Who’s Who in Theology, edited by John Bowden and first published in London by SCM Press, includes an appendix on the popes. Each successor of Peter is described briefly, often in the stereotypic “twenty-five words or less.” Sometimes even fewer words suffice:
“Evaristus (c. 100–109): Nothing certain is known of him.
“Alexander I (c. 109–116): Another shadowy figure.
“Sixtus I (c. 116–125): Another shadowy figure.”
About other popes the editor says, “Nothing is known of his brief reign” or “Nothing else is known” or “There is no reliable information about him.” Many scholars will argue that in fact we know more than “nothing” about most of these earliest popes, but it is fair to say that we do not have remotely the store of information we might like. If many of them were “shadowy figures” it was out of necessity. They were forced to operate in the shadowy world of the catacombs and never had the leisure to construct a documentary trail of their deeds.
As one would expect, many of the early popes can be credited with “firsts.” Pontian (230–235), for example, was the first to resign the papal office. He would not be the last. One of my favorite popes resigned, though a millennium later. Celestine V reigned for several months in 1294 but proved incompetent as an administrator. He had been elected pope because he complained the papal electors were damaging the Church by leaving the papal see vacant for two years as they squabbled. In essence the cardinals said, “Fine. If you don’t like the situation, you be pope.” Celestine was humble enough to realize that the prolongation of his reign would bring troubles on the Church, so he bowed out.
Going back to the early Church, Bowden says Stephen I (254–257) “seems to have been the first pope to appeal to Matthew 16:18 for his authority.” I would rephrase that to read: “Stephen I is the earliest pope on record as appealing to Matthew 16:18, though earlier popes may have used the same argument.” We have a paucity of ancient documents about the Church and should not hastily presume that the first written mention of something represents the first time that thing was thought or argued.
Gelasius I (492–496) “is the first pope to have been called ‘Vicar of Christ.’” Even if Gelasius had been the first pope to use “Vicar of Christ” as a title, one should not falsely infer that the essence behind that title was not appreciated until his time.
A generation or so later, John II (533–535) “was the first pope to take a new name on consecration—because he had that of a pagan god.” His original name had been Mercury. One can appreciate why he made the change, at the same time wishing, in distant retrospect, that he had maintained his given name. After all, we have had 22 other Johns on the papal throne. It might have been nice to have a planet.