10. The Testimony of History

Claim vs. Evidence

In 2008, Tom Biscardi snagged a significant amount of camera time when he claimed that he had discovered the carcass of a sasquatch. Someone had finally found Bigfoot! Except he had not. Rather predictably, the animal turned out to be nothing more than a rubber costume shoved into a freezer.

I suppose there will always be believers in Bigfoot, but I am relatively certain no such creature exists. No one has ever found the beast or captured convincing video of it. What’s more, no one has ever found an authentic sasquatch track or even sasquatch droppings. Things that exist leave traces of their existence; it’s a simple fact of reality. A claim is only a claim apart from evidence.

Similarly, true apostolic practices leave their mark on the church. If the dorean principle was practiced by the apostles in the first century, we should expect to see traces of this practice in the second century. Even if the church experienced times of radical transition, we should expect to see some evidence of this ethic. I believe that when we look to the pages of history, that is exactly what we find.

In the last chapter, we examined the practice of the dorean principle in the first-century church. In this chapter, we will examine its practice in the following century. After establishing that the second-century church fully embraced this ethic, we will briefly look at how the Protestant Reformation attempted to recapture it.

The Didache

Quite possibly the oldest extra-biblical Christian writing, the Didache functions as a manual of church practice. Also known as The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, it attempts to capture apostolic doctrine and the practice of the church into an orderly guide. Despite these lofty goals, it draws from Matthew to the exclusion of the other gospels, and possibly to the exclusion of all other New Testament books.⁠¹ This document does not attempt to forge new ground or expand upon previous revelation but only to apply what had already been provided by available Scripture.⁠² However, this is largely to our advantage since we have founded our own understanding of biblical fundraising ethics on Matthew 10:8–10. In other words, the Didache helps us answer the question, “How did the early church apply Jesus’s words in Matthew?”

The Didache’s importance stems largely from its early authorship, dating to the mid to late first century.⁠³ The “primitive simplicity” of the Didache’s teaching, as well as its silence on persecution, provide the strongest arguments for a first-century date.⁠⁴ However, perhaps the early date should not impress us as much as the respect it garnered from the early church. For example, the early church historian Eusebius lists the Didache among true, orthodox writings,⁠⁵ and Athanasius, the early theologian who defended the doctrine of the Trinity, includes it among books approved for baptismal candidates.⁠⁶ Additionally, the Didache appears to be referenced by Clement of Alexandria and other early Christian witnesses,⁠⁷ Ignatius arguably being among their ranks.⁠⁸ This support for the Didache confirms that it largely represents the early church’s understanding of the practical matters it addresses.

Given this brief overview of the document, we can conclude with some degree of confidence that where the Didache offers guidance on ministry fundraising, its instruction emerges from an evaluation of New Testament sources and that its judgments were largely shared by the early second-century church. Further, given its early date, one may reasonably conclude that its prescriptions do not stray far from the practice of the apostolic church. At most, it represents a minor evolution from the original pattern of the church rather than a freshly designed program. With that in mind, we turn to the relevant text.⁠⁹

Let every apostle, when he cometh to you, be received as the Lord; but he shall not abide more than a single day, or if there be need, a second likewise; but if he abide three days, he is a false prophet. And when he departeth let the apostle receive nothing save bread, until he findeth shelter; but if he ask money, he is a false prophet. … And whosoever shall say in the Spirit, Give me silver or anything else, ye shall not listen to him; but if he tell you to give on behalf of others that are in want, let no man judge him. (Didache 11.4–6, 12)

Clearly, the Didache takes serious precautions against itinerant teachers who would take advantage of the church. In a different context, it labels anyone who wrongly accepts the support of the Christian community a “trafficker in Christ” or “Christ-monger”⁠¹⁰ (Didache 12.5). We may identify several prohibitions here:

1. staying [in a home] for three or more days,

2. taking more than bread for one’s journey,

3. asking for money for one’s journey, and

4. asking for money under the pretense of divine instruction.

On the surface, several points stand at odds with our conclusions from the former chapters. Benjamin Franklin quipped that fish and visitors stink after three days, but beyond this humorous sentiment, it is not clear why there would be a prohibition against prolonged hospitality, especially if Paul is willing to spend the entire winter with the Corinthians (1 Cor. 16:6). The ban on accepting money for a journey likewise seems out of step with the previously covered notion of propempo support.

The confusion arises from the fact that the Didache speaks to an established Christian people, yet appears to prohibit them from colaboring. However, clarity arises from recognizing that this paragraph addresses a prophet of questionable veracity (Didache 11.13). Others are to recognize him as a true prophet, in part, by the ethic he exhibits in managing his own support among an unknown people. Prior to such a demonstration, the people should treat him with a healthy caution. Regarding one firmly identified as a true prophet, the Didache readily acknowledges that he is “worthy of his food” (Didache 13.1) and deserves the “firstfruit,” of money, possessions, etc. (Didache 13.7).

Since we have seen these instructions most clearly pronounced in the epistles of Paul, I find it especially fascinating that the author of the Didache apparently arrives at these conclusions apart from a clear knowledge of the apostle’s writings.⁠¹¹ In other words, the Didache indicates that Jesus established the dorean principle and that it may be understood in the gospel of Matthew without appealing to any later developments. Prior to Paul’s rejection of hospitality when arriving in Corinth, Thessalonica, and Ephesus, the church understood that it is unbecoming for a minister of Christ to support himself by receiving direct payment from his converts.⁠¹²

The Shepherd of Hermas

A similar, albeit more specific, concern arises in The Shepherd of Hermas. As with the Didache, The Shepherd is a Christian writing that was widely respected by the early church.⁠¹³ Once again, this indicates that its judgments are largely representative of those held by the early church, reflecting the counsel of Scripture.

The Shepherd of Hermas warns against greedy prophets who willingly say anything for the sake of gain (Shepherd 43.2–3,8). As a precautionary measure against such things, it decries private prophecy, demanding that teachers teach plainly and openly, in a Christian assembly (Shepherd 43.13–14). However, perhaps its most direct rebuke of false prophets comes in the form of a condemnation of ministerial reciprocity.

In the first place, that man who seemeth to have a spirit exalteth himself, and desireth to have a chief place, and straight-way he is impudent and shameless and talkative and conversant in many luxuries and in many other deceits and receiveth money for his prophesying, and if he receiveth not, he prophesieth not. Now can a divine Spirit receive money and prophesy? It is not possible for a prophet of God to do this, but the spirit of such prophets is earthly. (Shepherd 43.12)

In forbidding the requirement of remuneration, The Shepherd does not clearly prohibit the acceptance of remuneration. However, it goes on to say that a divine Spirit cannot “receive money and prophesy.” Here, The Shepherd offers an unqualified rejection of ministerial reciprocity. It rejects as insincere any who would receive in direct exchange for teaching.

Apollonius

Not much is known of Apollonius of Ephesus, but his writings warrant mention for their status as early witnesses to the practices of the church. These writings no longer exist in a complete form, but the early church historian Eusebius recorded his contentions with the heretic Montanus. Of Montanus, Apollonius reports,

This is he who… appointed collectors of money; who contrived the receiving of gifts under the name of offerings; who provided salaries for those who preached his doctrine, that its teaching might prevail through gluttony.⁠¹⁴

Clearly, Apollonius opposes greedy accumulation of wealth, although it is less clear why he objects to salaries in particular. It seems likely that he protests the nature of the commission: pay offered in return for preaching. Regardless, it is plain that Apollonius opposes prophets accepting gifts in the context of their ministry.

Does not all Scripture seem to you to forbid a prophet to receive gifts and money? When therefore I see the prophetess [Prisca] receiving gold and silver and costly garments, how can I avoid reproving her? … If they deny that their prophets have received gifts, let them acknowledge this: that if they are convicted of receiving them, they are not prophets.⁠¹⁵

Notably, Apollonius appeals to Christ as he promotes his ethic.

For although the Lord said, “Provide neither gold, nor silver, neither two coats,” these men, in complete opposition, transgress in respect to the possession of the forbidden things. For we will show that those whom they call prophets and martyrs gather their gain not only from rich men, but also from the poor, and orphans, and widows.⁠¹⁶

Depending on how we understand Apollonius, one could argue that he strays from the dorean principle, rejecting all financial support for ministers rather than merely rejecting ministerial reciprocity. However, congregational support has always been a common feature in churches, even in the first and second centuries. For Apollonius to take particular issue with Montanus, the false prophet’s practice must have deviated beyond the typical practice, possessing a more commercial character.

Regardless, Apollonius appeals to the common understanding of the church and points to some divergent practice in the sect of Montanus. Whether Apollonius’s biblical understanding is accurate or not, it represents a second-century Christian mindset, which was formed and influenced by first-century Christian practices. In other words, even apart from perfect agreement, these objections to payment confirm the second-century church affirmed something akin to the dorean principle.

Those familiar with church history might know that in the course of his contending against Montanus, Apollonius incurred the rebuke of Tertullian, one of the most important second-century theologians. But on this point, the two were agreed. As Tertullian writes, “There is no buying and selling of any sort in the things of God.”⁠¹⁷

Martin Luther

Flash forward to the Protestant Reformation. In the first three centuries of the church, we see the ripples and echoes of the dorean principle in play, but the sixteenth century concerns us for an altogether different reason. The eventual corruption of the church had led to a degradation in fundraising practices. Rather than having the opportunity to maintain the apostolic practice, the Reformers found themselves saddled with the task of restoring a biblical view of money. In fact, while the Reformation centered around the doctrines of Scripture and salvation, the relationship between money and ministry was arguably the primary catalyst of the Reformation.

In the early sixteenth century, the sale of indulgences—reductions on time spent in purgatory—financed the construction of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. In Germany, this effort was led by Johann Tetzel, a friar whose marketing skills have been immortalized in the following couplet:

As soon as a coin in the coffer rings,
A soul from purgatory to heaven springs.

German priest Martin Luther (1483–1546) objected to this commercial treatment of salvation, and on October 31, 1517, he nailed his 95 Theses against the sale of indulgences to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg. This act of defiance sparked the Protestant Reformation, the largest religious and cultural revolution the Western world has ever experienced.

Luther believed a minister was obligated to be selfless in his office and saw the calling of pastor to be one of imitation of Christ in his sacrifice. Concerning the pope, he writes, “Is it not his duty to do all that he can for all Christians without reward, solely for God’s sake, nay, even to shed his blood for them?”⁠¹⁸ He goes as far as to say that a ministry endeavor that seeks to raise money lacks the marks of divine approval: “As we see, every project of men bears money; the Word of God bears nothing but the cross.”⁠¹⁹ Of course, Luther also believed ministers should receive regular support in order to sustain the proclamation of the gospel.⁠²⁰

On one hand, it seems clear that Luther roughly affirmed the dorean principle, denying that the message of salvation should be sold and affirming that congregants should support their ministers. However, his writings never ventured much further than a rebuke of extremes. Other figures in the Protestant Reformation voiced similar concerns, but in my estimation, none ever made it quite as far as to articulate a robust ethic distinguishing the wrongful and rightful receipt of money in ministry.

Conclusion

Looking back on the pages of history, we see that the second-century church maintained the apostolic practice of the dorean principle. Moreover, they understood this ethic to be a Scriptural precept, defending it largely from the gospel of Matthew. Unlike Bigfoot, the teaching of the dorean principle in the first-century church left traces in the following century that corroborate its prevalence among the churches founded by the apostles.

Later, after centuries of increased disregard in the church at large, the Reformers recognized the need to restore a biblical ethic of ministry fundraising. By and large, they determined that Scripture forbids the sale of ministry and yet commands the support of ministers. However, these Reformers were largely satisfied to counter the extremes of greed and neglect. The work begun at the time of the Reformation remains in need of completion. For those who wish to take up that mantle, I believe that the dorean principle holds the keys to properly articulating the biblical ethic and putting it into practice.