Part Three: A Church That Grew—The Maturing of the Papacy Over Time
Critics often claim that the papacy as we know it today was a later invention—a medieval institution imposed on a once “egalitarian” Church. They point to towering papal titles, canon law, Vatican councils, and ornate vestments as proof that the office evolved beyond recognition. But this view misses the organic, Spirit-guided growth of the Church through history. Like a tree that grows from acorn to oak, the papacy matured without ceasing to be what Christ planted.
The Seed Planted in Scripture and History
As we’ve seen, the office of Peter was established by Christ Himself. He gave Simon a new name—Peter, the Rock—and the keys of the kingdom. The early Church recognized this singular role. By the second century, successors to Peter in Rome were being looked to for unity and doctrinal clarity, especially in times of crisis. What began in simplicity did not remain simple—not because of corruption, but because of life.
The Church was never meant to be a frozen institution. It was (and is) a living body, animated by the Holy Spirit. Living things grow. The trials of history demanded that the Church clarify, defend, and structure itself in new ways, always rooted in apostolic tradition.
Development, Not Deviation
St. John Henry Newman famously wrote, “To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant.” In his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, he explained how authentic development is like the growth of a child into adulthood—not a change in essence, but a fuller expression of what was always present.
When the Church faced heresies, it called councils. When rival interpretations of the Gospel caused confusion, it looked to Peter’s successor as a final arbiter. Over centuries, the papacy didn’t emerge from nowhere—it stepped forward when it was needed most, often reluctantly, and often under fire.
The Council of Nicaea (325) looked to Rome’s bishop as a stabilizing figure even before the term “pope” had formal power.
By the 5th century, Pope Leo the Great spoke with moral and theological clarity, even confronting emperors.
In the Middle Ages, papal influence was both spiritual and political—sometimes heroic, sometimes flawed—but always within a Church trying to shepherd an increasingly complex world.
A Visible Head for a Visible Body
The Church is not an invisible, formless gathering. It is the Body of Christ on earth—incarnational, sacramental, and visible. Christ knew that unity requires leadership. He prayed in John 17 “that they may be one.” And He gave us Peter—not as a dictator, but as a shepherd.
A global Church, spread across cultures and centuries, cannot remain united by sentiment alone. It needs a center of gravity. The papacy is not about domination—it is about preserving the unity of faith and doctrine, ensuring that what Christ taught is handed on whole and uncorrupted.
Even today, when the Church faces new moral and philosophical challenges, we look to Rome not because the pope is perfect, but because the office was given by Christ for precisely these storms.
Divided Over What We Claim to Agree On? A Word to Our Orthodox Brothers and Sisters
The Eastern Othodox Church argues that it was the Catholic Church, not the them, who broke away. That the bishop of Rome overreached, introduced foreign developments, and altered ancient formulas. But even during the height of egos, miscommunications, and political tensions that led to the Great Schism, we must ask: Was this truly a break over heresy—or over hurt feelings?
Let’s be honest: family feuds are real. But families don’t divorce because of them—at least not if they’re committed to remaining a family. The fact is, Dad is still Dad. You don’t rewrite the family tree because you didn’t like how your father enforced the rules—or because a few of his decisions ruffled your feathers.
The debate over the Filioque—the phrase “and the Son” added to the Nicene Creed to affirm that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both the Father and the Son—was not some rogue Western corruption. It was added in the Latin Church to defend the divinity of Christ against heresies that were tearing through Europe. The intention wasn’t to fracture unity—it was to protect what both East and West already believed: that the Son and the Spirit are co-equal with the Father in the one divine nature.
If the debate is over the wording or the method of introduction, let it be had. Let the theologians do their work. But to walk away—over something we theologically agree on, even if expressed differently? That’s not fidelity to truth. That’s pride masquerading as principle.
To then say that the pope is merely a sentimental figurehead, a relic of the early Church with no real authority, is to ignore 2,000 years of consistent recognition that Peter’s role was never purely symbolic. Even Eastern bishops once appealed to Rome in disputes. Even the Ecumenical Councils recognized the primacy of the bishop of Rome—not as an imperial tyrant, but as a father among brothers.
So the question is not: Did the pope have authority? The better question is: How can that authority serve unity, rather than division, today?
Christ prayed “that they may all be one.” Unity is not uniformity, and no one’s asking the East to become the West. But unity must be visible. And that means recognizing that Peter’s role was not a Roman invention—it was a divine intention.
The papacy did not evolve into dominance; it matured into service.
Unity Requires Humility—On Both Sides
Whenever I speak with my Orthodox brothers and sisters and express my hope that East and West will one day be united again, the response is often some version of:
“That’s nice, but it won’t happen until Rome admits and corrects its errors.”
It’s said politely—often kindly—but beneath the courtesy, there’s a wall. A line in the sand. A lingering wound that refuses to scab.
And if I may speak candidly: there’s pride in that. A pride that’s not exclusive to the East, but one that too often parades as fidelity. It assumes that reunion depends solely on the humility of the Catholic Church, while the Orthodox posture remains that of a righteous bystander waiting for Rome to return to its senses.
This is not a condemnation. It’s an invitation to self-examination.
Because history does not support the idea that Rome hijacked Christianity. Nor does it support the myth that the papacy was invented in the Middle Ages. The division was real, yes—but mutual. There were misunderstandings, political posturing, and cultural clashes on both sides. What began as a series of disputes eventually calcified into schism, and the longer it endured, the more we created justifications to keep it going.
But let’s be honest: no one is coming back with their tail between their legs. And that’s not what Christ asks.
What He asks is that we come together—humbly, honestly, and faithfully. To acknowledge the pain of our past, to stop inflating theological differences into impassable mountains, and to seek once again the unity that He prayed for: “That they may all be one.”
That unity does not erase history. It does not ignore the scars. But neither should scars prevent healing.
And the pope? Call him a figurehead if you like—but he is still the visible head of the Church, not because Rome demands it, but because Christ instituted it. He is the servant of the servants of God, entrusted with real authority—not to rule as a monarch, but to safeguard the deposit of faith entrusted by the apostles.
Want influence in that Church? Make your voice heard.
Want change? Align it with the faith handed down.
Want to lead? Then lead.
Have a concern with the pope? Say it—with love, truth, and fidelity.
But don’t stay outside the house because someone left a light on in the wrong room.
We are stronger together than apart. And if we truly believe in the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church, then it’s time to start acting like we want to be part of it—together.
A Final Word: The Beauty the Papacy Offers Us
The recent election of Pope Leo XIV, the first American pontiff, has stirred hearts across the globe. His journey—from the neighborhoods of Chicago to missionary work in Peru, and now to the Chair of Peter—embodies the universality and inclusivity of the Catholic Church .
In his inaugural address, Pope Leo XIV emphasized peace and unity, echoing the pastoral spirit of his predecessor, Pope Francis. He called for the Church to be a "beacon that illuminates the dark nights of this world," highlighting the papacy's role in guiding the faithful through contemporary challenges .
This moment invites us to reflect on the papacy's enduring purpose: not as a symbol of power, but as a servant to the servants of God. The pope stands as a visible sign of unity, entrusted with safeguarding the deposit of faith and fostering communion among believers.
As we look to the future, Pope Leo XIV's leadership offers a renewed opportunity for dialogue and reconciliation, especially between the Eastern and Western traditions. His commitment to bridge-building and his deep understanding of diverse cultures position him uniquely to heal divisions and promote the unity Christ desired for His Church.
May we embrace this new chapter with hope, recognizing the papacy's beauty in its capacity to unite, to serve, and to lead us closer to the heart of Christ.
One Final Reflection regarding our new pope:
We are so caught up in the politics of everything. We label ourselves—and others—as “Right,” “Left,” “Conservative,” “Progressive,” as though the Church were just another battleground in a culture war. And now, with the election of Pope Leo XIV this past week, the first American pope in history, online media is flooded with speculation: What kind of pope will he be? Is he a conservative? A progressive? A moderate?
Perhaps he is a little of one, more of another, or somewhere in between on various issues. That would be normal. But if we are thinking clearly as Catholics, we should desire only one thing: that our pope ONLY be faithful to APOSTOLIC TRADITION, rooted in the Gospel, and aligned with Christ.
The papacy is not a party platform. Pope Leo XIV is not the pope of a political tribe—he is the shepherd of the universal Church, spread across seven continents and united by one faith, one baptism, and one Lord.
Let us pray that his influence and papacy will move hearts, and challenge all of us to be transformed into a living expression of Christ’s love on earth. This way, Christ’s peace can extend to us all.
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