The Canon That Trent Closed: Why Luther Did Nothing Un-Catholic

There is a story most people believe about the Reformation and the Bible, and it goes like this. The Church had one settled, complete Bible for fifteen centuries. Then Martin Luther came along, disliked what he read, and took a pair of scissors to Scripture, cutting out books that didn’t suit his theology. The Council of Trent, in this telling, simply defended the ancient Bible against a reckless innovator.

This story is simple and neat. However, it does not hold up to the facts.

The real history is more complex and, in many ways, more interesting. When Luther made his decisions about the Bible, no ecumenical council had given a final, universally binding answer about which books belonged in the Old Testament. The question remained open.

In fact, some of the very cardinals defending the Church against Luther held views about the Old Testament quite similar to his. The canon was not officially closed until the Council of Trent decided in April 1546. By then, Luther had already been dead for seven weeks.

There are two main points to keep in mind. First, the biblical canon was not officially and universally closed until the Council of Trent.

Second, Luther did nothing un-Catholic in his approach to Scripture, nor did he remove any books. Instead, he chose a position in a debate that the Church itself had left open, and he followed the view of a respected Doctor of the Church.

To make this case, we will look at four parts. First, we will consider the Council of Florence. Next, we will examine whether the canon was still open. Then, we will look at Luther’s approach and how it fits within tradition. Finally, we will see how the timing of these events fits together, especially since Luther died before Trent made its final decision.

Part One: The Hinge; Did Florence Already Close the Canon?

Any honest version of this argument must begin here, because the strongest objection is the appeal to the Council of Florence, 1445.

Florence was an ecumenical council that issued a list of the Old Testament that included the deuterocanonical books. Florence listed Judith, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, Baruch, and the two books of Maccabees as canonical.

If an ecumenical council listed these books a full century before Trent, the objection runs, the canon was already closed, and Luther was defying a settled dogma.

The response to this objection does not deny that Florence listed the books. However, a clear distinction matters: listing books is not the same as making a final, binding decision about the canon. This is not just a Protestant argument; even Catholic scholars recognize the difference.

Florence’s list appeared in the Decretum pro Jacobitis (the bull Cantate Domino), a reunion document aimed at restoring the Oriental churches to communion with Rome. Its purpose was to affirm Scripture against dualist errors, not to settle the disputed status of individual books.

Tellingly, the decree omits the words “canon” and “canonical.”

Now the older Catholic Encyclopedia draws precisely the conclusion this argument needs: Florence taught the inspiration of all the Scriptures but did not formally decide their canonicity.

Modern specialist scholarship agrees. John Meade, Edmon Gallagher’s co-author on The Biblical Canon Lists from Early Christianity, notes that although Florence included a list with the deuterocanonical books, the list did not have a dogmatic definition. Before Trent, Catholics were still debating the Old Testament canon in various ways.

There is clear evidence that the debate continued after Florence, all the way up to the Council of Trent. Cardinal Ximénes, Cardinal Cajetan, and the humanist Erasmus all agreed with the early Protestants that there was a difference between the canonical books and the deuterocanonical books, which were useful for teaching but not on the same level.

Cajetan is a particularly strong example: he was the cardinal who examined Luther at Augsburg and was known for his orthodoxy, yet he still held to the traditional distinction after Florence. This makes it difficult to argue that Florence had already closed the canon.

Even those who took part in the Council of Trent did not believe they were simply repeating what Florence had done. The records show that the theologians thought they were finally settling the long-standing debate between Augustine and Jerome, even though their official decree listed the broader canon without qualifications.

In summary, Florence did list the books, but it did not make a final, binding decision about the canon or end the debate between Jerome and Augustine. That debate continued among respected Catholic scholars until Trent settled the matter.

With that hinge in place, our two main arguments stand; Trent closed the canon, and Luther didn’t do anything novel.

Part Two: The Canon Was Open; Thesis 1

The objection to this thesis is shrewd. No one claims the Bible fell from heaven complete; rather, the canon was functionally settled long before 1546, so Trent merely ratified an ancient consensus.

The deuterocanonical books, the argument goes, were used as Scripture from the earliest centuries, affirmed by regional councils, embedded in the Vulgate for a thousand years, and re-listed at Florence.

In its popular form, the charge becomes: the idea that Trent “added” books is a Protestant myth; these books had been in the Bible since the canon was first settled in the 380s, and Trent merely reaffirmed the Church’s historic Bible.

To answer this objection, we first need to admit what is true, and then look at what the argument does not actually prove.

We can concede that earlier, regional councils played into this debate. According to the Gelasian Decree, the Council of Rome in 382 defined a canonical list that included most of the deuterocanonical books, and in 419, the Council of Carthage listed Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, and the two books of Maccabees as canonical. This is real, and there is no point denying it.

However, the key here is that they were regional councils, not ecumenical councils with universal authority.

During the same period, another tradition questioned the status of these books, and that tradition lasted for the next thousand years. As Jerome’s Vulgate became more widely used in the West, his introductions, which were critical of the deuterocanonical books, also spread. This led to growing doubts about their status.

If people were still raising these doubts a thousand years after Carthage, the question was not settled.

We can also concede that some used the books continuously. The objector will cite Augustine and unbroken liturgical reading. Which is fair enough: the Protestant patristics scholar J. N. D. Kelly acknowledged that for the great majority the deuterocanonical writings ranked as Scripture in the fullest sense, and that Augustine, whose influence in the West was decisive, made no distinction between them and the rest of the Old Testament.

At the same time, there was a respected tradition that placed these disputed books below the level of canonical Scripture, even though they were still read in church. From Jerome’s time up to the Reformation, the Western Church mostly followed Jerome’s view: the apocryphal books were helpful for teaching but not for establishing doctrine. Rufinus and Athanasius made this distinction as well.

In the East, John of Damascus in the eighth century, like Athanasius, placed books like Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus in a lower category. So, while it is true that the Church read these books, it is not true that everyone accepted them as fully authoritative for doctrine.

Some critics try to answer this by saying that only the Church in council, not individual scholars, can decide the canon. But this supports the main point here. If only councils could make a final decision, then neither Augustine’s practice nor the decisions of regional synods could settle the matter for the whole Church.

The question remained open until an ecumenical council made a binding decision, and that did not happen until Trent.

It is not consistent to say that only councils decide, but then act as if the issue was already settled before Trent, especially when respected Church leaders continued to hold different views.

Some will say that Trent only made the canon official, but that the content was already ancient. This is true, but it is also important to see what this means.

The real change at Trent was that the decision became final and binding for everyone. Catholic scholars themselves admit this. The Catholic Encyclopedia calls the decree from Trent the first infallible and universally binding statement on the canon. When Trent added an anathema to those who disagreed, it was clear the debate was still ongoing.

In the end, the books themselves were old and had been used continuously. However, a binding and universal decision, backed by an anathema, did not exist until 1546.

The survival of the distinction between ecclesiastical and canonical books among respected Church leaders in both East and West up to Trent shows that the question was still open.

Part Three: Luther Did Nothing Un-Catholic; Thesis 2

If the canon was still open, then Luther was not destroying a settled Bible. Instead, he was making a choice among various options that the Church itself still allowed. Still, it is important to address the common criticisms directly.

Some say that Luther removed books from the Bible. This is not accurate. Luther did not take out the deuterocanonical books from his German Bible. Instead, he moved seven Old Testament books into a separate section called the ‘Apocrypha,’ placing them between the Old and New Testaments.

As Jerome and many before him, Luther described these books as useful and good to read, but not on the same level as Scripture. So, rather than removing these books, he simply grouped them together.

His 1534 Bible even included a heading that made this clear: “Apocrypha: These Books Are Not Held Equal to the Scriptures, but Are Useful and Good to Read.” In other words, nothing was cut out; everything was kept, just organized differently.

Some argue that separating these books was a new development. But Luther would not be the first to do this. In 1528, just a few years before Luther’s own Bible, Sanctes Pagnin, an Italian Dominican Friar, had also collected the deuterocanonical books in a section between the two Testaments, and labeled them as Hagiographa.  

And even then, the idea behind this was not new. Luther was following Jerome, who had already distinguished between the Hebrew Bible and the Greek Septuagint, and who said that books not found in Hebrew were not considered fully canonical.

Jerome’s own words are very similar to Luther’s: the Church reads books such as Judith, Tobit, and the Maccabees for teaching, but not for establishing doctrine. This view continued through the Middle Ages. For example, Hugh of St. Victor in the twelfth century also said that the Apocrypha could be read but did not have full authority.

So, the reasoning behind Luther’s arrangement of the Bible was grounded not only in Catholic tradition but also in precedents set by other Catholic Bibles.

Some also claim that Luther made new changes to the New Testament. Here, we need to be careful and look at the details.

In his 1522 New Testament, Luther placed Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation at the end of the book. He expressed doubts about these books and even called James an ‘epistle of straw.’ He also left them unnumbered in the table of contents.

However, having doubts about certain New Testament books was not something new. This actually goes back to the early Church, which had a category called the “antilegomena,” or disputed books. Eusebius, writing centuries before Luther, put these books in a middle category: they were not fully accepted by everyone, but they were not rejected either.

Luther was aware of this tradition. He recognized that these books had always been accepted with some reservations, but he still included them as part of the New Testament. He moved them to the end, but he did not remove them.

The main area where critics have a point is in Luther’s reasoning. He judged the disputed books partly by how clearly they taught about Christ and justification by faith. This way of deciding which books belonged in the Bible was new. So, while Luther did not change the content, his Old Testament followed Jerome, and his treatment of the disputed New Testament books followed the ancient tradition; the new part was his reason for making these choices. He did not remove any books; he simply changed their order, following earlier examples.

Some say that bringing back Jerome’s view was itself something new, since the Church had already moved past it. But this is not accurate. Jerome’s position was still held by respected Catholic leaders right before the Reformation, including Ximénes, Erasmus, and Cajetan, who examined Luther himself.

So, Luther was not reviving a forgotten idea but rather taking a side in a debate that was still ongoing. It is also important to remember that the complete removal of the Apocrypha from Protestant Bibles happened after Luther, not by Luther himself. He kept these books in his Bible.

As an aside, while Luther would have harsher views on some of the New Testament works, those views would soften later in his life. For instance, while he called James “an espistle of straw” in his 1522 version of the New Testament, that line would be removed from the 1530 version going forward.

Luther also treated these books as scripture, not only preaching from them, but even lecturing on them.

Part Four: The Capstone; Luther Died Before Trent Closed the Canon

Now we can see how the timing of these events fits together.

The Lutheran and Catholic canons were defined within a decade of each other: Luther’s Bible was fully completed in 1534, and Trent’s decree on 8 April 1546. But Luther died on 18 February 1546, roughly seven weeks before Trent’s Fourth Session promulgated its canon under anathema.

This leads to a clear conclusion. Luther made all of his decisions about the Bible at a time when no ecumenical council had given a final, binding answer about the canon. He could not have been going against Trent, because Trent had not yet made its decision.

Luther was working on an open question. As we have seen, if the canon needed Trent’s definition to be officially closed, then it remained open throughout Luther’s life.

Luther was not introducing something new, but relying on an authority that the Church itself respected. His reason for dividing the Old Testament books came from Jerome, who was later named a Doctor of the Church. When Luther made his choices, they were still allowed within the Catholic tradition.

There are two things we do have to be cautious about, though. First, this is not a claim that Luther couldn’t have known about Trent; the council was convened, and its agenda was public. The claim is strictly that no binding definition existed during his life.

Second, this whole capstone rests on the Florence hinge: critics will insist Florence already closed the canon before Luther was born, and the answer is the one established in Part One; Florence listed the books but did not dogmatically define them, and the Jerome–Augustine debate continued, through Cajetan and Erasmus, right up to Trent.

The main point is this: the official, binding decision that would have made Luther’s choices heretical came only after he had died. Critics often look back and imagine that the boundaries were already set, but that was not the case. Luther was not a lone rebel breaking a closed canon. He was one of many, including cardinals and scholars who remained loyal to Rome, who were part of a debate that the Church had not yet settled.

The Church did not make its final decision until seven weeks after Luther’s death.

Conclusion: Restoring the Real Story

Many people believe that Luther simply cut up a settled Bible. But the real history is different. The question of which books belonged in the Bible remained open, and there was a long-standing distinction between canonical and ecclesiastical books, maintained by some of the Church’s greatest teachers.

Luther was a monk who took Jerome’s side in a debate that even orthodox cardinals were still discussing as he was dying.

Luther did not remove any books. He moved the deuterocanonical books into a section he described as useful and good to read, following Jerome’s example. He placed the disputed New Testament books at the end rather than omitting them, thereby reviving the ancient category of the antilegomena from Eusebius.

All of this happened before any ecumenical council had made a final, binding decision about the canon. That decision came at Trent, after Luther had died.

So, the real innovation in the sixteenth century was not Luther’s Bible, but the Council of Trent’s decision to close the canon with an anathema. The council was the one that finally closed a door the Church had left open for more than a thousand years.