Pope of the Month: St Pontian (230-235)

Apologies for being remiss with my monthly popes! I’m still in recovery from learning, as posted here, that St Hippolytus was probably not anti-pope to Callistus I, Urban I, Pontian, and Anterus. My first step of recovery was to go earlier than Hippolytus to St Victor I; today, I give you one of Hippolytus’ contemporaries, Pope Pontian, whom tradition says was martyred alongside Hippolytus.

Not a lot is actually known about Pope Pontian. During his tenure as Bishop of Rome, Origen was condemned in Egypt by Demetrius of Alexandria, but whether Pontian corroborated the Egyptian synods’ rulings or not is mere conjecture. Indeed, so little is known about him that I feel no guilt in simply giving you our earliest source for him, Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History. First, Book 6.23.3:

3. While these things were in progress, Urbanus,who had been for eight years bishop of the Roman church, was succeeded by Pontianus, and Zebinus succeeded Philetus in Antioch.

Later, 6.28-29:

Chapter XXVIII.—The Persecution under Maximinus.

The Roman emperor, Alexander, having finished his reign in thirteen years, was succeeded by Maximinus Cæsar. On account of his hatred toward the household of Alexander, which contained many believers, he began a persecution, commanding that only the rulers of the churches should be put to death, as responsible for the Gospel teaching. Thereupon Origen composed his work On Martyrdom, and dedicated it to Ambrose and Protoctetus, a presbyter of the parish of Cæsarea, because in the persecution there had come upon them both unusual hardships, in which it is reported that they were eminent in confession during the reign of Maximinus, which lasted but three years. Origen has noted this as the time of the persecution in the twenty-second book of his Commentaries on John, and in several epistles.

Chapter XXIX.—Fabianus, who was wonderfully designated Bishop of Rome by God.

1. Gordianus succeeded Maximinus as Roman emperor; and Pontianus, who had been bishop of the church at Rome for six years, was succeeded by Anteros. After he had held the office for a month, Fabianus succeeded him.

During Maximinus’ persecution, Pontian and Hippolytus were exiled to Sardinia where both of them died. Before dying, Pontian abdicated from the episcopate; the first Roman bishop to do so. This, according to J. N. D. Kelly, is our earliest secure date in papal history: 28 September 235, as recorded in the fourth-century Liberian Catalogue.

They were later interred at Rome — an excavation discovered Pontian’s grave in the catacomb of San Callisto in 1909.

Because of the dispelling of the old Anti-pope Hippolytus fable (still believed in Kelly’s A Dictionary of Popes), there is not much more to say about Pontian. He was Bishop of Rome for five years, and then died in exile during a persecution.

The few notes worth highlighting are that persecutions were rarely targeted at the entire Christian population — Maximinus Thrax’s persecution was directed at leaders, especially bishops. Note also to take Eusebius’ account of there being many Christians in Alexander Severus’ household and this being the reason for Maximinus’ persecution with caution. Finally, while not everyone buried in the catacombs was a martyr, some were.

Notes

This is largely based on J. N. D. Kelly and Michael J. Walsh, A Dictionary of Popes, 2nd ed. Oxford: 2010.

The translation of Eusebius is that of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series 2, Vol. 1; trans. Dr. Arthur C. McGiffert and Dr. Ernest C. Richardson.

Pope of the Month: St Victor I (also episcopal monarchy & dating Easter)

Two years ago, I decided to include a montly pope in with the Saints of the Week, but only managed three, St Peter, St Clement, and then alleged Anti-pope St Hippolytus, who I later learned wasn’t an anti-pope at all! Since the Saint of the Week returned the first week of November, enjoy the Pope of the Month on the last!

This month, we go back to the days before St Hippolytus to St Victor (Bp of Rome c. 189-198) — a contender for being the first ‘Bishop’ of Rome. One of the most important developments in church organization was that of the monarchical episcopacy, which emerged in the years following the deaths of the Apostles or leaders of the apostolic age in different places at different rates. The letters of St Ignatius of Antioch (d. 117) reveal that Antioch at the time had an episcopacy that seems to have presided over a board of presbyters. Ignatius as bishop had a liturgical function, a role in protecting orthodoxy, and a prophetic role in leading the church. His letters also show us that many churches in Asia Minor had men called bishops at their heads as well.

The story of the church at Rome is not uncomplicated in this regard. Was Clement the bishop the way we think of them, or one bishop among several? The Roman church was a large body of believers from early days and also relatively wealthy — wealth that was used by the church functionaries to feed the poor and support the ministers. They seem by the time of Clement to see themselves as a united church, not a varied selection of different communities.

1 Clement and The Shepherd of Hermas reveal a church structure that had a group of officials at its head whose titles were, in the last first and early second centuries, still fluid; is there much difference between a presbyter who presides and the episkopoi? By the middle of the second century, the various churches of the cities of the Mediterranean world were in increasing contact, and this necessitated mutual recognition of leadership. This was the time of proto-orthodoxy seeing various risks to its integrity and the doctrinal soundness of the church in the various groups labelled ‘Gnostic’ as well as the divergent Roman teacher Marcion.

Shortly before Victor’s episcopate in Rome, St Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons, gives his famous Apostolic Succession (about which I’ve blogged here) of the city of Rome in Against the Heresies 3.3. Irenaeus finishes with Eleutherius, Victor’s predecessor. This strongly suggests that some form of episcopal monarchy was already established in Rome by the time of Eleutherus’ episcopate. The shape of the episcopacy was yet to be fully determined, however — was he a president over his fellow presbyters or what?

Yes, that Commodus

Victor comes onto the scene around 189 upon Eleutherus’ death. Victor exercised episcopal authority in a variety of ways. According to the Refutation of All Heresies, Book 9, Chapter VII, Victor used influence at the court of the Emperor Commodus to secure the release of Christian prisoners who were working in the mines of Sardinia. We learn from Eusebius (5.28.6) that he also excommunicated one Theodotus the Tanner for denying Christ’s divinity. Victor is using the office of bishop, that much is clear.

He is most famous, however, for his involvement in the Quartodeciman Controversy — a debate on the date of Easter. In this controversy, we see the international role that bishops play in each other’s churches, as well as the fact that the ancient, ‘primitive’ church was an international community that sought unity in all things.

Quartodecimans were Christians who celebrated Easter on 14 Nisan, at the same time as Jewish Passover. The primarily lived in Asia Minor. It seems to me that their tradition is probably as old as the accepted celebration of Easter on a Sunday. They included in their ranks the celebrated Bishop of Smyrna, St Polycarp. In the days of Anicetus, one of Victor’s predecessors, Polycarp visited Rome, and Anicetus received him warmly, despite their difference over the date of Easter.

In the mid- to late 100s, however, the debate heated up. The date of Easter is a big deal throughout Church history, cropping up here, then again around the time of the Council of Nicaea, then again in the 400s, and then famously at the Synod of Whitby in the 600s (my thoughts on that here). Many of today’s Christians probably wonder what the big deal is — who cares which day people celebrate Easter?

Well, two immediate thoughts. One is an official reason: Traditionally, people fast before Easter. To have some feasting while others are still fasting is just in appropriate. Second, Easter is the chief feast of the Christian year. It is the reason we are Christians. Jesus rose from the dead. To fail to celebrate Easter at the same time is to compromise Christian unity that is visible in the feasts.

When the issue of the divergent Asian celebration of Easter heated up, Eusebius says:

synods and conferences of bishops were convened, and without a dissentient voice, drew up a decree of the Church, in the form of letters addressed to Christians everywhere, that never on any day other than the Lord’s Day should the mystery of the Lord’s resurrection from the dead be celebrated, and that on that day alone we should observe the end of the Paschal fast. (Ecclesiastical History, 5.23, trans. Williamson)

The Asian bishops protested, and wrote in their defence that long custom and luminaries such as the Apostles Philip and John and the martyr Polycarp were on their side. Victor responded harshly and, to quote Eusebius, ‘pilloried them in letters in which he announced the total excommunication of all his fellow-Christians there.’ (5.24; this is no doubt why some consider him Rome’s first true bishop)

Other bishops felt that Victor had gone too far by breaking communion with every single Asian Christian, especially since they seemed to be pretty much orthodox. Amongst the more easygoing bishops were Irenaeus who pointed out that cutting churches off because they follow tradition is a bad idea. As Eusebius says, Irenaeus lived up to his name, peacemaker, and corresponded with Victor and other bishops to find a peaceful resolution to the issue.

I guess it seemed to work, since Eusebius does not return to the issue — however, pockets of Quartodecimans continued to exist in Asia Minor for centuries, tradition being on their side.

There is not much more to say about Victor. The Oxford Dictionary of Popes by J. N. D. Kelly simply closes:

According to St Jerome, he was the author of Latin works of moderate quality. Reports that he was a martyr and was buried near St Peter are routine and should be rejected. Feast 28 July.

Breaking News! Will the Real Hippolytus Please Stand Up?

Within hours of me posting this post about Hippolytus, an eminent late antique scholar with whom I am Facebook friends informed me:

Unfortunately just about everything that’s written about this Hippolytus is made up. Sorry. He’s completely apocryphal. The general view today is that he is in fact different writers, neither of whom was an ‘anti-pope’. And he didn’t write a chronicle either.

This, as you can imagine, came as a bit of a blow. Hippolytus a fake? After a little bit of this (go to 0:32 for the glory of it):

I moved on with my life. Clearly, I need to do better research on my popes. At all times. Or at least base what I say on … ancient/mediaeval sources; or the most recent research based on ancient/medieval sources. So here we go.

A little quotation from Saint Jerome could almost be enough to cover this:

Hippolytus was the bishop of a certain church. I have not, in fact, been able to learn the name of the city. (De Viris Illustribus 61)

But that’s a bit unsatisfying. How do we come to have a martyr story combined with an anti-pope combined with a host of writings, including sermons and a eucharistic liturgy?

First step: More than one Hippolytus. J. A. Cerrato, in Hippolytus Between East and West lists a bunch of these, the first being the martyr who died under Maximin, first mentioned in 354. There are are three other Hippolyti who died under Valerian later in the third century; the first, d. 257, is supported by archaeological and hagiographical evidence; the second, d. 258, is a character extrapolated from martyr acta of Lawrence; the third, d. post-257, was a Novatianist who returned to the Catholic faith and whose acta were written (and possibly forged?) by Pope Damasus as anti-Novatianist propaganda. There seems also to have been another Hippolytus, also a martyr.

That gives us five third-century martyrs named Hippolytus. At least one is probably real, maybe four. Cerrato writes, ‘By way of genuine accounts, the presbyter Hippolytus (c. 235) of the depositio martyrum is accepted as historical by consensus …’ (12). This Hippolytus, exiled with Pontian, was made into an anti-Pope by Doellinger, apparently.

I can see, however, how one could slip the reformed Novatianist Hippolytus into the exiled, earlier martyr Hippolytus and turn him into an anti-pope.

What about the many writings (which go beyond the Apostolic Tradition)? Cerrato tells us:

There is scant evidence, therefore, in any early sources to suggest that the martyred Hippolyti were teachers, or literate ecclesiastics. (13)

That leaves this blogger wondering how, once conflated into the Anti-Pope, they are imagined to be a writer. Apparently I have to read all of Cerrato book to find out, though. Since my PhD isn’t on Hippolytus but on Leo, I’ll refrain. Nonetheless, Cerrato does note that there is a Greek Hippolytus who was a spiritual teacher. No doubt writings come to be attached to him that way?

What, then, of the Apostolic Tradition? Who wrote it? How old is it? The commentary by Bradshaw, Johnson, and Phillips of 200 first gives us the traditional reasons for calling Hippolytus its author:

The first is that, while no existing manuscript of the document itself bears a title or author’s name, two of the derived church orders do refer to Hippolytus. (2)

The second argument is that the opening section of the document speaks of having ‘set down’ … ‘the tradition that catechizes the churches’ … This encouraged the identification of the document with an otherwise unknown treatise, the Apostolic Tradition, apparently included in a list of Hippolytus’s works inscribed on the right-hand side of the base of a statue discovered in Rome in 1551 (2-3)

If you ask me, these are reasons for a hypothesis but not a firm attribution. The commentators agree, noting the tendency to associate documents with famous men of old, whether they had anything to do with it — and a large number of other documents are falsely attributed to Hippolytus. The statue is also not clearly a statue of Hippolytus, nor necessarily a list of his works. Some also wonder if this text was even Roman, and note that it was more widely circulated in East than West. Add to these concerns the above discussion of Hippolytus’ identity, and the attribution of the work to him weakens enormously.

Well, what about the date? Is it as old as the supposed Hippolytus? Alistair Stewart-Sykes, in the SVS translation On the Apostolic Tradition, says that it is Roman and third-century, based upon similarities between it and later Roman liturgies as well as the connections between the practices described in other early Roman Christian literature.

So, what can we say? There were multiple Hippolyti who probably did not write the Apostolic Tradition but who may have worshipped with a version it in Rome in the third century.

What this teaches us is that Christian historiography, especially before Constantine, is fraught with danger. The ancients themselves can lead us astray, such as when the Hippolyti are conflated, or when they incorrectly attribute texts to people (or write texts under false names). Modern scholars can also lead us astray, such as the Anti-Pope theory which is still current in popular circles (as I learned to my peril!), or the weak attribution of the Apostolic Tradition to the shadowy figure of Hippolytus.

This has been brief and has not dealt with all of the arguments fully. If you want to get down and dirty with Hippolytus, the works I’ve consulted are:

Bradshaw, Paul F., Maxwell E. Johnson, and L. Edward Philllips. The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Cerrato, J. A. Hippolytus Between East and West. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Alistair Stewart-Sykes (trans.). Hippolytus. On the Apostolic Tradition. Crestwood, NY: Saint Vladimir’s Seminary Press.

(Anti)Pope of the Month: St. Hippolytus of Rome

The Martyrdom of St Hippolytus, 14th-century illumination

Before you go any further, READ THIS OTHER POST OF MINE!!

Our last Pope of the Month was a while ago, in the person of St Clement of Rome (fl. AD 96). This month, the Pope of the Month returns in the person of St Hippolytus of Rome (c. 165-235). Between Clement and Hippolytus falls a series of other, less famous popes: Avaristus, Alexander I, Sixtus (Xystus) I, Telesphorus, Hyginus, Pius I, Anicetus, Soter, Eleutherius, Victor I, Zephyrinus, Callistus (see the Pope List at the Catholic Encyclopedia for articles on these guys).

The first interesting thing about Hippolytus is that he was bishop of Rome at the same time as Callistus. And then at the same time as Urban I, Pontian, and Anterus. Now, if you know anything about the monarchical episcopacy that will have certainly developed in Rome by some point in the second century, if not by Clement’s day, you may know that one city doesn’t really get two bishops.

This is because St Hippolytus has the grand distinction of being an ‘Anti-Pope’ — a bishop in Rome set up in opposition to the bishop in Rome who was accepted in the canonical lists of popes.  He is also one of the only anti-popes of whom I know who is also a canonised saint. Well-done, St Hippolytus!

Hippolytus established himself as Anti-pope for two main reasons. First, he doubted the doctrinal purity of Pope Zephyrinus, whom he accused of modalism (the teaching that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are different modes of being for the one God — aka Oneness Pentecostalism, like the band 4 Him and T D Jakes), himself being influenced by the ‘logos’ Christology of St Justin Martyr that saw the Son as a hypostasis of his own, which is the forerunner of Nicene Christology.

However, his break with the episcopacy at Rome did not come until the papacy of Callistus, whom he felt to be too soft ethically; Callistus would allow people who had committed sins such as adultery back into the communion of the Church. Hippolytus was opposed to such laxity. This position is not as foreign as it sounds to our modern ears; it is the sort of stance taken around the same time by Tertullian in North Africa, for example.

Hippolytus was thus elected a rival bishop of Rome by the faction opposed to Callistus’ allegedly lax moral stance.

This, however, is not why he is famous.

Hippolytus is famous amongst Christians today for giving us one of the earliest extant eucharistic liturgies, which you can read online here. It is part of a document called the Apostolic Tradition from c. 215, and what it gives us is liturgical advice from the Roman church as well as recounting other practices common at the time.

To give an idea of how ancient some of the things we do on a Sunday are, here is part of the Apostolic Tradition:

The Lord be with you.
And all reply:
And with your spirit.
The bishop says:
Lift up your hearts.
The people respond:
We have them with the Lord.
The bishop says:
Let us give thanks to the Lord.
The people respond:
It is proper and just.

That could be straight from the Prayer Book or the Missal or the Divine Liturgy of John Chrysostom! And it is embedded in Hippolytus’ order of service for the eucharist. The rediscovery of this very ancient liturgical text has been instrumental in the reshaping of western liturgies since Vatican II, both Roman Catholic Novus Ordo and Anglican ones such as The Book of Alternative Services or Common Worship. Read the text, and if you are familiar with these modern liturgies, you’ll see what I mean.

Hippolytus gives us prayers for the blessing of gifts, such as cheese and olives, as well as the order for ordaining bishops, presbyters, and deacons, the receiving of catechumens, the order of baptism, the prayers at eventide and a host of other little services and prayers for the daily, weekly, yearly running of the church’s life of prayer and service.

We are fortunate to have such a window as this, a snapshot of the life of worship of the Church of Rome in the early third century. Few other liturgical texts are reliably older than this, although we have some scattered descriptions of Christian worship that pre-date Hippolytus.

In 235, Maximinus Thrax (r. 235-38) was Emperor of Rome. In his persecution of the Christians, he exiled the two rival bishops, Hippolytus and Pontian to Sardinia. There they were martyred. Both bodies were brought back to the City by Fabian and venerated as martyrs. Although his unwavering stance on purity led Hippolytus to break communion with the Roman Church, he died for Christ in the end and was counted as in the peace of Christ’s Church, being commemorated as a martyr for the name of Christ and a saint — a holy man — of the Church.

Pope of the Month: St. Clement of Rome

This month’s pope is St. Clement of Rome, here to console all of you who saw St. Clement of Alexandria as Saint of the Week and were disappointed that he was not your man.

According to tradition, there are two Bishops of Rome between St. Peter and St. Clement, and their names are Linus and Anencletus.

St. Clement was a/the leader of the Church in Rome AD 96, and is most famous for his letter 1 Clement, a sermon attributed to him and transmitted as the letter 2 Clement, and a set of works falsely written under his name, ‘The Clementines’.

He is also famous for having the Roman name ‘Clemens’, because in Philippians 4:13 St. Paul makes mention of someone with such a name, and because the consul Flavius Clemens was executed by Domitian for ‘atheism and Jewish customs’ which sounds a lot like first-century circumlocutions for Christianity. Were these two figures related to our St. Clement, Bishop of Rome? Who knows? Can we ever know?

Not for certain; not with first-century prosopography of little-known Christians.

We can’t really know anything else about him for certain. The Liber Pontificalis says he consecrated some bishops and ordained some priests and deacons, but that presupposes a Late Antique/Early Mediaeval organisation for the fledgling Roman Church. As we explored last month with St. Peter, the episcopacy, let alone papacy, was still developing in this period after the Apostles — the Church’s natural leaders — died.

Indeed, that the episcopate was still a concept under development is amply demonstrated by the fact that the letter we attribute to this man is addressed from the Church at Rome to the Church at Corinth, not from Clement. Corinth seems to have been ruled by a body of presbyteroi whom restless young men had ejected, establishing their own authority instead (today they just go found their own churches instead).

Nevertheless, the Eastern Orthodox Andrew Louth sees no reason to doubt that Clement wrote the text (see the Penguin classics Early Christian Writings), while the Baptist D H Williams sees Clement as an authority figure, a pastor, but the letter as a communal effort (see Retrieving the Tradition and Renewing Evangelicalism). Holmes, in the most recent edition/translation of Lightfoot’s edition/translation ofThe Apostolic Fathers, says that the letter displays a unity of style and thought that points to a single author, although it is meant to represent the entire community at Rome. I’ve a feeling Williams would agree.

As noted above, the Corinthian church has fallen into a state of turmoil, with young upstarts supplanting the church body’s leading elders. Clement calls them to harmony and obedience. The call to obedience at first strikes you as the sort of thing you’ll grow accustomed to in reading papal correspondence.

However, the call to harmony seems stronger. Clement calls the Corinthians to not simply be obedient to those in ecclesial authority, but to display kindliness to one another. The obedience is there to serve the homonoia of the Christian community. One is reminded of the many calls throughout the New Testament to be self-sacrificing, mutually submissive, the servant(s) of all, and full of love.

Clement makes his case for harmony through Scripture — i.e. the Septuagint (Greek Old Testament most common in ancient Church) — as he piles up biblical quotation and references one upon the other. He turns to the history of the Church, discussing the recent martyrs as well as Sts. Peter and Paul. And then he gives us classical examples.

These are all historical exempla, narratives and lessons from history used in Classical rhetoric too beef up one’s argument. My favourite is a classical exemplum, that of the phoenix. In discussing proofs of the Resurrection from the natural world, Clement writes:

Let us observe the remarkable sign that is seen in the regions of the east, that is, in the vicinity of Arabia. There is a bird that is named the phoenix. This bird, the only one of its species, lives for five hundred years. When the time of its dissolution and death arrives, it makes for itself a coffin-like nest of frankincense and myrrh and the other spices, into which, its time being completed, it enters and dies. But as the flesh decays, a certain worm is born, which is nourished by the juices of the dead bird and eventually grows wings. then, when it has grown strong, it takes up that coffin-like nest containing the bones of its parent, and carrying them away, it makes its way from the country of Arabia to Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. There, in broad daylight, in the sight of all, it flies to the altar of the sun and deposits them there, and then it sets out on its return. The priests then examine the public recoreds of the times, and they find that it has come at the end of the five hundredth year. (Ch. 25, trans. Holmes/Lightfoot)

I shall perhaps remark on the Phoenix and the world of wonders possessed by the ancient and mediaeval mind later. Someday I wish to do deeper research into the relationship between the Fathers and pagan mythology; we spend a lot of time looking at philosophy, but what of these stories which are officially condemned but often, when taken by the Fathers as actual history or natural knowledge, slip their way into their texts? What counted as ‘myth’ to an ancient mind, anyway? I digress.

Besides the fact that we associate the Phoenix with Greek myth, I enjoy its presence here. Clement sees typology and the wisdom of God everywhere, not simply in the Scriptures. All of God’s creation points us to Christ. Let us bow down in worship.

I have little else to say of St. Clement of Rome. May you be encouraged by the writings of this early Church leader, a man who walked the streets of Rome in the age of the Apostles.

Pope of the Month: St. Peter ‘Prince of the Apostles’

Because I need to review my papal history and the development of the office and role of the Bishop of Rome up to Leo the Great and beyond, today I bring to you a new feature on my blog: Amidst the weekly saints, once a month we shall focus our attention upon one Bishop of Rome. We shall go chronologically from Peter onwards, looking at many (but not all) men who have been the heads of the Christian community in that city.

Given how many popes are colourful characters, it shall prove an interesting ride!

St. Peter the Apostle

St. Peter, along with his apostolic comrade St. Paul, has already been Saint of the Week here. He is a logical starting point for a discussion of papal history; the Liber Pontificalis seems to think so, as would have Pope Leo I amidst others.

Yet as soon as we look at St. Peter as a Pope, we are confronted with the questions, ‘What is a Pope? How long has there been a Pope?’

Well, the word Pope comes from the word Papa and was in olden days used of all of the ‘Patriarchs’ of the Church — that is to say, the bishops of the major cities who had jurisdiction over large geographical areas. That is why the Patriarch of the Coptic Church is ‘Pope’ Shenouda — not because he believes that he has universal jurisdiction but because he is the head Bishop of the Coptic Church.

The various roles of these Patriarchs have grown, developed, and changed over time. So when one asks, ‘What is a Pope?’ in reference to Rome, one must respond, ‘The Bishop of Rome,’ and then inquire further as to whether the question refers to the current Bishop of Rome or Innocent III or Gregory the Great or Leo the Great or Damasus or Clement or Peter.

Of course, Peter was not a Patriarch.

Peter was an Apostle.

And it seems, from what we gather in Acts, that Peter was a sort of ‘head’ Apostle, and we see in the Gospels that Peter was part of the inner circle of disciples gathered around Jesus. Of course, as an Apostle, he was still a man, and we do learn from Paul’s letter to the Galatians that Peter was open to rebuke.

Still, he seems to have been a if not the leading man of the Apostles, and was involved in the Church’s foundations in Jerusalem, Antioch, and beyond.

According to tradition, indeed, St. Peter was the first ‘bishop’ of Antioch. What we mean by bishop at this point in time is debatable. D H Williams, writing for a low-church Baptist-type audience, styles these very early Apostolic and sub-Apostolic bishops as pastors.

This is, in essence, what every bishop is meant to be. He is the shepherd of the flock in a particular city — in the earliest days of the church, this flock would have been smaller than elsewhere. It stands to reason that if you had an Apostle, someone who had walked with the Lord and heard His very words, someone commissioned by the Lord and anointed by the Holy Spirit, if you had such a person in your community, this person would have assumed a position of leadership.

Like a pastor. Or a bishop.

Thus, Peter was the first Bishop of Antioch, where the disciples were first called Christians. The Liber Pontificalis says he was bishop there for seven years before joining the mission of Rome. This tradition is sensible if you ask me — many of the apostles had gone on missions to various eastern cities, and Antioch’s church seemed fairly well-established. Rome was the largest, greatest city in the world, the centre of law and politics. For an Apostle to join the Christian mission there seems very strategic, really.

And, once there, since he was a leading man amongst the Twelve, Peter would have assumed a position of leadership amongst the fledgling, persecuted Church in the City, passing along his remembrances of the Lord, helping organise the growing band of believers there.

Tradition (preserved in the Liber Pontificalis and no doubt elsewhere) tells us that St. Mark was his disciple, and that the Gospel of Mark, from which the other synoptic Gospels derive, is based upon the teachings and remembrances of St. Peter.

The dangers of life as a clergyman have always been many, none moreso than in Rome during the reign of Nero (d. 68). Under the reign of this madman (I toss the historian’s caution to the wind!), many Christians were persecuted — thrown to wild animals whilst wrapped in the skins of dead beasts (Christian burritos!), set alight like torches, crucified, beheaded.

St. Peter gained the martyr’s crown under Nero. Tradition tells us that he was crucified upside down, not considering himself worthy of the death of the Saviour. The place of Peter’s martyrdom? Vatican Hill, Rome.