting from his Letter 53: “If the order of bishops is to be considered, how much more securely, truly, and rightly do we reckon it from Peter himself, to whom the Lord said, ‘Upon this rock I will build my Church.’”
Yet were you truly familiar with the writings of that venerable Father, you would know that these were early words of his, later revisited and corrected in his own Retractions. In chapter 20 of that work, Augustine writes:
“In a passage in this book, I said about the Apostle Peter: ‘On him as on a rock the Church was built’… But I know that very frequently at a later time, I so explained what the Lord said: ‘Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church,’ that it be understood as built upon Him whom Peter confessed saying: ‘Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,’ and so Peter, called after this rock, represented the person of the Church which is built upon this rock, and has received ‘the keys of the kingdom of heaven.’
For, ‘Thou art Peter’ and not ‘Thou art the rock’ was said to him. But ‘the rock was Christ,’ in confessing whom, as also the whole Church confesses, Simon was called Peter.”
Even when Augustine seems to attribute significance to Peter’s person, he later clarifies and corrects himself—emphatically teaching that the true rock is not the man, but the Messiah whom he confessed.
You also appeal to St. John Chrysostom, claiming that in his 54th Homily on Matthew he declared:
“Peter himself is the rock… for he is called a rock not only because of his faith, but because he has strengthened the Church.”
But should I feign surprise that no such words appear anywhere in that homily? For what we actually find is this:
“…therefore He added this, ‘And I say unto you, You are Peter, and upon this rock will I build my Church;’ Matthew 16:18—that is, on the faith of his confession. Hereby He signifies that many were now on the point of believing, and raises his spirit, and makes him a shepherd.”
Once again, Rome invokes Chrysostom when it suits her designs—and in this case, the Papist in question has summoned a fabrication, placing foreign words in the mouth of the Golden-Tongued Father to support the claims of Papal primacy. Yet he conveniently omits the clear witness Chrysostom bears: that it is Peter’s confession—not his person—that is the true foundation of the Church.
II. Scripture pointing to Peter as Rock
You proceed to repeat a well-worn line of reasoning, stating:
“In Matthew 16:18, Christ says: ‘You are Peter (Πέτρος), and upon this rock (πέτρα) I will build my Church.’ The name Peter means ‘rock’—this is a clear wordplay in Greek and Aramaic. If Christ meant faith alone, He could have said, ‘Upon faith, I will build my Church,’ but He deliberately connects it to Peter.”
To begin with, our Lord does not say, “Thou art Peter, and upon thee I will build My Church,” but rather, “upon this rock.” This shift in expression is both deliberate and linguistically marked, even in the Greek, by the change in gender: Petros (masculine) and petra (feminine). We are clearly dealing, then, with two distinct but related subjects: Peter, and the confession he uttered—the acknowledgment of Christ as the living and true God.
The notion that this is “mere wordplay” has already been addressed in my previous treatment of Matthew 16:18; but let it suffice here to say that your argument is tenuous at best. Had our Lord intended to establish Peter’s person as the singular, unambiguous foundation of His Church, He could have done so in plain and unmistakable terms. But He did not. Your recourse to linguistic ambiguity—that the Aramaic or Syriac Cepha lacks the gender distinction and thereby erases the nuance—is nothing more than a tired echo of Bellarmine and Bailly, whom Rivet and Voetius have thoroughly answered. If your interpretation held, Matthew, writing under inspiration and in Greek, would have preserved that alleged clarity—but instead he dispels all confusion by his precise distinction in terms.
Furthermore, even if we lacked access to the apostolic languages, the Latin Vulgate—deemed authoritative by the Papists themselves—would suffice. In that version, Peter (Petrus) and the rock (petra) are clearly distinguished, not merely by grammatical ending, but also by gender: petra being feminine, which would be an improper and absurd designation for Petrus unless it were meant as a common noun, not a proper name—thus referring not to the man, but to something else entirely.
You assert that Christ deliberately connects Peter to the rock—and in this, we do not disagree. For the rock is indeed linked to Peter: not as a person exalted above his peers, but as the first to confess the truth upon which the Church is founded—the truth that Christ is the Son of the living God.
III. Tertullian and Origen
You next invoke Tertullian and Origen in an attempt to demonstrate that the early Church acknowledged Peter’s primacy, citing Tertullian as stating in Contra Heresies §22:
“Was anything hidden from Peter, who was called the rock on which the Church would be built?”
First, I would note that you appear to place this citation both in Contra Heresies and in On Modesty—a confusion not uncommon in papalist polemics, though I shall let it pass for now. From this one line, you leap to the conclusion that in calling Peter the rock, Tertullian thereby affirms the Pope’s universal jurisdiction, as though the Bishop of Rome inherits Peter’s office by divine right. But this is an unwarranted assumption. Tertullian is simply paraphrasing the biblical narrative—acknowledging what Christ said to Peter—without applying it to Rome, or grounding any broader ecclesiological structure in it.
Indeed, when read in context, Prescription Against Heretics §22 does not address papal supremacy at all. Tertullian is arguing that the truth of the Christian faith precedes all heresy, and that the apostolic churches alone possess legitimate doctrine because they received it directly from the apostles. He writes:
“We must inquire what is the rule of faith, and from whom, and by whom, and when, and to whom it was delivered, which makes us Christians.”
Thus, when he references Peter, he is invoking him as one among many apostolic witnesses—not as a monarch among servants, and certainly not as a prototype for a Roman pontiff.
This is made all the clearer in the immediate context, where Tertullian continues:
“You have St. John, too… you have James… you have each apostle.”
Peter is not isolated nor exalted above the rest; he is mentioned first, yes—but only as part of the whole, a fellow bearer of the apostolic deposit. To read into this a papal monarchy is to impose a foreign system upon a text utterly alien to it. Tertullian does not place Peter on a throne over the other apostles, but includes him within their collegial authority.
Indeed, I would suggest—though I do not insist—that Tertullian’s use of Peter’s name may be metonymic, referring not to the man alone, but to the confession he made, which is the true foundation of the Church. Yet whether that is so or not makes little difference, for Tertullian is overwhelmingly opposed to any form of Roman absolutism. Just five chapters later, in §36, he offers his well-known counsel for identifying the true Church over against heresy:
“Run to the apostolic churches, in which the very thrones of the apostles are still preeminent in their places.”
And whom does he name? Corinth, Philippi, Thessalonica, and Ephesus—but not Rome.
If Tertullian regarded Rome as the singular guardian of Petrine authority, the sole criterion of orthodoxy, why does he omit it? The answer is clear: for Tertullian, the Church is not defined by any one see, but by fidelity to the apostolic rule of faith, preserved in the churches founded by the apostles. Orthodoxy is measured not by proximity to Rome, but by continuity with the apostolic gospel.
This line of argument is, in truth, radically anti-papal. Even if the Papist attempts to erect a throne upon Prescription Against Heretics §22, Tertullian himself tears it down in his later writings.
In On Modesty—a work composed after his break with the institutional Church—Tertullian does not merely reject the idea that the bishop of Rome holds Peter’s authority; he openly mocks it. He writes:
“I now inquire into your claim of the right of the Church… Are you the Church, who possess the power of the keys and of binding and loosing, inherited from Peter? Well then, if you have it, show me the proof—just as Peter did—by raising the dead.” (De Pudicitia, ch. 21)
This is no mild disagreement—it is withering sarcasm. Tertullian here derides the bishop of Rome’s appeal to Peter’s authority as presumptuous and empty. He does not affirm Rome’s jurisdiction; he ridicules it.
So then, if the Papist would quote Prescription §22 to suggest Petrine supremacy, he must reconcile it with On Modesty ch. 21, where Tertullian denies that any man—Rome’s bishop included—can lay claim to Peter’s keys. Either Tertullian contradicts himself, or the Papist contradicts Tertullian. There is no third option.
The latter Father you cite, Origen, is presented as stating in section 10 of his twelfth homily on Matthew:
“If we should say what is obvious, Peter is the rock on which the Church is built.” But, alas, these words are simply not there. That this did not surprise me is telling—for this particular Papist, like many of his predecessors, has a curious fascination with fictitious citations.
What Origen does say is this:
“And if we too have said like Peter, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God,’… we become a Peter, and to us there might be said by the Word, ‘You are Peter,’ etc. (Matthew 16:18). For a rock is every disciple of Christ of whom those drank who drank of the spiritual rock which followed them (1 Corinthians 10:4), and upon every such rock is built every word of the Church, and the polity in accordance with it; for in each of the perfect, who have the combination of words and deeds and thoughts which fill up the blessedness, is the Church built by God.”
Far from affirming an exclusive Petrine succession, Origen explicitly universalizes the identity of “rock.” Every believer who confesses the true faith, as Peter did, becomes “a Peter”—a foundation stone. The “rock,” then, is the confession of Christ, and whoever rightly confesses becomes a rock in the same spiritual sense. The notion of an exclusive, dynastic Petrine office localized in the bishop of Rome is entirely foreign to Origen’s thought—indeed, it is rendered nonsensical by his own words.
More shall be said on the Fathers in due course.
IV. On the Historical Recognition of Rome’s Authority
You proceed to argue:
“Even those Fathers you quoted lived in a Church where the Bishop of Rome exercised primacy. Councils appealed to Rome repeatedly—Clement in 96, Stephen I, Chalcedon in 451.”
With this, you seem to believe you have offered conclusive proof of Rome’s historically recognized authority. But here we must distinguish carefully. To the fact that Rome held a form of authority, I do not object. The question under dispute is not whether Rome held influence or primacy of some kind, but what sort of authority it possessed—what was its basis, scope, and mode?
And it is precisely your interpretation of these examples—Clement, Stephen, Chalcedon—that I take issue with, for they do not support the papal supremacy you are seeking to defend.
You begin by citing Clement of Rome, exclaiming:
“Look! The Corinthians appealed to Rome around AD 96!”
Yet this proves nothing of Roman jurisdiction. Clement does not write as a sovereign pontiff issuing decrees, but as a humble elder offering exhortation. His own words speak plainly:
“We do not speak as if we were something extraordinary.” (1 Clement 1:3)
His epistle is lengthy, fraternal, and pastoral in tone. It does not pronounce excommunication, impose a juridical sentence, or threaten coercive discipline. Rather, it appeals to Scripture, to apostolic tradition, and to the peace of the Church.
Why did Corinth accept Rome’s letter? Because Rome was ancient, apostolic, and stable—not because it held global jurisdiction. By that same logic, one would have to ascribe papal authority to Polycarp, who wrote to the Philippians with equal pastoral concern—yet no one imagines him seated on Peter’s throne. In short, appeal does not imply authority.
As for the councils, you name but one—Chalcedon—yet fail to mention that the ecumenical councils of the early Church overwhelmingly resisted, ignored, or outright denied any claim of Roman supremacy.
Permit me to recall a few of the more inconvenient examples:
• Council of Carthage (256 AD):
This council, consisting of 87 bishops, unanimously rejected Pope Stephen’s decree on baptism. As noted earlier (cf. Rebuttal II), the African bishops stood firm against Roman interference.
• Council of Nicaea (325 AD):
Rome is not even mentioned in the conciliar proceedings. The council adjudicates great theological disputes without any need for Roman arbitration. Canon 6 of Nicaea affirms not Roman supremacy but regional equality:
“Let the ancient customs prevail, that the Bishop of Alexandria shall have authority over Egypt, Libya, and Pentapolis, just as the Bishop of Rome does over his region.” This is not universal jurisdiction—it is regional parity.
• Council of Constantinople (381 AD):
Canon 3 of the council reads:
“The Bishop of Constantinople shall have the prerogative of honor after the Bishop of Rome, because it is the new Rome.”
This canon acknowledges Rome’s primacy of honor—not authority—and once again, Rome did not even attend the council. The Church settled doctrine without her.
• Council of Chalcedon (451 AD):
The bishops of the East elevated Constantinople to a status equal with Rome. Canon 28 declares:
“The privileges of the most holy Church of Constantinople shall be equal to those of the Church of Old Rome.”
Rome vocally rejected this canon, but the rest of the Church received it nonetheless. If Rome possessed supreme and universal jurisdiction by divine right, why did the other bishops—at an ecumenical council—dare to disregard her protest?
Indeed, if papal supremacy were divinely instituted and universally recognized from the beginning, how is it that every ecumenical council prior to AD 600 either functioned without Roman oversight or explicitly resisted Roman claims? The historical record does not support the thesis of papal monarchy—it refutes it.
In plain terms, no Church Father teaches the doctrine of papal infallibility. No ecumenical council ever affirms the Pope’s jurisdiction over other bishops. And not a single writer of the early Church refers to the bishop of Rome as the “Vicar of Christ” until the late fifth century.
The true shift begins with Pope Leo I, who represents a marked departure in asserting Roman authority with increasing boldness. But even then, this assertion was far from universally received. The Eastern Church, to this day, has never accepted the claims of papal supremacy. Let that sink in: half the Christian world—the entire East—has never bowed to Roman jurisdiction.
The Orthodox Church categorically rejects papal infallibility, universal jurisdiction, the decrees of Vatican I, and Rome’s self-designation as the center and guarantor of Christian unity. The Great Schism of 1054 was not a theological misunderstanding—it was the natural and inevitable consequence of Rome’s attempt to enthrone itself as the head of the Church, while the East remained faithful to the conciliar and episcopal model handed down from the apostles. The East remembered Cyprian. The West replaced him with Innocent III.
The claim that “history proves Rome’s primacy” is not a conclusion of sober historical inquiry—it is a myth, a pious fiction, sustained only by overlooking the clear witness of councils, the testimony of the Fathers, repeated rejections, and centuries of resistance. Rome’s ascendancy did not descend from heaven—it was built the way all worldly power is built: through political maneuvering, coercion, royal alliances, and, often enough, blood.
Conclusion of Your First Segment
To conclude your opening argument, you write:
“Your quotes show one valid interpretation (faith as the foundation), but they do not exclude the other valid interpretation that Peter himself is the rock. The Catholic Church embraces both: Peter’s faith is crucial, but his person and office also have divine authority. This is why Christ gave Peter alone the keys to the kingdom (Matthew 16:19)—a sign of authority. No other apostle received this specific power. So, the early Church did not reject papal primacy; it recognized Peter’s role alongside faith.”
To claim that the entire Catholic Church embraces both Peter’s person and his confession as the “rock” is, quite simply, a falsehood. It is a convenient oversimplification that collapses under the weight of your own tradition’s historical testimony. You have not engaged with the Roman Catholic authorities I specifically cited—your own Papal theologians—such as the Gloss of the Decretum, Nicholas of Lyra, Johann Ferus, Torquemada, and others, all of whom reject the notion that both interpretations coexist harmoniously. They do not admit a dual foundation. They take the “rock” to mean Peter’s confessionexclusively—and they do so dogmatically, to the exclusion of the personal interpretation.
Moreover, it is untrue to say that Christ gave the keys to Peter alone. While the keys symbolize real authority, that authority was not exclusive to Peter. Though the initial promise was indeed addressed to Peter in Matthew 16, he stood—as he so often did—as a representative of the apostolic body. He confessed Christ as the mouthpiece of the Twelve, and in that same capacity, received the promise of the keys.
That this was not singular or isolated is confirmed when Christ later addresses the entire apostolic company with nearly identical language:
“Truly I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”(Matthew 18:18)
The authority of binding and loosing was extended to all the apostles. This was well understood by Anselm of Canterbury, who writes:
“It must be noted that this power was not given to Peter alone, but just as Peter responded as one for all, so in Peter this power was given to all.”
Thus, Peter’s receiving of the keys does not mark him out as the sole possessor of ecclesial authority, but rather as the first to receive what was common to the apostolic office as a whole.
And this brings us to a final irony: the very Fathers whom you quote in support of papal primacy are often those who elsewhere teach in a manner utterly incompatible with it.
Origen, in his twelfth book on the Gospel of John, section 11, writes:
“But if you suppose that upon that one Peter only the whole church is built by God, what would you say about John the son of thunder or each one of the Apostles? Shall we otherwise dare to say, that against Peter in particular the gates of Hades shall not prevail, but that they shall prevail against the other Apostles and the perfect? Does not the saying previously made, ‘The gates of Hades shall not prevail against it’ (Matthew 16:18) hold in regard to all and in the case of each of them? And also the saying, ‘Upon this rock I will build My church’ (Matthew 16:18)? Are the keys of the kingdom of heaven given by the Lord to Peter only, and will no other of the blessed receive them? But if this promise, ‘I will give unto you the keys of the kingdom of heaven’ (Matthew 16:19) be common to the others, how shall not all the things previously spoken of, and the things which are subjoined as having been addressed to Peter, be common to them? For in this place these words seem to be addressed as to Peter only, ‘Whatsoever you shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven’ (Matthew 16:19), etc.; but in the Gospel of John the Saviour, having given the Holy Spirit unto the disciples by breathing upon them, said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (John 20:22), etc. Many then will say to the Saviour, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’… And if any one says this to Him, not by flesh and blood revealing it unto him but through the Father in heaven, he will obtain the things that were spoken according to the letter of the Gospel to that Peter, but, as the spirit of the Gospel teaches, to every one who becomes such as that Peter was.”
To claim, then, that no other apostle received this specific power is not only contrary to Scripture, but constitutes a retrospective imposition of Papal excess onto the pure truths of the Gospel. It is also utterly opposed to Origen’s own words, so that your reliance upon him brings shame upon your argument. Mark well his further words:
“‘You are Peter,’ etc., down to the words, ‘prevail against it.’ But what is the ‘it’? Is it the rock upon which Christ builds the church, or is it the church? For the phrase is ambiguous. Or is it as if the rock and the church were one and the same? This I think to be true; for neither against the rock on which Christ builds the church, nor against the church will the gates of Hades prevail.”
Glorious indeed are these words! Cease, O Papist, from corrupting and twisting the expositions of the Fathers, lest you provoke the wrath of God by defiling the sacred testimonies of His saints.
V. Council of Carthage and whether it truly places limits on Papal authority.
1. In brief, your claim is that although Cyprian and Firmilian disagreed with Pope Stephen over the issue of rebaptizing heretics, this was merely a disciplinary disagreement—“It wasn’t about authority,” you say. And since Stephen’s position eventually became normative, you suggest this somehow vindicates him.
At this point, the Papist moves from distorting the Fathers to insulting my intelligence. This argument trivializes what was, in reality, one of the most theologically and jurisdictionally explosive conflicts of the third century. It reduces an open challenge to Roman pretension into a mere family disagreement. Yet the historical and textual evidence reveals nothing short of an ecclesiastical revolt against overreach.
2. Take Cyprian, for instance. He explicitly denies that Stephen held any authority over other bishops, much less universal jurisdiction. I have repeated this likely a thousand times, but here again are his words:
“None of us sets himself up as a bishop of bishops, or by tyrannical terror forces his colleagues to the necessity of obedience…”
This is not merely a rebuke of a particular policy—it is a wholesale rejection of the notion that any one bishop, including the bishop of Rome, can impose his will upon others. Cyprian is repudiating the very principle of unilateral jurisdiction. His words must be read not only in the context of rebaptism, but in light of the broader ecclesiological principle being defended.
Again, he writes:
“Let each bishop act as he thinks best, having the freedom of judgment and the liberty of choice.”
This is not a passing comment on disciplinary matters. It is a clear ecclesiological assertion: that every bishop, in his own see, acts with full authority, without subordination to a higher earthly power. This stands in direct contradiction to the papal model.
But then the Papist attempts to salvage his case by appealing to another of Cyprian’s letters. He points to Epistle 55 (numbered 54 in many sources), quoting the passage:
“Neither have heresies arisen from any other source, nor have schisms been born, than from this: that the priest of God is not obeyed, nor is there thought to be in the Church, for a time, one priest and one judge in the place of Christ.”
The Romanist would have us believe that Cyprian here refers specifically to the bishop of Rome—asserting that he alone is the “one priest and one judge” in Christ’s stead. But this is a misreading, or worse, a deliberate twist. Cyprian is not speaking of the universal Church or the Roman see—he speaks in general terms of any particular church, where the bishop functions as priest and judge, standing in the place of Christ.
The passage refers not to Roman supremacy but to episcopal unity within each local body. The notion that Cyprian believed in a singular earthly head ruling the global Church collapses the moment one actually reads his corpus in context.
Indeed, Cyprian applies this very principle to the Church of Carthage itself, for it was he who had suffered at the hands of the Novatian faction. The context makes this so abundantly clear that even the blind could perceive that he is referring to himself—namely, that though he held the office of judge and priest in Christ’s stead, he was nevertheless assailed by factious and insolent men.
Cyprian—who succeeded his deceased predecessor in the episcopate, and who had been lawfully chosen by the suffrages of the people (mark that well, Jesuit!)—had been preserved by God through persecution, stood united in faith and fellowship with his brother bishops, and had governed the Church for four years with the full approval of his flock.
None of this can be said of Cornelius, who had held office for scarcely two. Moreover, Cyprian elsewhere speaks in the same manner, and again of himself, when he writes:
“From this arise, and have arisen, schisms and heresies, when the bishop—who is one—presiding over the Church, is despised through the arrogant presumption of certain individuals; and when a man appointed by divine calling is judged unworthy by men.”
This refers no more to the bishop of Rome than to the bishop of Ostia or Gubbio. And as for what the Papist takes from the same work a bit earlier, it is equally of no help:
“They dare to sail to the Chair of Peter and to the principal Church, from which the unity of the priesthood has arisen, and to carry letters to the Romans from schismatics and profane men—without considering that they are Romans (whose faith was praised by the Apostle in his preaching, Romans 1), to whom perfidy cannot gain access.”
These praises did indeed lawfully belong to ancient Rome—but their validity has since been lost. For the subject of the praise has changed, and with that change, the praise is no longer rightly applicable. But I digress. Your entire argument rests upon three phrases:
1. The Chair of Peter
2. The principal Church, from which priestly unity has flowed
3. Perfidy cannot gain access to the Romans
To the first, we answer: many apostolic sees were held in honor, yet without jurisdictional supremacy. Antioch—the first see of Peter—was called by Chrysostom the “metropolis of heaven.” Rome never claimed such a title. Honor does not entail dominion.
To the second: the title “principal Church” was used of many episcopal sees, particularly those of metropolitan rank. Carthage itself is called the “principal see” in Canon V of the Fifth Council of Carthage.
Thus, the phrase does not imply universal primacy. Even the expression “from which priestly unity arose” can rightly be applied to any apostolic Church—especially Jerusalem, from which the Gospel first went forth, as Isaiah foretold.
Polydore Vergil rightly observes that the priesthood did not originate from the Roman bishop beyond the Italian sphere, and that the episcopate had already been established at Jerusalem before Peter ever arrived in Rome.
To the third: Cyprian’s remark that “perfidy cannot gain access to the Romans” is not a doctrinal pronouncement of infallibility, but rather a charitable assessment of a particular time and situation.
The context concerns schismatics who, defying ecclesiastical order, attempted to appeal to Rome. Cyprian expresses confidence that the Romans—whose faith had been praised by Paul—would not receive such men at that time. It is a factual judgment, not a juridical axiom.
Moreover, Cyprian elsewhere rebukes Pope Stephen for aligning with heretics and wounding the unity of the Church—clear evidence that he did not regard the Roman bishop as infallible. Even Bellarmine admits that Cyprian believed Stephen to have erred gravely.
Therefore, Cyprian’s words cannot be interpreted as a timeless affirmation of Roman indefectibility. As Gregory of Nazianzus rightly observes, to say that one “cannot” do something may refer to moral disposition or present integrity—not to an absolute impossibility.
Cyprian’s meaning is simple: perfidy could not reach the Romans so long as they retained their apostolic faith. He did not mean that they could never fall—and history has since proven that they did.
As for the claim that Cyprian refers to Pope Stephen as “supreme judge,” this too is baseless. In the epistle cited, Cyprian merely urges Stephen to write to the bishops of Gaul concerning Martian, Bishop of Arles, who had embraced the Novatian heresy. He does not ask Stephen to depose Martian, but to exhort those with proper jurisdiction to act.
Cyprian’s intent is clear: the unity of the episcopate requires mutual cooperation in guarding the Church—not subjection to a singular earthly head. He appeals to Stephen as a respected brother, not as a sovereign.
In another attempt to establish that Cyprian acknowledged and honored a particular primacy of Peter, you attribute to him the following words—allegedly from his 51st Epistle to Antonianus:
“To Peter alone did the Lord after His resurrection give the power of feeding His sheep.”
But behold! These words are nowhere to be found in that epistle. This has become a recurring pattern throughout your response—and to your great detriment, both in credibility and integrity—that you fabricate pro-Papal statements and falsely ascribe them to the Fathers. O that you would cease from such shameful tactics! You ask, after presenting this imaginary citation, whether a man who rejected the Papacy could speak so highly of Peter. My reply is simple: he could not—and that is precisely why Cyprian never said what you have pretended he did. You were compelled to fabricate the quotation because no such affirmation exists.
Yet you appeal to Cyprian once more—as if your previous misrepresentations had not sufficed. I wish you hadn’t—for your sake—that you might have spared yourself the further embarrassment.
You now cite, supposedly from his Treatise on the Unity of the Church, the following:
“On him He builds the Church, and to him He gives the keys of the kingdom.”
But again, this is not found as a direct statement in the treatise. What you seem to cite, and what actually appears in Cyprian’s work, diverge notably—particularly in the first half. For what Cyprian actually writes is this:
“The Lord speaks to Peter, saying, ‘I say unto you, that you are Peter; and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and whatsoever you shall bind on earth shall be bound also in heaven, and whatsoever you shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.’”
Far from presenting a personal gloss, Cyprian is simply quoting Scripture—and quoting it faithfully. He does not say “on him He builds the Church,” but “upon this rock.” The distinction is not trivial—it is decisive.
If this is the mortar with which you would construct your Papal edifice, then truly, the masons of Rome are poor craftsmen. For what we see in Cyprian’s writings is not the exaltation of one bishop above all others, but the harmonious collegiality of many—each holding the full dignity of the episcopate, yet none presuming to be lord over his brethren.
Let us be clear: whoever denies the form, substance, and essential elements of Papalism cannot rightly be considered a formal Papist.
But Cyprian did precisely that—he rejected both the form (namely, the alleged primacy of the Pope, the Roman See, and the Roman Church) and the substance along with its necessary implications. Therefore, he was no Papist. Away, then, with Rome’s desperate attachment to this Father. With Voetius I affirm: “Cyprian’s view was anti-papal at its core, even when he praised Peter.”
3. As for Firmilian—the Romanists often treat him as though he were holy water to a vampire. And rightly so, for Firmilian, Bishop of Caesarea, utterly dismantles Pope Stephen—calling him arrogant, heretical, schismatic, and worse. Writing to Cyprian, he declares:
“Stephen is not ashamed to lay claim to the authority of the apostles… and he boasts of the place of his episcopate, and he insists that he holds the succession of Peter… yet he introduces many other rocks and builds new churches.”
Do you see it? Firmilian throws Rome’s logic back in its face—and then derides it. You claim succession from Peter? Then why do you rend the unity of the Church with your pride?
Later in the same letter, he even mocks Stephen’s pretended excommunication:
“Stephen, who boasts of the place of his episcopate, has dared to excommunicate—and in doing so, he has excommunicated himself.”
If Stephen truly possessed divine, Petrine authority, then Firmilian—along with Cyprian and the entire African synod—must be reckoned guilty of formal schism and heresy. And yet neither the East nor North Africa ever treated them as such. Why? Because no one believed that Stephen wielded the kind of authority the Papacy now claims.
You now proceed to pronounce who was right in the controversy, asserting that because Stephen’s view ultimately prevailed, he was thereby vindicated.
Yet even granting that Stephen’s position was later more widely accepted within orthodox churches—after the deaths of all three parties—this does absolutely nothing to establish Papal Supremacy. The eventual reception of his view was not grounded in submission to Roman authority, but in theological reasoning and ecclesiastical consensus—the very process that Rome now claims to override.
Moreover, though Augustine eventually diverged from Cyprian’s position, he never condemned him. Far from treating him as a rebel or schismatic, Augustine quotes Cyprian with deep respect in On Baptism Against the Donatists:
“The unity of the Church remained unbroken, even while blessed Cyprian thought differently on baptism.” (Contra Donatistas, 5.23)
In other words: Cyprian was never seen as a schismatic—because no one imagined that Stephen possessed unilateral authority.
The Papist would have you believe Cyprian “lost” the debate and submitted to Rome. But history is not on their side. Cyprian died in 258, still holding to his view, still opposing Stephen. His martyrdom sealed his testimony—not to Roman obedience, but to the conciliar and fraternal order of the ancient Church. Cyprian and Firmilian did not simply “disagree” with Pope Stephen; they denounced his claim to Petrine succession, rejected his excommunications as invalid, and defied his pretended authority.
The early Church never acknowledged the bishop of Rome as monarch. And when Rome attempted to act like one, the other bishops—true successors of the apostles—rose and said, No.
What Rome wishes to paint as a mere “bump in the road” is in fact a gaping crater in her doctrine. And the Fathers responsible for it—Cyprian and Firmilian—have never been covered over. They denied the Papacy, not in vague or incidental terms, but explicitly and fundamentally.
The Church of that era did not receive Rome’s judgment as final. The bishops willfully contended with Stephen—openly disputing his ruling, rebuking his conduct, and treating him not as a supreme judge but as a fellow bishop, subject to the same scrutiny as any other. The very act of disputing him reveals that they considered him no more than an equal, not a sovereign.
Yes, the position eventually became codified in Rome—but the theological conclusion regarding the baptism of heretics was not Rome’s exclusive contribution. It was never about Cyprian’s or Firmilian’s personal opinion prevailing, but about the fact that they contested Rome’s position at all. That contestation alone is fatal to the notion of Papal supremacy.
And as for the rest of your remarks—your appeals to Stephen’s victory, your selective quoting of Cyprian, your reframing of Church history—I have answered them all above. Your repetitions serve only to confirm your evasions.
Moving on, you now cite words from Pope Leo I—words which, far from supporting your conclusion, are paraded as though they singlehandedly refute my claim that Papal Primacy was a later fabrication. Leo writes:
“The Lord willed that the sacrament of this gift should belong so to Peter that it might be derived through Peter to the rest of the Apostles.” (Sermon 4:2)
This, you suggest, is decisive. But is it? Once again, the quotation you offer is not found in Leo’s fourth sermon exactly as you present it. Words are added—something which has become an unfortunate hallmark of your citations. What Leo actually says in section 2 of that sermon is this:
“It was with this in view that the most blessed Peter was told: ‘I shall give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth will be bound also in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed also in heaven.’ Certainly, the right to use this power was conveyed to the other apostles as well. What was laid down by this decree went for all the leaders of the Church.”
Let me begin by noting that this statement directly contradicts your earlier assertion—that “to Peter alone were the keys given.” You now appeal to Leo, a pope, who openly affirms that the authority symbolized by the keys was conveyed to all the apostles. You cite a man who, despite his papal office, opposes your very point.
Moreover, it must be stated plainly that your argument begs the question. You treat Leo’s assertion as if it were apostolic in authority—as though his interpretation were itself divine revelation. But that is precisely what must be proved, not presumed. That Leo, a politically elevated Roman bishop, makes grand claims about Peter does not, by itself, establish those claims as true. You do not quote Scripture—you quote a man interpreting Scripture in favor of his own see.
This is not theology—it is imperial hagiography.
Let us, for argument’s sake, grant the authenticity of Leo’s statement. What does he actually say? That Peter received a gift—presumably the power of the keys—and that this gift was passed on throughPeter to the other apostles. But note carefully: the apostles receive the gift—not the bishops of Rome. Peter, in this framework, functions as a conduit, not as a sovereign. Authority flows through him to the whole, not exclusively to a Roman heir.
And unless you are prepared to argue that the other apostles—and their successors—were all placed under Peter’s jurisdiction, a claim no ecumenical council, no canonical decree, and no early Father ever affirms, then Leo’s interpretation must be taken for what it is: a late interpretation, and a Roman one—not a divine institution.
Moreover, what shall we make of the mountain of evidence that stands squarely against this so-called “universal primacy”? Are we to ignore the uncompromising resistance of Cyprian of Carthage, who explicitly rejected any Petrine monarchy and affirmed the equal honor and authority of all the apostles? Shall we forget Firmilian’s searing denunciation of Pope Stephen, whom he accused of sowing error and schism?
Or what of the entire Eastern episcopate, which neither acknowledged nor submitted to the bishop of Rome as their superior? Shall we overlook the Council of Nicaea, which never once invoked Roman authority, but established doctrine through the consensus of the whole Church? And what of Augustine, who plainly stated that Peter received the keys not as a private possession, but as a symbol of the Church as a whole—not as a title deed to Roman supremacy?
You cling to Leo as if he were the twelfth apostle—seemingly unaware, or perhaps willfully dismissive, that Leo’s pontificate marked not the preservation of an ancient primacy, but the very dawn of its most extravagant claims. Leo is not the steward of apostolic tradition—he is the architect of its most novel distortion. His high Petrine theology does not confirm the antiquity of papal monarchy; it signals its late and inflated emergence.
Your triumphal assertion—that a single excerpt from Leo refutes the “later development” of papal supremacy—is not only historically naïve but theologically shallow. One might just as well cite a bishop of Constantinople asserting universal jurisdiction and pretend the matter settled.
If you would maintain that Leo’s sermon proves the divine institution of papal supremacy, you must first establish:
1. That Leo’s interpretation of Peter was the unanimous and received view of the early Church;
2. That such a doctrine is clearly taught by the apostles themselves in Holy Scripture;
3. That Peter’s supposed supremacy was transmitted not to the apostolic college, but exclusively to the bishops of Rome; and
4. That the early Church universally recognized Rome’s succession as the singular center of unity and jurisdiction.
Until then, Leo’s sermon must be filed with other episcopal exaggerations—ambitious words from ambitious men. And the papist may go on kissing a crown wrought by his own imagination. But we know he will prove none of these points—for Scripture gives him no such doctrine, the Fathers undermine it through silence and resistance, and history records its gradual rise—not as an apostolic inheritance, but as a long-matured ambition.
VI. An attempt to dismantle my appeal to Acts 15.
You write:
“You set forth the claim that because James declared the final verdict, Peter’s role was incidental. But in this, you betray a misunderstanding of conciliar authority. Peter speaks, and the assembly falls silent (Acts 15:12). Paul and Barnabas affirm his words. James, as bishop of the city where the council met, formally issues the decree, yet he does so in harmony with Peter’s declaration.
Where in this passage is Peter rebuked? Where is he overruled? You find no such thing. Instead, you find the very pattern that would define the great Ecumenical Councils—the Pope speaks first, others deliberate, and a formal declaration is made.”
1. You say, “Peter speaks, and the assembly falls silent.” Are we truly to believe that this silence indicates Peter’s supreme authority? That attentive listening somehow implies juridical submission? Such a leap in logic could catapult one clean over the dome of St. Peter’s itself.
Let us examine the passage more closely. The silence follows Peter’s speech, as is natural when someone speaks with clarity and solemnity. It is not silence of subordination, but of contemplation. By your logic, however, we must also ascribe supreme authority to Paul and Barnabas—for the silence continues into their speaking (v. 12). Shall we then embrace a duplex papatus—a double papacy? Or perhaps expand it to a triune earthly magisterium, adding James for good measure?
Any man versed in even the rudiments of sound exegesis will recognize that the silence does not signal submission to a pontiff. It is simply the order of rational discourse. And if such silence is your evidence for supremacy, then every speaker heard without interruption would likewise qualify as pope.
2. Further, you assert that “Paul and Barnabas affirm his words.” This is plainly inaccurate. The text does not say that they affirmed Peter—it states that they gave their own report of what God had done through their ministry among the Gentiles. Their witness is not an echo of Peter—it is its own authoritative testimony. The Scripture reads:
“All the assembly fell silent, and they listened to Barnabas and Paul as they related what signs and wonders God had done through them among the Gentiles.” (Acts 15:12)
Their words are not a commentary on Peter’s speech, but a parallel confirmation of the same divine truth. They do not speak as deputies of Peter, but as apostles in their own right—equal in calling, authority, and divine commission.
3. You say “James, as bishop of the city where the council met, formally issues the decree; yet he does so in harmony with Peter’s declaration.” But wait! Let us not pass over your subtle admission—namely, that the final ruling was notdelivered by Peter, but by James.
“Wherefore I judge…” (Greek: ἐγὼ κρίνω) — Acts 15:19
This is no mere ceremonial flourish, nor is it a passive endorsement of Peter’s supposed decree—which, I note, never actually occurred. Rather, this is an authoritative pronouncement, rendered in the first person singular, by the presiding bishop. James does not say, “As Peter has judged, so I confirm,”but “I judge,” and proceeds to determine the policy that the churches are to follow.
And if Peter were truly the visible head of the universal Church—its supreme and singular earthly monarch—what an astonishing omission! That the one appointed by Christ Himself as the universal ruler should sit quietly while another renders the final verdict? Where is Peter’s decretum? Where is his mandatum? There is none. The weight of authority falls squarely on James.
VII. The Papist defends his fabrication of a quotation falsely attributed to Augustine.
In your earlier response, you presented Augustine—allegedly in Letter 53:1–2—as saying:
“Rome has spoken, the case is closed.” Yet those words appear nowhere in that letter. You knowingly pointed readers to a source that bears no connection to the matter at hand.
Now, caught in the act, you minimize your error by claiming I “quibble over a paraphrase, as though capturing Augustine’s thought in different words undermines its truth.”
But why do you downplay what is plainly deception? Even if it were a paraphrase—though it is not—the phrase you offered appears neither in Letter 53 nor in any portion of that correspondence. It is not a matter of semantic preference, but of factual integrity.
If you will represent the voice of the Church Fathers, at the very least you must quote them accurately. Fabricating words and placing them in the mouths of saints is not only dishonest but also irreverent. And now we arrive at your latest attempts to salvage the shattered remains of your argument:
You appeal to Sermon 131, pointing with triumph to the phrase:
“If the rescripts of the Apostolic See come forth, the dispute is ended.”
You would have this line perform the heavy lifting that your previous fabrication from Letter 53 could not bear. Yet all you’ve done is shift the misrepresentation from one source to another. 2. You then cite Letter 43, presenting Augustine as saying:
“The decrees of the Apostolic See should be followed in all things.” But as with your earlier efforts, your treatment of the sources remains disingenuous and structurally unsound.
Let us examine the former citation more closely. The actual sentence from Sermon 131 reads:
“Jam enim de hac causa duo concilia missa sunt ad Sedem Apostolicam: inde etiam rescripta venerunt. Causa finita est: utinam aliquando finiatur error!”
“Already, for this cause, two councils have been sent to the Apostolic See; from there also rescripts have come forth. The case is closed. Would that the error might someday be ended!”
This is the full, structurally intact statement—not the sanitized aphorism you offer. You sever the sentence from its historical context, abstract it from its particular circumstances, and transmogrify it into a universal maxim of Roman judicial supremacy—a maneuver that is as misleading as it is desperate.
Augustine is not here articulating a theological principle that the Apostolic See’s judgments are infallible or irreformable by divine right. Rather, he is referring to the specific case of the Pelagian controversy. The bishops of Carthage and Milevis had already convened regional councils condemning Pelagianism. For the sake of ecclesiastical unity, they submitted these findings to Rome. Pope Innocent I responded—not as the originator of the judgment—but as one who confirmed the consensus already reached.
Augustine rejoices in this agreement—not because Rome’s decision ends all dispute by divine fiat, but because conciliar discernment and apostolic tradition have together borne united witness to the truth. His statement “causa finita est” (“the case is closed”) is not a legal proclamation of Roman supremacy, but a celebratory exclamation of theological clarity.
And let us not forget the line that immediately follows: “Utinam aliquando finiatur error!”—“Would that the error might someday be ended!” Clearly, despite the Roman rescript, the heresy continued to trouble the Church. So much for the allegedly irresistible authority of a Roman judgment.
In short, your use of Augustine’s words is not an exposition—it is an exploitation. The bishop of Hippo affirms orthodoxy by way of consensus and truth—not by yielding the keys of the kingdom to one prelate in Rome.
You appeal to the rescripts as though Augustine grounded final authority in them—but the very logic of Sermon 131 testifies to the contrary. The Roman replies were not constitutive, but confirmatory. Their weight derived not from their Roman origin, but from their agreement with the truth already discerned by the universal Church. If you would interpret this passage as proof of Roman supremacy, you must also claim that Augustine required Rome’s judgment in order to form his own—despite the fact that he had already publicly and firmly condemned Pelagianism before any Roman response had arrived.
Indeed, your argument unravels the moment it is forced to confront the facts of history. For those same African bishops—Augustine included—would soon stand in open resistance to Pope Zosimus, Innocent’s own successor, when he vacillated under Pelagian pressure. Far from submitting, the African bishops insisted that no bishop of Rome—not even one seated on Peter’s throne—could overturn the decisions of councils grounded in apostolic doctrine.
At the Council of Carthage in 418, they enacted Canon 28, which explicitly forbade appeals to transmarine judgments—a clear rejection of Roman interference. If you had read Augustine with more than proof-texting eyes, you would know that while the African Church respected and honored Rome, it never recognized her as a divinely-appointed infallible oracle.
As for your second appeal—Augustine’s so-called declaration in Letter 43 that “the decrees of the Apostolic See should be followed in all things”—I must again correct your misrepresentation. That phrase is found nowhere in that epistle. What is found there—and what Jesuit William Bailly famously appealed to—are the following words (also repeated in Augustine’s 162nd Epistle):
“For Carthage was near to the regions across the sea, and was renowned with the most famous reputation; whence its bishop had no small authority everywhere, so that he could disregard the conspiracies of the multitude of enemies, when he saw himself united—through letters of communion—with both the Roman Church, in which the Apostolic See has always flourished in primacy, and with the other lands from which the Gospel came to Africa itself.”
Let the reader judge how faithfully the adversary presents his case—claiming that Augustine here teaches Roman supremacy, when in truth the bishop of Hippo grants the Roman Church nothing beyond a primacy of honor rooted in reputation, not in right. Rather than reinforce Papal monarchy, the passage testifies to ecclesiastical communion—not submission—and unity rooted in the Gospel, not in one bishop’s word.
Even that honor is not uniquely Rome’s, but is shared by the common judgment of the bishops—particularly those of apostolic sees. Moreover, Augustine himself clearly subverts any notion of a Roman monarchy in the very same Epistle 162, where he writes:
“Behold, let us suppose those bishops who judged at Rome were not good judges”— (and let it be remembered that Pope Miltiades was among them) —“there still remained a plenary council of the universal Church, where even the case against those very judges might be heard, and their sentence, if unjust, overturned.”
What need is there for such a statement if the bishop of Rome were, in fact, the supreme and final arbiter of all ecclesiastical matters? If Augustine believed in a monarchical papacy, these words are wholly unnecessary—indeed, they are nonsensical.
VIII. Your repeated Recourse to Irenaeus
You then turn to Irenaeus—a point my beloved sister in Christ and I have already addressed thoroughly in a prior post (and of which I spoke in my initial response), to which I now direct the reader for a fuller treatment. But let us briefly address what you claim:
“You make much of Irenaeus’ words, yet you fail to see their weight:
‘For to this Church, on account of its more powerful primacy, it is necessary that every Church—that is, the faithful from all places—convene.’ You seek to diminish his meaning, yet the Latin ‘potentior principalitas’ (more powerful primacy) admits no such evasion. His argument is clear: 1. Rome’s primacy is established. 2. The faithful must look to it for Apostolic tradition.”
As for your citation, the reader should know that it comes from Against Heresies, Book III, Chapter 3. From this passage, the Papist concludes (as he did in his first response) that Irenaeus is instructing all churches to refer themselves to the Roman See as the principal one. But this conclusion does not follow once we properly understand the passage in its context. Given that I already touched upon this very citation and the Romanist’s appeal to it, I shall merely recite what I laid down in my former article.
The question at hand in Against Heresies concerns how heretics—those who, as Irenaeus puts it, reject the authority of Sacred Scripture—are to be refuted. His answer is not to appeal to one supreme bishop, but to the Apostolic Churches, whose succession of bishops and consistent teaching serve as living witnesses against the blasphemies of the innovators.
Yet, as Irenaeus himself acknowledges,
“it would be very tedious, in such a volume as this, to reckon up the successions of all the Churches.”
Therefore, he selects the Church of Rome—founded by Peter and Paul—as a representative example. He does indeed grant it honors and a special standing, not least because of its historical and political prominence. The oft-cited phrase from Book III, chapter 3, conveys two primary points:
First, that “all the faithful from every place convene to it on account of its more powerful primacy,”much like the Council of Antioch later declared of its own see: “because all ecclesiastical matters flow from all directions to the metropolis.”
Second, that the apostolic tradition had been faithfully preserved there by those who came and went from all corners of the Empire. Neither point remotely establishes universal dominion or papal monarchy.
1. As to the first—nowhere does Irenaeus assert that the Churches must submit to Rome by divine right. He merely notes a practical reality: Rome, as the capital of the Empire and a global crossroads, naturally received Christians from all over. This made it an obvious and well-attested witness in defense of orthodoxy, especially against local heresies in Gaul.
Rome’s more powerful primacy is therefore contextual and circumstantial, not constitutional. Its prominence was due to its being the seat of imperial authority—not the throne of a universal bishop. It was simply more known, more frequented, and thus more easily cited as a doctrinal reference point.
Hence, it made sense for Irenaeus to name the Roman Church—not because of juridical supremacy, but because of its accessibility and reputation. Those who passed through Rome were more readily able to attest to its apostolic doctrine than they could for Churches less known or less visited.
Anselm of Havelberg rightly understood Irenaeus in this sense when he wrote: “Rome was then the capital of the world, and people from the whole world gathered there”—using the same verb employed by Irenaeus’ Latin interpreter—“and that the Romans had received the faith of religion, they spread abroad everywhere.” Thus, the appeal is not to a monarch, but to a witness—to a Church esteemed, not enthroned.
2. Nor does the second point serve you, for it only demonstrates that the Roman Church had preserved apostolic doctrine at the time of Irenaeus—something that could be attested by the many faithful who dwelt there or passed through. It is, therefore, a testimony to the then-present orthodoxy of that Church. It proves nothing about the purity of that same Church in later ages, much less does it establish any ecclesiastical monarchy or imperial governance in the Church of Irenaeus’s day.
So it is simply false, as you assert, that Irenaeus here establishes Rome’s “Primacy” in the sense of papal monarchy. He affirms neither jurisdictional supremacy nor exclusive doctrinal authority. And the conclusion that “the faithful must look to Rome alone for apostolic truth” collapses upon reading Irenaeus’s broader argument, which appeals to many apostolic churches. He contents himself to name Rome alone not because of its unique authority, but because of its prominence in the capital—a city where the faithful from many lands converged.
So much for Irenaeus.
Conclusion
You ask, in exasperation, if all the citations you’ve brought forth do not prove Roman authority, then what would? I respond: the controversy is not over whether Rome had a kind of authority or honor—for that is acknowledged by both sides. The issue is whether the Fathers affirmed Papal Supremacy—a singular, divine right of universal jurisdiction and infallible magisterium—or merely a primacy of order and honor. And it is the latter, not the former, which the Fathers consistently affirm.
You conclude your effort with bold declarations, as though you have brought glory to God and vindication to the Fathers. You write:
“You amass arguments, yet they crumble under scrutiny. You appeal to history, yet history refutes you. You claim the Fathers are against us, yet they speak with one voice: Peter was given primacy, Rome inherited it, and the Church has preserved it.
If you wish to be honest with history, let the weight of evidence speak. If you wish to cling to your position, I leave you to your own devices. But do not feign ignorance, for the truth stands before you, and it demands reckoning.”
You speak as one bearing the sword of history, yet you wield only a paper blade. You parade assertions dressed in the robes of borrowed authority. You speak of the Fathers, yet misquote them, distort them, and attribute to them what they never wrote. You appeal to Peter’s primacy, yet never once demonstrate that Rome inherited anything but its own ambition. You invoke “truth,” yet mutilate citations and silence contradiction. You summon “history” as a witness, then gag it when it refuses to affirm your dogma.
You accuse me of ignorance—yet it is you who ignore Firmilian’s thunder and Cyprian’s councils. You pretend consensus while overlooking a chorus of dissent. You claim my arguments collapse under scrutiny—yet yours have never stood on anything but assumption.
You demand reckoning? Then take it. Rome has indeed spoken, but so have the Fathers you so nastily corrupt: and they do not say what you wish. I have not feigned ignorance. But you have feigned authority. You false prophet—the truth stands not before me, but against you.
FINISHED