Twin dangers threaten Christians who seek to navigate the choppy waters of the origins of that list of 27 books that make up the New Testament canon. As with the mythical monsters Scylla and Charybdis,[1] dangers await them on either side of the strait: a secular threat and a religious threat.
Scylla
The secular version of the canon’s origins can be found in one of the most successful works of fiction in the 21st century, Dan Brown’s bestseller, The Da Vinci Code. To date, it has sold over 80 million copies worldwide.
Brown dishes up a convoluted conspiracy of corrupted Gospels, doctrinal deception, theological suppression, and book burning. According to Brown, the epicenter of the massive deception foisted on Christians the world over was the Council of Nicea, which met in AD 325 at the behest of Emperor Constantine.
One of Brown’s protagonists, the historian Sir Leigh Teabing, explains the essence of the conspiracy to French cryptologist Sophie Neveu:
“The Bible is a product of man, my dear. Not of God. The Bible did not fall magically from the clouds. Man created it as a historical record of tumultuous times, and it has evolved through countless translations, additions, and revisions. History has never had a definitive version of the book….
“Who chose which gospels to include?” Sophie asked.
“Aha!” Teabing burst in with enthusiasm. “The fundamental irony of Christianity! The Bible, as we know it today, was collated by the pagan Roman Emperor Constantine the Great….
“Constantine needed to strengthen the new Christian tradition, and held a famous ecumenical gathering known as the Council of Nicaea….
“Constantine commissioned and financed a new Bible, which omitted those gospels that spoke of Christ’s human traits and embellished those gospels that made Him godlike. The earlier gospels were outlawed, gathered up, and burned….
“The modern Bible was compiled and edited by men who possessed a political agenda—to promote the divinity of the man Jesus Christ and use His influence to solidify their own power base.”[2]
Though Brown’s novel is a work of fiction, Sir Teabing’s testimony has understandably rocked the confidence of many Christians. An alert placed just before the prologue under the bolded heading “FACT” reads, “All descriptions of artwork, architecture, documents, and secret rituals in this novel are accurate.”
Dan Brown has misled his readers, though. His characterization of the birth of the New Testament canon is a complete fabrication.
If you want to know the true details of any historical event, it’s best to consult those who were actually there. Eusebius of Caesarea and Athanasius, archdeacon of Alexandria, both wrote extensively about the Council of Nicea.
The basic facts are these.[3] Emperor Constantine summoned the council and presided over it from June 14 to July 25, AD 325. Three main points were discussed: the Easter question, the Meletian schism, and the divinity of Christ. The canon was never at issue at Nicea, for good reason. For all practical purposes, the legitimacy of the four standard Gospels—and most of the rest of the New Testament—had been decided centuries before.[4]
Regarding the New Testament canon, Dan Brown has given us a secular Scylla: The books in our Bibles represent human action, not divine intervention, and were cobbled together for political purposes. The winners, after all, write the history, the saying goes. Yet this is not what happened.
Charybdis
The religious threat lies at the other side of the strait. Roman Catholic Father Chris Alar of “Ascension Presents” describes an opposite error:
You can’t accept [the] Bible and reject the authority from which it came—in other words, the Catholic bishops—because it was at the councils of Carthage and Hippo in 393 and 397 that determined every one of those books that goes into that Bible. That Bible is a Catholic book. Now, of course it comes from God, and he used human authors, but what books went into that Bible were determined by the [Roman] Catholic Church.[5]
This religious version of the birth of the canon is also a fiction. One pictures a group of Catholic bishops wearing vestments and miters casting votes. That’s simply not what happened because there was no Roman Catholic Church at that time.
There were bishops, of course—heads of local communities of Christians scattered around the Mediterranean region—and the opinions of those leaders were vital, as we’ll see. The leaders were decentralized, though, not under the authority of Rome. These were Christian bishops, not Catholic bishops. Rome did not achieve its ascendancy over Christianity until late in the first millennium. Before that, the Bishop of Rome, the “Pope,” was simply one voice among many—an important voice, but just one nonetheless.
There’s a second problem, though. The approach itself is misguided.
Here is the difficulty. If the New Testament canon is a list of books chosen by some legitimate authority—presumably the Roman Catholic Church—then where did that authority get its legitimacy from in the first place? If the Catholic Church bases its authority on verses in the inspired books, (e.g., Matt. 16:18–19), then it cannot exercise that authority to say which of the books are inspired. The tail is wagging the dog—or the dog is chasing its tail, if you will, since the argument is circular.
Further, nearly complete lists of the canonical books were circulating hundreds of years before the councils of either Carthage or Hippo. No church council of any kind “determined” which books went into the Bible.
Recognized, not Determined
Neither an act of secular power nor an act of ecclesiastical power was responsible for the canon we have today, for good reason. It turns out that the New Testament canon is not an authoritative list of books. Rather, it’s a list of authoritative books.[6] The word order matters.
The canon does not get its legitimacy from any outside group with independent authority to declare a work inspired. Rather, the authority of the New Testament texts is already inherent in the documents themselves. They are then subsequently recognized as authentic Scripture by the church catholic.[7]
An illustration may help.[8] Any list of basketball’s greatest talents would include Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant. Notice, though, that those compiling the list don’t determine the greatness of these players. They merely recognize the greatness already there. These players aren’t great because they’re placed on the list. They’re placed on the list because they were great before anyone voted.
When John the Baptist pointed to Jesus and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” (John 1:36), John’s declaration didn’t determine Jesus’ messianic office; it recognized it. In the same way, every New Testament book was authoritative the instant the ink dried on the parchment, even though it took time for the church to eventually recognize all of them as such.
This approach is the middle passage between Scylla and Charybdis that the historical records show the early church actually followed—providing safety from the wreckage on either extreme. Note New Testament scholars Michael Kruger and Andreas Köstenberger:
The early church fathers speak consistently of “recognizing” or “receiving” the books of the New Testament, not creating or picking them. In their minds, scriptural authority was not something they could give to these documents but was something that was (they believed) already present in these documents—they were simply receiving what had been “handed down” to them.[9] [Emphasis in the original.]
The majority of New Testament writings were recognized as authoritative in themselves early on—before any authorizing councils—for a particular reason.[10] It has to do with the definition of the word “canon.”
Canon
The word “canon” simply means “rule,” “standard,” or “measure.” When used of the New Testament, it refers to revelation understood by Christians to carry the full weight of divine authority.[11]
During the time of Jesus, the Hebrew Scriptures held that status. Eventually, so did the words of Jesus, verified in part by his attesting miracles (John 3:2). As Jesus approached his own exodus, he promised his apostolic band that the Holy Spirit would confer on them the same authority. The Spirit would provide the guidance necessary to ensure that the apostles would pass on sound doctrine consistent with Jesus’ teaching:
But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you. (John 14:26)
When the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, that is the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify about Me, and you will testify also, because you have been with Me from the beginning. (John 15:26–27)
But when He, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all the truth. (John 16:13)[12]
These men were chosen by Jesus, were eyewitnesses of his ministry on earth, and were commissioned by him to carry his message forward with his authority. “Our earliest Christian writings,” Kruger points out, “portray the apostles as having the very authority of Christ himself.”[13] A host of New Testament texts make this clear.[14]
Consequently, the authoritative rule (“canon”) for the early church was the teaching of either the apostles who had been trained and commissioned directly by Christ, or those who were close associates under the tutelage of apostles (e.g., John Mark, companion of Peter and author of the Gospel of Mark, or Luke, the companion of Paul).[15]
Apostolicity
In a certain sense, then, the canon—the authoritative source that was the proper and divine rule for the church—was first a who, not a what. Whatever the apostles taught was authoritative because that authority had been given to them by Jesus himself.
When the apostles died, they continued to be the reliable authority—canon—but now through the written record of their instruction: the Gospels and Epistles (letters) they left behind. Therefore, the preeminent question for the early church about any alleged authoritative work was, Did it have apostolic authority? If there was consensus on a book’s apostolic origins, the writings were immediately recognized as canonical texts.[16]
Because of clear apostolic authorship, a core of 21 of the 27 books finally recognized as canon were considered authoritative.[17] Virtually the entire New Testament canon was in place by the end of the first century because of the books’ apostolic origin and the unified consent of all leaders in the church.
Of course, in order for a work to be apostolic, it had to be written early—sometime in the first century. That’s one reason the Gospel of Thomas—and a host of others—was not a legitimate candidate for canonicity. Thomas is a second-century document—a fact acknowledged by all hands—too late to have an apostolic pedigree.[18]
Orthodoxy
Apostolic authority helped secure another criterion that was a vital condition of canonicity for the early church: orthodoxy.
Ironically, it was a heretic who set into motion the more formal process of establishing the New Testament canon. Controversy arose when the Gnostic Marcion (c. AD 150) flatly rejected, for theological reasons, writings that had been accepted as authentic for nearly a century.
The dispute forced early church leaders to clarify which books they recognized as apostolic and authoritative. This could not have been done, of course, unless there was early consensus on the core writings considered authoritative. As William Mounce puts it, “There can be no heresy unless there is a standard of truth against which to compare it and determine it to be heretical.”[19]
Mounce’s “standard of truth” was what the early church counted as orthodoxy. Marcion’s views were disqualified—along with every other Gnostic text—because they violated that rule. Note eminent New Testament scholar F.F. Bruce:
[The early church] had recourse to the criterion of orthodoxy. By “orthodoxy” they meant the apostolic faith—the faith set forth in the undoubted apostolic writings and maintained in the churches which had been founded by apostles.[20]
In the debate that Marcion triggered, the early church identified three categories of books.[21] The homologoumena consisted of those texts that were undisputed by church leadership—20 of the 27 New Testament books, including all four Gospels.[22]
The antilegomena were those contested. They received support from some members of church leadership but not others. Some were ultimately rejected (Shepherd of Hermas, the Didache, Epistle of Polycarp to the Philippians, the Second Epistle of Clement). Others were ultimately accepted (Jude, James, Hebrews, 2 Peter, Revelation, 2 and 3 John).
The third group—called the pseudepigrapha or simply the “heretical books”—included hundreds of documents that received no support from the church and were considered completely spurious by all orthodox fathers.[23]
The fathers made a further distinction between books that spoke authoritatively on doctrine and those writings—like the Didache and the Shepherd of Hermas—that were useful for edification but were not on par in authority with the inspired canonical works because they lacked apostolic origin. These were orthodox in their theology yet not considered canon.[24]
Catholicity
Though the core of New Testament texts enjoyed virtually unanimous approval early on, confirmation for other books took longer. Some never received it since they lacked the consensus necessary to be included in the canon. If there was a significant “split decision” on a work, then it failed to fulfill the third criterion, the test of catholicity. It was therefore not included in the final list.
As Bruce writes, “Catholicity has been classically defined in the fifth-century ‘Vincentian canon’ as ‘what has been believed everywhere, always, by all.’”[25] To satisfy the test of catholicity, a work had to be virtually universally recognized.
A work which enjoyed only local recognition was not likely to be acknowledged as part of the canon of the catholic church. On the other hand, a work which was acknowledged by the greater part of the catholic church would probably receive universal recognition sooner or later.[26]
Those three tests—apostolicity, orthodoxy, and catholicity—guided the early church in its recognition of the canonical books. Though the Old Testament canon had been fixed before the time of Christ, the concept of New Testament canon did not formally develop until the second century.
The most ancient list of canonical works is the Muratorian Canon (c. AD 200). This record was discovered by Ludovico Muratori in the Ambrosian Library in Milan and published by him in 1740. Though the first portion of the fragment is missing, it mentions Luke and John specifically as the third and fourth Gospels—strongly implying Matthew and Mark came before it.
The historical evidence shows a quick consensus on the Gospels. They received broad acceptance and were in early use by the church. In fact, Irenaeus quotes directly from all four canonical Gospels 30 years before the Muratorian Canon.
By the end of the fourth century, no fewer than seven lists from different church fathers confirmed the current boundaries of the 27-book New Testament, including lists from Athanasius, Jerome, Augustine, and Pope Innocent I.[27] Four other lists lacked only the book of Revelation. Though widely affirmed early on, it fell out of favor with some before finally being established as the 27th book.[28]
Athanasius composed a complete list of all the New Testament books in AD 367. Note, this was not an act of any ecumenical council but an affirmation by a significant church leader of books that enjoyed confirmation by all. John D. Meade and Peter J. Gurry, authors of Scribes & Scripture, clarify:
Athanasius did not think he was creating the New Testament canon. He did not select the four Gospels, Acts, the fourteen Pauline Epistles, the seven…General Epistles, and Revelation. Rather, he combined, for the first time, these subcollections of the New Testament canon.[29] [Emphasis in the original.]
Though the 27 books in our current canon had never been formally grouped together before, even so, “Athanasius’s list…is quite unremarkable since Christians long before his time had recognized the books he included in his list as divinely inspired.”[30]
Though the New Testament canon was settled by the end of the fourth century, in some circles there still remained controversy over the Old Testament canon.
Those Other Books
The Old Testament Apocrypha books were Jewish wisdom and historical works written, for the most part, during the intertestimental period between Malachi and the Gospels.
Since most were accepted as canon by the Catholic church at the time of the Reformation but were rejected by Protestants, some claimed that Protestants removed books from the Bible that Rome was faithful to protect. This is not what happened.
First, the Jews never accepted the Apocrypha on par with the rest of Scripture, even though the Apocryphal books were translated into Greek with the rest of the Old Testament circa 250 BC. The first-century Jewish historian Josephus said the prophets wrote from Moses to Artaxerxes (Malachi).[31] The Talmud concurs. Jews did not consider this collection of their books canonical.
Second, Jesus and the apostles never quoted from the Apocrypha, though they quoted hundreds of times from all parts of the Old Testament.[32]
Third, there never was a Christian consensus on the books in the Apocrypha. Though many early Christians accepted them as Scripture—including Augustine, Irenaeus, and Tertullian—other heavyweights like Athanasius, Origin, Jerome, and Cyril of Jerusalem did not—a rejection echoed by later voices like Erasmus and even significant Catholic leaders like Cardinals Ximenes and Cajetan in the 1500s who all made the distinction between the Apocrypha and the canon.[33]
The books, however, were widely considered acceptable for devotional purposes. Though Jerome denied the canonicity of the Apocrypha, he still included 15 books in his Latin Vulgate. They also show up in the three most famous ancient codices—Sinaiticus, Alexandrinus, and Vaticanus[34]—and in the King James Version of 1611, probably for the same reason.
The Apocrypha was never formally canonized by an ecumenical council[35] until the Reformation, when, in what appears to be an obvious counter-Reformation move, Rome officially confirmed them at the Council of Trent in 1546—more than 1500 years after the books were written. Ironically, even the bishops at Trent were divided, with 24 voting for the inclusion of the Apocrypha and 15 voting against it.[36] Over one-third of the Catholic council contested its canonicity.
Here is the key fact: There has always been a split decision on the Apocrypha. Its place in the canon has always been in question, and disputed books fail the test of catholicity.
To be precise, the Apocrypha was never “taken out” of the Bible; rather, it was officially added in by the Roman Catholic Church at the Council of Trent as Meade and Gurry point out:
Protestants did not create their own Old Testament by removing the deuterocanonical books. The Reformers accepted the Hebrew canon that medieval scholars and Jerome, among other early Christians, claimed was the earliest church’s canon.[37] [Emphasis in the original.]
Like biblical inspiration, the production of the New Testament canon was a mysterious mixture of divine intention and human effort. It’s an untidy story, and that can be discomfiting. The Scylla and Charybdis options are more orderly—and, therefore, attractive for some—but they do not reflect what actually took place. Meade and Gurry summarize the situation well:
Explanations that reduce the canon’s story to power dynamics, conspiracies, centralized church government, or a mere selection process on the part of “history’s winners” do not adequately account for the canon that we have today.… Neither the council of Nicaea nor any other single general council created the biblical canon. When viewed as a whole, the long history of the canon’s development is surprising not for the disagreements about books, but for the remarkably broad agreement on so much of what constitutes the Bible.[38]
The church’s recognition of the canon proceeded in stages over time under God’s sovereign guidance. Like inspiration, the result is the same—God’s Word has been preserved, as Isaiah promised:
The grass withers, the flower fades,
But the word of our God stands forever. (Isa. 40:8)
[1] Scylla and Charybdis were mythological Greek monsters on either side of the straits of Messina threatening mariners—like Homer’s Odysseus—who were attempting to pass through the narrows.
[2] Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code (New York, NY: Anchor Books, 2003), 231–234.
[3] Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, vol. II (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1910). Schaff drew from the primary source accounts of Eusebius and Athanasius.
[4] “Nicaea did not settle the canon, as one might expect, but the Scriptures were regarded without controversy as the sure and immovable foundation of the orthodox faith,” Schaff, vol. II, 523, emphasis added.
[5] Fr. Chris Alar, “Why the Bible Is Actually a Catholic Book,” (YouTube video), Ascension Presents, September 30, 2021, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khg8VSD6jF8. I realize that Father Alar does not actually say “Roman” Catholic, but this is clearly his meaning. The word “catholic” as “universal” makes no sense in this citation. Alar is talking about an authoritative organization, not the collective body of extant Christians.
[6] I heard this distinction first from New Testament textual scholar Daniel Wallace.
[7] I mean “catholic” here in the sense of universal.
[8] My clever STR colleague, Tim Barnett, came up with this illustration.
[9] Andreas J. Köstenberger and Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy (Downers Grove, IL; Crossway, 2010), 121.
[10] “By a very early point—in this case around AD 110—New Testament books were not only called but were also functioning as authoritative Scripture.” Köstenberger and Kruger, Heresy, 145.
[11] There is no difference, then, between “inspired Scripture” and “canon” in the way I’m using these terms.
[12] Christians often apply this promise to themselves, but this was not Jesus’ intent. If Jesus meant to promise all believers that the Spirit would lead each of them inexorably into all truth, then his promise has clearly failed since Christians disagree on doctrinal issues all the time. Rather, this promise was for those apostles who had been with Jesus from the beginning (John 15:27), that the Spirit would bring to their remembrance all that he had taught them during his time on earth with them (John 14:26).
[13] Michael J. Kruger, The Question of Canon (Downers Grove, IL; InterVarsity Press, 2013), 67.
[14] E.g., Acts 10:41–42, 2 Cor. 5–6, 1 John 1–3, 1 Pet. 1:16, 2 Pet. 3:2, Mark 3:14–15, Eph. 2:20, Luke 1:2, 1 Thess. 2:13, and 1 Cor. 14:37–38.
[15] Clearly, Paul was not part of that initial apostolic band, but he still received his apostolic commission directly from Christ (Gal. 1:11–12). It was an authority confirmed by the “pillars”—Peter, James, and John (see Gal. 2:9 and 2 Pet. 3:15–16)—and one he exercised aggressively when necessary (2 Cor. 13:10).
[16] Since apostolic authority was critical for any book to be considered for the New Testament list, the canon of books that were inherently authoritative (the “intrinsic” or “ontological” canon) closed when the last apostolic witnesses died somewhere near the end of the first century, even though the church did not arrive at formal consensus on the full list (the “exclusive” view of canon) until the end of the fourth century.
[17] William D. Mounce, Why I Trust the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI; Zondervan, 2021), 103. Full agreement on 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, Jude, James, and the book of Hebrews came later (see also footnote 22).
[18] Thomas does not show up in a single canonical list, nor is it found in any collection of New Testament manuscripts. See Köstenberger and Kruger, Heresy, 166.
[19] Mounce, 120.
[20] F.F. Bruce, The Canon of Scripture (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1988), 260.
[21] See Norman Geisler and William Nix, A General Introduction to the Bible (Chicago, IL: Moody Press, 1986), ch. 17, and Schaff, Vol. II., 516–524, for a thorough discussion.
[22] Though the book of Revelation was initially accepted because of apostolicity, it was later questioned because of issues with its doctrine: “It is a curious thing that Revelation was one of the first books to be recognized in existing writings of the apostolic Fathers, and one of the last to be questioned.” Geisler and Nix, 300.
[23] Thomas, being a Gnostic text, also does not satisfy the criterion of orthodoxy.
[24] This distinction would be true of many theologically sound and helpful books in print today.
[25] Bruce, 262.
[26] Ibid., 261.
[27] John D. Meade and Peter J. Gurry, Scribes & Scripture (Wheaton, IL; Crossway, 2022), 156–7.
[28] Ibid., 155–6; “The question of Revelation’s canonical status came centuries later. It was initially, and eventually, seen as canonical.” Mounce, 111.
[29] Meade and Gurry, 149.
[30] Ibid.
[31] Josephus, Against Apion 1.38–41, as cited in F.F. Bruce, 33.
[32] Jude mentions Enoch (Jude 14–15), but not as authoritative canon. Also, Enoch is not in the Catholic Apocrypha.
[33] See discussion in Meade and Gurry, 133–141.
[34] Mounce, 255–6.
[35] As opposed to a local or provincial council.
[36] Meade and Gurry, 141.
[37] Ibid., 144.
[38] Ibid., 165.