All We Say

What do you say when a Catholic friend asks why you don’t accept the Mass, pray to Mary, or treat Church tradition as equal to Scripture? In The 10 Most Important Things You Can Say to a Catholic, Ron Rhodes argues that your best answer is a gracious, Scripture-saturated case for the authority of the Bible and the sufficiency of Christ’s finished work. He contends that many distinctively Roman Catholic teachings—while meaningful to millions—lack biblical grounding and, in some cases, undermine the gospel’s core claim: you are justified once-for-all by grace through faith in Jesus Christ alone.

Rhodes organizes the book around ten tightly argued points that function like conversation guides. He takes you from the question of which books belong in the Bible (the Apocrypha) to why Scripture, not tradition, is the final authority (sola scriptura). He challenges the historical and biblical basis for a papacy, examines whether the pope or the Magisterium can be infallible, and reconsiders Marian doctrines against the New Testament record. From there, he clarifies the nature of justification, assesses the Mass, evaluates the sacrament of penance, and argues biblically against purgatory. He closes by urging you to share a personal testimony—because method matters as much as message.

Why this matters now

You live in an age of confessional pluralism where friends and family may attend Mass weekly while you read the Bible devotionally, and both of you confess Christ. Rhodes invites you to navigate those conversations with clarity and charity. He shows you how to make a positive case (what you believe and why) while listening carefully to Catholic claims about Scripture, sacraments, and authority. His goal is not to caricature Catholicism but to test every teaching against the prophetic-apostolic Scriptures (Acts 17:11; John 10:35).

What you’ll learn in this summary

First, you’ll examine the canon question—why Protestants don’t include the Apocrypha—through history, early church voices, and the New Testament’s use (or non-use) of those books. Next, you’ll weigh Rome’s two-source view of revelation (Scripture + Tradition) against the Reformers’ claim that Scripture alone is God-breathed, final, and sufficient. You’ll explore whether Peter was ever appointed the church’s supreme leader and whether that office was meant to continue in Rome’s bishop.

You’ll then assess claims of ecclesial infallibility (pope, bishops, Magisterium) and why Rhodes insists only Scripture is without error. The book devotes a thoughtful chapter to Mary—her true greatness and why titles like Mediatrix or Co-Redemptrix go beyond the Bible. Rhodes also contrasts Catholic and Protestant views of justification: Is it an infused, life-long process sustained by sacraments, or a once-for-all legal declaration based entirely on Christ’s righteousness credited to you by faith?

Finally, you’ll consider the Eucharist (Does the Mass re-present Christ’s sacrifice and transubstantiate the elements?), confession (Does priestly absolution restore grace?), and purgatory (Is post-mortem purification biblical?). Rhodes argues that each of these practices, sincerely embraced by Catholics, nevertheless diminishes the finality of “It is finished” (John 19:30). He equips you with key texts—Romans 3–5; Hebrews 7–10; Ephesians 2; 1 Timothy 2:5—and concrete historical examples (Council of Trent, John Paul II’s use of Hebrews 9:12, Galileo’s trial) to anchor your conversations.

Tone and method

Rhodes writes as a coach: firm on biblical essentials, careful with Catholic sources, and practical about how you actually talk with people. He urges you to begin with Scripture, ask honest questions, and keep the main thing the main thing—Christ crucified, risen, and sufficient. His closing chapter models a testimony-driven approach that puts relationship ahead of winning an argument. Throughout, he engages Catholic thinkers like Peter Kreeft and Karl Keating and leans on Protestant scholars such as F.F. Bruce, Norman Geisler, and James R. White (helpful if you want to read further).

Core claim

“Only God and His Word are infallible… Salvation is a once-for-all act grounded in Christ’s finished work, received by faith, not sustained by sacramental merits.”

If you’ve ever felt tongue-tied when Catholic friends cite councils, catacombs, or the “keys of the kingdom,” this book gives you a roadmap. More importantly, it keeps pulling you back to the gospel’s center: because Jesus has perfectly saved you, you can speak with humble confidence—and love well—as you contend for truth.

Rhodes begins where many Protestant–Catholic conversations start: Why does a Catholic Bible have more books? He argues the Apocrypha (called “deuterocanonical” by Catholics) is helpful historically but should not be in the biblical canon. His strategy is to test the Apocrypha against how ancient Jews, Jesus, the apostles, and early Christians treated those writings—and to assess their content against Scripture’s standard.

How the early communities viewed the Apocrypha

You learn that Palestinian Judaism, including the Council of Jamnia (A.D. 90), did not embrace the Apocrypha as Scripture. Philo of Alexandria quoted nearly all canonical books but never the Apocrypha; Josephus excluded them as well. Most telling: no New Testament author quotes an apocryphal book as Scripture, despite quoting the Old Testament profusely (Matthew alone alludes ~130 times). Jesus and the apostles, Rhodes notes, were effectively silent on giving those books divine authority.

Meanwhile, some church fathers used apocryphal texts devotionally (e.g., Wisdom, Sirach), but key voices like Jerome, Athanasius, and Cyril of Jerusalem denied their inspiration. Athanasius’s “paschal letter” (A.D. 367) listed the Old and New Testament books and said Wisdom, Sirach, Judith, and Tobit were for instruction—not canonical. This mixed reception cautions you against assuming early use equals inspiration.

Septuagint, catacombs, and councils

Catholics often point out that later Septuagint manuscripts include the Apocrypha and that catacomb art portrayed apocryphal scenes. Rhodes counters: the earliest surviving Septuagint codices with Apocrypha are 4th century; we don’t know that the original translation included them. Even if the LXX did, the apostles didn’t quote the Apocrypha while freely citing the LXX for canonical books—suggesting they didn’t treat the Apocrypha as Scripture. As for catacomb art, pictures show familiarity, not canonicity.

Regarding councils: local councils like Hippo (393) and Carthage (397) recognized the Apocrypha—heavily influenced by Augustine, who argued from martyr stories and the LXX’s contents. But Rhodes reminds you: councils are human and can err. Canon recognition, like F.F. Bruce notes, records authority the books already possessed, it doesn’t confer it.

Doctrinal and historical tests

Rhodes highlights contradictions between the Apocrypha and Scripture: prayers for the dead (2 Maccabees 12:45–46) versus Hebrews 9:27; salvation by almsgiving (Sirach/Ecclesiasticus) versus Romans 3:20; creation from preexistent matter (Wisdom) versus Genesis 1; angel worship (Tobit 12:12) versus Colossians 2:18. He also notes historical mistakes (e.g., Tobit misidentifies Sennacherib’s father). For Rhodes, the combined weight argues these books aren’t God-breathed.

Five classic canon tests

Was it written by a prophet/apostle? Is it authoritative (“thus says the Lord”)? Is it consistent with prior revelation? Does it display God’s power? Was it widely received by God’s people?

Rhodes concludes the Apocrypha fails several of these tests. He also notes the Council of Trent (1545–1563) dogmatized the Apocrypha during the Counter-Reformation—after Reformers like Luther challenged purgatory and prayers for the dead. That timing, he suggests, looks more reactive than organic. If you want a companion analysis, Norman Geisler and Ralph MacKenzie’s Roman Catholics and Evangelicals comes to similar conclusions (helpful parallel reading).

Practically, this helps you in conversation: affirm the Apocrypha’s historical value while showing why Jesus, the apostles, and many early leaders didn’t treat them as Scripture. You’re not dismissing tradition; you’re weighing it by the prophetic-apostolic standard Scripture applies to itself.

Here Rhodes addresses the engine of all downstream disagreements: What is your final authority? Catholics typically affirm two sources of revelation—Scripture and Sacred Tradition—interpreted by the Church’s Magisterium. Rhodes responds: only Scripture is “God-breathed” (2 Timothy 3:16), the norm that norms all other norms. Tradition has a place—as a respected witness—but not equal authority.

Does the Bible teach sola scriptura?

Critics (e.g., Peter Kreeft) argue Scripture nowhere states “Scripture alone.” Rhodes notes many biblical doctrines are taught implicitly (think Trinity). Jesus consistently treats Scripture as the final court of appeal: “It is written” (Matthew 4:4–10), “Scripture cannot be broken” (John 10:35). He rebukes elevating tradition over God’s Word (Matthew 15:6; Mark 7:8). Paul says Scripture makes you “equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:15–17)—a sweeping sufficiency claim.

What about “traditions” Paul mentions (2 Thessalonians 2:15; 3:6)? Rhodes answers: those were living, apostolic teachings that soon became inscripturated. Once the apostles died, the content God intended for the church’s rule of faith was in Scripture. The church recognizes that canon; it doesn’t create it (F.F. Bruce).

Is tradition necessary to interpret Scripture?

Catholic apologists argue tradition is needed to avoid doctrinal chaos. Rhodes replies that the Holy Spirit illumines believers (John 14:26), the Bible’s main things are plain (perspicuity), and even official church interpretations require interpretation—a regress that doesn’t solve the problem. Meanwhile, Bereans are commended for testing even apostolic teaching by Scripture (Acts 17:11). You’re called to do the same.

Staying inside the lines

Rhodes anchors the boundary principle: “Do not exceed what is written” (1 Corinthians 4:6). Deuteronomy 4:2 and Revelation 22:18–19 warn against addition. So respect church history and creeds, but submit them to Scripture. When tradition contradicts Scripture—on issues like indulgences, Marian mediation, or the nature of justification—Scripture wins.

Helpful contrast

Tradition: a historical witness—valuable but fallible. Scripture: the Spirit-breathed rule—final and sufficient. The church: servant of the Word, not lord over it (see J.I. Packer’s Knowing Christianity for a similar framing).

In conversation, you can acknowledge the early church lived by oral apostolic teaching before the New Testament was complete. But when those teachings were written and the apostolic age ended, what binds your conscience today is what God preserved: the Bible. That’s not anti-history; it’s the biblical pattern. Using this standard consistently will shape every other doctrine you discuss.

Catholic claims about Peter are sweeping: Jesus made him the rock (Matthew 16:18), gave him the keys (16:19), prayed for his unique faith (Luke 22:31–32), and told him to feed the sheep (John 21:15–17). Tradition then places him in Rome as its first bishop and the church’s supreme head. Rhodes examines each plank and finds the case wanting biblically and historically.

What kind of “rock”?

Rhodes argues context points to Peter’s confession—“You are the Christ” (Matthew 16:16)—as the rock, not Peter’s person. He notes the Greek distinction between petros (Peter) and petra (rock) and the passage’s Christ-centered focus (vv. 13–20). Elsewhere, the New Testament says the church is built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ the cornerstone (Ephesians 2:20), not on a singular Petrine office.

On the “keys” and “binding/loosing,” Rhodes says Jesus authorizes the apostolic witness: when they proclaim the gospel, heaven ratifies their declaration—granting or withholding kingdom entry based on belief (compare John 20:23; Acts 2, 8, 10). That authority extends beyond Peter to the apostles collectively (Matthew 18:18).

Peter’s practice and Paul’s protest

If Peter were supreme, you’d expect the New Testament to say so or show him exercising unilateral authority. Instead, Acts 15’s Jerusalem Council is chaired by James; Peter speaks, but he doesn’t decide. In Galatians 2:11–14, Paul publicly rebukes Peter for gospel-compromising hypocrisy. Paul also insists he’s not inferior to the “super-apostles” (2 Corinthians 12:11). That’s a strange way to talk if a papal office existed.

Historically, Rhodes notes the New Testament never mentions Peter in Rome. Paul greets 26 people in Romans 16 but not Peter (odd if Peter had led Rome’s church since A.D. 42). During Paul’s Roman imprisonments (Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Philemon), there’s no mention of Peter visiting. Acts 12:17 merely says Peter “went to another place”—hardly proof of a Roman episcopate.

Shepherding, not supremacy

When Jesus restores Peter in John 21, Rhodes sees grace, not coronation: Peter denied Christ three times; Jesus draws three confessions and recommissions him to feed the flock. But Peter later calls himself a “fellow elder,” exhorts other elders to shepherd well, and identifies Jesus as the “Chief Shepherd” (1 Peter 5:1–4). That’s the tone of a servant leader among equals, not a monarch.

Bottom line

The New Testament never installs a papacy. It displays apostolic plurality under Christ’s headship. Claims Peter founded an office to be succeeded by Rome’s bishops rest more on later tradition than on apostolic Scripture (see James R. White’s The Roman Catholic Controversy for parallel arguments).

If you’re discussing this with a Catholic friend, keep the focus on texts and context. Honor Peter’s importance—he’s prominent in Acts 1–12—but show how the Bible itself portrays authority and succession. You’ll help your friend see why Reformation Christians affirm Christ alone as head of the church (Colossians 1:18).

Catholic theology extends Peter’s alleged primacy into a living structure: the pope (as “Vicar of Christ”), the bishops (as apostolic successors), and the Magisterium (as the authoritative teaching office). Under defined conditions, papal statements on faith and morals are said to be infallible; bishops teaching with one voice, in union with the pope, are also protected from error. Rhodes pushes back: the apostles were unique, their writings (not successors) carry enduring authority, and history shows human leaders—even popes—can err.

Scripture’s authority vs. leader claims

Rhodes highlights Paul’s striking warning: if even “we” (apostles) preach a different gospel, let him be accursed (Galatians 1:8). The Bereans test apostolic preaching by Scripture (Acts 17:11) and are commended. Conclusion: Scripture is the touchstone that judges teachers; the reverse is never taught.

On apostolic succession, Rhodes notes the apostles validated their authority with public, miraculous signs (2 Corinthians 12:12; Acts 5:1–11; 16:16–18; Matthew 10:8). Their writings, once completed, became the foundation (Ephesians 2:20). You don’t rebuild a foundation each generation; you build on it. Jude 3 says the faith was “once for all delivered.” That suggests completion, not a pipeline of new, infallible pronouncements.

History as a cautionary tale

Rhodes references the Galileo affair to illustrate fallibility-in-practice: in 1632, Galileo was tried and condemned by church authorities for endorsing heliocentrism—despite being a Bible-respecting Christian. For years he lived under house arrest. Catholics sometimes object that this wasn’t an ex cathedra error, but the episode shows how human authority can bind consciences contrary to truth—reinforcing the need for Scripture as the final arbiter.

He also mentions the problem of “antipopes” (historically ~35 claimants). When rival popes arise, which voice is infallible? The very existence of such crises undercuts claims of an unbroken, clear line of divinely protected teaching (compare with Alister McGrath’s discussion of authority and tradition in Christianity’s Dangerous Idea).

Do we need a Magisterium for unity?

Rhodes agrees: unity matters. But he argues Spirit-enabled clarity on essentials, faithful teachers, and submitted hearts foster biblical unity without conferring infallibility on any office. Even official interpretations need interpretation—so the regress problem remains. Meanwhile, Scripture calls all believers to test, discern, and hold fast (1 Thessalonians 5:21; 1 John 4:1).

Christ’s promise, properly read

“I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20) safeguards the church’s mission—not a guarantee of infallible successors. “The gates of Hades will not prevail” (Matthew 16:18) means Christ preserves His church, not that a papacy must exist to do so.

In your conversations, keep the emphasis on the unique, once-for-all authority of the apostles in Scripture and on Christ as the church’s living head. Encourage your friend: trusted teachers are gifts—but even the best teacher is still a signpost, not the destination. The only unfailing voice is God speaking in His Word.

Many Catholics love Mary deeply—as the sinless, perpetually virgin Mother of God, Mediatrix of all graces, and even Co-Redemptrix. Rhodes urges you to honor Mary biblically: as profoundly favored, exemplary in humility and faith, and the human mother of Jesus—while recognizing that Scripture doesn’t teach her immaculate conception, perpetual virginity, heavenly mediation, or bodily assumption.

The Mary of the Gospels

Luke calls her “highly favored” and shows her as a devoted servant—“the Lord’s bondslave” (Luke 1:38). She treasures God’s promises and exults in “God my Savior” (Luke 1:47), language Rhodes says implies her need of redemption like everyone else (Romans 3:23). Jesus respectfully calls her “woman” (John 2:4; 19:26), signaling a relationship redefined by His messianic mission. After the nativity narratives, Mary fades into the background—consistent with John the Baptist’s, “He must increase, I must decrease.”

Testing later titles and teachings

• Immaculate Conception: Luke 1:28 is better translated “favored one,” not “full of grace” implying lifelong sinlessness. Mary presents a sin offering after Jesus’s birth (Luke 2:22–24).
• Perpetual Virginity: Matthew 1:25 (“until she gave birth”) and references to Jesus’s brothers and sisters (Matthew 13:55–56) suggest normal marital relations after Jesus’s birth (Rhodes notes Greek has a perfectly good word for “cousins” but uses “brothers”).
• Mediatrix/Co-Redemptrix: 1 Timothy 2:5 names Jesus the sole Mediator; Hebrews 9:14 says Christ “offered Himself” for sins. Mary’s role is unique—but it’s maternal in the incarnation, not priestly in redemption.
• Bodily Assumption: even Catholic scholars concede there’s no explicit biblical text; the dogma was defined in the 20th century. The New Testament’s silence, Rhodes suggests, is significant.

Rhodes stresses the crucial distinction embedded in the Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431): Mary is theotokos (“God-bearer”—Mother of God) “according to His humanity,” not as the source of Christ’s deity. It safeguards Christ’s person, not Mary’s exaltation.

A loving recalibration

Honor Mary where Scripture does: as the humble, believing mother whose “yes” served the incarnation. But let worship and mediation language remain where Scripture places it—on Christ alone (Acts 4:12).

In practice, this lets you affirm a Catholic friend’s affection for Mary while inviting them to see how Scripture steers that devotion toward doxology centered on Jesus. If you want a broader survey, see James R. White’s Mary—Another Redeemer? or Elliot Miller and Ken Samples’s The Cult of the Virgin for historical context and careful exegesis.

If there’s a beating heart to Rhodes’s book, it’s here. He contrasts Rome’s view of justification as an infused, sacramental process you can lose through mortal sin—and regain through penance—with the New Testament’s courtroom declaration: God justifies the ungodly once-for-all by crediting Christ’s righteousness to you through faith. Good works follow as fruit, not fuel, of salvation.

Two rival models

• Catholic model: “First actual grace” enables you to seek God. Baptism removes original sin and infuses sanctifying grace—this is “initial justification.” You must then cooperate with grace and the sacraments to progress toward final justification. Mortal sin erases grace; penance restores it. Assurance is, at best, deferred until death.
• Biblical model (Rhodes’s case): Justification is forensic—God declares you righteous, imputing Christ’s righteousness the moment you believe (Romans 3:24, 28; 4:3–5; 5:1). It’s singular, instantaneous, and irrevocable because it rests on Christ’s finished work, not your performance (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Faith and grace, not merit

Rhodes points you to Ephesians 2:8–9, Titus 3:5, and Romans 11:6: if it’s by grace, it isn’t by works. Sacraments aren’t pipelines of grace that you keep open through merits; grace is God’s unmerited favor given through Christ and received by faith. The result is peace with God now (Romans 5:1), not after a lifetime of sacramental fidelity.

What about James 2?

Catholics often cite James 2:14–26 (“faith without works is dead”). Rhodes explains James isn’t describing how you earn justification before God, but how living faith shows itself before people. The key is verse 14’s “if someone says he has faith”—James is exposing empty profession. Real faith works; it doesn’t work to become real. Martin Luther captured it: we’re justified by faith alone, but the faith that justifies is never alone.

The great exchange

“Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness; I am your sin… You have become what You were not so that I might become what I was not.” —Martin Luther (quoted by J.I. Packer)

In conversations, help your friend feel the freedom this brings. If you’ve trusted Christ, you aren’t on a treadmill of losing and regaining grace. You’re standing in grace (Romans 5:2). Good works now become joyful evidence of new life, not anxious attempts to close the gap. That’s not cheap grace; that’s costly grace fully paid at the cross.

Rhodes devotes three chapters to Catholic practices he believes obscure the finality of Christ’s work: the Eucharistic sacrifice (Mass), priestly absolution (penance), and post-mortem purification (purgatory). He doesn’t question Catholic sincerity—he questions biblical warrant and soteriological impact. Here’s how he makes the case.

The Mass and “It is finished”

Catholic teaching says the Mass “re-presents” Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice and that, at consecration, bread and wine become Christ’s body and blood (transubstantiation). Rhodes responds: Jesus’s upper room words are symbolic (“Do this in remembrance of me”), and Scripture forbids blood drinking (Genesis 9:4; Acts 15:29). More crucially, Hebrews accents the unrepeatable nature of Christ’s offering: “once for all” (7:27; 9:12; 10:10). He highlights a telling example: Pope John Paul II cited Hebrews 9:12 as if Jesus “constantly enters” the sanctuary—changing the Greek aorist (“entered once for all”) into a present. Rhodes argues that such adjustments tilt the text toward a sacrificial system Scripture explicitly concludes (Hebrews 10:18).

Penance and priestly absolution

Rhodes affirms confession—directly to God (1 John 1:9). He parses John 20:23 (“if you forgive the sins of any…”) as apostolic authority to announce heaven’s verdict when the gospel is believed or rejected, not power to remit guilt by priestly decree. He also challenges the mortal/venial sin distinction as extra-biblical, noting that all sin incurs death (Romans 6:23). The Act of Contrition’s sincerity may be real, but assurance rests in Christ’s finished atonement, not in completing assigned penances (e.g., “ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys”).

Purgatory and indulgences

Purgatory, intended to purge remaining imperfections, seems intuitive if justification is a process. But Rhodes argues Hebrews 10:14—“by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified”—leaves no room for post-mortem purging. Paul expects to be “with Christ” immediately at death (Philippians 1:23; 2 Corinthians 5:8), not routed through purgatory. As for indulgences, Rhodes explains the “Treasury of Merit” and practices like gaining partial or plenary indulgences (even by making the sign of the cross). He contends this system conflicts with grace: if salvation is a gift, merit-tallies undermine the cross (Ephesians 2:8–9; Colossians 2:13–14).

Key biblical anchors

• Hebrews 7–10: once-for-all sacrifice
• John 19:30: “It is finished” (paid in full)
• 1 John 1:9: confession to God
• Philippians 1:23; 2 Corinthians 5:8: immediate presence with Christ at death

These critiques don’t deny the seriousness with which Catholics approach worship and repentance. They ask you to measure every practice against Scripture and to rest your conscience where the New Testament tells you to rest it: in the sufficiency of Christ’s once-for-all atonement.