Did Irenaeus Teach Apostolic Succession Like Catholics and Orthodox Believe Today? A Closer Look at the Evidence

Among Catholics and Eastern Orthodox, one doctrine sits near the heart of their claim to being the one true Church: apostolic succession. According to their teaching, only those bishops who stand in an unbroken line from the apostles have legitimate spiritual authority. These bishops alone can confer valid sacraments. These churches alone preserve the true faith. Without apostolic succession, they argue, you do not have the Church.

And when pressed for early historical support, they almost always bring up one name: Irenaeus of Lyons. Writing in the late second century, Irenaeus is widely quoted by apologists to prove that the doctrine of apostolic succession was already firmly in place by the 100s AD. The argument goes like this: Irenaeus clearly taught that bishops must be in succession from the apostles. Therefore, Rome (and Eastern Orthodoxy) alone maintains continuity with the true Church. Case closed.

But there’s a major problem with this claim.

While Irenaeus certainly uses the word “succession,” he does not mean by it what Rome and the East mean today. His argument is not about sacramental grace or ecclesiastical jurisdiction. It’s not about mystical powers being handed down through ordination. It’s about something much simpler—and more biblical: doctrinal consistency.

Irenaeus was fighting the Gnostics. These were false teachers who claimed to have secret knowledge passed down privately from Jesus. In response, Irenaeus argued that the truth of Christianity had been handed down publicly in the churches founded by the apostles. These churches had preserved the same message from generation to generation. And so, Irenaeus appealed to the succession of teachers—not to establish who had sacramental authority, but to demonstrate who had stayed faithful to the gospel.

In other words, Irenaeus was not building the framework for a hierarchical system of grace-transmitting bishops. He was defending the apostolic message against heresy. And as we’ll see, that’s a very different thing.

This blog post will walk through that difference in detail. We’ll start by defining what apostolic succession means in Catholic and Orthodox theology today. Then we’ll look at what Scripture actually teaches. After that, we’ll walk through Irenaeus’s own words in historical context—quoting him directly, analyzing his intent, and comparing it to what apologists claim he taught.

We’ll also survey the structure of the early church and show that its leadership patterns were far more diverse than many assume. Along the way, we’ll include the testimony of modern scholars—including Catholic and Orthodox ones—who openly admit that the modern doctrine of apostolic succession developed over time. Finally, we’ll answer the strongest objections and end by pointing to what actually marks a true church: not institutional lineage, but fidelity to the gospel.

If we’re going to invoke Irenaeus as a witness, let’s make sure we actually listen to what he said—and just as importantly, to what he didn’t.

How Anachronism Shapes the Entire Conversation

The most common mistake people make when reading Irenaeus is reading him through modern categories. This mistake has a name: anachronism. Anachronism happens when we project a later concept back onto an earlier time period—when we assume that people in the past believed the same things we do now, just because they used similar language.

This is exactly what happens with Irenaeus and apostolic succession.

Catholic and Orthodox apologists often assume that if Irenaeus uses the word “succession,” he must mean what they mean by it: a sacramental transmission of grace and authority from bishop to bishop through ordination. But that framework didn’t exist yet—not in the second century, and certainly not in the New Testament. The language may sound familiar, but the meaning is entirely different.

Church historians across the theological spectrum have warned about this. Peter Lampe, in his academic study From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, makes this startling observation: “In the first century and in the early second century, the Roman congregation was not led by a single bishop. Instead, it was governed by a college of presbyters” (Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, p. 397). That fact alone undermines any claim that the early Roman Church functioned as the kind of hierarchical structure later assumed by Catholicism.

Similarly, Alister McGrath, in his book Historical Theology, offers a general warning about misreading the past: “There is a natural tendency for theologians to read their own beliefs into the past. Yet the historical theologian must resist this temptation and allow earlier writers to speak in their own voices” (McGrath, Historical Theology, 2nd ed., p. 6).

The point here is not to accuse all apologists of being dishonest. Some are simply unaware that the categories they’re using—sacramental ontology, episcopal jurisdiction, exclusive legitimacy of orders—didn’t exist in Irenaeus’s day. Others may be aware, but still choose to stretch his words to serve their institutional claims.

But if we care about truth, we cannot afford to read Irenaeus—or any early Christian—with a filter made in the fourth or sixteenth century. We have to understand him in his own time, responding to his own challenges, using the terms available to him in the context of the church structure that actually existed. If we fail to do that, we’re not reading Irenaeus. We’re reading our theology into Irenaeus. And that’s not faithful scholarship—it’s theological propaganda.

What Catholics and Orthodox Mean by Apostolic Succession Today

Before we examine what Irenaeus meant by “succession,” we need to understand how the term is used in Catholic and Orthodox theology today. This is crucial, because many readers assume that if Irenaeus speaks about bishops succeeding the apostles, he must mean what modern apostolic churches mean. But the modern definition of apostolic succession is far more technical, theologically loaded, and sacramentally developed than anything Irenaeus ever said—or even could have said.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, apostolic succession is not simply a historical continuity. It is a divine mechanism by which “the mission and power entrusted by Christ to the Apostles continues to be exercised in the Church” through the sacrament of Holy Orders (CCC §860). The Catechism further states that this succession occurs through an “uninterrupted transmission of apostolic preaching and authority…by the laying on of hands” and is necessary for maintaining the “communion of the faith” (CCC §77–79).

But the key claim comes in CCC §882, which says: “The Pope, Bishop of Rome and Peter’s successor, ‘is the perpetual and visible source and foundation of the unity both of the bishops and of the whole company of the faithful.’” In other words, apostolic succession is not just about teaching the truth—it is about being the only valid vehicle for sacraments, authority, and church unity. It is institutional and hierarchical. It claims not just historical legitimacy, but exclusive legitimacy.

Eastern Orthodox theology is similar, though it avoids papal supremacy. The Orthodox Church holds that apostolic succession is required for a bishop to validly ordain, to preside over the Eucharist, and to teach authoritatively. Metropolitan Hilarion Alfeyev, in his book Orthodox Christianity: Volume II: Doctrine and Teaching of the Orthodox Church, writes: “The bishop is the successor to the apostles, the bearer of apostolic grace, and the center of the sacramental life of the Church… Apostolic succession is thus not only historical, but also sacramental and spiritual” (Hilarion Alfeyev, Orthodox Christianity Vol. II, p. 50).

Both traditions agree: succession is ontological (it changes the being of the ordained man), sacramental (required for valid grace), and jurisdictional (the basis of church authority). It is this framework that shapes how modern apologists read Irenaeus. But here’s the problem: Irenaeus never taught any of these things.

There is no mention in Irenaeus of ordination conferring an indelible spiritual character. He never ties succession to sacramental validity. He never claims that bishops alone are the source of ecclesial unity. In fact, he never even defines the office of bishop in the technical ways later theology requires. That’s because those categories had not yet developed.

So when modern apologists point to Irenaeus to prove apostolic succession, they are importing an entire theological system onto a man who didn’t hold it. They are reading Rome back into Lyons—not because Irenaeus taught it, but because they need him to. And that is not historical theology. That is institutional revisionism.

Why Apostolic Succession Is Not in the Bible

If apostolic succession is as central to the life of the Church as Rome and the East claim, we should expect to find it taught clearly and repeatedly in the New Testament. After all, if the grace of the sacraments, the unity of the Church, and the authority of its ministers all depend on an unbroken line of bishops, surely the apostles would have explained this with care. But they don’t. Not once.

Instead, what we see in Scripture is a model of leadership that emphasizes faithful teaching, spiritual maturity, and God’s sovereign calling—not institutional lineage.

In 2 Timothy 2:2, Paul instructs Timothy: “What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” This is the clearest succession verse in the New Testament, and yet it says nothing about bishops, ordination rites, or apostolic grace. The qualification is not lineage but faithfulness and ability to teach. The chain here is doctrinal, not sacramental.

In Titus 1:5, Paul tells Titus to “appoint elders in every town as I directed you.” Again, there is no mention of apostolic succession. Titus does not trace a line of bishops from the apostles to determine who is qualified. He evaluates character and doctrine (Titus 1:6–9). The authority to appoint comes through Paul’s delegation, not through a mystical lineage.

In Acts 20:28, Paul speaks to the elders of Ephesus, saying, “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers.” Paul doesn’t say the Church made them bishops by ordination from apostolic successors. He says the Holy Spirit made them overseers. Authority in the early Church comes from the Spirit’s work and the apostles’ commission, not a human chain of ordination.

In fact, when Paul defends his own apostleship in Galatians, he explicitly says that he received it not from men. “For I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:12). Paul is at pains to demonstrate that his authority is rooted in God’s calling and the truth of the gospel, not in a line of succession.

Nowhere in the New Testament is the legitimacy of a church, the validity of its sacraments, or the authority of its leaders tied to an unbroken episcopal lineage. The focus is always on sound doctrine, godly character, and faithful stewardship of the gospel.

If the apostles had believed in apostolic succession as Catholics and Orthodox define it, they would have said so. But they didn’t. The doctrine is simply not in the Bible. And that is why its defenders must turn to figures like Irenaeus—because they can’t point to Paul, Peter, or John. Their foundation is not in Scripture. It is in tradition. And as we’ll soon see, even tradition doesn’t support the weight they put on it.

Sacred Tradition — The Back Door to Unsupported Doctrines

Because apostolic succession cannot be found in the New Testament, Catholic and Orthodox apologists are forced to appeal to something else: Sacred Tradition. This is the fallback mechanism for doctrines that lack biblical support. And in many ways, it functions as a theological back door—an entrance into the house of doctrine that bypasses the front door of Scripture.

In Catholic theology, Sacred Tradition is not just the church’s memory or devotional practices. It is a binding source of divine revelation, equal in authority to Scripture. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it: “Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture, then, are bound closely together and communicate one with the other… both of them, flowing out from the same divine wellspring, come together in some fashion to form one thing and move towards the same goal” (CCC §80). In practice, this means that any teaching not found in Scripture can be considered binding if it is found in Tradition. That includes apostolic succession, Marian dogmas, papal infallibility, and more.

Orthodox theology approaches this somewhat differently. While rejecting papal supremacy, it still holds to an authoritative tradition passed down through the bishops. Kallistos Ware, an Eastern Orthodox theologian, writes: “Tradition is the life of the Holy Spirit in the Church; it is not simply a collection of ancient customs or a static body of teachings… it is the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit in the life of the community” (Ware, The Orthodox Church, p. 196). In other words, the Church itself becomes the living source of truth. This allows doctrines like apostolic succession to stand—not because they are biblically evident, but because they are embedded in what the Church says the apostles handed down.

But there’s a fundamental problem with this approach. It reverses the biblical pattern. In the New Testament, the Church is shaped by the Word of God, not the other way around. Scripture never teaches that unwritten oral tradition is a parallel stream of binding authority. Paul praises the Thessalonians for holding to the traditions he taught (2 Thess. 2:15), yes—but those traditions were already being written down and clearly linked to apostolic teaching. There is no evidence that the apostles passed down secret instructions about church government that would only be revealed later by bishops claiming succession.

More importantly, appealing to Sacred Tradition allows the Church to become its own interpreter and validator. It’s circular: the Church teaches apostolic succession because apostolic succession proves the authority of the Church. It becomes a closed system, insulated from scriptural critique and protected from historical accountability. And that’s exactly how false doctrine survives.

This is why Catholic and Orthodox theologians sometimes turn to doctrinal development to justify their position. They admit the early Church didn’t fully articulate these ideas but argue that they were there “in seed form” and gradually matured under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But as we’ll see in a later section, this appeal to development doesn’t work for apostolic succession. It’s not a maturing of apostolic teaching—it’s a theological mutation that contradicts the New Testament and rewrites the earliest history of the Church.

So when people appeal to Irenaeus to prove apostolic succession, they are not returning to an apostolic tradition—they are fleeing from Scripture in search of a post-apostolic substitute. And that’s not fidelity to the apostles. That’s a denial of their sufficiency.

Why Irenaeus Talked About Succession — And What He Was Combating

To understand what Irenaeus meant by “succession,” we must first understand why he brought it up in the first place. His purpose was not to outline a theology of ordination or ecclesial hierarchy. He was not concerned with sacramental validity or institutional continuity. He was fighting heresy.

In particular, Irenaeus was confronting the rise of Gnosticism—a collection of sects that claimed to possess secret knowledge passed down from Jesus or the apostles, but not through the public, apostolic churches. These groups rejected parts of the Old Testament, reimagined Christology, and offered elite spiritual insights unavailable to ordinary Christians. They often claimed their teachings came through a secret oral tradition handed down by figures like Peter, James, or Paul—outside the mainstream church.

Irenaeus’s strategy in Against Heresies was to expose this deception by appealing to public, traceable lines of doctrinal teaching in the apostolic churches. His core argument was this: if you want to know what the apostles taught, look at the churches they founded and the men they entrusted with their message. Those men passed down the apostolic gospel publicly—not in secret, not in shadows, and not to esoteric elites.

This context is essential. When Irenaeus talks about “succession,” he is not constructing a theology of ordination. He is mounting an argument from historical visibility. The heretics cannot trace their doctrine back to the apostles. The true churches can.

This is made explicit in Against Heresies 3.3.1. Irenaeus writes:

“It is within the power of all, 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.”

Notice what Irenaeus is doing here. He’s not saying the bishops were given sacramental power to pass on grace. He’s saying that the tradition of the apostles is clearly visible and accessible in the churches they founded. That tradition has been preserved through a visible succession of faithful men, and anyone who wants to verify the truth of Christianity can trace the message back through them.

Then in 3.3.2, Irenaeus provides a concrete example:

“But since 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… 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… For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its more excellent origin.”

This is the most frequently quoted passage by Catholic and Orthodox apologists. But it does not say what they want it to say.

Irenaeus is not elevating Rome to a position of universal jurisdiction. He is appealing to it as a prominent and well-known example. Why? Because Rome was founded by Peter and Paul and had remained faithful to the apostolic message. That’s what he means by “more excellent origin.” The focus is not on papal authority or sacramental power—it’s on the visibility of correct doctrine.

His logic is this: The Gnostics can’t trace their beliefs to the apostles. The churches can. Among those churches, Rome stands out because of its apostolic founders and worldwide reputation. But the function of that succession is not to create a channel of grace—it is to disprove the Gnostic claim to secret teaching.

In Against Heresies 3.4.1, he makes the point even stronger:

“Since, however, it would be very tedious… to reckon up the successions of all the Churches, we do put to confusion all those who, in whatever manner… assemble in unauthorized meetings… by indicating the tradition derived from the apostles… which has been preserved and handed down by the succession of presbyters in the Churches.”

Here, Irenaeus explicitly refers to presbyters, not just bishops, as the ones preserving apostolic tradition. His concern is clearly doctrinal faithfulness, not hierarchical structure. The line of succession is a historical witness—not a sacramental conduit.

That’s why Irenaeus brought up succession: to shut down heretics who claimed a private apostolic message by appealing to the public preservation of truth. He was not laying the foundation for Rome’s claims. He was guarding the gospel.

What Irenaeus Actually Meant by ‘Succession’

When modern readers hear the word “succession,” especially in ecclesiastical contexts, they tend to assume sacramental weight. The Catholic and Orthodox understanding of apostolic succession involves more than historical continuity—it carries ontological implications. It means that authority and grace flow from the apostles through an unbroken chain of ordained bishops, and that this line is necessary for valid sacraments, binding doctrine, and church unity.

But that’s not what Irenaeus meant.

Let’s return to Against Heresies 3.3.1. Irenaeus says, “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.” His goal here is not to exalt the sacramental authority of bishops but to emphasize the continuity of apostolic doctrine. The churches can “reckon up” the men who were appointed by the apostles and see that their teaching has not changed.

What matters to Irenaeus is not whether a man was validly ordained by another in the line of succession—it’s whether his message matches the apostles’ message. That is the burden of proof. He is tracing theological fidelity, not metaphysical transformation.

That’s why, in Against Heresies 1.10.3, Irenaeus makes a striking statement—one that modern succession theology cannot easily account for. He writes:

“Where the Church is, there is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church and all grace; but the Spirit is truth. Therefore, those who do not partake of the Spirit are not nourished at their mother’s breasts; nor do they enjoy the splendid fountain which issues from the body of Christ.”

Notice the order: The Spirit determines the Church, not institutional succession. Grace flows where the Spirit is present, not where bishops hold office. The Church is defined by the presence of the Spirit and the truth—not by a human chain of ordinations.

This demolishes the idea that Irenaeus thought ecclesial legitimacy depends on being part of an unbroken episcopal line. If grace and truth reside with those who possess the Spirit, then the ultimate test is faithfulness to the Spirit’s message, not adherence to a clerical order.

In Against Heresies 4.26.2, Irenaeus becomes even more explicit:

“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… who, together with the succession of the episcopate, have received the certain gift of truth.”

This is often cited to prove that succession conveys a “gift of truth” tied to the office. But Irenaeus’s language here is carefully qualified. He doesn’t say all bishops receive this gift by virtue of office. He identifies specific presbyters—those who are faithful to apostolic teaching—as the ones to obey. The “gift of truth” is tied to faithful stewardship, not clerical status. In fact, the passage goes on to warn against others who “assemble in empty conceit” and “depart from the rule of truth,” even though they may have the appearance of authority.

That is the key distinction. For Irenaeus, succession without fidelity is worthless. The succession that matters is the succession of truth, preserved in public churches through teachers who remained loyal to what the apostles taught.

So what did Irenaeus mean by “succession”? He meant that apostolic churches could trace the content of their doctrine back to the apostles through a line of faithful witnesses. It was a tool of historical accountability, not a doctrine of sacramental power. It was meant to shut the mouths of heretics, not to enshrine an institutional hierarchy.

That’s why he never speaks about valid sacraments, ontological change at ordination, or the necessity of episcopal succession for salvation. Those are later developments—foreign to Irenaeus’s theology, alien to his mission, and utterly absent from his writings.

If Irenaeus Taught Any Kind of Succession, It Was More Likely Presbyteral

At this point, it should be clear that Irenaeus’s understanding of succession was not the sacramental, hierarchical doctrine promoted by the Catholic and Orthodox churches today. But there’s an additional layer worth exploring: even if someone insisted on reading a more formalized view of succession into Irenaeus’s writings, the weight of the evidence would suggest that presbyters, not bishops in the later monarchical sense, were the ones viewed as succeeding the apostles.

This is especially evident in Against Heresies 4.26.2, where Irenaeus writes:

“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 gift of truth, according to the good pleasure of the Father.”

What stands out in this passage is the central role of presbyters. Irenaeus places them squarely in the succession from the apostles and links them, not to a rigidly defined hierarchy, but to the gift of truth. He is affirming not the office itself, but the doctrinal stewardship of those who remain within the bounds of apostolic teaching. In fact, he immediately contrasts these presbyters with others “who separate themselves from the principal succession and assemble in any place whatsoever” (AH 4.26.2). For Irenaeus, the issue is not who holds office, but who holds fast to the truth.

This is significant, because in the second century, the terms presbyter and bishop were not yet clearly distinguished. Many scholars have noted this fluidity in early Christian terminology. Everett Ferguson, in his magisterial Church History, Volume 1, writes: “In the New Testament and in the earliest post-apostolic literature, the terms ‘bishop’ and ‘presbyter’ are used interchangeably. Only later did a distinction develop between a single bishop and a council of presbyters” (Ferguson, Church History Vol. 1, p. 141).

Even Francis Sullivan, a Catholic theologian defending apostolic succession, acknowledges this development. In From Apostles to Bishops, he admits: “It is generally agreed today that there is no evidence that the apostles established a succession of bishops in the churches they founded” (Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, p. 13). He goes on to concede that in Irenaeus’s time, the lines between bishop and presbyter were still being clarified.

That’s why Peter Lampe, in From Paul to Valentinus, argues that the leadership structure in Rome during the first and early second centuries was likely collegial—a body of presbyter-overseers, not a single bishop. He writes: “The monarchical episcopate in Rome cannot be proven for the period before the middle of the second century” (Lampe, p. 397). That places Irenaeus on the historical edge of this transition. If he speaks of bishops in a succession, it is likely that he is still referring to presbyter-bishops, not bishops as defined in later hierarchical systems.

The irony, then, is that if we were to adopt a wooden reading of Irenaeus—one that assumes he is promoting a succession of ecclesial officeholders—it would more naturally lead to presbyterianism than Roman episcopacy. He simply does not provide the theological or terminological clarity that the Catholic and Orthodox systems require. At best, he offers a snapshot of a time when churches were striving to guard the truth through recognized teachers. But that is not apostolic succession in the modern, sacramental, ontological sense.

It is vital to see that even this presbyteral succession was functional and doctrinal, not mystical or juridical. The authority of these leaders did not flow from being in the right lineage—it flowed from their adherence to the truth handed down once for all to the saints (Jude 3). In that sense, Irenaeus’s vision of church leadership aligns far more closely with Reformation principles than with the clericalism of later centuries.

The Early Church Had No Universal or Fixed Structure

If modern claims about apostolic succession were true, we would expect to find a consistent, universal church structure in place from the very beginning—one in which single bishops ruled over local churches in a clearly defined chain stretching back to the apostles. But that’s not what we find. The actual historical data from the first two centuries of Christianity tells a much more complex story—one that undermines the idea that hierarchical episcopacy was established by divine design.

In the New Testament, the terms presbyter (elder) and episkopos (overseer or bishop) are used interchangeably. Paul’s instructions in Titus 1:5–7 move fluidly between the two: “appoint elders in every town,” he says in verse 5, and then immediately speaks of “an overseer” in verse 7. There is no indication of a distinction between the two offices. Likewise, in Acts 20:17–28, Paul gathers the elders (presbyterous) of Ephesus and then tells them that the Holy Spirit has made them overseers (episkopoi). Again, interchangeable usage. This reflects a model of plural leadership—multiple elders or overseers leading local congregations with shared responsibility.

This model continued into the early second century. The Didache, a Christian manual likely written between A.D. 90–120, refers to “bishops and deacons” but says nothing of a singular bishop ruling over each church. Instead, it assumes multiple bishops per congregation—clearly echoing the plural leadership model of the New Testament.

It’s only with Ignatius of Antioch, writing around A.D. 110, that we begin to see the idea of a single bishop overseeing a church. In his letters to various churches in Asia Minor, Ignatius urges believers to “do nothing without the bishop” and to view him as the focal point of unity. But even here, several things must be noted. First, Ignatius is writing in a very specific regional context—these letters are addressed to churches in Syria and Asia Minor, not to the global Church. Second, he never grounds the role of the bishop in apostolic succession or sacramental ontology. His focus is pastoral and practical: the bishop should serve as a rallying point to prevent schism.

Even Catholic scholar Francis Sullivan admits this. He writes, “It must be acknowledged that Ignatius does not appeal to apostolic succession to justify the authority of bishops. Rather, he appeals to the authority of God and of Christ and to the unity of the Church” (From Apostles to Bishops, p. 90). In other words, even in the earliest known advocate of monarchical episcopacy, the framework is still flexible and undeveloped.

As we’ve seen earlier, Peter Lampe has demonstrated that Rome did not have a monarchical bishop until at least the mid-second century. Instead, it was governed by a plurality of presbyters—a collective of elders sharing responsibility. This fits with what we observe in Irenaeus’s writings, as well as earlier texts like 1 Clement, where there is no mention of a singular bishop presiding over the Roman church.

Everett Ferguson, a highly respected historian of the early church, concludes: “In the first century and much of the second, the church was governed by a body of presbyters or elders in each congregation. The development of a single bishop as the head of the local church appears to have been a later development, one that gradually took hold in different regions at different times” (Church History: Volume 1, p. 141).

This diversity matters. It tells us that the early church did not operate under a centralized, hierarchical, succession-based system. The leadership structures were adaptive, flexible, and rooted in Scripture and apostolic teaching—not in a formal chain of ontological succession. Some churches had bishops. Some didn’t. Some were governed by elders. Others began experimenting with single-leader models. But nowhere do we see the rigid framework of modern apostolic succession—with its sacramental implications and claims to exclusive authority—already in place.

In short, the early church was held together not by hierarchy, but by truth. And that’s exactly the point Irenaeus was trying to make.

What Honest Catholic and Orthodox Scholars Admit

If the modern doctrine of apostolic succession—complete with its sacramental, ontological, and jurisdictional claims—really originated with the apostles and was taught clearly by their successors, then this should be obvious to historians and theologians, especially those within the Catholic and Orthodox traditions. But many of the most respected scholars in those traditions have openly admitted that the modern understanding of apostolic succession developed over time and does not reflect the theology or structure of the earliest church.

Let’s begin again with Francis Sullivan, a Jesuit priest and one of the most cited defenders of apostolic succession within Catholic academia. In his book From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in the Early Church, he writes: “The available evidence does not support the idea that the apostles established a succession of individual bishops in the churches they founded” (Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, p. 13). He also notes that “the monarchical episcopate was not the original form of church leadership and did not emerge everywhere at the same time” (p. 218). This is an important admission: even someone committed to Catholic ecclesiology is willing to concede that the structure and theology of succession was not fixed in the apostolic age.

Similarly, Jaroslav Pelikan, an Orthodox theologian and one of the most celebrated church historians of the twentieth century, acknowledges that apostolic succession in its sacramental and hierarchical sense is a development, not an established apostolic teaching. In The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, he notes that “the succession of bishops became an important criterion for the authenticity of the church’s doctrine,” but he also acknowledges that this function developed as a response to heresy, not as a universally instituted apostolic structure (Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, Vol. 1, p. 105).

Yves Congar, another major Catholic theologian of the twentieth century, echoes this in The Meaning of Tradition. He admits that the idea of succession was initially used as a defensive argument against heretics, not as a basis for jurisdiction or sacramental exclusivity. He writes, “The succession was invoked originally as an argument of fact to show that the apostles had founded churches which continued to exist, not as a principle of sacramental or juridical continuity” (Congar, The Meaning of Tradition, p. 41).

Even Raymond Brown, one of the most influential Catholic biblical scholars of the modern era, acknowledged that the pastoral epistles and other New Testament texts do not describe the later concept of apostolic succession. In Priest and Bishop: Biblical Reflections, he writes, “We do not find in the New Testament an explicit theory of episcopal succession” (Brown, Priest and Bishop, p. 69). Brown emphasizes that what we do find in the NT is an emphasis on the transmission of teaching, not a formalized hierarchy.

Orthodox theologians are no different. Kallistos Ware, in The Orthodox Church, openly admits that “the precise manner in which the apostolic succession was transmitted in the early centuries is not always easy to determine,” and that the structure of church leadership evolved gradually (Ware, The Orthodox Church, p. 256).

Finally, John P. Meier, a Catholic New Testament scholar best known for his A Marginal Jew series on the historical Jesus, makes this incisive observation: “Apostolic succession, as it came to be understood in later Catholic theology, cannot be directly traced back to Jesus or the original disciples. It is a development that must be judged on theological, not purely historical, grounds” (Meier, A Marginal Jew, Vol. 3, p. 137).

These are not fringe voices. These are mainstream Catholic and Orthodox scholars, many of whom believe in apostolic succession as a theological truth. But what they all admit is that the historical and biblical evidence does not support the fully developed Catholic or Orthodox doctrine. They do not claim that Irenaeus taught it. They do not claim the apostles instituted it. They recognize it for what it is: a later development, often shaped by polemics, pastoral concerns, and evolving institutional needs—not by apostolic command.

So if even honest Catholic and Orthodox scholars are willing to admit this, what excuse do lay apologists have to continue pretending otherwise? When the historical evidence is read without institutional bias, the conclusion is clear: apostolic succession in the modern sense is not apostolic. It is post-apostolic. And Irenaeus, rightly understood, stands on the side of doctrinal fidelity—not institutional mystique.

Why Doctrinal Development Doesn’t Save This Doctrine

Faced with the historical reality that the modern doctrine of apostolic succession did not exist in the early church, many Catholic and Orthodox thinkers appeal to the concept of doctrinal development. The most famous articulation of this idea comes from John Henry Newman, whose 1845 work An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine attempted to defend Roman Catholic beliefs that lacked clear biblical or early historical grounding. Newman argued that Christian doctrine, like a living organism, grows over time—unfolding what was “implicit” in the teachings of the apostles into fuller, more explicit expressions.

This concept is now a foundational part of Catholic theology. It is the fallback position when early sources don’t say what apologists need them to say. Apostolic succession? It wasn’t fully articulated in the beginning, but it “developed.” The papacy? Not clearly defined early on, but it “developed.” The Immaculate Conception? The early church didn’t teach it outright, but it was there “in seed form.” And so on.

But this appeal to development does not work when it comes to apostolic succession. Here’s why.

First, for a doctrine to develop, it must be rooted in the original deposit of faith. It must be a legitimate unfolding of something the apostles actually taught. You can’t “develop” something that wasn’t there to begin with. But as we’ve already shown, apostolic succession in its sacramental, ontological, and jurisdictional form has no basis in Scripture. The apostles do not teach it. The New Testament does not mention it. The earliest churches did not practice it.

Second, real development preserves the essence of the original teaching. It does not reverse it. But that is exactly what the modern doctrine of apostolic succession does. In the New Testament, the authority of leaders comes from their faithfulness to the gospel, not their physical lineage. Ministry is recognized by calling, character, and doctrine, not by sacramental touchpoints. If you turn that into a rigid hierarchy where authority depends on a chain of ordinations—even when that chain includes men who are heretical or morally corrupt—you’ve reversed the apostolic teaching. You’ve replaced spiritual fruit with institutional form.

Third, doctrinal development cannot be used as a substitute for biblical warrant. It is not a license to invent theology. Even Catholic scholars like Yves Congar have warned that development must be tightly controlled and always accountable to Scripture. But the modern doctrine of apostolic succession is not a deepening of a biblical idea—it is an institutional innovation created to consolidate control, establish boundaries, and combat heresy. Its origins are pastoral and political, not theological and apostolic.

Let’s be clear: some doctrines do develop in healthy and theologically sound ways. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, took centuries to find its precise language—but the essential components were all there in Scripture. The deity of Christ, the personhood of the Spirit, the unity of God—these were affirmed by the apostles and preserved by the early church. The Nicene formulation was a faithful development.

But apostolic succession is not like the Trinity. It is not an acorn becoming an oak tree. It is more like an acorn turning into a toaster oven.

The doctrine changes the categories. It introduces ideas that are alien to the apostles. It redefines church leadership in terms the apostles never used. It draws lines of inclusion and exclusion that the New Testament never draws. And then it claims to be the only valid continuation of the apostolic faith.

That is not development. That is distortion.

So when Catholic and Orthodox thinkers admit that Irenaeus didn’t teach the modern view, and then try to rescue their doctrine by saying it “developed,” we must press the question: From what? Where is the biblical seed? Where is the apostolic root? Where is the original deposit? If they cannot point to it, then no amount of development can make the doctrine legitimate. It’s not apostolic. It’s artificial. And it must be rejected.

Timeline of Doctrinal Shift

To make this development—or rather, distortion—easier to grasp, it’s helpful to lay out a simple timeline showing how the idea of apostolic succession changed over time. This will allow us to see, at a glance, how different the earliest church was from the later ecclesiastical system claimed by Rome and Orthodoxy. The difference is not a matter of clarification. It’s a matter of evolution into something else entirely.

~AD 50–70: Apostolic Era

Churches are led by apostles and local elders. The terms “presbyter” (elder) and “bishop” (overseer) are used interchangeably (see Acts 20:17, 28; Titus 1:5–7). Authority is tied to fidelity to the gospel and personal calling by the Holy Spirit—not to institutional lineage or ordination rites. Multiple elders lead each congregation. There is no sign of a threefold hierarchy or singular bishops ruling over cities.

~AD 90–120: Early Post-Apostolic Writings

The Didache and 1 Clement reflect leadership by elders and deacons. There is still no clear evidence of a single bishop per city. In 1 Clement, written from Rome to the Corinthian church, no individual bishop is mentioned—only a plurality of elders. Authority continues to be associated with faithfulness to the apostolic teaching.

~AD 110: Ignatius of Antioch

Ignatius urges churches in Asia Minor to submit to a single bishop in each city, alongside presbyters and deacons. This is the first clear advocacy of monarchical episcopacy. However, Ignatius never ties the bishop’s authority to apostolic succession, sacramental power, or exclusive validity. His concern is unity and order, not grace-transmitting office. His letters are regional and pastoral, not universal decrees.

~AD 150–180: Irenaeus of Lyons

Irenaeus argues against Gnosticism by appealing to doctrinal succession—the public transmission of apostolic teaching through the churches founded by the apostles. He cites the Roman church as a prominent example due to its apostolic origins, but he never argues for sacramental or ontological succession. His focus is on the preservation of truth, not institutional grace. He even acknowledges presbyters as those who “possess the succession from the apostles” (AH 4.26.2).

3rd–4th Century: Institutionalization and Sacramentalization

By the time of Cyprian of Carthage (mid-3rd century), a juridical and sacramental view of episcopacy is emerging. Bishops are seen as the exclusive gatekeepers of the Church and sacraments. The idea of no salvation outside the Church becomes tied to the bishop’s authority. The bishop’s role shifts from being a teacher of apostolic truth to being the necessary conduit of sacramental grace.

5th Century and Beyond: Full Development of Apostolic Succession Doctrine

By now, apostolic succession has become a non-negotiable dogma. The bishop is believed to receive an ontological change at ordination, conferring authority and power that cannot be duplicated by anyone outside the succession. This becomes essential for the validity of baptism, the Eucharist, and even ordaining others. The Roman bishop assumes increasing jurisdictional power, culminating in the claims of universal papal authority.

This timeline shows the drift. What began as a flexible, Spirit-led model of shared leadership and doctrinal accountability gradually transformed into a rigid, hierarchical system of sacramental control and institutional exclusivity. The seed planted by the apostles was not the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox concept of apostolic succession. That concept grew later—and it grew in different soil.

The continuity claimed by Rome and the East is a myth. The real history tells a different story. One that begins not with power, but with truth. And it is that truth—not an unbroken line of bishops—that remains the true mark of apostolic faithfulness.

Responding to the Strongest Objections

The argument we’ve presented is historically grounded, biblically faithful, and supported even by honest scholars within the Catholic and Orthodox traditions. But defenders of apostolic succession will still raise objections. Some are sincere misunderstandings; others are attempts to salvage a collapsing framework. Let’s walk through the most common ones.

Objection 1: “Irenaeus talks about public offices like bishops—doesn’t that mean succession is more than just doctrine?”

This objection confuses the existence of office with the nature of that office. Yes, Irenaeus refers to bishops and acknowledges their roles in the churches. But the reason he points to them is not because their office carries some mystical authority—it’s because they are the public, traceable custodians of apostolic teaching. Their visibility allows him to contrast them with the Gnostics, who appeal to secret, unverifiable knowledge. That’s why Irenaeus says in Against Heresies 3.3.1 that “it is within the power of all… to contemplate clearly the tradition of the apostles manifested throughout the whole world.” The focus is on the visibility and consistency of teaching—not the spiritual ontology of the office.

Objection 2: “He says every church must agree with Rome. Doesn’t that prove primacy?”

The most commonly cited phrase comes from Against Heresies 3.3.2: “It is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church [Rome], on account of its more excellent origin.” This is not a declaration of papal jurisdiction or Roman supremacy. Irenaeus is using Rome as a representative example, not as a ruling authority. He highlights its “more excellent origin” because it was founded by both Peter and Paul and had preserved their message. This is about doctrinal fidelity, not hierarchical control. If anything, Irenaeus could have appealed to other churches founded by apostles, but he uses Rome simply because of its prominence and reputation—not because he believed it ruled the rest.

Objection 3: “You’re creating a false dichotomy. Apostolic succession has always included both doctrine and office.”

This sounds reasonable on the surface, but it fails to recognize the historical trajectory. In the New Testament and early church, doctrine defined the office, not the other way around. Officeholders were valid only if they preserved the truth. Paul warned the Ephesian elders that some from among them would “speak twisted things” and “draw away the disciples” (Acts 20:30). Jesus rebuked the churches in Revelation for tolerating false teachers among their leaders (Rev. 2:14–15, 20). Nowhere in Scripture does holding an office guarantee faithfulness. If anything, office must be evaluated by the standard of apostolic teaching. The later inversion—where office confers legitimacy even if the truth is absent—is a complete reversal of the apostolic model.

Objection 4: “Doctrinal development explains this. The Church just hadn’t articulated apostolic succession fully yet.”

As addressed in the last section, doctrinal development can only be legitimate when it arises from apostolic roots. There is no apostolic root for sacramental succession. None of the apostles say that authority or grace passes through ordination. They say it passes through faithfulness to Christ and his gospel. The office developed, yes—but the theology of succession as a sacramental mechanism of grace and authority was not a development. It was an innovation.

Objection 5: “But the early church clearly practiced succession—so doesn’t that prove the doctrine?”

No. There is a difference between a practice and a doctrine. The early church absolutely practiced a kind of succession—appointing leaders, preserving teaching, maintaining continuity—but they did not claim that only those in an unbroken line of ordination could rightly lead or administer sacraments. Practices can evolve as wise responses to pastoral needs. Doctrines, however, must be grounded in divine revelation. To say that the early church passed down leadership roles is not the same as saying those roles carried exclusive spiritual power only available through succession. That’s the leap Catholic and Orthodox theology makes—but it’s a leap without a bridge.

Objection 6: “You’re cherry-picking Irenaeus and ignoring the rest of the fathers.”

Actually, no. We are reading Irenaeus in context, with precision and care, and we’re doing so in conversation with Catholic and Orthodox historians who say the same things. If we were cherry-picking, we wouldn’t quote Against Heresies 3.3 or 4.26 at all—we’d avoid them. Instead, we are dealing with them head-on, showing what they do and don’t say. And as we’ve seen from scholars like Francis Sullivan, Raymond Brown, and Jaroslav Pelikan, there is broad consensus—even among those who affirm the doctrine—that Irenaeus does not teach apostolic succession as it is understood today.

The truth is, these objections only work if you already assume the doctrine and then read it into the text. But if you let the text speak for itself, and allow Irenaeus to be a second-century pastor combating Gnosticism—not a fourth-century bishop anticipating Trent—you will find something far more faithful and far less institutional: a man pointing to the preservation of truth, not the preservation of power.

What Really Marks Apostolicity?

If apostolic succession—as defined by Catholic and Orthodox theology—is not what Irenaeus taught, and if it’s not what Scripture teaches, then we’re left with a vital question: What actually makes a church “apostolic”? How do we recognize whether a church stands in continuity with the apostles?

The answer is not mysterious. The New Testament gives us the marks of true apostolicity over and over again. It is not about succession of hands—it is about succession of truth.

The clearest summary comes from Galatians 1:6–9, where Paul warns the churches:

“I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel… But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed.”

This is not a warning about invalid ordinations. It’s a warning about false doctrine. Paul does not say, “If someone is outside the line of succession, let him be accursed.” He says, “If someone preaches another gospel.” Apostolicity is about what you preach. No amount of lineage or vestments can save you from the judgment of preaching a false gospel.

In 2 Timothy 1:13–14, Paul urges Timothy:

“Follow the pattern of the sound words that you have heard from me… guard the good deposit entrusted to you.”

Timothy is not told to pass on a clerical office, but to preserve and protect the doctrinal deposit. In the next chapter, Paul expands this:

“What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2).

This is the clearest biblical picture of apostolic continuity. It is not sacramental. It is doctrinal. It is not mystical. It is faithful.

And when Paul examines his own ministry in 2 Corinthians 11–13, he doesn’t appeal to apostolic succession to justify himself. He points to his sufferings, his preaching, and the power of the Spirit. He says, “I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord” (2 Cor. 12:1) and boasts in his weakness so that Christ’s power may rest on him. These are spiritual qualifications, not institutional ones.

Even in the pastoral letters, when the qualifications for elders and deacons are laid out (1 Tim. 3; Titus 1), the emphasis is again on character and sound doctrine. Nowhere are Timothy or Titus told to examine ordination lineage. They are told to look for men who are above reproach, able to teach, not greedy for gain, and faithful to the Word.

In every case, the truth of the gospel is the defining standard.

So when churches today claim to be “apostolic” because they have a valid line of ordinations, but preach a distorted gospel, they are not apostolic at all. They are accursed (Gal. 1:8). Apostolicity is not about who laid hands on you. It is about who formed your message. If your message aligns with the apostles, you are apostolic. If it doesn’t, you are not—regardless of what institution you belong to.

This is why Irenaeus pointed to succession as a test of doctrine, not a transfer of grace. The churches he defended were apostolic because they held the apostolic faith, not because of an unbroken chain of clerical ordinations. He would have recognized a church by its confession of Christ, not by the robes of its bishop.

And so should we.

What Really Defines the Church?

Closely tied to the question of apostolicity is the question of ecclesial identity. If apostolic succession is not what defines the true Church, then what does? What marks a genuine church of Jesus Christ?

The biblical answer is clear: the Church is defined by its union with Christ, its faithfulness to the apostolic gospel, and the presence of the Holy Spirit. It is not defined by hierarchy, physical lineage, or historical institution.

In Ephesians 2:19–20, Paul writes:

“So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone.”

The Church is built on the foundation of the apostles—that is, their teaching—not on their institutional successors. And the cornerstone is Christ himself, not Peter, not Paul, and not a bishop of Rome. Once the foundation is laid, it is not laid again. The apostles’ doctrine is the lasting bedrock of the Church, and any community that continues to teach it stands on that same foundation.

This is why 1 Timothy 3:15 calls the Church “a pillar and buttress of the truth.” The Church is not the source of truth—it upholds and protects it. The moment it ceases to do so, it forfeits its right to call itself the Church. Apostolic succession cannot protect a church that has abandoned the gospel. History proves that many bishops in the so-called apostolic line have taught heresy, abused power, and led people astray. Their succession did not preserve the Church. The gospel did.

Consider Acts 2:42, which gives the simplest and most beautiful portrait of the early Church:

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

No mention of bishops. No focus on succession. The unity of the Church was found in shared devotion to the apostles’ doctrine, to mutual fellowship, and to worshiping Christ together. That is the church. And any group of believers today who gather around the same gospel, preach the same Christ, and live under the same Spirit are just as much the Church as any cathedral in Rome or Constantinople.

The true Church is where the Word is rightly preached, the gospel is faithfully proclaimed, and the Spirit of God dwells. This is why Irenaeus could say in Against Heresies 1.10.3:

“Where the Church is, there is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church and all grace.”

This is one of Irenaeus’s most powerful and revealing statements. It completely undermines any sacramental view that confines grace to the episcopate or reduces the Church to an institutional lineage. For Irenaeus, the Church and the Spirit are inseparable. And where the Spirit is present—through the preaching of the truth and the confession of Christ—there is the Church, and there is grace.

Not where the bishop stands. Not where apostolic succession is claimed. But where the Spirit of God is known and confessed.

This means that the Church is not a visible institution with apostolic paperwork. It is the gathered people of God, united by faith in Christ and devotion to the gospel. The Church is not defined by external form, but by internal truth. And that is a definition no human hierarchy can change.

The Real Legacy of Irenaeus

Irenaeus of Lyons was not a proto-Catholic bishop laying the groundwork for sacramental succession. He was a courageous pastor-theologian contending for the gospel in a world riddled with distortion. He fought Gnosticism—not with ecclesiastical power plays, but with an appeal to truth made public and preserved in the churches founded by the apostles.

When Irenaeus pointed to “succession,” he was pointing to continuity of doctrine, not mystical transmission of grace. He believed the apostolic churches were trustworthy not because of a sacramental pipeline, but because they had preserved the same gospel message in the face of falsehood. He believed the Spirit of God resided where the truth was proclaimed. And he believed that any community—whether in Rome, Smyrna, Lyons, or beyond—that held fast to that apostolic truth was a true church.

His words in Against Heresies 1.10.3 stand as a testimony to what truly matters:

“Where the Church is, there is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church and all grace.”

That is the legacy of Irenaeus. Not hierarchy. Not exclusivity. Not clerical power. But truth, Spirit, and grace—wherever they are found.

Catholic and Orthodox apologists who cite Irenaeus to defend sacramental succession are not recovering his teaching. They are repurposing it. They are reading back into his writings a system that would not fully develop until centuries after his death. Even their own historians admit this. The idea that the Church’s legitimacy stands or falls on institutional lineage is not apostolic. It is post-apostolic. It is an institutional invention, not a biblical or patristic truth.

If we want to honor Irenaeus, we must not conscript him into modern theological agendas. We must let him speak with his own voice. And that voice is unmistakably clear: the Church of Christ is recognized by its faithfulness to the apostolic gospel, not by an unbroken chain of bishops.

Let the Roman Church claim her history. Let the Orthodox Church appeal to her mystique. But the true Church—the one, holy, apostolic Church—is wherever Christ is rightly preached, the gospel rightly proclaimed, and the Spirit of God richly dwells.

That is what Irenaeus defended. And that is what we must continue to defend—not apostolic succession, but apostolic truth.

Resources to Consider

1. "Early Christian Doctrines" by J.N.D. Kelly

2. "From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in the Early Church" by Francis A. Sullivan

3. "Church History: From Christ to the Pre-Reformation" by Everett Ferguson