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Introduction to the First Hipster
I want to introduce you to a new friend I’ve found in our wonderful family tree — someone I didn’t know much about before. His name is Hippolytus of Rome (or, as I like to call him, the first hipster). He lived in the early 200s and was one of the first great theologians to write in Latin. He was a pastor, a liturgist, and, at one point, even a rival bishop of Rome — in fact, he’s remembered as the first antipope in history, yet later reconciled to the Church and venerated as a saint.
In other words, Hippolytus somehow managed to be both excommunicated and canonized — which pretty much makes him the first hipster in church history. He broke from the establishment before it was cool. Think of him as Martin Luther in tight jeans. I know — that’s really dumb, but maybe it will help you remember his significance. I’m willing to take that chance.
His Apostolic Tradition is one of the earliest and most detailed descriptions we have of Christian worship and church order. It’s both valuable and surprisingly simple to read.
Please allow me to offer Roman Catholicism a few charitable criticisms that have come to mind as I’ve been reading through this remarkable work.
1. The Original Rebel Against Papal Authority
Before we even get to Apostolic Tradition, it’s worth remembering that Hippolytus’s entire life was a critique of centralized, unchecked authority in Rome. He openly opposed two bishops — Zephyrinus and Callistus — for teaching what he saw as false doctrine about the Trinity and for granting absolution too freely to serious sinners. In his work Refutation of All Heresies (Book IX), he accused Callistus of “perverting the rule of faith” and of claiming power to forgive sins that only God could forgive.
That’s not a small charge. It was, in essence, an early protest against priestly absolution and papal supremacy — the very issues that would explode in the Reformation more than a thousand years later. And the fact that Hippolytus became bishop of Rome’s rival congregation shows that his dissent was theological, not merely personal.
Yet notice something crucial: in all his surviving works, Hippolytus never once appeals to Rome’s bishop as possessing infallible authority. He rebukes him as a fallible man and an erring teacher. If papal infallibility were an apostolic doctrine, it’s unthinkable that one of Rome’s own theologians — in Rome, during the early third century — would have missed it entirely.
In short, Hippolytus wasn’t rebelling against the Church; he was defending it. His quarrel was with doctrinal corruption and hierarchical abuse — which makes his story uncomfortably familiar.
2. Catholic in Unity — Not in Hierarchy
Hippolytus was Catholic in the original sense — universal, creedal, and faithful to the apostolic deposit. But he wasn’t Roman Catholic in the later sense of papal supremacy, sacerdotal priesthood, and a sacrificial Mass.
“Let the one who is to be ordained as bishop be chosen by all the people.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 2)
When ordained, the bishop is charged “to feed the flock” and “offer the gifts of the Church,” meaning to care for the people and distribute their offerings — not to re-offer Christ on an altar.
“Grant, O Father, to this your servant… that he may shepherd your holy flock, that he may offer the gifts of your holy Church.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 3)
That’s pastoral language — not priestly in the sacrificial sense. The bishop presides as a steward, not as a mediator.
3. Thanksgiving, Not Re-Sacrifice
When Hippolytus describes the Eucharist, he calls the bread and cup symbols of Christ’s body and blood — and then explicitly clarifies:
“The bishop shall give thanks over the bread, which is the symbol of the Body of Christ, and over the cup, which is the symbol of the Blood that was shed for all who believe in Him.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 22)
And then:
“It is not the Eucharist, like the Body of the Lord.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 22)
That single phrase undercuts the later claim that he envisioned a sacrificial Mass. His focus is thanksgiving — not repetition. The Eucharist is a memorial of redemption, not a continuation of it.
4. The Earliest Eucharistic Prayer Was Pure Thanksgiving
The Eucharistic Prayer in Hippolytus’s work (chs. 4–5) follows the Jewish berakah form — thanksgiving for creation and redemption — not priestly intercession.
“We give you thanks, O God, through your beloved Servant Jesus Christ… that you might gather your people from the ends of the earth into your kingdom.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 4)
There is no altar, no victim, no mystical transformation by priestly power. It is the cup of thanksgiving (1 Corinthians 10:16) — a participation, not a re-sacrifice.
5. Sacerdotal Titles Were Only Just Appearing
Hippolytus even notices that terms like “priest” and “high priest” were becoming fashionable but not universal in his time:
“Such titles are becoming current, though not universally so.”
(Apostolic Tradition, cf. chs. 9–10 fragments)
He records the trend but never adopts it. His own prayers preserve the older language of thanksgiving rather than invent new clerical hierarchies. He’s a witness to the beginning of that drift — not a participant in it.
6. And One More Thing — The Agapē Meal
The Eucharist in Hippolytus’s time was still part of a shared meal — what early Christians called the agapē, or love feast.
“After blessing, the bishop breaks the loaf, eats a portion himself, and distributes the remainder to all the baptized members of the company… In the earlier combined service, in fact, this bread would have been actually eucharistic, for which after the separation ‘blessed’ bread was substituted to enable the traditional agape ceremonial to continue with a minimum of external change.”
(Apostolic Tradition, ch. 22; Gutenberg edition)
That means the early church didn’t stand before an altar; it sat around a table. Fellowship, not sacrifice. Communion, not repetition. Gratitude, not mediation.
The Real Takeaway
So yes — Hippolytus was Catholic. But he was early-Church Catholic, not Roman Catholic. He believed in one holy, apostolic Church — not one imperial hierarchy. He taught thanksgiving — not transubstantiation. And his table looked a lot more like Acts 2:46 than a medieval Mass.
“The cup of thanksgiving which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?”
(1 Corinthians 10:16)
Thanksgiving — not re-sacrifice. Communion — not mediation. Christ — not ceremony.
How Do Roman Catholics Respond to This?
Honestly, I don’t know yet. Let me restate that: I haven’t brought this up before, but I do have a sense of how I might respond if I were Catholic and doing my best to defend it.
That said, I think these kinds of comparisons between today’s Roman Catholic theology and that of the early Church — while not necessarily damaging to Catholic faith itself — do create a real problem for their claim of infallibility. Once that claim is made, it paints the system into a corner. And when enough historical examples like this surface (as I believe this one does), the claim begins to strain under the weight of its own evidence.
This is the first time I’ve come across the particular criticisms I’m making here, and as I said, I’m sure they do have a response. If one of you knows how Roman Catholics would answer this, please let me know in the comments. I’d truly like to hear it.
