In a Quiet Study: A Protestant and a Priest Discuss Faith, Scripture, and Tradition

When a patient Priest and an erudite Protestant search for the Church’s foundations, just how deep will their theological discussions go?

The scene: A quiet study, wood-paneled and smelling of old books and beeswax. Evening is settling outside the large window. Two china coffee cups sit on a low table between two worn leather armchairs. Fr. James, bearded and wearing a simple black riassa, leans forward, his hands together. Dr. Edward, in a tweed jacket, adjusts his glasses, his expression one of keen, respectful attention.

Dr. Edward: Father James, thank you again for your hospitality. Our discussions are always… invigorating. I’ve been pondering our last conversation, about authority. You argued compellingly that Tradition is the necessary lens for Scripture. But it keeps bringing me back to a historical sticking point. You can't rely on Scripture alone, you say, because for the first three hundred years, there was no universally agreed-upon canon of Scripture. But if we use that same argument, you can’t rely on Ecumenical Councils, because for those same three hundred years, they didn’t exist either.

Fr. James: A fair point, Edward. A very fair point. But you are thinking of a Council as a fully-formed, imperial event, with emperors presiding and proclamations sent to the four corners of the empire. The seed of conciliarity, however, was present from the very beginning. The Church is, by her nature, conciliar. In Scripture, consider the Council of Jerusalem in Acts 15. Was that not an official council? They gathered, debated, discerned the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and issued a binding decision — one that Paul, for all his revelation, was expected to uphold.

Dr. Edward: I cannot deny the Jerusalem Council. But with all respect, Father, that was a council attended by Apostles — men who had walked with Jesus, who had witnessed the Resurrection, who performed miracles as direct authentication of their authority. It was a unique, foundational event. No subsequent council, regardless of its claims, can boast that same charism. To compare a gathering of bishops centuries later, with all their political entanglements, to a first-century gathering of the Apostles is… a category error.

Fr. James: Then let us speak not only of the structure, but of the life within it. What made the Council in Acts authoritative? It was the consensus of saints gathered there—James, Peter, Paul, Barnabas — all recognized as pillars, as Spirit-bearing men. This is the constant: the Consensus Patrum, the consensus of the holy fathers. The mechanisms change — from apostolic gatherings to regional synods to imperial councils — but the constant is the guidance of the Holy Spirit within the body of the Church, particularly as manifested in her saints. The Ecumenical Councils are authoritative because they were received and approved by a consensus of the saints of their time.

Dr. Edward: And there is my next hurdle. This “consensus of the saints”. The process where a patriarchate canonizes a saint, adding the name to an official list of formally recognized saints — that is a medieval development. Rome didn’t start doing that until the 10th century, and the rest of the Orthodox Church followed soon after.

Prior to that, in the Early Church, they quoted great martyrs, confessors, and well-known teachers they highly respected. We Protestants do the same. I quote Augustine, I cherish Chrysostom, I admire Polycarp. I also quote C.S. Lewis! But quoting a respected Christian teacher doesn’t mean I vest him with infallibility. Even John Chrysostom, writing in the 4th century, said that all Christians are saints. It seems to me that in the first 300 years, they simply didn’t have your concept of a “canonized Saint” as a guarantor of dogma.

Fr. James: The fullness of the process may have developed over time, but the reality was there in seed form. You speak of Polycarp. He wasn’t just a ‘highly respected teacher’ to those who knew him. He was a disciple of the Apostle John. He was a living link to the apostles, a bearer of the apostolic deposit. When Irenaeus speaks of him, it is not with the respect one gives a clever theologian, but with the reverence one gives to a fountain of truth. They recognized a qualitatively different authority in him — the authority of holiness combined with apostolic succession. This is more than just academic respect.

Dr. Edward: You just used the word ‘seed.’ That’s a fascinating word. It allows for development, for growth. I would argue the same is true of Scripture. Even if the fullness of the canon wasn’t unanimously agreed upon in, say, 200 A.D., the seed was already there.

The core of the New Testament was undeniable: the four Gospels, Acts, most of the Pauline epistles — these were overwhelmingly recognized as Scripture, even in the first and second centuries. We weren’t in a dark wilderness without a map. We had the central, authoritative texts. And indeed, many of those early figures you call Saints — I’m thinking of a Hyppolytus or a Justin Martyr — they themselves testified to the supreme authority of these Scriptures. They held them as the ultimate measure.

But let me push on your ‘seed’ analogy with another figure: Origen of Alexandria. Now, there was a man beloved by many of your later saints. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen compiled the Philocalia, an anthology of Origen’s finest work. Gregory Thaumaturgus was a disciple of Origen for years, and he called him his “master” and “a magnificent man of God”. He even wrote a lengthy book in praise of Origen. During the first 300 years of the Church, it seems that the “consensus of saints” considered Origen himself to be a saint.

Origen was a faithful confessor who refused to renounce Christ, even under torture. And he died in peace, in communion with the Church. By any standard of the first three centuries, he was a ‘Spirit-bearing man,’ and a ‘highly respected teacher.’ He would undoubtedly be called ‘Saint Origen’ today… had he not been posthumously condemned as a heretic at the Fifth Ecumenical Council, three centuries after his death.

Fr. James: ::sigh:: The story of Origen is a sorrow of the Church. A brilliant mind, a heart that loved God, but one that flew too close to the sun on wings of speculation.

Dr. Edward: But that’s my point. It illustrates the problem. Your mechanism for discerning truth — the Consensus of the Saints and the Councils — isn’t a pristine, clear line. It’s messy, historical, and subject to later revision.

It seems to me that you and I are, in a way, in the same boat. Neither of us is in a church that operates exactly as the pre-Nicene Church did. For 300 years, there was no finalized canon, no formalized canonization process, and no Ecumenical Councils. So you and I are both inheritors of later developments.

Fr. James: Touche, Edward. You aren’t wrong. Yet, even in that early, fluid period, there was a center, a foundation. They called it the Regula Fidei — the Rule of Faith. It was the summary of apostolic preaching, passed down to the Church from generation to generation. In the first century, in the New Testament, it’s what Jude called “the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints.”

This Rule of Faith was the core of what one had to believe to be baptized. And its contents are, roughly, what was later codified in the Nicene Creed. Scripture was the ultimate written expression of the faith, but it was always interpreted according to the Regula Fidei. They never practiced a free-for-all of interpretation. It was never sola scriptura as it later came to be defined.

Dr. Edward: I… I suppose I would have to agree with you on that. They were not proto-Protestants. There was a received apostolic tradition, a boundary of belief. It was necessary to guard against the very kind of heterodox interpretations that arose from those who plucked verses out of context. I have to admit, that is not the same as the modern doctrine of sola scriptura. The Regula Fidei was a basic set of essential beliefs and practices the Church received from the apostles, enabling later generations to interpret Scripture within a proper context.

But, Father, that’s still not the same as having seven Ecumenical Councils. The Rule of Faith was the bare essentials — the Trinity, the Incarnation, the resurrection of the body. It was the minimum requirement for entry. The Councils, however, represent a massive expansion of dogmatic requirements. They added layers of philosophical and theological definition that simply were not required of a Christian in the year 250. So perhaps we have both strayed from the narrow path? Perhaps Protestants erred by forgetting the essential role of apostolic tradition in forming the Regula Fidei, and perhaps the Orthodox erred by dogmatizing a great many things that, while perhaps true, exist beyond the boundaries of that original apostolic deposit?

Fr. James: But they were necessary! They were defenses of the Regula Fidei itself! Consider the fourth Ecumenical Council. Long before Chalcedon formulated its definition, it was necessary to believe that Christ was fully God and fully man. The definition became necessary because heretics began to attack that very truth in subtle ways. And that definition protects the reality.

And here’s another example. As you know, there are certain sects that refuse to depict Christ in icons. Their refusal is a significant theological error. They might as well be denying the incarnation itself. As an illustration, think of a vampire story — if five people stand in a room, but only four cast a reflection in a mirror, you know the fifth is not human. If we refuse to depict images of Christ, then we subtly deny His full, tangible humanity. The Seventh Ecumenical Council protected iconography, and thereby defended the Church against such errors. This council didn’t invent icons; it defended the incarnational logic of the faith itself!

Dr. Edward: I actually agree with you on the theology of icons. As a conservative Anglican, I have a great appreciation for them. But your historical claim falters. The Coptic Church, which rejects the Council of Chalcedon, fervently believes Christ is fully God and fully man. They would say they defend the true faith of Cyril of Alexandria against what they see as a Nestorian-leaning innovation at Chalcedon. And they have icons! Beautiful, ancient icons. So, clearly, one can have the truth of the thing — full divinity, full humanity, along with its artistic expression — without accepting the Ecumenical Councils that dogmatized these things. The Council, therefore, seems less like a necessary defense and more like a particular — and divisive — expression of that defense.

And if I may, let’s take your council mechanism to a place that makes me deeply uneasy: the Fifth Ecumenical Council, which I mentioned earlier. It condemns Origen, anathematizing the man himself, centuries after he reposed peacefully in communion with the Church, even though he was beloved by many contemporary saints. Is this just?

The fifth council declares that we accept the teachings of the holy fathers "in every way," and its list of holy fathers includes both Gregory of Nyssa, who said that unbaptized infants go to heaven after death, and Augustine of Hippo, who categorically excluded unbaptized infants from heaven, consigning them to the flames of hell itself. How can the teachings of both men be followed "in every way"?

Furthermore, the council was ratified under immense imperial pressure. Pope Vigilius — the Orthodox Patriarch of Rome — was kidnapped and imprisoned by the emperor to force his compliance. He was locked up for years, and forbidden to return home, until he finally gave in to the emperor’s demands. Is this the beautiful, Spirit-led “consensus of the saints”? Or is it coercion? It looks, from where I sit, terribly like ecclesiastical politics dressed in theological language.

It certainly doesn’t look anything like the council in Acts 15.

Fr. James: (silent for a long moment, staring into the distance, weary but thoughtful) — The events surrounding that council… are a scandal. I don’t deny it. The human sin, the political machinations, are a darkness we must acknowledge. I cannot defend the imprisonment of Rome’s patriarch. And I cannot deny that his agreement was coerced.

Dr. Edward: Then how can you be so certain of its dogmatic infallibility? How do you know the Holy Spirit was guiding that specific process to a specific, irreformable conclusion?

Fr. James: Because the Church, in her later consensus of saints, has received it. These Saints were great examples of holiness. They lived their lives in unbroken prayer. Many of them even have incorrupt relics — God miraculously saw to it that their bodies did not decay after death. And these saints testified to the truth of the Seven Ecumenical Councils.

So, I believe the Holy Spirit works through the chaos of history and the failings of men to preserve the Church in truth.

Dr. Edward: But Father, the Orthodox Church is not the only place where you can find incorrupt relics. God has similarly honored saints in my own Anglican tradition. Ever hear of Bishop Charles Chapman Grafton? He lived a holy life in service to Christ, and reposed in the year 1912. A year later his tomb was opened, and his holy relics were found to be miraculously incorrupt. There are many similar stories in the Coptic Church and the Roman Catholic Church. They have many incorrupt saints.

Father, I wouldn’t deny the fact that there are many holy saints in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. But I would deny that such a claim could be called unique. Even outside the boundaries of your tradition, many good men have lived their lives for Christ, and have been honored as a result.

These were great men of prayer who lived their lives in holiness and encountered the miraculous. And they all had different understandings regarding which councils are true, and different opinions about what the boundaries of the Church are. So your appeal to the saints simply pushes the question back a step. Which saints? Who decides? It seems we are back to where we started.

Fr. James: Well, perhaps.

I’m aware of the Coptic and Catholic “saints” you’re referring to. And I don’t want to speak badly of them. I don’t doubt their good intentions.

But good intentions don’t guarantee that one’s road is pointed in the right direction. These men may have been honest, and they even may have been honorable, but I’m afraid it’s simply not appropriate to call them “Saints”.

Dr. Edward: Why not?

Fr. James: Well, for one thing, they didn’t hold to the Seven Ecumenical Councils. The Councils are just too important to leave by the wayside. If you don’t agree with all the Councils, then you’re simply not a member of the Church.

Dr. Edward: Interesting. This sounds like the same argument I recently heard from an evolutionist…

Fr. James: An evolutionist? What does that topic have to do with Church Councils?

Dr. Edward: I’m not talking about the topic itself. I’m just thinking about the sorts of arguments they use.

Fr. James: Such as?

Dr. Edward: I ask a geologist how old a particular rock is. He says, “It’s 65 million years old!” I ask him where he got that number. He says, “It had a fossil embedded in it. We checked with the paleontologists, and they told us it’s a fossil from a creature that went extinct 65 million years ago.”

So I ask a paleontologist about that sort of fossil. He says, “It’s 65 million years old!” I ask him where he got that number. he says, “It was embedded in a rock. We checked with the geologists, and they told us the rock was formed 65 million years ago.”

Of course, this isn’t the only argument they use for telling us the world is “millions and millions of years old”. But whenever I hear them use this particular argument, I can’t help but chuckle. The fossils are used to prove the age of the rocks, and the rocks are used to prove the age of the fossils. — Circular reasoning.

Fr. James: Well, I agree with you in regard to the fossils. But I have to ask again — what does any of this have to do with the Ecumenical Councils?

Dr. Edward: Father, you used to same sort of argument for the councils and the saints, as the evolutionists use for the fossils and the rocks.

“We know the fossils are old, because the rocks are old. — We know the rocks are old, because the fossils are old.” — Circular reasoning.

”We know the Councils are true, because the Saints affirmed them. — We know they are true Saints, because they affirmed the Councils.” — Circular reasoning.

Fr. James: Hmmm… There’s a lot to think about. It’s possible that there are some shortcomings in my presentation. Of course, that doesn’t mean there are any shortcomings in the Faith itself. But I will admit — you have reminded me that things are a bit more… well… complicated, than I had assumed.

Dr. Edward: And you, Father, have challenged me as well. I can’t so easily retreat to my old position of sola scriptura. Even in the earliest days of the Church, when the ink on the New Testament was still wet, I can see that it was still necessary to remember the Regula Fidei — the apostolic Rule of Faith — which provided the proper context for understanding Scripture correctly. You helped me see that my own tradition was, perhaps, somewhat lacking in historical grounding, in ways I had been hesitant to consider.

They sit in the quiet study, the weight of centuries between them, not as a wall, but as a shared, immense, and perplexing mystery. This dialogue between friends is not over. It has only just begun…