Did Jesus come to start a new religion? No! He came to establish His Kingdom, and that Kingdom is the Catholic Church. Let me explain:
Did Jesus Come to Start a New Religion?
Or to Establish a Kingdom?**
By Chris M. Forte
Abstract
Modern scholarship and popular discourse frequently claim that Jesus of Nazareth did not intend to found Christianity as a distinct religion but rather operated solely within the framework of first-century Judaism. According to this narrative, the later Catholic Church and broader Christian tradition arose accidentally through historical evolution, imperial politics, and institutional consolidation—especially after Constantine. This article argues that such claims impose anachronistic categories upon the Gospels. Jesus did not speak in modern sociological terms of “religion,” but He did proclaim and inaugurate the Kingdom of God as the renewed Davidic Kingdom. Within this Kingdom framework, Christ deliberately established a visible Church with apostolic governance, sacramental authority, and a Petrine steward-office prefigured in the Davidic “keys” tradition of Isaiah 22. Patristic testimony and modern scholarship support the conclusion that Christianity’s institutional development is best understood not as an accidental invention but as the historical unfolding of Christ’s Kingdom mission.
Introduction: The Modern Claim and the Anachronism of “Religion”
The question “Did Jesus come to start a new religion?” is often presented as if it were self-evidently meaningful. In modern secular categories, “religion” typically denotes a system of private belief and ritual separated from public governance. Under this definition, Jesus is frequently recast as a Jewish moral teacher or apocalyptic prophet whose message was later reinterpreted into an institutional Church—an institution that critics portray as foreign to His intentions.
This narrative has become popular in both secular historical writing and progressive theological commentary. It tends to claim that Jesus’ mission was Jewish, local, and reformist; that the Church was a later invention; and that “Catholicism,” in particular, represents the fusion of Christianity with Roman imperial structures.
Yet this approach rests on a fundamental category mistake. Jesus did not arrive in a world that distinguished “religion” from politics in modern liberal terms. The biblical worldview assumes covenant, law, kingship, and worship as integrated realities. The Old Testament itself is not merely a religious document; it is a national and covenant constitution. Therefore, to ask whether Jesus came to start “a religion” risks imposing anachronistic assumptions onto the first century.
A more historically coherent question is this: Did Jesus come to inaugurate the Kingdom of God, and did He establish a visible covenant community to embody that Kingdom in history?
Catholic theology answers decisively: Jesus did not merely inspire a movement. He came as Messiah and Son of David to establish the Kingdom of God, and the Catholic Church is the historical and sacramental manifestation of that Kingdom on earth.
I. The Kingdom of God as Jesus’ Central Proclamation
The Synoptic Gospels are explicit that Jesus’ preaching centers upon the Kingdom. Mark summarizes the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in programmatic form:
“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel.”¹
This proclamation is not marginal. It is the interpretive key to Jesus’ identity and mission. As N. T. Wright has argued, Jesus’ preaching must be read within the Jewish expectation that God would finally return to Zion, defeat Israel’s enemies, and restore His reign.² In this sense, “Kingdom” language cannot be reduced to metaphorical spirituality. It signals divine kingship entering history.
Luke intensifies the political-theological claim by framing Jesus explicitly as the Davidic heir. The angel Gabriel announces:
“The Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David… and of his kingdom there will be no end.”³
This is dynastic and covenantal language. It indicates that Jesus is not merely a teacher of ethics but the promised King of Israel. The Gospels reinforce this claim repeatedly through titles such as “Son of David” and through the royal symbolism of Palm Sunday.⁴
Even the Roman execution confirms that Jesus’ claims were understood in political terms. The charge placed above Christ on the Cross read:
“Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”⁵
Rome crucified those perceived as threats to imperial sovereignty. Whatever else Jesus was, He was not interpreted as harmlessly spiritual.
II. Jesus Reconstitutes Israel: The Twelve and the Renewal of the Tribes
The modern claim that Jesus merely created a reform movement within Judaism often ignores one of the most obvious symbolic actions in the Gospels: Christ’s deliberate selection of the Twelve.
Jesus did not gather a vague and fluid number of disciples. He chose twelve apostles, mirroring the twelve tribes of Israel. This act signals that He is reconstituting Israel in renewed covenant form. Brant Pitre has emphasized that Jesus’ ministry consistently reflects the expectation of a restored Israel, now gathered around the Messiah.⁶
Jesus confirms the governmental significance of the Twelve in Matthew:
“You who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”⁷
This is judicial and royal language. Thrones belong to rulers; judging belongs to governance. Jesus is not establishing an invisible collection of independent believers but a structured Kingdom community with appointed leadership.
Scott Hahn has likewise argued that the covenant framework of Scripture implies that Jesus’ Kingdom must take visible and institutional form, since biblical covenants consistently establish an ordered people with priestly mediation and communal worship.⁸
III. “I Will Build My Church”: Jesus and Institutional Intention
Perhaps the clearest obstacle to the “Christianity was accidental” narrative is Jesus’ explicit statement in Matthew:
“You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”⁹
This is not the language of improvisation. It is the language of deliberate construction. Christ speaks of building a Church that will endure.
The phrase “gates of hell” is also significant. Gates are defensive fortifications, implying not merely survival but conquest. Christ is describing a community that will withstand the assaults of death and demonic opposition, continuing through history with divine protection.
Jaroslav Pelikan observed that early Christianity understood itself not as a loose philosophical school but as a visible society with continuity of teaching, worship, and authority.¹⁰ This self-understanding appears already in the New Testament and becomes explicit in patristic writings.
IV. The Davidic Kingdom and the Keys: Peter as Chief Steward
The Catholic claim to Petrine primacy is best understood not as Roman political imitation but as biblical continuity. If Jesus is the Davidic King, then the Kingdom He inaugurates would naturally reflect Davidic patterns of governance.
In the Old Testament, the Davidic king ruled Israel, but he appointed a chief steward over the royal household. This steward possessed delegated authority symbolized by the “key” of David’s house. Isaiah describes the office when Shebna is removed and Eliakim is installed:
“And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.”¹¹
This is not a private spiritual symbol. It is the insignia of royal administration.
Christ’s language to Peter echoes Isaiah unmistakably:
“I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”¹²
The imagery is governmental. The binding and loosing language corresponds to rabbinic judicial authority: the authority to permit, forbid, and render binding decisions. Yet Jesus elevates this authority by linking it to heaven’s ratification.
Brant Pitre argues that Matthew 16 should be read as a Kingdom appointment scene, in which Jesus, the Davidic Messiah, establishes Peter as the chief steward in the renewed Kingdom.¹³
This interpretation is not a medieval innovation. It is grounded in Old Testament typology and early Christian understanding of apostolic authority.
V. Peter’s Leadership in the New Testament: Pattern, Not Accident
Beyond Matthew 16, the New Testament repeatedly depicts Peter as the visible leader among the apostles.
Peter speaks on behalf of the Twelve.¹⁴ He is consistently named first in apostolic lists.¹⁵ He initiates decisive acts of leadership in Acts, including the election to replace Judas.¹⁶ He delivers the first public proclamation of the Gospel at Pentecost.¹⁷
Christ also gives Peter a unique commission in Luke:
“I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.”¹⁸
And after the Resurrection, Christ gives Peter a pastoral mandate:
“Feed my lambs… Tend my sheep… Feed my sheep.”¹⁹
These passages are difficult to reconcile with a purely egalitarian apostolic model. They indicate that Peter’s role was not merely honorary but functional and enduring.
John Chrysostom, in his homilies on John, explicitly notes Peter’s pastoral commission as evidence of his leadership responsibility.²⁰ While Chrysostom does not articulate later medieval papal claims, he clearly recognizes Petrine primacy in pastoral authority.
VI. Patristic Witness: Peter, Rome, and Ecclesial Unity
The patristic record does not support the notion that Roman primacy was invented after Constantine. Rather, early Christians repeatedly appeal to Rome’s apostolic foundation as a standard of unity and orthodoxy.
Clement of Rome (c. AD 96)
Clement, writing from Rome to Corinth, intervenes authoritatively in the internal disputes of another local church. This is significant because it occurs within the first century, during the lifetime of apostolic memory. Clement appeals to apostolic succession and insists that the Church must maintain the order instituted by the apostles.²¹
Irenaeus of Lyons (2nd century)
Irenaeus explicitly appeals to Rome as the Church whose apostolic succession is universally known:
“For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its preeminent authority.”²²
Irenaeus then traces the succession of Roman bishops from Peter and Paul onward, using this continuity as an argument against heretical innovation.
Origen (3rd century)
Origen, commenting on Matthew, speaks of Peter as the foundational rock in relation to Christ’s commission. While Origen’s exegesis is sometimes spiritualized, he nevertheless acknowledges Peter’s special role within the apostolic foundation.²³
Cyprian of Carthage (3rd century)
Cyprian famously writes:
“There is one God and one Christ, and one Church, and one chair founded upon Peter by the word of the Lord.”²⁴
Cyprian’s broader ecclesiology emphasizes the unity of bishops, yet he still uses Petrine imagery to express the visible unity of the Church.
Augustine (4th–5th century)
Augustine at times interprets “the rock” as Christ Himself, yet he also acknowledges Petrine primacy and the authority of the Roman See in disputes. Augustine’s anti-Donatist writings repeatedly emphasize the necessity of Catholic unity and apostolic succession, including communion with Rome.²⁵
Leo the Great (5th century)
Leo articulates Roman Petrine theology with clarity:
“The care of the universal Church should converge toward Peter’s one seat.”²⁶
Leo insists that Peter’s authority continues in his successors, framing papal governance not as imperial power but as ecclesial stewardship.
Eamon Duffy notes that while the papacy’s political influence expanded over time, its spiritual claim to Petrine inheritance is rooted in early Christian memory and Roman apostolic identity.²
Interlude: Why I Am Not Eastern Orthodox (Revised, Forte Voice)
At this point I want to clarify something personal, because readers often assume that if I reject the claim that Catholicism is merely a “Roman invention,” then my natural alternative must be Eastern Orthodoxy. And I understand why many serious Christians find the East compelling. I have genuine respect for Orthodox Christianity in its many forms—Eastern, Greek, Russian, and the Oriental communions as well. In my view, the Orthodox churches preserve an extraordinary inheritance of holiness, apostolic succession, sacramental life, and theological depth. Their liturgy, ascetic tradition, and continuity with the ancient world are not modern fabrications—they are real, ancient, and profoundly Christian.
But for me, admiration is not the same thing as conclusion.
The question I cannot escape—precisely because I take the Kingdom theme seriously—is whether Christ established not only a sacramental communion of bishops, but also a visible chief steward within that communion: a Petrine office meant to serve as the Kingdom’s principle of unity on earth. If Jesus truly inaugurates the renewed Davidic Kingdom, and if the “keys” imagery functions in continuity with Isaiah’s Davidic steward-office, then Peter’s role is not a decorative honor. It is structural. It is governmental. It is the Kingdom’s visible architecture.¹
This is why I remain Catholic.
I do not stay Catholic because I think the West is “more civilized,” or because I have no appreciation for the East, or because I deny the Orthodox churches’ apostolic legitimacy. I stay Catholic because I believe the Catholic Church uniquely preserves the fullness of the Kingdom’s visible governance—not by replacing Christ’s kingship, but by serving it in history through the office Christ established when He gave Peter the keys, charged him to strengthen the brethren, and commanded him to shepherd the flock.²
In my reading of Scripture and the early Church, the Orthodox model preserves true apostolicity, but it lacks the one element that holds the Kingdom together across geography, culture, and time: the chief steward in Peter’s chair. Without that office, unity becomes dependent on consensus, diplomacy, and historical circumstance—rather than on a divinely instituted center of visible communion.
This is not an insult to Orthodoxy. It is simply the hinge-point of ecclesiology. If the Petrine office is part of Christ’s original Kingdom design, then communion with that office is not a cultural preference or a Western quirk. It is a theological conclusion about what Christ built—and how His Kingdom remains visibly one “on earth as it is in heaven.”³
Footnotes (Chicago Style) for This Section
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Isaiah 22:22; Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE). See also Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.
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Luke 22:31–32; John 21:15–17 (RSV-CE).
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Matthew 6:10 (RSV-CE). For early Christian appeals to Roman primacy as a standard of catholic unity, see Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2.
VII. Constantine, Legalization, and the Edict of Thessalonica: What Actually Happened
The claim that Constantine “created Catholicism” is historically untenable.
Constantine and the Edict of Milan (313)
In AD 313, Constantine and Licinius issued what is commonly called the Edict of Milan, granting toleration to Christians and restoring confiscated property.²⁸ This did not establish Christianity as the state religion; it ended persecution and permitted open worship.
Christianity was already a widespread and organized institution long before Constantine, possessing bishops, liturgy, sacraments, theological controversies, and a strong martyr tradition.
Theodosius and the Edict of Thessalonica (380)
In AD 380, Emperor Theodosius I, together with Gratian and Valentinian II, issued the Edict of Thessalonica (Cunctos Populos), declaring Nicene Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire.²⁹
This event is often misunderstood. It did not invent the Church; it recognized and privileged the Nicene faith as imperial policy.
Pelikan emphasizes that doctrinal orthodoxy was forged through internal theological conflict long before imperial enforcement, meaning the Church’s dogmatic identity cannot be reduced to political convenience.³⁰
Thus, Constantine’s legalization and Theodosius’ establishment of Nicene Christianity as official are best interpreted not as the origin of Catholic structure but as the moment the empire formally acknowledged a Kingdom already advancing within it.
VIII. “Thy Kingdom Come”: The Church as the Kingdom’s Historical Manifestation
The Catholic claim is not that the Church exhausts the Kingdom in its final eschatological fullness. The Kingdom will be consummated only at the end of history. Yet the Kingdom is already present sacramentally and institutionally through the Church.
The Lord’s Prayer is explicit:
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”³¹
Revelation likewise declares:
“The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ.”³²
These passages were interpreted by many early Christians as expressing not only heavenly destiny but earthly mission: Christ’s reign spreading through the nations.
This is why Christianity did not remain a sect of Judaism. The New Covenant expands Israel into a universal people of God, fulfilling the Abrahamic promise that all nations would be blessed.³³ The Church becomes the renewed Israel, catholic in scope, apostolic in foundation, and sacramental in life.
Wright argues that the early Christian proclamation of Jesus as Lord necessarily entailed a challenge to Caesar’s lordship, since “Lord” was not merely devotional language but a claim of sovereign allegiance.³⁴
This Kingdom claim is precisely what makes Christianity historically disruptive. It was not merely a philosophy. It was a rival sovereignty.
Conclusion: Jesus Did Not Accidentally Create Christianity
The question “Did Jesus come to start a new religion?” is too modern, too narrow, and too detached from biblical categories. Jesus did not arrive offering a privatized spirituality disconnected from authority and covenant order. He proclaimed the Kingdom of God, gathered the Twelve as renewed Israel, founded His Church, instituted sacramental authority, and appointed Peter as steward with the keys of the Kingdom.
The Catholic Church is therefore not a Roman accident, not a Constantine-era invention, and not a medieval corruption of a simple Jewish movement. It is the historical unfolding of Christ’s Kingdom mission: the renewed Davidic Kingdom made visible through apostolic succession, sacramental worship, and Petrine unity.
Jesus did not merely speak of the Kingdom.
He built it.
And the Church remains His Kingdom’s earthly embassy until the end of the age.
Footnotes (Chicago Style)
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Mark 1:15 (RSV-CE).
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N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 202–240.
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Luke 1:32–33 (RSV-CE).
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Matthew 21:1–11.
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John 19:19 (RSV-CE).
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Brant Pitre, Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist (New York: Doubleday, 2011), 43–72.
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Matthew 19:28 (RSV-CE).
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Scott Hahn, Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 305–340.
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Matthew 16:18 (RSV-CE).
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Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 1, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 1–35.
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Isaiah 22:22 (RSV-CE).
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Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE).
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Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.
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John 6:68.
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Matthew 10:2.
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Acts 1:15–26.
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Acts 2:14–41.
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Luke 22:31–32 (RSV-CE).
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John 21:15–17 (RSV-CE).
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John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel of John, Homily 88, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, vol. 14, ed. Philip Schaff (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1889).
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Clement of Rome, 1 Clement 42–44.
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Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2, trans. Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.
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Origen, Commentary on Matthew 12.10–11.
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Cyprian of Carthage, On the Unity of the Catholic Church 4, trans. Ernest Wallis, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 5, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.
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Augustine, Against the Letter of Parmenian 2.13; Augustine, On Baptism, Against the Donatists 2.1.
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Leo the Great, Letter 14, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 12, trans. Charles Lett Feltoe, ed. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.
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Eamon Duffy, Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes, 4th ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 15–30.
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Lactantius, On the Deaths of the Persecutors 48; Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 10.5.
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“Edict of Thessalonica” (Cunctos Populos), February 27, 380, in The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions, trans. Clyde Pharr (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952), 1.1.2.
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Pelikan, Christian Tradition, 1:220–260.
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Matthew 6:10 (RSV-CE).
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Revelation 11:15 (RSV-CE).
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Genesis 12:3; Galatians 3:8.
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Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 352–370.
Bibliography (Chicago Style)
Augustine. Against the Letter of Parmenian.
Augustine. On Baptism, Against the Donatists.
Chrysostom, John. Homilies on the Gospel of John. In Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1889.
Clement of Rome. First Epistle to the Corinthians (1 Clement). c. AD 96.
Duffy, Eamon. Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes. 4th ed. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014.
Eusebius of Caesarea. Ecclesiastical History.
Hahn, Scott. Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009.
Irenaeus of Lyons. Against Heresies. In Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885.
Lactantius. On the Deaths of the Persecutors.
Origen. Commentary on Matthew.
Pelikan, Jaroslav. The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine. Vol. 1, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971.
Pitre, Brant. Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist. New York: Doubleday, 2011.
Pitre, Brant. Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005.
Pharr, Clyde, trans. The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952.
Wright, N. T. Jesus and the Victory of God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996.
Appendix: Protestant Objections and Catholic Replies (Brief, Academic)
Because this essay argues that Jesus established a visible Kingdom structure culminating in Petrine stewardship, it naturally invites several Protestant objections. These deserve to be stated fairly and answered with clarity.
Objection 1: “The keys in Matthew 16 have nothing to do with Isaiah 22.”
Many Protestant interpreters argue that Matthew 16:19 should not be connected to Isaiah 22:22, claiming the resemblance is superficial and that Catholics read later papal ideas back into the Old Testament.
Reply:
The Catholic argument does not require a strict word-for-word quotation to establish typological continuity. Rather, the force of the claim lies in the shared symbolic function: in both passages, a “key” is given as a sign of delegated authority to govern the household of the king. Isaiah explicitly identifies the key as the emblem of the chief steward’s office in the Davidic kingdom. When Jesus—who is publicly proclaimed as the Davidic Messiah—gives Peter “the keys of the kingdom,” the conceptual parallel is difficult to dismiss as coincidence.¹
Moreover, Jesus is not operating outside Jewish symbolism. The Gospels consistently portray Him as fulfilling Israel’s covenant institutions. The keys motif fits naturally within this restoration framework.
Objection 2: “The rock is Peter’s faith, not Peter himself.”
A classic Protestant claim is that Jesus is praising Peter’s confession, not instituting a Petrine office. The “rock,” it is argued, is the truth Peter spoke, not the man.
Reply:
Catholic interpretation does not deny the importance of Peter’s confession. But grammatically and narratively, Matthew 16 is focused on Peter personally. Jesus changes Simon’s name to “Peter” (Petros), then immediately says “upon this rock (petra) I will build my Church.” The name-change strongly suggests an intentional connection between Peter’s identity and his commissioned role.²
Additionally, even if one grants that the confession is part of the foundation, the text still explicitly gives Peter the keys and binding/loosing authority. Thus, the debate over the precise meaning of “rock” does not remove the central issue: Peter receives a unique Kingdom commission that the Gospel treats as real authority, not mere praise.
Objection 3: “Rome had primacy of honor only, not jurisdiction.”
A common Protestant and Orthodox-friendly claim is that Rome was respected because it was the imperial capital and the Church of Peter and Paul, but this respect was only honorary—not a governing authority over the universal Church.
Reply:
It is historically undeniable that Rome held a special position early on. The question is why that position mattered. Irenaeus does not appeal to Rome merely as a prestigious city. He appeals to Rome as the Church whose apostolic succession is publicly known and whose authority functions as a doctrinal standard.³
Likewise, Clement of Rome’s intervention in Corinth (c. AD 96) reads less like polite advice and more like authoritative correction. Even if one does not define this as “universal jurisdiction” in the later medieval sense, it still reflects an early consciousness that Rome held a unique stabilizing role for catholic unity.
Objection 4: “Universal jurisdiction is a late medieval invention.”
Some Protestants argue that papal supremacy as defined at Vatican I (1870) is far removed from the early Church, and therefore cannot plausibly be traced to Jesus or the apostles.
Reply:
Catholic theology distinguishes between seed and development. The Church does not claim that every later doctrinal formulation was articulated in its final precision in the first century. Rather, the claim is that the Petrine office is present in principle from the beginning, and that its implications became more explicit over time as new controversies forced clarification.
This is not unique to the papacy. The Trinity and Christology also developed through centuries of debate before being defined with technical precision at Nicaea and Chalcedon. Development does not imply invention. It implies clarification under historical pressure.
Eamon Duffy, while not writing as a Catholic apologist, notes that the papacy’s role expanded gradually and unevenly, shaped by both theology and circumstance. Yet this historical growth does not erase its early Petrine self-understanding—it demonstrates how an ancient office adapted to new demands.⁴
A Note on Orthodoxy (Respectfully)
These Protestant objections sometimes overlap with Orthodox critiques of later papal claims. As I have already stated, I do not treat Orthodoxy as “fake Christianity.” In my view, Orthodox churches possess apostolic succession, sacraments, and profound continuity with the early Church. The Catholic-Orthodox divide is not a question of whether the East is Christian, but whether the Kingdom Christ established includes a continuing Petrine steward-office as a universal principle of unity.
That remains, for me, the decisive issue.
Footnotes (Chicago Style)
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Isaiah 22:22; Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE). See also Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.
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Matthew 16:17–19. On the significance of Peter’s naming and commission, see also Scott Hahn, Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 305–340.
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Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2.
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Eamon Duffy, Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes, 4th ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 15–30.
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