Apostolic Succession in the Early Church

Perugino, Delivery of the Keys

It is the contention of certain Protestants that the traditional Catholic doctrine of apostolic succession was not truly present in the earliest days of the Church. Instead, they argue, the only essential component of apostolic succession during this time was a succession of doctrine, with the succession of office simply being the material occasion for that to occur. On this view, the absolute necessity of receiving a sacerdotal office from a man who himself possesses that office is rejected, and the only thing truly necessary to be a “valid church” is the possession of orthodox doctrine. While the vast majority of Protestant denominations hold this view today, the present article seeks to demonstrate that it is absolutely nowhere to be found in the early Church. We’ll start by considering the New Testament data, and then move on to the witness of St. Irenaeus of Lyons, Tertullian of Carthage, St. Cyprian of Carthage, and St. Hippolytus of Rome. The contents of this article are largely indebted to Felix L. Cirlot’s excellent book, Apostolic Succession: Is It True?.

To begin, it’s important to define what exactly the Catholic doctrine of apostolic succession is. As Perry Robinson helpfully summarizes, this doctrine is logically deduced from four principles: 

1. Theocratic Principle—possession of supernatural/divine power/authority is ultimately derived from God alone. 

2. Hierarchical Principle—Transmission of divine power/authority can be conveyed in greater or lesser degrees. 

3. Appointment Principle—Appointment to office was accomplished by sacramental ordination, i.e. ordination conveyed a real supernatural power/authority. 

4. Monarchial Principle—Not all powers of the highest office were transmitted to all orders of the hierarchy, i.e. only a select few have the power to ordain.

Simplifying and applying these principles to the ecclesiastical hierarchy, we’re left with the following: in order to become a valid minister of the sacraments, you must have either received this authority (1) directly from God, or (2) indirectly from God via someone who has been directly authorized with the power to transfer their God-given authority. This is clearly attested in the New Testament. The only men whom Scripture shows us exercising the sacramental ministry were either directly appointed by Jesus Christ, as the apostles were (Jn 20:21); by the apostles, as men like St. Timothy and St. Titus were (1 Tim 4:14; 2 Tim 1:6; Titus 1:5); or by those who were appointed by the apostles, which is evident from Timothy alone being enjoined to lay his hands on others (1 Tim 5:22). There is simply no biblical precedent for someone becoming a lawful minister without coming into direct contact with one of these groups. In other words, according to the testimony of Scripture, anyone who claims to possess divine power without receiving it from one of these authorized sources is a pretender. 

But was ordination in the New Testament truly a bestowal of sacerdotal power rather than just right doctrine? Indeed it was. Consider 1 Timothy 4:14, “Do not neglect the spiritual gift (charismatos) within you, which was bestowed on you through prophetic utterance with the laying on of hands by the presbytery.” There are three important things to notice about this passage. First, St. Paul informs St. Timothy that he has a “spiritual gift” that was “bestowed” on him. Second, we’re told that this unique charism was given “through” the instrument of “prophetic utterance.” Third, we’re told that the presbyters, who do not have the power to ordain according to Catholic doctrine, were not the instrument through which Timothy received the gift, but were simply there “with” him as his ordination was occurring (i.e. the material occasion). This data is lent further significance by 2 Timothy 1:6, “For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift (charisma) of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” Unlike the hands of the presbytery, Paul confirms that his hands were the instrument “through” which Timothy received the spiritual gift of God. 

This sheds great light on why Paul enjoined Timothy “not [to] be hasty in the laying on of hands” (1 Tim 5:22). Like Paul, Timothy had been authorized to transfer the “spiritual gift” of ministry to other men through the laying on of hands. Because of this, Timothy had to ensure that these ministers-elect were “above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, and able to teach” (1 Tim 3:2), before giving them any kind of sacerdotal power. This is also why women were absolutely forbidden from ordained ministry (1 Tim 2:12), not because they would be practically incapable of receiving and transmitting right doctrine, but rather because they are ontologically incapable of receiving sacerdotal power.

Indeed, the sacerdotal nature of ordination is further documented by another disciple of St. Paul, the evangelist St. Luke:

And the twelve summoned the full number of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we will appoint to this duty… And what they said pleased the whole gathering, and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit, and Philip, and Prochorus, and Nicanor, and Timon, and Parmenas, and Nicolaus, a proselyte of Antioch. These they set before the apostles, and having prayed they laid their hands on them.

Acts 6:2-6

The first thing to notice in this passage is that, whatever the laying on of hands refers to, it cannot simply be the conferral of the Holy Spirit. This is because men like St. Stephen already had the Spirit prior to ordination. Instead, this laying on of hands seems to be the instrument through which the seven proto-deacons were “appointed” to their ministry. What makes this important is that, while they allowed the brothers to “pick out” the men who were to become deacons, the apostles were nonetheless clear that “we will appoint [them] to this duty.” This is why, after selecting the seven men, the Christian brothers “set [them] before the apostles,” and it was only after this point that we see prayer and the laying on of hands. 

As such, given that (1) the apostles stated that they would be the ones to “appoint” the deacons after the brothers “picked [them] out,” (2) the brothers had to bring the seven men “before the apostles” in order for them to be ordained, and (3) the following context shows the power of laying on hands to be unique to the apostolic ministry (Acts 8:17-19), we can safely conclude that Acts 6:2-6 demonstrates the sacerdotal character of new covenant ordination. That is to say, this passage shows that in order to become a lawful minister of the Gospel, you must receive that power from someone who has already been divinely authorized to bestow that power. Once again, it must be emphasized that Scripture provides no other means by which a man can become a lawful minister. We never see the power of ministry being conferred on someone without the direct involvement of either an apostle, a man/men directly appointed by the apostles, or, by implication, one of their direct successors. Not once. 

With all of this in mind, we can now turn to how the ante-Nicene Church interpreted and applied this biblical data. The first witness we’ll call to the stand is the well-known St. Irenaeus of Lyons (A.D. 130-202). The following quotation is often appealed to by all sides of this debate, and so it’s worth considering:

It is within the power of all, therefore, in every Church, who may wish to see the truth, to contemplate clearly the tradition of the apostles manifested throughout the whole world; and we are in a position to reckon up those who were by the apostles instituted bishops in the Churches, and [to demonstrate] the succession of these men to our own times; those who neither taught nor knew of anything like what these [heretics] rave about. For if the apostles had known hidden mysteries, which they were in the habit of imparting to the perfect apart and privily from the rest, they would have delivered them especially to those to whom they were also committing the Churches themselves. For they were desirous that these men should be very perfect and blameless in all things, whom also they were leaving behind as their successors, delivering up their own place of government to these men; which men, if they discharged their functions honestly, would be a great boon [to the Church], but if they should fall away, the direst calamity. 

Since, however, it would be very tedious, in such a volume as this, to reckon up the successions of all the Churches, we do put to confusion all those who, in whatever manner, whether by an evil self-pleasing, by vainglory, or by blindness and perverse opinion, assemble in unauthorized meetings; [we do this, I say,] by indicating that tradition derived from the apostles, of the very great, the very ancient, and universally known Church founded and organized at Rome by the two most glorious apostles, Peter and Paul; as also [by pointing out] the faith preached to men, which comes down to our time by means of the successions of the bishops. For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its preeminent authority [...goes on to list the successors of the Roman See from St. Peter to Pope St. Eleutherius].

Against Heresies, 3.3.1-2. 

Before trying to extrapolate too much from Irenaeus’ words, it’s important to remember the context in which they were written. As our Protestant friends often point out, Irenaeus was appealing to apostolic succession in a very particular way: in order to demonstrate the historicity of the apostolic faith itself. Remember, Irenaeus’ gnostic opponents believed that there were “secret traditions” that the apostles gave to individual men, distinct from their public preaching to the Church. Irenaeus refutes this argument in a way that we would absolutely expect someone in the 2nd century to, namely, by appealing to direct succession from the apostles. Regardless of what one believes about ecclesial polity, if your ministers were ordained by men who knew the disciples of the apostles, or even disciples of the disciples of the apostles, that would be very relevant in a debate about the historic apostolic deposit! Even to this day, New Testament scholars appeal to the writings of men like Ss. Papias and Hegesippus when trying to determine what the apostles historically taught, not because they possessed some kind of sacerdotal “apostolic office,” but simply because, as a matter of historical fact, they were directly taught by the apostles and their immediate successors. 

Thus, I fully agree with Protestant critics who argue that Catholic apologists often try to do way too much with this passage alone. To be sure, nothing Irenaeus says here excludes the absolute necessity of material apostolic succession, there’s just nothing that forces one to read his words in that way. However, while I do acknowledge this, I believe there’s another passage from Against Heresies that non-sacerdotal Protestants have a bit of a harder time accounting for:

Wherefore it is incumbent to obey the presbyters who are in the Church — those who, as I have shown, possess the succession from the apostles; those who, together with the succession of the episcopate, have received the certain charism of truth (charisma veritatis certum), according to the good pleasure of the Father. But [it is also incumbent] to hold in suspicion others who depart from the primitive succession, and assemble themselves together in any place whatsoever, [looking upon them] either as heretics of perverse minds, or as schismatics puffed up and self-pleasing, or again as hypocrites, acting thus for the sake of lucre and vainglory. For all these have fallen from the truth… Where, therefore, the gifts of the Lord have been placed, there it behooves us to learn the truth, [namely,] from those who possess that succession of the Church which is from the apostles, and among whom exists that which is sound and blameless in conduct, as well as that which is unadulterated and incorrupt in speech. For these also preserve this faith of ours in one God who created all things.

Against Heresies, 4.26.2, 5.

The first thing to notice is that, according to St. Irenaeus, one of the main reasons why you must obey bishops and presbyters is because they possess “the certain charism of truth, according to the good pleasure of the Father.” Although this could just be tautologically referring to the fact that those who have right doctrine have right doctrine, we should recall from above St. Paul’s usage of the word “charisma” or “gift” in the context of the ordained ministry. Remember that in 1-2 Timothy, Paul used this word to refer to the “spiritual gift” that was transferred to Timothy “through” the laying on of his hands. This suggests that, for Irenaeus, ordained ministers receiving “the certain gift of truth,” which some translators render, “the infallible gift of truth,” refers not merely to right doctrine but also to a sacerdotal office that’s under divine protection, “according to the good pleasure of the Father.” This interpretation will be given more weight below after we consider the witness of Tertullian and St. Hippolytus.

Even more damning for the non-sacerdotal Protestants is what Irenaeus says next. According to the non-sacerdotalists, a Christian Church can lawfully preach the Gospel and administer the sacraments even if it lacks material succession from the apostles, so long as the succession of faith is maintained. In this model, if someone were to “depart from the primitive succession” in such a way that it warranted condemnation, this would necessarily mean that they were heretics preaching false doctrine. After all, if it’s lawful for an ecclesial body to depart from material succession so long as they maintain the true faith, there would be no grounds for placing such a non-heretical group under suspicion or condemnation. However, St. Irenaeus didn’t see it this way. 

According to the bishop of Lyons, those who “depart from the primitive succession” are to be held “in suspicion” because they always fall into one of three categories: either they are (1) heretics who teach false doctrine, (2) schismatics who puff themselves up, or (3) hypocrites who pridefully seize power for themselves. Unlike what the non-sacerdotalists claim, Irenaeus doesn’t believe that departing from apostolic succession necessarily means preaching false doctrine. Instead, that’s only one of the ways that you could fall from succession. In his mind, doing away with material succession through being either a schismatic or vainglorious hypocrite is just as serious of an offense as falling away from the true faith. In other words, St. Irenaeus believed that both the succession of doctrine and the succession of office were absolutely necessary for maintaining the Catholic faith. This is further confirmed by Ireaneus’ last remark that “those who possess that succession of the Church which is from the apostles” are those who “also preserve this faith of ours.” Both apostolic faith and apostolic succession are essential, yet they’re not identical. To do away with either is to “fall away from the truth,” which makes sense since the “infallible charism of truth” is given only to those in lawful succession.

Perhaps you’re still not fully convinced of the Catholic reading of St. Irenaeus. While I believe the logic above is air-right, rest assured that we’ll return to Irenaeus towards the end of this article for a final and decisive refutation of the non-sacerdotalists. For now, we turn our attention to one of Irenaeus’ contemporaries, Tertullian of Carthage (A.D. 160-220). Like Irenaeus, Tertullian is an important witness to the doctrine of apostolic succession, and recently Protestants have been appealing to him as an example of proto-Reformed ecclesiology in the early Church. The following quotation is often cited:

Let them produce the original records of their churches; let them unfold the roll of their bishops, running down in due succession from the beginning in such a manner that [that first bishop of theirs] bishop shall be able to show for his ordainer and predecessor some one of the apostles or of apostolic men, — a man, moreover, who continued steadfast with the apostles. For this is the manner in which the apostolic churches transmit their registers: as the church of Smyrna, which records that Polycarp was placed therein by John; as also the church of Rome, which makes Clement to have been ordained in like manner by Peter. In exactly the same way the other churches likewise exhibit (their several worthies), whom, as having been appointed to their episcopal places by apostles, they regard as transmitters of the apostolic seed. Let the heretics contrive something of the same kind. For after their blasphemy, what is there that is unlawful for them (to attempt)? But should they even effect the contrivance, they will not advance a step. For their very doctrine, after comparison with that of the apostles, will declare, by its own diversity and contrariety, that it had for its author neither an apostle nor an apostolic man; because, as the apostles would never have taught things which were self-contradictory, so the apostolic men would not have inculcated teaching different from the apostles, unless they who received their instruction from the apostles went and preached in a contrary manner. To this test, therefore will they be submitted for proof by those churches, who, although they derive not their founder from apostles or apostolic men (as being of much later date, for they are in fact being founded daily), yet, since they agree in the same faith, they are accounted as not less apostolic because they are akin in doctrine.

Prescription Against Heretics, Chap 32.

Understandably, many traditionally-minded Protestants enjoy latching on to the end of this passage from Tertullian, which states that churches who “derive not their founder from apostles or apostolic men” can still be legitimate so long as they “agree in the same faith” with the apostolic churches. And at face value, this does seem like a point for the Protestants. After all, if a 2nd-3rd century writer like Tertullian believed that material apostolic succession wasn’t absolutely necessary for churches to be valid, and all that was strictly required was a succession of orthodox doctrine, then Catholic ecclesiology could perhaps be regarded as a “later” innovation (albeit only a few decades later, as we shall discuss below). However, there’s very good reason to doubt this Protestant gloss on Tertullian. 

For starters, focusing solely on Tertullian's reference to the churches that “derive not their founder from apostles or apostolic men,” ignores the broader context of the Carthaginian theologian’s argument. Just as many Catholic apologists often fail to appreciate the actual historical argument St. Irenaeus was making in his treatment of apostolic succession, so too it seems many Protestants are guilty of exactly this in their treatment of Tertullian. Like Irenaeus, Tertullian wasn’t giving a robust explanation for what makes a particular church have “valid” sacramental or disciplinary power, rather he was simply making an historical argument for the orthodoxy of his own Christian beliefs. That argument being, because his church “agree[s] in the same faith” with those churches that were historically founded either by an apostle or someone who personally knew the apostles, Tertullian is right and the heretics are wrong. In the same vein as Irenaeus, this is exactly how we’d expect a 2nd-3rd century Christian to be arguing regardless of their ecclesial polity. If there was a church nearby that was directly founded by the apostles or apostolic men, and the current ministers of that church were their direct successors, their beliefs would indeed be more likely to represent what the apostles historically taught. Thus, it was perfectly legitimate for Tertullian to support his argument by noting that he “agrees in the same faith” with these churches while his opponents do not. 

That Tertullian meant by “apostolic churches” those that were historically founded by the apostles or apostolic men, and not merely churches that retain material succession, is further evident from the concrete examples he provides. As an illustration of what he’s talking about, Tertullian cites the Church of Rome, which he highlights as being founded by St. Peter and succeeded by St. Clement, a man who knew Peter. Tertullian also cites the Church of Smyrna, which he makes sure to point out was founded by St. John and had St. Polycarp, a disciple of John, as its second hierarch. Both of these are churches whose “first bishop” can “show for his ordainer and predecessor some one of the apostles or of apostolic men.” The Roman Church can show that her first bishop was the the Apostle Peter and her second bishop was the apostolic man Clement; the Smyrnaean Church can likewise show that her first bishop was the Apostle John and her second bishop was the apostolic man Polycarp. Given that context, when we see Tertullian referring to those churches that “derive not their founder from apostles or apostolic men,” we know he meant this quite literally: churches that were not historically established by men such as Peter, John, Clement, or Polycarp. That is, churches whose first monarchical bishop was neither ordained nor directly appointed by an apostle or an apostolic man. An example of this would be the modern Church of Moscow. The first Muscovite bishop was most certainly not ordained or appointed by an apostle or a man who personally knew the apostles, however that doesn’t mean he lacks material apostolic succession. 

Indeed, after referring to the “non-apostolic” churches, Tertullian immediately explains why these churches don’t have an apostolic origin: “as being founded at a much later date, for they are in fact being founded daily.” The reason why there exist churches that were not founded “by apostles or apostolic men” is because these men are all dead! At the time of Tertullian’s writing, there simply were no more apostles or apostolic men out establishing new churches, at least not that he was aware of. This demonstrates that the statement in question was not referring to churches that lack the kind of material succession that Catholic ecclesiology requires, rather it simply referred to churches that, as a matter of historical fact, were not directly established by an apostle or someone “who received their instruction from the apostles.” 

With this understood, the careful observer can see that Tertullian’s own Church of Carthage was very likely the chief example of a “non-apostolic” church he had in mind, hence why he even mentions this category to begin with. Tertullian likely anticipated the following objection from his opponents: “But Tertullian, the church you yourself belong to in Carthage wasn’t founded by an apostle or an apostolic man! So how can we trust your beliefs to be orthodox?” His reply to this hypothetical objection is that his church agrees in faith with those churches that were historically founded by the apostles, such as the Church of Rome and the Church of Smyrna. That is Tertullian’s argument for why his church teaches the orthodox faith. The fact that the first bishop of Carthage wasn’t appointed/ordained by an apostle or a man who knew the apostles has zero relevance whatsoever to whether or not he possessed material apostolic succession. The context of the passage in question simply doesn’t allow Tertullian to be speaking about the kind of non-apostolic Protestant “churches” that would eventually spring up in the 16th century. The reality is, Tertullian’s argument in this particular section of Prescription Against Heretics does nothing to help either the Protestant or Catholic side of this debate. The question of whether or not the material succession of sacerdotal power is absolutely essential for sacramental validity is just not what Tertullian was talking about here. 

However, we’re in luck! Although he doesn’t discuss sacerdotal power in the section quoted above, Tertullian does explicitly address this issue in the very same work just a few chapters later. While mocking the follies that his heretical opponents engage in, our Carthaginian theologian wrote the following:

I must not omit an account of the conduct also of the heretics— how frivolous it is, how worldly, how merely human, without seriousness, without authority, without discipline, as suits their creed… The very women of these heretics, how wanton they are! For they are bold enough to teach, to dispute, to enact exorcisms, to undertake cures — it may be even to baptize. Their ordinations, are carelessly administered, capricious, changeable. At one time they put novices in office; at another time, men who are bound to some secular employment; at another, persons who have apostatized from us, to bind them by vainglory, since they cannot by the truth. Nowhere is promotion easier than in the camp of rebels, where the mere fact of being there is a foremost service. And so it comes to pass that today one man is their bishop, tomorrow another; today he is a deacon who tomorrow is a reader; today he is a presbyter who tomorrow is a layman. For even on laymen do they impose the functions of priesthood.

Prescription Against Heretics, Chap 41.  

Notice the flow of Tertullian’s argument here. He lists off several false practices that the heretics engage in, which culminate in a final practice that he seems to consider the most egregious. Noting how the heretics’ women are “bold enough to teach, to dispute, to enact exorcisms, [and] to undertake cures,” he considers the crown jewel of these offenses to be the fact that they allow women to administer the sacrament of baptism. Likewise, when scoffing at how “their ordinations are carelessly administered,” Tertullian lists off all of the ways in which the heretics abuse this sacrament, and the offenses culminate in this chief indictment: “For even on laymen do they impose the functions of priesthood.” What does it mean to allow laymen to function as priests other than to allow them to function in the sacramental ministry without valid ordination? I have little to add to Felix Cirlot’s treatment of this passage:

The Latin of the closing clause is ‘nam et laicis sacerdotalia munera iniungunt.’ It is clearly the climax of [Tertullian’s] list of indictments, and the climax seems to consist in a violation of sacerdotal principles. I do not believe anyone who did not [have a bias against sacerdotalism] would even think for a moment of interpreting this passage as meaning no more than that these heretics let laymen do without need and in public meetings what it would have been perfectly all right, and acknowledged by all, for them to do if there had been need in tiny meetings. His tone, and the fact that he makes this charge the climax of their offenses, sounds much more like the sincere sacerdotalist who thinks that sacrilege has been involved. 

Cirlot, Felix L. Aposotolic Succession: Is It True, p. 492.

The most natural takeaway, then, from Tertullian criticizing heretics for letting laymen pretend to be priests is that he viewed the material succession of sacerdotal power as absolutely essential to ecclesial validity. It’s important to note that Tertullian doesn’t say that the heretics’ “priests” weren’t ordained at all, rather “imposing the functions of priesthood on laymen” is cited as an example of “ordination [being] carelessly administered,” meaning that he considered their ordinations to be invalid rather than simply non-existent. Thus, my interpretation of Tertullian’s reference to churches that “derive not their founder from apostles or apostolic men (as being of much later date, for they are in fact being founded daily),” is vindicated beyond doubt. If Tertullian meant by this that there are orthodox churches being “founded daily” by men who weren’t properly ordained, why would he mock the heretics for doing exactly this just nine chapters later? Obviously he wouldn’t, meaning that Tertullian did not have a proto-Protestant understanding of apostolic succession. Instead, he was just as much of a sacerdotalist as Catholics are today.

This is further confirmed by the witness of St. Cyprian of Carthage (A.D. 210-258), a man who, just a few decades after Tertullian’s death, became the monarchical bishop of the very Church to which Tertullian had once belonged. There really is no dispute among scholars that Cyprian was a bit of a “radical sacerdotalist,” so much so that he considered all heretics and schismatics to possess invalid sacraments. This thesis is clearly laid out in Cyprian’s otherwise phenomenal work, On the Unity of the Church. In this treatise, St. Cyprian is the first Christian writer to articulate a robust theology of the Church, one which views the monarchical episcopate as a divine institution derived from Christ’s appointment of St. Peter over the apostles. An exposition of Cyprian’s entire ecclesiological scheme is beyond the scope of this article, and for more on that I would encourage readers to see Fr. Laurent Cleenewerck’s book, His Broken Body. Our interest is what Cyprian believed about material apostolic succession, a matter he only touched on in passing given it was simply presupposed in his day. Consider what the Carthaginian Saint taught about membership in the Church of God:

They are the Church who are a people united to the priest, and the flock which adheres to its pastor. Whence you ought to know that the bishop is in the Church, and the Church in the bishop; and if any one be not with the bishop, that he is not in the Church, and that those flatter themselves in vain who creep in, not having peace with God’s priests, and think that they communicate secretly with some; while the Church, which is Catholic and one, is not cut nor divided, but is indeed connected and bound together by the cement of priests who cohere with one another.

Epistle 68, 8.

For Cyprian, the Church being “one” doesn’t simply refer to the fact that she shares one and the same faith, rather it also refers to the fact that she is has one, single, undivided, and visibly unified episcopal government. If this bond of unity were ever broken such that there emerged two different episcopal bodies in schism with one another, Cyprian’s ecclesiology would require one of those bodies to remain the true Church and the other to become a false sect on the highway to hell. This already rules out anything approaching a Protestant “branch theory” of ecclesiology, wherein multiple mutually excommunicated ecclesial bodies could all still be members of the one true Church. Because St. Cyprian requires the episcopate to be absolutely and radically one, any “division” that occurred within it would only sift out the chaff from the wheat. 

This is especially highlighted by Cyprian’s statement that, “If one be not with the bishop, he is not in the Church, and those flatter themselves in vain who creep in, not having peace with God’s priests, and think that they communicate secretly with some.” The person Cyprian is describing here is one who secretly retains communion with “some” orthodox bishops, but refuses communion with the rest of the visible society structured around “the bishop,” i.e. the canonical monarchical bishop. Such a person believes that having the orthodox faith and communion with a few priests and bishops is enough to be Catholic, but Cyprian says you need more than this. In order to validly partake of the sacraments, you also need visible communion with the entire Catholic Church, most especially the lawful bishop in your region. This is the framework from which the “canonical boundaries” of the Church are derived. 

Although this doesn’t directly pertain to apostolic succession, it does show that the ecclesiology present in 2nd-3rd century Carthage was not Protestant in any sense of the term. You couldn’t simply go out with the right faith, found a church, have no material fellowship with the rest of the Catholic hierarchy dispersed throughout the world, and still be considered a perfectly legitimate church. Such would have been unthinkable. However, all of this is a little question begging given this article’s thesis. The significance of Cyprian teaching that it’s absolutely necessary to retain visible communion with the worldwide episcopate requires us to know what he believed was necessary to actually join this episcopate in the first place. Could someone become a lawful bishop if they just preached right doctrine and didn’t formally separate themselves from communion with other lawful bishops? The answer is no.

As mentioned, because the Catholic doctrine of apostolic succession was presupposed in Cyprian’s day, the Saint only touched on it in passing. One very clear example of this can be found in his letter to St. Cornelius of Rome:

Hence also, dearest brother, you may now know the other falsehoods which desperate and abandoned men have there spread about, that although, of the sacrificers, or of the heretics, there were not more than five false bishops who came to Carthage, and appointed Fortunatus as the associate of their madness; yet they, as children of the devil, and full of lies, dared, as you write, to boast that there were present twenty-five bishops; which falsehood they boasted here also before among our brethren, saying that twenty-five bishops would come from Numidia to make a bishop for them. After they were detected and confounded in this their lie (only five who had made shipwreck coming together, and these being excommunicated by us), they sailed to Rome with the reward of their lies, as if the truth could not sail after them, and convict their lying tongues by proof of the certainty.

Epistle 54, 11.

In this passage, St. Cyprian assures St. Cornelius that the rumors he may have heard about the Novationist heretics are false. The followers of Novation claimed that there were twenty-five bishops who were going to “make a bishop for them” in the city of Carthage, yet this was a lie. According to Cyprian, there were only “five false bishops” who actually appointed Fortunatus as the Novationist bishop of Carthage. Although the main point of this passage was to portray the Novationists as untrustworthy liars, it nonetheless reveals an assumption that was shared by St. Cyprian, St. Cornelius, and the followers of Novation in the 3rd century: only bishops can make other bishops. If it was commonly believed in the 2nd-3rd century that legitimate churches could be established without ordination by a bishop, then why would the Novationists have five bishops risk their lives crossing the sea in order to “make a bishop” for their sect? Why wouldn’t they just appoint bishops for themselves since they believed they had orthodox doctrine? Why would Ss. Cyprian and Cornelius be so concerned about the number of bishops who joined/were made by the Novationist sect if, in principle, any man could become a bishop at any time? This passage would make little sense if the 3rd century Churches of Rome and Carthage didn’t believe in the absolute necessity of sacerdotal succession. 

Indeed, this is bolstered by Pope St. Cornelius himself whose writings were preserved by the church historian Eusebius. In his letter to Fabius, Cornelius confirms Cyprian’s accusation that the Novationists were desperate for bishops. According to the Pontiff, Novation himself was so desperate to get ordained by a bishop that he actually tricked several Catholic bishops into coming to Rome, and when they arrived, “[Novation] compelled them by force to confer on him the episcopate through a counterfeit and vain imposition of hands” (Church History, 6.43.9). Once again, if it was the common belief of the 2nd-3rd century Church that bishops could be created ex-nihilo, especially under “extraordinary circumstances” such as the ones Novation found himself in, why would he be so desperate to receive the laying on of hands from canonical bishops? Why wouldn’t a congregational appointment suffice? The answer is clearly revealed by St. Cornelius’ affirmation that the episcopate is “conferr[ed]... through [the] imposition of hands.” The reason why Novation went to extreme lengths to try and get ordained by a real bishop was because he knew that this was the only way he could possibly become a bishop himself; he especially knew that this was the only way any other churches would acknowledge him as such. Thus, we must conclude that the 3rd century Church, to which St. Cyprian belonged, affirmed the absolute necessity of sacerdotal succession. 

There are several more comments that Cyprian made in passing that affirm the same. In his letter to Antonianus, for example, the Saint recalls how Pope St. Cornelius was “made a bishop by very many of our colleagues who were in the city of Rome,” and this was done through “his ordination” (Letter 55.8). Cyprian’s fellow bishops in Rome were the ones who conferred the episcopate on Cornelius. This sacerdotal framework is even more explicit in Cyprian’s letter to the Church of Spain, wherein he speaks of “the ordination of our colleague Sabinus.” After the bishop Basilides was deposed, Sabinus was appointed bishop-elect “by the suffrage of the whole brotherhood, and by the sentence of the bishops who had assembled in their presence.” This is what allowed “the episcopate [to be] conferred upon him, and hands [to be] imposed on him in the place of Basilides” (Epistle 67, 5). The latter clause, “in the place of Basilides,” was clearly intended to modify both “the episcopate was conferred upon him” and “hands were imposed on him,” showing that, like St. Cornelius, St. Cyprian believed the imposition of hands and the conferral of the episcopate to be one and the same act. From this it necessarily follows that Cyprian affirmed the absolute necessity of material apostolic succession for ecclesial validity. 

Perhaps you think it’s unfair for me to invoke the witness of St. Cyprian at all in this discussion. “He’s not early enough,” some might object. However, even if that subjective claim were true, it wouldn’t matter. As noted above, St. Cyprian is important because he sheds light on his theological predecessor, Tertullian. Not only was Cyprian the monarchical bishop of the very Church of Carthage to which Tertullian belonged prior to his schism, but they were even contemporaries for a short time (approx. A.D. 210-220). On top of this, according to St. Jerome, “Cyprian was accustomed never to pass a day without reading Tertullian, and he frequently said to him, ‘Give me the master,’ meaning by this, Tertullian” (De Viris Illustribus, 53). Although he did go into schism, Tertullian was still held in high regard by the Carthaginian Church long after his death, making it implausible that someone like Cyprian would so radically depart from “the master” on the subject of ecclesiology. As such, if St. Cyprian truly taught the necessity of material apostolic succession, then my interpretation of Tertullian is proved beyond any doubt. Contrary to the Protestant claim, everyone in the 2nd-3rd century Christian Church was a strict sacerdotalist, whether we like it or not.

This brings us to our fourth and final witness to the doctrine of apostolic succession in the early Church, St. Hippolytus of Rome (A.D. 170-235). Out of all the writers we’ve surveyed thus far, Hippolytus is probably the most explicit in teaching the absolute necessity of sacerdotal ordination for ministers. Writing decades prior to both Ss. Cyprian and Cornelius, Hippolytus taught the following:

But when a presbyter is ordained, the bishop shall lay his hand upon his head, while the presbyters touch him, and he shall say according to those things that were said above, as we have prescribed above concerning the bishop… the bishop alone shall make a deacon. But on a presbyter, however, the presbyters shall lay their hands because of the common and like Spirit of the clergy. Yet the presbyter has only the power to receive; but he has no power to give. For this reason a presbyter does not ordain the clergy; but at the ordination of a presbyter he seals while the bishop ordains.

The Apostolic Tradition, Part I, 8:1, 9:5-8.

This passage requires little commentary. According to this 2nd-3rd century Roman clergyman, bishops alone have the power to ordain while other ranks of the clergy only have the power to receive ordination. It’s worth highlighting that St. Hippolytus makes the same distinction between the imposition of hands done by the presbyters versus the bishops that St. Paul did. You’ll recall from above that in 1 Timothy 4:14, the Apostle Paul reminded St. Timothy that he was ordained “with the laying on of hands by the presbytery,” but that the ordination itself happened “through the laying on of my hands” (2 Tim 4:14). As Hippolytus explains: “[the presbyter] seals while the bishop ordains.” Even in the late 2nd to early 3rd century, presbyters were still laying their hands on ministers-elect, yet it was understood that the bishop alone transfers the sacerdotal power while the presbyters merely approve of this act. Because he was writing decades before St. Cornelius took the papal throne in Rome (and Novation took the anti-papal throne), the witness of Hippolytus further supports the sacerdotalist reading of both him and (by implication) St. Cyprian and Tertullian. However, as powerful as St. Hippolytus’ testimony is in itself, it is perhaps even more powerful for another reason. Above I promised that we would circle back to St. Irenaeus’ teaching on apostolic succession as we approach the conclusion of this article. That time has now come.

Since they were contemporaries, St. Hippolytus (A.D. 170-235) is indeed worth mentioning in a discussion about St. Irenaeus (A.D. 130-202). In fact, Hippolytus was a presbyter in the Church of Rome during the exact time when Irenaeus was writing his famous work, Against Heresies. Why is this significant? Well, do you remember what St. Irenaeus said about the Roman Church that existed in his and Hippolytus’ day? “It is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church [in Rome], on account of its preeminent authority” (Against Heresies, 3.3.1-2). However you interpret the “preeminent authority” of Rome in this passage, it cannot be denied that Irenaeus believed that Catholic Christianity is whatever the Church of Rome taught at that time. Thus, allow me to construct the following argument: (1) the witness of St. Hippolytus (and Pope St. Cornelius and Novation) tells us beyond any shadow of a doubt that the Church of Rome in Irenaeus’ day professed the absolute necessity of material apostolic succession; (2) Irenaeus himself claimed to be in full agreement with the Roman Church on all matters of faith; (3) Irenaeus’ own teachings on apostolic succession can be plausibly read in a strict sacerdotalist way (shown above). Therefore, it follows that St. Irenaeus almost certainly taught the absolute necessity of material apostolic succession for ecclesial validity. To say otherwise would require an immensely powerful argument to the contrary, one that Irenaeus’ corpus simply doesn’t allow the Protestant critic to make. 

Indeed, the coherence between Ss. Irenaeus and Hippolytus on apostolic succession is further underscored by the similar language they used to describe the ordained ministry. You’ll recall that Irenaeus spoke of the monarchical bishops as those who have the “charisma veritatis certum,” which can be translated, “the certain gift of truth” (Against Heresies, 4.26.2). It was pointed out how this is likely derived from St. Paul’s teaching that Catholic ministers receive a “spiritual gift” through their ordination (1 Tim 4:14). This is important because we see something very similar in St. Hippolytus’ ordination prayers for deacons and presbyters, which both include the phrase: “grant to him the Spirit of grace” (The Apostolic Tradition, Part I, 8:2, 9:10). Despite describing other sacraments such as baptism and confirmation in great detail, Hippolytus reserved this term, “the Spirit of grace,” to ordained ministers alone. The reason behind this is revealed in another work of his:

But none will refute these [heresies], save the Holy Spirit bequeathed unto the Church, which the Apostles, having in the first instance received, have transmitted to those who have rightly believed. But we, as being their successors, and as participators in this grace, high-priesthood, and office of teaching, as well as being reputed guardians of the Church, must not be found deficient in vigilance, or disposed to suppress correct doctrine.

Refutation of All Heresies, Book I, The Proemium.

Another way to translate the key sentence here is, “we are their successors, sharing the same grace of high-priesthood and teaching” (Cirlot, p. 165). Like St. Irenaeus, St. Hippolytus believed that the Church’s bishops possess a unique grace that enables them to carry out the sacramental ministry and teach the true faith. When tied to Hippolytus’ understanding of the sacrament of ordination, wherein it can only be conferred by bishops and received by presbyters, one sees a totally complete theology of “sacerdotalism” present in the 2nd-3rd century Church. 

But there’s something more going on in all of these teachings that I’d like to close with. If one were to come across St. Hippolytus’ belief that being a “successor” of the apostles entails sharing their “office of teaching,” unaware of what he says about sacerdotalism in The Apostolic Tradition, it could easily be thought that he was appealing to apostolic succession merely to try and bolster his historical argumentation. After all, if you were arguing with somebody in the 2nd-3rd century about what the apostles taught, you would be crazy not to invoke historical succession to support your argument. However, we can’t let this picture be entirely one-sided. We can’t let ourselves think that men like Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Hippolytus were mere historians. Unlike Protestants today, the earliest Christians didn’t view the Church’s hierarchy as just another human institution that was subject to the exact same sociological and political trends that all man-made institutions are. Instead, they took it for granted that the Church was not a society guided by the whims of men, but rather the Spirit of God. It was firmly believed that “shepherds and teachers” were empowered by the Holy Spirit precisely so that “we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes” (Eph 4:11-14). Our holy fathers truly believed that Jesus Christ Himself was still with the Church (Matt 28:20), perpetually guiding her into all truth (Jn 16:13). 

These beliefs are what led St. Cyprian to declare, “For neither have heresies arisen, nor have schisms originated, from any other source than from this, that God’s priest is not obeyed.” They’re what lead him to ask, “does any one think that the highest and greatest things are done in God’s Church either without God’s knowledge or permission, and that priests— that is, His stewards — are not ordained by His decree?” (Epistle 54, 5). If you were to tell Cyprian that the entire worldwide episcopate could unanimously fall into heresy for several years, let alone centuries, I have no doubt that he would have considered you an insane heretic. Don’t just take my word for it, take it from the man whom Cyprian himself considered “the master” of theology, Tertullian:

Grant, then, that all have erred; that the apostle was mistaken in giving his testimony; that the Holy Ghost had no such respect to any one (church) as to lead it into truth, although sent with this view by Christ, [John 14:26] and for this asked of the Father that He might be the teacher of truth; [John 15:26] grant, also, that He, the Steward of God, the Vicar of Christ, neglected His office, permitting the churches for a time to understand differently, (and) to believe differently, what He Himself was preaching by the apostles — is it likely that so many churches, and they so great, should have gone astray into one and the same faith? No casualty distributed among many men issues in one and the same result. Error of doctrine in the churches must necessarily have produced various issues. When, however, that which is deposited among many is found to be one and the same, it is not the result of error, but of tradition. Can any one, then, be reckless enough to say that they were in error who handed on the tradition?

Prescription Against Heretics, Chap. 28.

For the sake of argument, Tertullian “grants” that the heretics are right. They’re right that the Holy Spirit does not actually guide the Church into all truth. The heretics are right that the Spirit has, in fact, failed in the very duty He was tasked with by Jesus Christ. As far as the heretics are concerned, the Spirit indeed “permitt[ed] the churches for a time to understand differently, (and) to believe differently, [than] what He Himself was preaching by the apostles.” Let’s grant this, Tertullian says. Even if the promises of Jesus Christ failed, would we really expect all of the churches dispersed throughout the world to fall into one and the same error? What are the odds that the Churches of Lyons, Rome, and Carthage would all end up believing the exact same ecclesiological heresies? Tertullian reasons that this would be absurd even if the Church were a mere human society, and so how much more absurd is it given the Church is a society founded by Jesus Christ Himself? This is what leaves Tertullian to conclude that when “that which is deposited among many is found to be one and the same, it is not the result of error, but of tradition.” Could any Protestant today say “yes and amen” to this? Obviously not. The only question Protestants could answer in the affirmative would be Tertullian’s, “Can any one, then, be reckless enough to say that they were in error who handed on the tradition?” 

The reality is, the early Church did not believe that apostolic succession was merely a convenient tool for preserving the historic faith; a practical reality that could be done away with under “extraordinary circumstances.” Rather, for men like Tertullian, St. Hippolytus, St. Cyprian, and St. Irenaeus, apostolic succession was “an additional safeguard [that] is supplied by the Holy Spirit… [because] the Church’s bishops are on his [Irenaeus’] view Spirit-endowed men who have been vouchsafed ‘an infallible charism of truth’” (J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, p. 37). The earliest Christians were not secular historians who analyzed Church history through a historical-critical lens, rather they genuinely believed the Church’s episcopal government was specially guided by the Spirit of truth. When joined to strict sacerdotalism and ecclesial exclusivism, even a simpleton could see how these beliefs would inevitably and necessarily lead to the Catholic understanding of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, which speaks with the infallible voice of God. As one of my old professors would say, “You saw that coming.”