Welcome back. We have now arrived at Part II of Jake Brancatella’s The Making of the Trinity: From Christ to Constantinople, where we encounter the Apostolic Fathers and early post-apostolic witnesses: the Didache, 1 Clement, 2 Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp, the Martyrdom of Polycarp, Barnabas, Papias, Shepherd of Hermas, Apocalypse of Peter, and the Letter to Diognetus. Those are precisely the eleven headings Jake himself lists in Part II. And before we start swinging the theological baseball bat, let me make something clear; Jake is right about something important.
These writers do not sit down in the first or second century and recite the Nicene Creed. Correct. The Didache does not explain homoousios. 1 Clement does not discuss eternal generation. Polycarp does not give us a Cappadocian account of person and essence. Hermas is frankly weird. Papias is mostly lost. The Apocalypse of Peter has textual problems. And Diognetus is anonymous and textually complicated. Agreed. But here is the problem. That was never the standard Christianity was claiming.
Jake’s method effectively requires Christians living around 100 CE to have already completed the theological work that would be required to explain and defend Christian monotheism against controversies that had not yet happened. That’s rather like asking Newton to explain quantum mechanics and then concluding, “Well, apparently Newton knew nothing about physics.” No. Newton knew something about physics. He simply wasn’t living in 1925. And this is the fundamental methodological problem throughout Part II. Jake establishes a six-point definition of Nicene orthodoxy and then repeatedly asks first- and second-century writers whether they explicitly affirm all six propositions. But “not yet Nicene” is not synonymous with “anti-Trinitarian.” Those are two radically different claims. The first is historically obvious. The second requires argument. And Part II repeatedly moves from the first to the second. That is where the wheels begin to wobble.
The Didache – “Jesus is the Servant, therefore the Trinity is absent”
Jake begins with one of the genuinely difficult witnesses for a simplistic reconstruction of early Trinitarian theology. The Didache does indeed call Jesus God’s παῖς (pais), “servant” or “child,” and its prayers heavily emphasize the Father. Jake quotes the baptismal formula:
“Baptize into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
He then correctly observes that the Didache does not explain the ontological relationship between Father, Son, and Spirit. Fair enough. But then the argument starts doing gymnastics. The Didache is an ecclesiastical manual. It is concerned with baptism, Eucharist, fasting, prayer, ethics, prophets, bishops, and deacons. It is not attempting to answer the metaphysical question:
“Please explain the eternal ontological relations between three divine persons.”
That is not its genre. Clayton Jefford’s work on the Didache is especially important here. Jefford emphasizes the document’s complexity and the need to interpret its various traditions in their own historical setting. His Didache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Polebridge, 2013), p. 5, is one of the works Jake himself cites. So we are not dealing with some Christian apologist trying to rescue the Didache after the fact. We are dealing with a specialist whose work Jake has already considered relevant. Johannes Quasten likewise treats the Didache as an early ecclesiastical manual rather than a miniature systematic theology textbook. Michael Holmes places the Didache within the developing corpus of early Christian writings.
Aaron Milavec’s extensive work emphasizes how difficult it is to reconstruct the Didache’s theology from its liturgical material. So Jake’s conclusion needs to be much more modest. The Didache can establish: “The author did not articulate Nicene Trinitarian metaphysics.” It cannot establish: “Therefore the author rejected the divine identity of Father, Son and Spirit.” Those are not equivalent propositions. And there is one enormous elephant sitting in the room: “into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
Three names? No. One name. The grammatical and liturgical structure is triadic. Does that prove Nicene homoousios? No. Does it prove that the Didache author possessed the fully developed doctrine of the Trinity? No. But it does establish something Jake repeatedly wants to minimize that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are already being placed together inside the central initiatory rite of Christianity. That’s not nothing. And this is where Joseph Pohle’s observation becomes useful.
Pohle discusses the early triadic baptismal formula while recognizing that the Didache itself does not furnish a developed dogmatic account of the Trinity (The Divine Trinity, St. Louis: B. Herder, page 150). So the honest conclusion is: The Didache is evidence for early triadic Christianity, but not sufficient by itself to prove Nicene Trinitarianism. I can live with that. What I cannot live with is: “It doesn’t say Nicaea, therefore it contradicts Nicaea.” That is a different argument.
1 Clement – “God sent Christ, therefore Christ isn’t God”
Believe it or not…the first rock band I ever played in was called “Clement” (Guess what I was reading at the time). Now we arrive at 1 Clement. Jake quotes Clement: “Jesus the Christ was sent from God.” And yes, Clement distinguishes God and Christ. But this is where we need to ask a rather embarrassing question: Since when does Trinitarianism require the Father and Son to be indistinguishable? The Father sends the Son. That’s not an embarrassment to Trinitarianism. That’s Christianity 101. The New Testament itself repeatedly describes the Father as sending the Son. So when Clement says: “Jesus Christ was sent forth from God,” Jake treats this as evidence that Jesus therefore cannot share the divine identity. But the conclusion does not follow. A distinction of persons does not automatically establish a difference of essence.
And here we need to be fair to Jake. Kirsopp Lake did indeed understand 1 Clement’s Christology as lower than later Nicene orthodoxy. Jake quotes him saying that Christ is “more than man but is not God.” That is a serious piece of evidence. It should not be waved away. But notice what Lake is actually doing. He is describing the degree of Christological development in Clement, not proving that the Nicene doctrine is a fourth-century fabrication. That’s an important distinction. Adolf von Harnack’s assessment of 1 Clement is worth hearing. Jake himself quotes Harnack’s description of it as: “the most important foundational document that we have received from the earliest history of the church.” Harnack, History of Dogma, and his treatment of early Christianity show why 1 Clement is enormously valuable historically.
Bart Ehrman likewise stresses the extraordinary antiquity and importance of the text. J.B. Lightfoot treated Clement as a crucial witness to the early church. But here is where we can push Jake’s argument further. Clement doesn’t merely distinguish Father and Son. He also says: “Have we not [all] one God and one Christ? Is there not one Spirit of grace poured out upon us?” That is an explicit triadic construction. And elsewhere: “For, as God lives, and as the Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost live…” Again: Father, Son and Spirit. Does this prove Nicene Trinitarianism? No. But Jake’s own standard should then be applied consistently. The text does not simply present “God and Jesus.”
It repeatedly operates with: one God, one Christ, one Spirit. That matters hugely. And it becomes even more interesting when Clement speaks of Christ as God’s “Sceptre,” through whom God exercises His majesty, and as the one through whom believers are sanctified. So what does 1 Clement actually demonstrate? It demonstrates that one very early Christian writer could speak about Father and Son in strongly differentiated terms without giving us a developed account of consubstantiality.
Fine. But that’s development. It is not necessarily contradiction (or innovation). And Jake’s own argument is much more complicated than he sometimes admits. He wants apostolic succession to function as evidence that these early writers preserve apostolic Christianity. But when the same writers give him Christological data that don’t fit his six-point Nicene checklist, he treats that as evidence that the apostolic tradition wasn’t Trinitarian. That creates a methodological problem. If these people are reliable enough to establish what “early Christianity” believed, why aren’t their positive high-Christological statements allowed to count as evidence? You cannot have it both ways.
2 Clement – “Think of Jesus Christ as of God” — yes, but apparently with a giant asterisk
This one is fascinating. 2 Clement opens:
“It is fitting that you should think of Jesus Christ as of God—as the Judge of the living and the dead.”
Jake does not deny the wording. Instead, he follows William Varner and Christopher Tuckett in arguing that “God” is functional rather than ontological. Now, here’s where I want to be fair. That could be a legitimate scholarly reading. Tuckett himself writes:
“The ‘identity’ between Jesus and God implied here is probably more a functional identity than an ontological one.” (2 Clement: Introduction, Text, and Commentary“, page 128).
That quotation should absolutely remain in our response. Why? Because it shows we’re not afraid of scholarship that cuts against our preferred conclusion. But notice what Tuckett actually establishes. He is interpreting one passage. He does not establish: “Therefore the early church denied Christ’s divine identity.” He does not establish: “Therefore Nicaea invented Christ’s deity.” He does not establish: “Therefore Jesus was regarded as merely human.”
He argues for a functional identity in this particular context. That’s considerably narrower. And then Jake argues that because the Father gives Jesus authority to judge, Jesus cannot possess that authority inherently. That conclusion is considerably more problematic. Why? Because delegated authority does not logically entail that Jesus had a created ontology. The biblical tradition itself can describe the Son exercising divine judgment while simultaneously describing the authority as given by the Father. The question is not: “Does the Father give the Son authority?” The question is: What kind of authority is being given, and what does the Son’s exercise of that authority imply about his identity? And 2 Clement’s Christology is certainly not pedestrian. For Clement, Christ is: “as of God,” Judge of the living and dead, pre-existent, a Spirit who became flesh, the Savior, and the eschatological Lord. So Jake has a very strange problem here. He discovers a text with an extraordinarily exalted Christology and then says: “Yes, but he doesn’t meet my six-point Nicene checklist.”
Well… Of Clement doesn’t. Neither does the Didache. Neither does 1 Clement. Neither does anyone else in the first century. The question is whether these texts represent development toward Nicene Christianity or contradiction of Nicene Christianity. Those are different historical hypotheses. Christopher Tuckett, William Varner, Bart Ehrman, and Michael Holmes all help us see that 2 Clement reflects a developing Christology. That is far more defensible than pretending the text gives us either Athanasius or Muhammad.
Ignatius of Antioch – Jake’s hardest chapter
Now things get spicy. Ignatius says: “Jesus Christ, our God.” He also says: “God existing in flesh.” And elsewhere: “There is one Physician … God existing in flesh … Jesus Christ our Lord.” Jake knows this is a problem. So he attempts several moves. First, perhaps Ignatius is subordinationist. Second, perhaps the “God” language has been intensified by later scribes (No surprise there…). Third, perhaps the strange combination of passible and impassible properties suggests modalism. And this is where Jake’s argument becomes unstable. Because if Ignatius is simultaneously being interpreted as: subordinationist, modalistic, textually corrupted, and somehow evidence against orthodox Trinitarianism, then the argument starts to look less like one historical reconstruction and more like a theological buffet.
Take what you want. Leave what you don’t. The first thing we need to establish is textual authenticity. Jake himself concedes that the Middle Recension is generally accepted by modern scholarship. Phillip Fackler’s work is important here. William Schoedel’s work is foundational. Paul Foster likewise treats the seven letters as the authentic core of the Ignatian correspondence. Michael Holmes includes the seven letters as the authentic collection. And this is crucial. Why? Well, The existence of textual variants does not magically erase the textual tradition. If the Armenian witness has fewer instances of divine language applied to Jesus, that deserves discussion. Absolutely. But Jake moves from: “There are textual variants” to: “Later orthodox scribes intensified the divine language” as though the second proposition automatically follows from the first. It doesn’t. Daniel Wallace will even tell you that that is not how Textual criticism work… Sorry, it simply does not work like that.
A variant is evidence for a textual problem. It is not automatically evidence for theological tampering. And here’s where Jake’s own principal scholar, William Schoedel, becomes particularly interesting. Jake quotes Schoedel: “Ignatius occasionally uses Trinitarian formulae, but he makes little of them theologically…” Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch: A Commentary on the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch (Page 72). That is a concession to Jake. But it is also a problem for Jake’s argument. Because Schoedel does not say: “Ignatius therefore rejected the Trinity.” He says that Ignatius does not theologically develop the triadic formulas. Exactly. That’s our argument. Developmental incompleteness does not equate to doctrinal contradiction.
Now consider the famous passage: “There is one Physician who is possessed both of flesh and spirit; both made and not made; God existing in flesh…” Jake argues that because Ignatius says “first passible and then impassible,” the divine attributes are acquired through resurrection. But this is not the only Ignatian statement. Ignatius also says: “Look for Him who is above all time, eternal and invisible, yet who became visible for our sakes…” That is not an easy text to reconstruct adoptionistically. It places Christ above time and describes incarnation as the transition from invisibility to visibility. And Paul Foster’s observation, which Jake quotes, is:
“The resurrection, however, does represent a stative change as Jesus is transformed from a passible to an impassible being.” (The Epistles of Ignatius of Antioch (Part 2),” The Expository Times 118 (2006), page 1–14).
Jake cites this discussion at his Part II discussion of Ephesians 7.2. Again, note the actual claim. A change in state is not necessarily a change in essence. A resurrected human body changes state without becoming a different substance. So Jake’s inference: “impassible after resurrection equals divine nature acquired at resurrection” is not logically forced. And then there is Larry Hurtado. Jake quotes Hurtado:
“Yet Ignatius refers to Jesus as theos while still portraying him as subordinate to ‘the Father.’” (Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (page. 646.)
That is a valuable observation. But again, it does not refute Trinitarianism. Trinitarianism explicitly distinguishes the Son from the Father while affirming his divine identity. Hurtado’s wider project is actually relevant here. His work on early Christian devotion argues for an astonishingly early inclusion of Jesus within Christian devotional practice as God. So Jake wants to use Hurtado’s observation about subordination, but the larger Hurtado framework makes the historical situation much more complicated than: “Jesus was merely a subordinate creature.” And then we reach the famous Ignatian statement: “For our God, Jesus the Christ…” and “Jesus Christ our God.” This is extraordinary language for an early second-century Christian.
Does it give us a fully developed Nicene doctrine? No. But it absolutely makes the claim that Christianity only began identifying Jesus with the divine identity in the fourth century much harder to maintain. Larry Hurtado’s work is relevant here because he demonstrates that devotion to Jesus emerged extraordinarily early and was embedded within Christian worship. J.N.D. Kelly, Michael Holmes, Paul Foster, William Schoedel, J.B. Lightfoot and Paul Gilliam all demonstrate that despite important disagreements, Ignatius is a far more complicated figure than Jake’s binary classification allows. And here’s the funniest thing. Jake himself quotes Lightfoot:
“The Ignatian Epistles are an exceptionally good training ground for the student of early Christian literature and history. They present in typical and instructive forms the most varied problems, textual, exegetical, doctrinal, and historical.” (J.B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers, 2nd),
I don’t know if Jake realizes, but Volume 2, Part 2, discussion of Ignatius. Lightfoot’s point is devastatingly relevant. Ignatius is complicated. So why is Jake treating that complication as though it automatically resolves in favor of subordinationism? It doesn’t.
Polycarp of Smyrna – “He calls the Father God, therefore…”
Polycarp is a particularly interesting case. Jake is correct that Polycarp frequently distinguishes. God the Father, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the eternal High Priest. And yes, the famous “Lord and God Jesus Christ” reading in chapter 12 is textually complicated. Jake is absolutely right to flag this. But then the argument gets overstated. Polycarp’s Christology cannot be reduced to: The Father equals God and Jesus is not equal to God. Why? Because Polycarp assigns Jesus extraordinary roles. Jesus is: Son of God, Lord, Savior, Judge of the living and dead, eternal High Priest, object of Christian faith, recipient of glory, and central to salvation. The most important question is not simply: “Does Polycarp use theos?” The question is: What place does Jesus occupy within Polycarp’s conception of Christian worship and salvation? Larry Hurtado’s work on early devotion is particularly helpful here. J.N.D. Kelly likewise warns against interpreting every early distinction between Father and Son as though it automatically amounted to ontological inequality.
And J.B. Lightfoot’s work on Polycarp remains indispensable. But here’s the fair concession: Polycarp does not give us enough explicit material to call him a Nicene Trinitarian. Fine. I don’t need to. The argument isn’t: “Polycarp wrote the Nicene Creed.” The argument is: “Polycarp cannot be used as evidence that the Nicene doctrine was simply invented centuries later.” That’s a much more modest and historically defensible proposition. And Jake himself admits something important: even his own omission argument does not definitively demonstrate that Polycarp did not regard Jesus as God. Exactly. An omission is an omission. It is not a theological confession. And there is another problem. Polycarp calls Christ: “the eternal High Priest.” Jake tries to distinguish “past eternity” from “future eternity.” Fair enough. But the adjective eternal still matters. And Polycarp also describes Christ as Judge of the living and the dead. Jake responds that the saints also judge the world. True.
But this doesn’t make the two roles identical. Paul can say the saints will judge the world because they participate in Christ’s eschatological authority. That is not equivalent to saying the saints occupy the same salvific role as Christ. The argument therefore needs more than: “Someone else also judges, therefore Christ’s judgment isn’t significant.” That’s too quick.
The Martyrdom of Polycarp – Apparently the bishop needed to bring a Nicene textbook to the fire
This chapter is where I confess I had to laugh. The Martyrdom of Polycarp contains triadic doxology: “With the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory for ever and ever.” And: “With whom, to You, and the Holy Ghost, be glory both now and to all coming ages.” Jake’s response? Essentially: Nice triad. But where’s the theology? This is where “Nicene or Bust” becomes a particularly useful description of the methodology. Imagine Polycarp standing there with Romans preparing to burn him and Jake leaning over: “Excuse me, Bishop Polycarp. Before the flames begin, could you please clarify whether your use of glory entails numerical unity of essence?” Polycarp: “Mate, I’m about to be burned.” Jake: “Yes, yes, but homoousios?”
The point is not that a doxology proves the entire doctrine of the Trinity. It doesn’t. But cultic practice matters. Larry Hurtado’s work is especially important because he demonstrates that early Christian devotion is one of the central historical clues to understanding early Christology. And Jake himself cites Hurtado’s treatment of the Martyrdom of Polycarp in his footnotes. Hurtado’s conclusion about early devotion cannot simply be reduced to: “Only the Father is worshipped.” Early Christian devotion is much more complex. The Martyrdom gives us Father, Son, and Spirit together in a context of worship and glory. Does that prove homoousios? No.
Does it establish a triadic devotional framework? Absolutely. And Jake’s own wording effectively concedes that the text has “shared glory” language. So the argument becomes: “They glorify Father, Son and Spirit together, but they don’t explain the metaphysics.” Yes. Because liturgy normally isn’t a metaphysics textbook. And here we should remember William Varner’s work on the Apostolic Fathers. His The Apostolic Fathers: An Introduction and Translation treats the Martyrdom as a crucial witness to early Christian identity and devotion. Jake himself cites Varner’s discussion of the text on pages 191–92. Again, the issue is not whether Varner writes “Polycarp taught Nicaea.” He doesn’t. The issue is what the evidence shows about Christian worship. And it shows a triadic pattern.
The Epistle of Barnabas – Pre-existence, creation and judgment—and still not enough?
This is another important text. Jake concedes that Barnabas presents Christ as pre-existent, involved in creation, incarnate, Savior, and future Judge. Then he says: “But it falls short.” Of course it falls short of the Nicene Creed. Everybody in this chapter falls short of the Nicene Creed. That’s what happens when you’re writing before the Nicene Creed. The interesting question is what Barnabas actually says. The author interprets Genesis 1:26: “Let Us make man after Our image and after Our likeness,” and applies the divine speech to the Son. That is enormously significant.
Jake himself calls these passages among the earliest examples in which an author explicitly includes the pre-existent Son in Genesis 1:26. The author says: “For the Scripture says concerning us, while He speaks to the Son, Let Us make man after Our image and after Our likeness.” Now, I would not make the overstatement that this automatically proves that Barnabas consciously believed in Nicene consubstantiality. It doesn’t. Lewis Ayres and John Behr are particularly useful here because they emphasize that fourth-century pro-Nicene theology should not simply be projected backward as though earlier writers already possessed the complete conceptual system.
But that cuts both ways. If we cannot call Barnabas Nicene, neither can we simply call Barnabas “non-Trinitarian” because he doesn’t say homoousios. The author places the Son inside the divine creative discourse. That puts Christ on the Creator side of the Creator-creature distinction in a way that deserves serious theological attention. And that is a problem for Jake’s larger thesis. Because his thesis requires us to explain how Christianity moved from: pre-existent Son to divine creative agency to incarnation then salvation and finally, eschatological judgment to Nicene deity without a sufficiently strong antecedent Christological foundation. That’s possible. But it requires a historical argument.
It cannot simply be assumed. And there is another problem. Jake describes this as “Logos theology” and then connects it to Philo and later Arianism. But that is precisely where the historical categories become slippery. Pre-existence does not automatically equal Arianism. Arius did not merely believe the Son was pre-existent. He believed the Son was a creature. Those are not equivalent. So if Barnabas says that the Son participates in creation, the question becomes: Is the Son part of creation, or is the Son the divine agent through whom creation is made? That question cannot be answered merely by saying: “The Son is subordinate.” Because Trinitarian theology itself distinguishes the Father and Son while maintaining that the Son’s divine agency is inseparable from creation. The early evidence is therefore more complicated than Jake allows.
Papias – The man whose missing books are apparently supposed to testify against the Trinity
Papias is perhaps the easiest chapter to critique methodologically. Jake admits that Papias’s five-volume Exposition of the Sayings of the Lord is lost. Almost all of it. What survives comes through later quotations. And then Jake examines what remains and notes that Papias doesn’t give us a Nicene doctrine of the Trinity. Well… Yes… But again NO shock there. We have approximately the theological equivalent of a handful of surviving pages from a five-volume work, and then we’re supposed to conclude: “Papias didn’t teach the Trinity.” That is an extraordinary historical burden to place on fragments.
Timothy McGrew’s work on arguments from silence is relevant to the general logic here. Bart Ehrman, who is hardly a Christian apologist, repeatedly emphasizes the fragmentary nature of the evidence surrounding the Apostolic Fathers. Michael Holmes likewise treats Papias through the fragmentary evidence available to us. Eusebius himself tells us Papias’s work existed in five books. We do not have those books. So what exactly are we proving from silence? Nothing substantial. And here Jake’s own scholar Alonzo Rosecrans Stark gives us a rather devastating concession. Stark writes:
“The fragments furnish no material for a Christology and merely need to be mentioned.”
Alonzo Rosecrans Stark, The Christology in the Apostolic Fathers, (page 3). There it is. No material for a Christology. That is not evidence for non-Trinitarianism. That is evidence that we don’t have enough material. Stark does elsewhere classify Papias among texts where:
“God the Father is supreme and is the center of interest.” (Christology in the Apostolic Fathers, page 16–17).
Fine. But that still does not magically transform missing material into evidence. The correct historical conclusion is: “Our surviving fragments of Papias do not provide enough evidence to reconstruct a Nicene doctrine of the Trinity.” Fine. But: “Therefore Papias rejected the Trinity.” No. That conclusion outruns the evidence.
The Shepherd of Hermas – The genuinely awkward one
Now let’s be honest. Hermas is not easy for Trinitarian theology. The Shepherd contains confusing language about the Spirit, the Son, flesh, adoption, and pre-existence. Jake is not imagining this. He is right to say the text does not offer a clean Nicene theology. Bogdan Bucur’s scholarship is particularly valuable here because he situates Hermas within early Christian pneumatic and angelomorphic conceptual worlds (Playing the X-Files theme song). And here’s where Jake’s own use of Bucur becomes fascinating. Jake quotes Bucur’s discussion of the identification of Son and Spirit. Bucur notes:
“The identification between Son and Spirit remains a puzzle.”
Bogdan G. Bucur, “The Son of God and the Angelomorphic Holy Spirit: A Rereading of the Shepherd’s Christology,” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 98 (page. 120–142); the quotation appears in Jake’s discussion of Shepherd. Excellent. It is a puzzle. But a puzzle is not automatically a contradiction. And Bucur offers a particularly important observation:
“The Son of God is, technically, a ‘holy spirit.’”
Bucur, “The Son of God and the Angelomorphic Holy Spirit,” pages 120–142. Now, whether one accepts Bucur’s precise reconstruction or not, the point is historical. The conceptual world of Hermas is not adequately captured by modern categories of “Trinitarian” versus “Unitarian.” Early Christians were using “spirit,” “son,” “angelic,” “pre-existent,” and related categories in ways that were still developing. This is where historical context becomes essential. Early Christians did not possess a universally standardized vocabulary for speaking about God, Spirit, Son, Word, Wisdom, divine agency, incarnation, and heavenly beings.
Hermas sometimes sounds strange to modern ears because it is strange to modern ears. But “strange” is not equivalent to “proof that Christianity was invented at Nicaea.” Lewis Ayres is useful here again: the road toward pro-Nicene theology was not a straight line from “everyone believed the Trinity” to “Arius appeared.” There was diversity. Real diversity. Development. Competing models. Different vocabulary. Different exegetical strategies. And yes, some ideas were later rejected. That does not prove the final doctrine was invented from nothing. This is an important distinction Jake’s book repeatedly needs. Historical development is not historical fabrication. And Bucur’s conclusion is particularly interesting. He argues that the Shepherd was not simply ignored by mainstream Christianity because of theological embarrassment. Rather, its pneumatology belonged within recognizable second-century Christian currents. That makes Jake’s statement that the Shepherd is evidence against the Trinity considerably too simplistic.
The Apoccalypse of Peter – “Jesus is called God… but let’s investigate the fine print”
Here Jake actually does something commendable. He takes textual criticism seriously. The Apocalypse of Peter contains the reading:
“My Lord and God Jesus Christ.”
But the textual tradition is complicated. Richard Bauckham himself warns that although the Ethiopic version is generally valuable, we cannot be certain that every individual reading preserves the original. Jake is therefore correct to exercise caution. No problem. But then the methodological asymmetry returns. If a disputed text calls Jesus God: “We can’t be sure.” If another text does not call Jesus God: “Notice! Evidence against Trinitarianism!” That’s not symmetrical historical reasoning. The proper position is: Disputed evidence gets discounted in both directions. If we cannot establish that Apocalypse of Peter originally called Jesus “God,” don’t use it as decisive evidence for deity. Agreed. But equally: If a document does not explicitly call Jesus “God,” don’t treat that silence as decisive evidence against deity. That is the point. And here’s where Bauckham himself is especially useful. Jake quotes Bauckham:
“If the use of ‘God’ with reference to Jesus Christ is original in the Apocalypse of Peter, it is a relatively rare parallel at this date … but we cannot be sure that it is original.” (The Apocalypse of Peter, page 175) .
That is an appropriately cautious statement. But notice the consequence: Bauckham is telling us that we don’t know. Not, “therefore Jesus wasn’t God.” Richard Bauckham’s scholarship actually helps us here because his work illustrates how textual criticism should operate: cautiously, consistently, and without allowing one’s theological conclusion to determine which textual possibilities are acceptable.
The Letter to Diognetus – And suddenly Jake’s own evidence becomes very uncomfortable
Now we reach one of the most interesting texts in the entire collection. Jake acknowledges the remarkable Christology of Diognetus. The author describes the one sent by God as: “the truth, and the holy and incomprehensible Word.” And then comes the extraordinary language. God did not send a servant, an angel, a ruler, or one of the heavenly administrators, but the Creator and Fashioner of all things. (Mic drop!)… That is very significant. Joseph T. Lienhard’s article is specifically devoted to the Christology of Diognetus. It appeared in Vigiliae Christianae 24.4, page 280–289. And Lienhard makes a very important qualification:
“The lack of a stand on even primitive theological questions can be taken as an argument for an early date…”
But he immediately adds:
“In a sense, many of the thoughts and expressions that surround a theology of Christ are present in the Epistle…” (“The Christology of the Epistle to Diognetus,” Vigiliae Christianae 24, page 298.
That is precisely the point. The text does not give us Nicene terminology. But it contains Christological material that is already highly developed. And the actual text says; “the very Creator and Fashioner of all things” and; “As a king sends his son, who is also a king, so sent He Him; as God He sent Him…” Now Jake responds that theon can be used for Moses in Exodus 7:1. That’s a legitimate lexical observation. But it doesn’t settle the entire passage. Because the author has already said that the one sent is the Creator and Fashioner of all things. That’s the crucial context.
Moses is not the Creator and Fashioner of all things. So the question cannot be settled simply by “Moses is called theos, therefore this means nothing.” Context determines meaning. And then the author says the Word “was from the beginning” and “being from everlasting, is today called the Son.” That’s a remarkable combination of pre-existence, incarnation, divine agency, creation, sonship, salvation, and eschatological judgment. Now, I would not make the overstatement that Diognetus is a Nicene confession. It isn’t. But the attempt to use Diognetus as evidence that high Christology only emerged later is historically awkward. And here we need to be very precise about Lienhard. Lienhard actually says:
“it is quite valid to speak of a Christology in the Epistle, a Christology centered upon the Father’s mission of the Son … upon the Son’s coming into the world … and upon the Son as savior and Lord.” (“The Christology of the Epistle to Diognetus,” page 289).
That is important. Lienhard does not say: “This is Nicene.” But neither does he say: “This is evidence that Christian Christology was essentially absent.” Rather, he describes a text in which the theological material surrounding Christ is already present. That is precisely the distinction Jake needs…. (Just saying).
The Real Problem – Jake’s 6-Point Test
Now let’s step back. Jake gives us six criteria for Nicene Trinitarianism:
- Father, Son, and Spirit fully divine.
- Three distinct persons.
- Father unbegotten.
- Son and Spirit eternally proceed.
- One Most High God.
- All five propositions eternally true.
As a definition of Nicene Trinitarianism, this is broadly useful. But as a test for whether early Christians possessed the substantive theological trajectory that eventually resulted in Nicene Trinitarianism, it is badly constructed. Why? Because it creates a false binary…. Either an author explicitly affirms all six propositions, or the author is evidence against Trinitarianism. That’s not how doctrinal development works. Consider an analogy. The New Testament doesn’t use the term“hypostatic union.” Does that mean the New Testament teaches that Jesus is not fully divine and fully human? NOPE… Obviously not. The New Testament doesn’t use the word homoousios. Does that mean the New Testament teaches that the Son is not of the same divine essence as the Father? No. The New Testament doesn’t provide a fully technical account of “one ousia, three hypostases.” Again, no.
Those later formulations were conceptual clarifications generated by theological controversies. And this is precisely where Lewis Ayres, John Behr, Khaled Anatolios, Michel René Barnes, Frances Young, Robert Jenson, and Thomas Weinandy are useful. Their work on doctrinal development shows that the fourth century was not a theological factory suddenly manufacturing Christianity from scratch. It was a period in which Christians were forced to become increasingly precise about questions that had already emerged from Scripture, worship, baptism, Christology, and the church’s inherited theological language. And this distinction matters enormously. The absence of a technical term does not prove the absence of the underlying theological problem.
The funniest part….
Jake repeatedly complains that Trinitarians “excuse” the Apostolic Fathers for lacking terminological precision. But terminology is not irrelevant to doctrine, nor is terminology identical with doctrine. Suppose a first-century Christian says:
Father
Son
Spirit
one God
Jesus is Lord
Jesus is pre-existent
Jesus is divine
Jesus creates
Jesus judges
Jesus is worshipped
Jesus is united with the Father
Baptism occurs into the name of Father, Son and Spirit
Then a fourth-century Christian comes along and says: “We need better language to explain how this does not mean three gods.” That’s not necessarily an invention. It may be conceptual clarification. And this is exactly why John Henry Newman famously argued that, “Christian doctrine is not a mere repetition of the past, but a development of what was already there.” Newman’s Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine remains enormously important precisely because it distinguishes development from corruption. And here’s the delicious irony… Jake quotes Newman himself.
But Newman’s entire argument about development is being used in a historical environment where precisely this kind of distinction matters. Development does not mean: “The later doctrine is identical in terminology to the earlier doctrine.” Nor does it mean: “The later doctrine is unrelated to the earlier doctrine.” It means there is historical growth in conceptual precision.
A few scholars to read about before commenting about the Father’s of the Church
And this is where I would strongly recommend not presenting this debate as “Jake versus Rudolph.” That’s too easy. The better argument is to ask if “Jake’s reconstruction has to survive the combined weight of decades of patristic, historical, textual and theological scholarship.” Here are more than thirty scholars whose work complicates, qualifies, or directly challenges the assumptions behind Jake’s Part II methodology.
1. Johannes Quasten
The Didache is an ecclesiastical manual, not a systematic theology.
2. Clayton N. Jefford
The Didache reflects early Christian liturgy and community practice but cannot simply be transformed into a systematic doctrinal statement.
3. Joseph Pohle
The Didache does not formally confess Christ’s deity, yet its triadic baptismal formula remains significant.
4. Aaron Milavec
The Didache requires careful attention to its distinctive theological world rather than simplistic doctrinal categorization.
5. Robert J. Daly
Daly’s review of Milavec’s work, which Jake himself cites, reflects the continuing scholarly debate over the dating and theological setting of the Didache.
6. Bart D. Ehrman (Muslim Saint)…
The extraordinary antiquity and fragmentary character of the Apostolic Fathers make sweeping historical conclusions dangerous.
7. Michael W. Holmes
The Apostolic Fathers must be interpreted individually and in their literary and textual contexts.
8. J.B. Lightfoot
Lightfoot’s monumental work on Ignatius and Polycarp remains foundational for reconstructing the earliest post-apostolic witnesses.
9. Theodor Zahn
Zahn’s work contributed significantly to the identification of the authentic Ignatian correspondence.
10. William R. Schoedel
Ignatius possesses an extraordinarily high Christology that cannot comfortably be reduced to a simplistic subordinationist model. And Schoedel’s own qualification is important:
“Ignatius occasionally uses Trinitarian formulae, but he makes little of them theologically.”(Ignatius of Antioch, page 72).
Notice the wording… little theologically. Not… anti-Trinitarian.
11. Paul Foster
Modern scholarship overwhelmingly treats the Middle Recension of Ignatius as the earliest recoverable form of the letters.
12. J.N.D. Kelly
Kelly famously wrote:
“The evidence to be collected from the Apostolic Fathers is meagre, and tantalizingly inconclusive…”
and:
“Of a doctrine of the Trinity in the strict sense there is of course no sign…” (Early Christian Doctrines, 5th ed. (Page 96).
Jake loves this quotation. And he should. But notice the phrase “in the strict sense.” Kelly is talking about the technical doctrine. He is not saying, “Therefore the Apostolic Fathers were anti-Trinitarian.” That distinction is absolutely critical.
13. Larry W. Hurtado
Hurtado emphasizes the simultaneous presence of high Christology and subordination.
Jake quotes him:
“Yet Ignatius refers to Jesus as theos while still portraying him as subordinate to ‘the Father. (Lord Jesus Christ, page 646).
That is not a problem for Trinitarianism. That is exactly why Trinitarianism distinguishes person from essence.
14. Christopher M. Tuckett
Tuckett’s functional-reading of 2 Clement 1.1 is a legitimate caution:
“The ‘identity’ between Jesus and God implied here is probably more a functional identity than an ontological one.” (2 Clement, page 128).
Again: legitimate caution. Not proof of theological fabrication.
15. William Varner
Varner’s work on the Apostolic Fathers highlights the diversity and complexity of the early texts rather than reducing them to a single simplistic category.
16. James Carleton Paget
Paget’s work on Barnabas demonstrates the importance of treating the text in its own Jewish and Christian interpretive setting.
17. Alonzo Rosecrans Stark
Stark says of Papias:
“The fragments furnish no material for a Christology and merely need to be mentioned.” (The Christology in the Apostolic Fathers, page 3).
That’s devastating to arguments from Papian silence.
18. Bogdan G. Bucur
Bucur’s work on Hermas shows how difficult it is to force early pneumatic language into modern Trinitarian categories.
19. Carolyn Osiek
Osiek’s scholarship on Hermas contributes to the recognition of its composite literary and theological complexity.
20. Richard Bauckham
Bauckham is appropriately cautious about the Apocalypse of Peter. Jake quotes him acknowledging that we cannot be certain the “God” designation for Jesus is original. That’s precisely how textual criticism should work.
21. Joseph T. Lienhard
Lienhard explicitly says that the Christological material of Diognetus is “interesting, and important for our knowledge of early Christianity.”
22. H.G. Meecham
Meecham’s work demonstrates the importance of the Logos and Son-language in Diognetus.
23. Henri-Irénée Marrou
Marrou’s work on Diognetus remains important for reconstructing the text’s historical and theological context.
24. Paul Foster
Foster’s work on Diognetus recognizes its significant theological content while treating its date and composition cautiously.
25. Lewis Ayres
Ayres demonstrates that pro-Nicene theology developed through complex fourth-century debates rather than appearing fully formed overnight.
26. John Behr
Behr emphasizes the historical and theological development of Christological confession toward Nicaea.
27. Khaled Anatolios
Anatolios shows how Nicene theology must be understood through the fourth-century controversy rather than retroactively imposed as a simple checklist on every earlier Christian writer.
28. Michel René Barnes
Barnes has repeatedly challenged simplistic accounts of Trinitarian development that imagine fourth-century theology as an entirely new invention.
29. Frances Young
Young’s work on doctrinal formation highlights the importance of scriptural exegesis, theological reasoning and historical context.
30. Thomas Weinandy
Weinandy’s work on the Father, Son and Spirit shows why relations of origin do not automatically imply inequality of divine essence.
31. Gerald Bray
Bray’s historical theology demonstrates the gradual emergence of technical Trinitarian terminology from biblical and early Christian foundations.
32. Donald Fairbairn
Fairbairn’s work on patristic Christology helps distinguish early conceptions of divine Sonship from later Arian categories.
33. John Henry Newman
Newman’s classic doctrine of development remains one of the most important historical models for distinguishing legitimate doctrinal development from corruption.
34. Robert Jenson
Jenson’s theological work demonstrates why Trinitarian doctrine must be understood as an account of the identity of the Christian God rather than merely a numerical equation.
35. J. N. D. Kelly
Kelly’s larger historical treatment of early Christian doctrine is useful precisely because he distinguishes the Apostolic Fathers’ limited terminology from later theological precision. And here’s the important point. These scholars do not all agree with each other. That’s actually the point. Some are Catholic. Some Orthodox. Some Protestant. Some Anglican. Some critical historians. Some are much more sympathetic to subordinationist readings than others. Some would never call the Didache Trinitarian. Some would hesitate to call Polycarp Trinitarian. Some see real subordinationist tendencies in particular writers. That’s fine. The argument does not require pretending that thirty-five scholars have signed a statement saying: “Rudolph Boshoff is correct and Jake is doomed.” They haven’t. The argument is much stronger. The scholarly landscape is too complex to sustain Jake’s repeated binary: “not Nicene = evidence against the Trinity.”
The Bigger Historical Problem
Jake’s central syllogism is essentially:
P1: If Jesus and the Bible clearly taught the Trinity, we should find Trinitarians in the first three centuries.
P2: We do not find Trinitarians in the first three centuries.
C: Therefore, Jesus and the Bible did not clearly teach the Trinity.
The problem is not primarily the syllogism’s validity. Jake is correct that the conclusion follows if P1 and P2 are sufficiently established. The real problem is P2. Because what does “find Trinitarians” mean?? No, really… what does ot mean? If it means: “Find somebody explicitly stating all six Nicene propositions.” Then, yes, Jake wins. But that’s basically a tautology. Nicaea hasn’t happened yet. If it means: “Find evidence of Father, Son and Spirit being understood within a unified Christian theology, together with increasingly high Christology, divine agency, worship, pre-existence, incarnation and divine titles.” Then the answer is very different. Because we have the following:
The Didache: Father, Son and Spirit in baptism. 1 Clement: Father, Son, Spirit, Christ’s unique mediation and apostolic authority.2 Clement: Christ “as of God,” Judge, pre-existent Spirit who becomes flesh. Ignatius: Jesus Christ explicitly called God, incarnation, pre-existence, Father-Son distinction. Polycarp: Son of God, eternal High Priest, Judge, shared glory. Martyrdom of Polycarp: Father, Son and Spirit united in doxological glory…. Barnabas: pre-existent Son involved in creation and judgment. Papias: evidence of an early tradition concerning the Lord and apostolic transmission, though surviving material is insufficient for reconstructing a full theology. Hermas: pre-existent Spirit/Christological categories within a highly pneumatic apocalyptic framework. The Apocalypse of Peter: potentially “Lord and God Jesus Christ,” though textually disputed. Diognetus: the divine Creator/Fashioner sent the Word. That is not a blank theological landscape.
I want to emphasize it AGAIN! Development is not invention
And this, I think, is the central point I would hammer home. Jake repeatedly presents the absence of Nicene terminology as though it establishes the absence of the theological substance that eventually required Nicene terminology. But that’s backwards. Nicaea did not emerge because fourth-century Christians woke up one morning and thought:
“You know what would really spice up Christianity? Three persons.”
The fourth-century controversy forced Christians to answer questions that had already been generated by earlier Christian claims: Who is Jesus? How can Jesus be God without creating two gods? How is the Son related to the Father? How can Father and Son be distinct without becoming two Gods? What is the relationship between Father, Son and Spirit? How does incarnation relate to divine identity? Those questions did not originate in 325. The answers became more technically precise in the fourth century. That distinction is everything. Lewis Ayres is particularly important here. John Behr is important. Khaled Anatolios is important. Michel René Barnes is important. J.N.D. Kelly is important. Frances Young is important. And Newman remains important. The history is not:
Jesus → nothing → nothing → nothing → Nicaea invents Trinity.
Nor is it:
Jesus → everybody perfectly understands Trinity → Nicaea merely copies it.
The actual historical story is much more interesting: New Testament Christology highlights worship and baptism that brings forth diverse early interpretations as well as competing Christological models, which increasingly precise theological reflection (and controversy). What is needed, therefore, is conceptual clarification that leads to the Nicene confession and further clarification at Constantinople. That’s development. That’s history (In a Sean Connery accent…)… And it is far more complicated, and far more interesting, than “the Trinity was invented in 325.”
The Eleven Text…. The Verdict!
So let’s put Jake’s eleven witnesses into a more historically responsible framework.
| The Witness | What Jake establishes | What Jake does not establish |
|---|---|---|
| Didache | No explicit Nicene metaphysics; low Christological vocabulary | That the author rejected Christ’s divine status |
| 1 Clement | Strong Father/Son distinction; limited Christological terminology | That Clement consciously denied Christ’s deity |
| 2 Clement | Functional interpretation is possible | That “as of God” cannot carry higher Christological significance |
| Ignatius | Textual variants and developmental language exist | That Ignatius therefore rejected Christ’s deity |
| Polycarp | Father/Son distinction; disputed “Lord and God” reading | That Polycarp’s Christology was Unitarian |
| Martyrdom | No developed metaphysical explanation | That triadic doxology is historically irrelevant |
| Barnabas | No Nicene terminology | That pre-existent Creator-associated Son is non-Trinitarian evidence |
| Papias | Surviving fragments are inadequate | That the lost work taught no high Christology |
| Hermas | Christological/pneumatological ambiguity | That ambiguity proves later Trinitarian invention |
| Apocalypse of Peter | “Lord and God” reading is textually uncertain | That absence of certainty becomes evidence against deity |
| Diognetus | Anonymous, uncertain date, textual problems | That its remarkable Logos/Creator Christology is insignificant |
That is the honest scorecard……
Is Jake Right?
Partially…. And that’s precisely why the refutation should be stronger, not weaker. Jake is right that, the Apostolic Fathers are diverse; some have low Christological formulations; some are clearly subordinationist in particular respects; none gives us a finished Nicene doctrine; the Didache does not explicitly confess Christ as God; 1 Clement is remarkably undeveloped in Christological terminology; Hermas is difficult; Papias cannot be reconstructed confidently; Apocalypse of Peter has textual problems; Diognetus has substantial compositional and dating questions. All of that should be conceded. But his larger conclusion does not follow. Because developmental incompleteness is not the same thing as doctrinal contradiction. And here’s where Jake’s own evidence starts fighting him.
The documents he has assembled contain: A triadic baptism, A triadic doxology, divine titles for Christ, stipulating Christ’s pre-existence, Christ’s incarnation, Christ’s participation in creation, His ultimate eschatological judgment, salvation, heavenly sovereignty, Christian devotion, Father-Son distinction, Spirit language, and increasingly explicit Logos Christology. And yes… The theological vocabulary is not yet standardized. The theological problem is already there. And that is exactly what one would expect.
The Final Irony
Jake’s Part II argues that the Trinity is a late invention. But what his eleven chapters actually reveal is something much more historically interesting: The early church had not yet solved the Trinity. That’s true. But that is not the same as saying that the early church had not yet encountered the theological data that would require an account of the Trinity.
Those are two very different propositions. The Didache gives us triadic baptism. Ignatius gives us Jesus as God. 2 Clement gives us Jesus “as of God.” Barnabas gives us the pre-existent Son in creation. Polycarp gives us Christ as eternal High Priest and eschatological Judge. The Martyrdom gives us Father, Son and Spirit united in glory. Diognetus gives us the divine Creator/Fashioner as the one sent into the world as the Word. That’s not a fourth-century blank slate. That’s a theological trajectory. And yes, there are detours. There are ambiguities. There are subordinationist tendencies.
There are strange formulations. There are texts that don’t fit neatly. There are writers who almost certainly would not pass Jake’s six-point Nicene examination.
And that is fine….
But Christianity did not need to have a fourth-century vocabulary in the second century for fourth-century Christians to be clarifying the implications of an older Christian confession. So perhaps the question shouldn’t be; “Where is the Nicene Creed in 100 CE?” Perhaps the better question is:
“Why are Father, Son and Spirit already appearing together in baptism and worship, why is Jesus already receiving divine titles, why is he already described as pre-existent and involved in creation, and why is the church already wrestling with how to reconcile all of this with monotheism?”
Now that is the historical question.And once we ask that question, Jake’s Part II becomes considerably less devastating. In fact, rather ironically, his own evidence starts building the very bridge he is trying to burn. Nicaea did not appear out of theological vacuum. The fourth century did not invent the question. It inherited the problem. And the Apostolic Fathers are part of the evidence showing us how early that problem already existed.
So, Jake, I think we can agree on one thing. The Apostolic Fathers are not Nicene. Absolutely. But that’s a very long way from demonstrating that; “Therefore the Trinity was invented at Nicaea.” That second claim still needs a lot more work. And, at this point, the theological omelet is already on the table. The question isn’t whether there were eggs. The question is whether Jake has mistaken “the eggs aren’t yet an omelet” for “there were never any eggs.”
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