242. Why Not Be a Roman Catholic? Ask Jerry Walls

A prominent Roman Catholic theologian, Matthew Levering, recently wrote a book entitled Why I Am Roman Catholic (2024). As a result, it was to be expected that a Protestant author would write a mirror book on why not. It is the case with Jerry L. Walls, Why I Am Not a Roman Catholic. A Friendly, Ecumenical Exploration (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2025), professor of philosophy at Houston Christian University. Actually, Walls did not read Levering’s book beforehand and perhaps wasn’t even aware of it, but it doesn’t really matter. Books and digital resources in the intersection between the Roman Catholic-Protestant divide are mushrooming, and defending why and why not one is Roman Catholic or Protestant is becoming a literary genre in itself.
 
Each book has a story behind it. Walls recalls his. He tells how he participated in different informal dialogues with influential Roman Catholic scholars and theologians, only later realizing that these initiatives were aimed at encouraging conversions to Rome. Reflecting on these experiences and others led him to further clarify why he was not a Roman Catholic, also thinking of the growing number of former evangelicals who have converted to Rome in recent years under the influence of aggressive RC apologists who oftentimes use “dubious reasons, spurious arguments, and misinformation” (xvi). Walls’s book, therefore, has an apologetic thrust, even though he readily qualifies it in terms of the subtitle: while critical of Roman Catholicism, he wants to write in a friendly and ecumenical way.
 
Walls is not new in this field. Together with Kenneth Collins, a few years ago, he penned the more substantial tome Roman but Not Catholic: What Remains at Stake 500 Years after the Reformation (2017; my review of the book is here). There, he critiqued Rome for having lost its catholicity (i.e. biblical universality) at the expense and on the altar of its Roman-centered claims. This new book reiterates the same basic critique but adds a new flavor to it.
 
So, why is Walls not a Roman Catholic? Briefly stated: because he rejects both papal infallibility and the Marian doctrines, two doctrinal tenets of the Roman Catholic Church to which Rome has given dogmatic status, something “analogous to the role of the resurrection of Jesus in classic creedal orthodoxy” (8). The book is a sustained critique of the Roman claims regarding the papacy and Mariology.

As far as the papacy is concerned, Walls takes issue with the dogma of papal infallibility. This papal doctrine is a distillation of Catholic doctrine, yet it is based on faulty history and has generated excessive claims. In sum, Peter was not the first pope, and there was no monarchical bishop in Rome up to the end of the second century. Moreover, as far as the political role associated with Rome is concerned, “Roman authority rested in no small part on the fact that it had been the capital city, not on an irrevocable conferral of authority by Christ” (25). Walls’s argument moves on by highlighting the terrible record of the lives of many popes across history, many of whom were corrupted and “very bad men” (31). To prove the point, he provides a gallery of impious popes who were involved in perverse politics and immoral affairs, thus showing how the historical records are another factor that undermines the dogma. There is no biblical support for the claim that Peter is the first Pope (Walls discusses some exegetical points in Matthew 16 in the Appendix, pp. 181-185), no historical witness up to the end of the second century to back up the role of the bishop of Rome, no spiritual motivations behind his authority other than the political significance of Rome as the capital of the empire. After quoting and discussing a plethora of Roman Catholic scholars providing contrary evidence to the Catholic claims, Walls argues that papal infallibility lies on too poor foundations to be a binding belief for Christians.
 
Moving to the Marian claims, Walls exposes the “Marian maximalism” that led Rome to dogmatize Mary, e.g. the 1854 dogma of the immaculate conception and the 1950 dogma of the bodily assumption, and is still brewing in the prospect of proclaiming her “co-redeemer” (87). His conclusions are trenchant: “Popular Marian piety in Roman Catholicism has morphed into infallible dogmas that make Mary far more central to the faith than scripture warrants” (100).
 
After presenting his two main objections to the Roman Catholic Church, Walls deals with apologetic arguments often put forward by popular defenders of the Roman Catholic faith over against Protestants. Oftentimes, we hear the rehearsed saying that if one refuses the authority of the Church of Rome, she becomes her own pope following an individualistic religious path. Although this is a possibility and a danger, the “You are your own pope” type of argument is a caricature of Protestantism. The evangelical faith has historically affirmed the apostolic authority of Scripture, at the same time recognizing degrees of authority in councils and creeds and leaving room for disagreement on secondary issues.
 
Approaching dialogue in fairness and charity is a constant point made by Walls. In an interesting chapter, he observes that some North American popular Roman Catholic apologists depict Protestantism in straw-man terms, often “comparing the best of Rome with the worst of Protestantism” (148) and presenting Rome as “the panacea for all ills” (150). To disillusioned evangelicals who are enticed and enchanted by these poor apologetic and golden portraits of Rome, Walls urges them “to resist the Roman fever and to think twice before taking the Tiber plunge” (152).

The reality is that Rome is not the solid, stable, and unified bullwark that some of its defenders paint it to be. If one only scratches the surface, he can find all types of Catholics (e.g. traditional, cultural, liberal) and all kinds of beliefs and practices in Rome. Indeed, because of their lax views on morality and doctrine, “most Roman Catholics are functional liberal Protestants” (157) because they do not endorse, let alone practice, what their Church teaches them. Walls goes as far as to say that Rome is “a church that is functionally a radically pluralist Protestant denomination” (171) with factions that stand on very different sides, even fighting one another. Compared to it, Evangelical Protestantism in all its denominational diversity is “a far more impressive model of true unity” (171).
 
The final chapter sums up Walls’s main argument, which is also found in the more extensive 2017 book written with Kenneth Collins. Here it is: Roman Catholicism is not the best form of Catholic Christianity. Actually, it is a “constricted view of catholicity” (179) because it is founded on a “rickety biblical and historical foundation” and is also “rotten in many places because of its recurrent corruption” (179). With Walls being one of the promoters of the 2017 “A Reforming Catholic Confession”, “Reformed catholicity” or “mere Protestant orthodoxy,” or whatever you want to call it, is for him a far better version of the Christian faith (xvii).
 
Walls’s book is full of fine and well presented apologetic points. Especially his critical remarks on the papacy and the lack of biblical and historical foundations as far as the first two centuries of the church are well argued for. The book also signals a growing awareness in North American evangelical circles that Roman Catholicism is a “competitor” that is gaining strength and making some inroads among disillusioned evangelicals. After years of evangelicals trying to show how much we have “in common” with Catholics (e.g. the “Evangelicals and Catholics Together” initiative) and, more recently, how the “Great Tradition” is our shared platform, it is refreshing to see evangelical scholars engaging Roman Catholicism apologetically, kindly and firmly refuting some of its foundational claims and hinting at far better biblical alternatives.
 
The book is a helpful resource for evangelicals tempted to convert to Rome and to Roman Catholics attracted to the evangelical faith. More work has to be done to present Roman Catholicism as a fully orbed doctrinal/institutional/sacramental/hierarchical “system” that is not committed to the supreme authority of Scripture (Scripture Alone) and to salvation as a gift of God grounded in the finished work of Christ (Faith Alone). While using similar languages and categories, the pillars of the Roman Catholic Church are different from the biblical account of the gospel that the evangelical faith seeks to bear witness to.
 
The Roman Catholic version of the gospel, based on the self-referential authority of the Roman Church and the blurred and distorted message it gives voice to, is a sufficient reason not to embrace the Roman Catholic faith but to stick to the once and for all given “evangel” (good news) of Jesus Christ.

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241. The clever move of Leo XIV. Five factors of attraction

Not a castling move, and not a simple sidestep—but a knight’s move. In chess terms, that’s how we might describe Operation Leo XIV: unexpected, strategic, and game-changing.
 
Those who expected a castling move—the defensive, conservative strategy that retreats under pressure—have been caught off guard by the conclave’s decision. Prevost is not the embodiment of the traditionalist and restorative Catholicism that certain sectors of the Church of Rome were hoping for. Appointed cardinal by Pope Francis and entrusted with selecting bishops from around the world, Prevost is very much a product of the Bergoglian papacy and aligned with its vision. No rollback or U-turn reversal of the major reforms initiated by the Argentine pope is anticipated.
 
Those anticipating a lateral, diplomatic, wait-and-see approach were also surprised. Among the likely candidates, Cardinal Parolin personified that option: a seasoned diplomat and former Vatican Secretary of State, seen as the favorite to ease tensions, stabilize factions, and buy time for future decisions. His election would have signaled a pause—an effort to cool tempers and calm the chaos stirred by the Francis era.

But the choice of Leo XIV signals something else entirely. Prevost, still under 70, is a “young” pope with the possibility of a long pontificate. This was not a caretaker decision. The conclave didn’t choose a bridge—it chose direction.
 
In chess terms, the election of Leo XIV was a knight’s move: surprising, indirect, coming from the rear, and disrupting the board in ways that force everyone to rethink their position. The game has changed.
 
In the meantime, he is American. Until now, there seemed to be an unwritten rule: the Church of Rome would not elect a pope from a global economic superpower. But with this conclave, that unwritten rule has been broken. The election of Leo XIV shows a mindset liberated from 20th-century geopolitical categories. The majority of cardinals who voted for him came from the Global South—Asia and Africa—demonstrating that the College of Cardinals no longer sees the world through a strictly Western lens.
 
His American identity serves at least two strategic purposes:

  • First, it may seek to undermine the cultural leadership of Trump-style conservative Christianity, particularly in the battle against “woke” ideologies, by reasserting the Catholic Church as the guardian of civilization and moral order.
  • Second, it could serve as a magnet for disillusioned American evangelicals—those growing weary of consumeristic religious options—who see in Catholicism a more stable and historic alternative. In the fluid and competitive religious marketplace of the United States, an American pope could attract significant interest and credibility.

Then, he is an Augustinian. After Francis—a Jesuit marked by intellectual eclecticism and theological creativity—Leo XIV comes from a more grounded, millennia-old order. This background suggests a pope who is more theologically stable, more predictable, and, in a sense, more “traditional.” While not a scholar in the academic sense (though he has taught in Peru), Prevost thinks within a well-defined theological tradition. His approach lacks the originality of Francis, but offers reassurance to those in the Church seeking clarity. His Augustinian identity may be perceived as an olive branch to conservative Catholics, especially those disillusioned by the Francis era.
 
Then, he is an administrator. A canon law expert with a doctorate from the Angelicum, Prevost has served as prior general of the Augustinian Order, bishop in Peru, and more recently as prefect of the Vatican dicastery that selects bishops globally. In short, he’s not primarily a theologian, but a man of governance. After a pontificate marked by institutional confusion, the conclave appears to have chosen someone capable—at least on paper—of managing the complex machinery of the Roman Catholic Church.
 
That’s not all. Prevost is also a cosmopolitan figure. Fluent in five languages (English, Spanish, Italian, French, and Portuguese), he has wide-ranging pastoral and missionary experience across Latin America and within the Vatican bureaucracy. He is North American and Latin American. He bridges worlds—culturally, linguistically, and ecclesially. In many ways, he is a truly global leader.
 
Then there’s the name: Leo XIV. With thirteen popes before him bearing the name Leo, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly which one inspired him. Still, Leo XIII (1810–1903) stands out: the pope who united Thomistic orthodoxy with social engagement. Perhaps Leo XIV aspires to the same combination—socially engaged Catholicity with a firmer doctrinal framework.
 
For all these reasons, the election of Leo XIV was a knight’s move—unexpected, disruptive, and strategic. From a sense of institutional checkmate under Francis, the Church of Rome now attempts to reposition itself in its relationship with the world, with religions, and with humanity.
 
This new pope will undoubtedly attract interest from the evangelical world. Evangelicals in the Global South may see in him a missionary close to the poor. North American evangelicals may recognize an Augustinian voice who understands the language of tradition. In short, everyone may be tempted to see the pope they want to see.
 
But what must not be lacking is evangelical discernment. Leo XIV is the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Church, representing a religious system that remains distinct from—and ultimately opposed to—the gospel of Jesus Christ. Whether more or less traditional, more or less conservative, more or less open, these remain internal shifts within Roman Catholicism. With the election of Leo XIV, Rome has shown shrewdness and long-term vision. It is once again positioning itself to bring the whole world under the influence of its ecclesiastical structure.

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