The Didachē: Apostolic Teaching Before Rome’s Traditions

The Didachē, Greek for “Teaching” and often called The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, is one of the earliest Christian writings outside the New Testament, usually dated between 70–120 AD. It offers a window into how the earliest Christian communities lived out and preserved the apostles’ teaching.

The Didachē did not appear fully formed but drew from several sources: the “Two Ways” moral framework already known from the Epistle of Barnabas (c. 80–120), the teachings of Jesus especially from the Sermon on the Mount, apostolic oral tradition passed down in the churches, and practical church rules for baptism, Eucharist, fasting, prayer, and leadership. This made it a practical handbook for catechesis rather than speculative theology.

In 1873 Metropolitan Philotheos Bryennios discovered a manuscript of the Didachē in Constantinople. Scholars immediately noticed its striking parallels to Barnabas, which also preserves the “Two Ways.” Barnabas describes the choice vividly: “There are two ways of teaching and authority: the way of light and the way of darkness. Great is the difference between the two ways. For on the one are stationed the angels of God, guides of light; but on the other are the angels of Satan” (Barnabas 18–19). The Way of Light is marked by generosity, humility, purity, prayer, peace, and repentance. The Way of Darkness is filled with arrogance, greed, idolatry, immorality, sorcery, and hatred of truth. The Didachē mirrors this almost word for word. In plain terms, the earliest Christian catechism allowed no middle ground.

The Didachē circulated widely under various names; Teaching of the Apostles, Doctrine of the Apostles, Judgment of Peter ; and was respected across East and West. Eusebius (c. 324) placed it among the disputed books: not Scripture, not heretical, but useful. Cyprian of Carthage (3rd century) likely cited it under the Latin title Doctrina Apostolorum. Athanasius (367) said it was not canonical but “appointed by the Fathers to be read by new converts.” Later figures such as Anastasius Sinaiticus, Nicephorus, Zonaras, and Blastares continued to treat it as an authentic apostolic witness. Though never canonized, it was trusted as credible instruction: apostolic in voice, practical in catechesis, and enduring in witness.

Another text tied to this same tradition is the Judicium Petri (also called Duae Viae). Like the Didachē, it exhorts Christians to walk in the Way of Life, but it adds unique material. It emphasizes radical generosity and equality: “Worth is not determined by rank, nor does beauty help, but there is equality of all before God… Share everything with your brother, and do not say anything is your own. For if you are sharers in what is immortal, how much more in what is perishable?” It urges urgency and fidelity to the apostolic deposit: “Keep what you have received, neither adding to it nor taking from it.” Most striking is its instruction on bishops: if a congregation is too small to judge, they should seek help from neighboring churches, and the candidate must be examined for moral character, reputation, and piety. This matches the Didachē’s command: “Appoint for yourselves bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord” (Did. 15:1). Leadership was local, communal, and moral; not centralized under papal authority.

Some scholars have noted that parts of the Judicium Petri sound so similar to Papias that they may preserve fragments of his lost writings. Papias (c. 60–130), bishop of Hierapolis in Asia Minor, wrote a five-volume Exposition of the Sayings of the Lord. Though lost, fragments quoted by Eusebius, Irenaeus, and Jerome show that Papias prized eyewitness teaching. He deliberately sought out what Andrew, Peter, Philip, Thomas, James, John, Matthew, and others had said, and he also learned from Aristion and “the elder John,” disciples of the Lord.

Asia Minor, where Papias ministered, was also the region of Peter’s own mission. In his first letter, Peter writes “to the exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia” (1 Peter 1:1). These provinces were Peter’s field of ministry, and Hierapolis, where Papias served, stood in the same orbit as Laodicea and Colossae. This suggests that when Papias preserved and transmitted the “Two Ways” tradition, he was handing down what Peter himself had preached in Asia Minor.

If the Judicium Petri preserves Papias’ writing, then the Didachē and its related traditions are not later inventions but direct echoes of apostolic catechesis ; from Peter’s own mission field. They consistently emphasize moral clarity, baptism, Eucharistic thanksgiving, and local leadership, while containing none of the later Roman distinctives: papal supremacy, Marian dogmas, transubstantiation, indulgences, or purgatory.

In plain terms, the Didachē, the Judicium Petri, and Papias preserve a window into genuine apostolic instruction; simple, moral, Christ-centered, Spirit-led, and carried on outside the control of Rome. Taken together, they reveal that the earliest Christian voice sounded like the Didachē, not like the later system of Roman Catholic dogma.

But let's look at it in more detail

Apostolic Teaching in Simplicity and Truth

The Didachē, an ancient manual of Christian instruction, opens by declaring “There are Two Ways: one of Life, and one of Death: and there is much difference between the two ways”. This vivid metaphor sets a moral dichotomy at the heart of the faith: the way of life is the path of righteousness, and the way of death the path of sin. The text immediately explains the Way of Life in practical terms, distilling Jesus’ ethical teachings. It commands first love of God and then love of neighbor, along with the Golden Rule: “The Way of Life then is this: first, thou shalt love God who hath made thee; secondly, thy neighbour as thyself; and all things whatsoever thou wouldest not should be done unto thee, do not thou unto another”. This teaching, directly echoing Scripture, shows that earliest Christianity emphasized moral living above all.

The Didachē’s chapters on the Two Ways read like a miniature catechism of Christian ethics. It reiterates the Ten Commandments and expands on them with clear applications. Believers are instructed, for example, “Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not commit adultery… thou shalt not destroy a child by abortion, neither shalt thou slay him that is born”. Such injunctions demonstrate how thorough and practical the apostolic moral teaching was – encompassing not only prohibitions against murder and theft, but even condemning abortion and infanticide, common practices in the pagan world. The Didachē insists that followers of “the Way of Life” “flee from all evil and from all that is like unto it”, urging a life of holiness, humility, and charity. In this earliest stratum of Christian instruction, we find no complex dogmas or speculative theology, but rather a straightforward call to live rightly. It is a call to “abstain from fleshly and bodily lusts”, to love one’s enemies, to be generous and truthful – in short, to “be perfect” by imitating Christ’s teachings. The simplicity and clarity of this moral code reflect the “purity of apostolic teaching” the early Church sought to preserve.

Baptism: A Simple, Sacred Initiation

In the Didachē, baptism is presented as the essential rite of initiation into the Christian community – and it is described with striking simplicity. After presenting the Two Ways teaching to new converts, the text continues: “Having first recited all these precepts baptize into the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost in living water”. In other words, once a person has been taught the basics of Christian life, they are to be baptized in water, invoking the Holy Trinity. The instructions are very practical and flexible, emphasizing the act of baptism itself over any elaborate ritual. The Didachē gives guidance for various circumstances, making it clear that the early Church prioritized the simple performance of the sacrament over ceremony:

• Use running water if available: “Baptize in living (running) water” – a preference likely symbolizing the “living water” of new life.

• If not, use what you have: “If thou hast not living water, baptize into other water; and if thou canst not in cold, then baptize in warm”. Still water or even warm water is acceptable – purity of heart matters more than the medium.

• In extremis, pouring is sufficient: “But if thou hast neither, pour out water upon the head thrice in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost”. Even a simple threefold pouring is valid baptism.

• Spiritual preparation: “Before the baptism let the baptizer and the baptized fast, and any others that are able; but thou shalt order the baptized to fast one or two days beforehand”. A period of fasting and prayer by the candidate, the minister, and the community lends spiritual gravity to the moment.

This uncomplicated procedure underscores that the earliest Christians saw baptism as a sacred but simple immersion into the faith, unencumbered by later sacramental complexities. There is no hint of confirmation rites or elaborate chrismations accompanying baptism, nor any requirement that a particular ordained hierarchy perform it – the text does not even specify that only a priest or bishop may baptize. The focus is simply on doing it in the name of the Trinity, with a heart of repentance and preparation. Baptism stands out as the one initiatory sacrament of the apostolic age, marking entrance into the Church without the superstructure of later doctrines. By “having first recited all these precepts”, the Didachē shows that catechesis (instruction) preceded baptism – converts were taught the basics of Christian morality and belief (the very contents of the Didachē itself) and then washed into the new life. This straightforward approach preserves the core of Jesus’ Great Commission (“baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit”) with nothing added.

Prayer and Fasting: Devotion Without Ornament

The prayer and fasting life of early Christians, as depicted in the Didachē, is likewise marked by simplicity and sincerity. The text exhorts believers to adopt regular disciplines of fasting, but pointedly distinguishes Christian practice from that of others: “And your fastings, let them not be with the hypocrites; for they fast on the second and fifth days of the week; but do ye fast on the fourth day and on the Preparation (the sixth day)”. Here we see the church establishing a twice-weekly fast (Wednesday and Friday) in deliberate contrast to the Monday/Thursday fasts of certain Jewish pious groups (“the hypocrites”). The concern is not elaborate penitential rituals or legalistic burdens, but rather fostering a genuine spirit of devotion.  By fasting mid-week, the early Christians practiced a humble rhythm of devotion that kept their focus on God without adding later inventions.

Prayer in the Didachē is centered on the Lord’s Prayer as the model given by Jesus himself. “Neither pray ye as the hypocrites,” the apostles’ teaching says, “but as the Lord commanded in His Gospel, even so pray ye: ‘Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…’”. The entire Our Father is then quoted, exactly as in the Gospel, and the believers are instructed: “Thrice a day thus pray ye.”. This is remarkable – the earliest Christian community is not directed to recite complex liturgies or incantations, but simply to pray the very prayer Jesus taught, three times daily, every day. The Didachē shows us an uncomplicated piety: Christians sanctify each day by frequently reciting the Lord’s Prayer, likely morning, noon, and evening. There is no mention of prayers to Mary or the saints, no rote recitation of creeds or devotions beyond this – prayer is entirely God-centered and scriptural. The absence of Marian devotions is especially noteworthy given later Catholic practice; in the Didachē’s program of prayer, only the “Our Father” is mandated, underscoring exclusive worship of the Father through Christ.

Through fasting and the Lord’s Prayer, the Didachē’s community cultivated a clear, firm, and reverent tone of devotion. They sought to purify themselves (“with an evil conscience” – i.e. unrepented sin – should not hinder one’s prayer) and to do so without ostentation. Notably, the text also urges believers to reconcile with others before praying: “Thou shalt not come to thy prayer with an evil conscience”, implying that unforgiveness or unresolved conflict has no place in true devotion. All of this paints a picture of worship that is humble and heart-felt – utterly unlike the later elaborate systems of penances, indulgences, and rote ceremonies. Prayer and fasting in the Didachē are simple practices of apostolic religion, not means of earning merit or tapping into a treasury of grace controlled by a clerical hierarchy.

Eucharistic Thanksgiving: The Communion of the Faithful

One of the most beautiful sections of the Didachē concerns what it calls the Eucharist – literally “thanksgiving” – the sacred meal shared by the community in memory of Jesus. The instructions for this “Service of Thanksgiving” (Didachē 9–10) reveal how simple and joyful early Christian worship was, centered on giving thanks to God. The text provides model prayers to be offered over the cup and the bread, and these prayers are directed to God the Father in gratitude for spiritual blessings. For example, over the cup the church prays: “We thank Thee, our Father, for the holy vine of David Thy servant, which Thou didst make known to us through Jesus Thy servant; to Thee be the glory for ever.” Over the broken bread they likewise pray: “We thank Thee, our Father, for the life and knowledge which Thou didst make known to us through Jesus Thy servant; … Even as this bread that was broken was scattered upon the mountains and being gathered together was made one, so let Thy Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into Thy kingdom”. These prayers are remarkable for what they include and what they omit. They include heartfelt thanksgiving for revelation and eternal life (“life and knowledge”) given through Jesus, and a petition for the unity of the Church. They omit any mention of a human priest offering a sacrifice, or any invocation of saints or angels. There is no elaborate theology of transubstantiation or sacrificial atonement here – the tone is one of grateful remembrance and celebration of the unity believers have in Christ. The Didachē calls the bread and cup simply “the thanksgiving (Eucharist)” and makes it a spiritual meal of praise.

Yet the Didachē’s Eucharist is not a casual feast; it is held in deep reverence. Only the baptized are allowed to partake: “And let none eat or drink of your Thanksgiving but those that have been baptized into the Name of the Lord; for indeed the Lord hath said concerning this, give not that which is holy unto the dogs.” In this sharp injunction we see how sacred the communion meal was to the early Church – it was the privilege of those who had entered the Way of Life through baptism. The gathering for Eucharist took place each week on the “Lord’s Day” (Saturday), as the Didachē notes: “On the Lord’s day of the Lord, assemble yourselves together and break bread and give thanks…”. This weekly assembly was accompanied by repentance and reconciliation within the community: believers are to come having confessed their transgressions so that “your sacrifice may be pure”, and anyone still in a quarrel must reconcile before joining, “that your sacrifice be not polluted”. The term “sacrifice” here is noteworthy – the Didachē understands the Eucharist (the church’s thankful offering of prayer and praise) as the fulfillment of Malachi’s prophecy: “In every place and time offer unto me a pure sacrifice”, says the Lord. The “pure sacrifice” is not a new literal sacrificial ritual, but the pure worship of the united church. Thus the Eucharist in the Didachē is best described as a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, kept pure by repentance and love. There is no hint of the later doctrine of the Mass as a propitiatory re-sacrifice of Christ, nor of a sacerdotal priesthood performing sacred rites apart from the people. Instead, the whole community together breaks bread and offers thanks, led presumably by their local leaders or prophets, and the emphasis is on spiritual communion with God and unity with one another.

The simplicity of this apostolic Eucharist stands in stark contrast to later medieval developments. Nowhere in the Didachē’s Eucharistic prayers is Mary mentioned, nor the saints, nor any idea of praying for souls in purgatory. The focus is entirely vertical (thanksgiving to God) and horizontal (fellowship among believers). By highlighting thanksgiving, knowledge of God, and the gathering of the Church into His kingdom, the Didachē shows us an early Lord’s Supper that is essentially evangelical in character – a proclamation of faith and gratitude. It is strikingly devoid of later Roman Catholic doctrinal accretions; it knows nothing of elevating the host, of Eucharistic adoration, or of withholding the cup from the laity. What we see is simply the family of God, cleansed by repentance, sharing a meal of thanks in the presence of their Father. This was the seed of the gospel in practice, pure and undefiled.

Church Leadership: Bishops and Deacons, not a Papal Throne

The Didachē offers a brief but illuminating window into early Church order and leadership – one that is profoundly local and charismatic rather than centralized and hierarchical. In Chapter 15, the text urges the community: “Elect therefore for yourselves bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord, men that are meek, and not lovers of money, and true and approved”. Several things are immediately clear from this instruction. First, leadership roles of bishop (episkopos, overseer) and deacon (servant/minister) existed, but they were plural and chosen by the local congregation (“elect for yourselves”). There is no mention of a singular head bishop or monarchical pope exercising authority over multiple churches. Instead, each community is to appoint its own faithful leaders, based on moral qualifications (humility, honesty, lack of greed) – leadership is a matter of character and service, not high office. These bishops and deacons, the Didachē says, “also minister to you the ministry of the prophets and teachers”. In other words, they carry on the same work of teaching and pastoral care that the itinerant apostles, prophets, and teachers did. They are “honored ones” in the community, but notably they are mentioned alongside prophets and teachers, not in supremacy over them. The picture is of a church led collectively by mature believers and guided as well by the Spirit through prophetic and teaching gifts. There is no hint here of a hierarchical chain of command extending beyond the local assembly.

The Didachē’s treatment of itinerant apostles and prophets (in Chapter 11) further highlights how different early authority was from later Roman Catholic structures. The text instructs the church to welcome true apostles (itinerant evangelists) and prophets, but also to test them by their conduct. A genuine apostle will stay only a day or two; “but if he abide three days he is a false prophet” (i.e. overstaying his welcome and sponging off the church). And critically, “if he ask for money, he is a false prophet”. This remarkable rule shows the suspicion of greed and power in the earliest church. Those who came speaking in the name of the Lord had to live humbly, depend on God, and move on – any whiff of avarice or desire for worldly gain disqualified them. Such a standard is worlds apart from later medieval practices where clergy often amassed wealth or sold indulgences for money. It also underscores that the early Church recognized no infallible human leader who could demand obedience or material support; even an “apostle” had to align with the established teaching and live exemplarily, or else be rejected. Indeed, the Didachē says: “Whoever then shall come and teach you all these things that have been aforesaid, receive him; but if the teacher himself … teach another doctrine so as to overthrow it, hearken not to him.” Here is accountability to the apostolic teaching: no matter who the visitor claims to be (even a prophet or apostle), if his message strays from the foundational teaching “that have been aforesaid” (i.e. the gospel and the Didachē’s precepts), the church must not listen. The authority lies in the faithful transmission of Jesus’ teaching, not in an office or title.

This early model completely lacks any concept of papal supremacy or infallibility. In the Didachē there is no “Vicar of Christ” on earth guiding all Christians. The Twelve Apostles are respected as the source of the teaching (the work itself is titled “The Teaching of the Lord through the Twelve Apostles to the Gentiles”), but their role is in delivering the unchanging teaching of Christ, not in establishing a continuing monarchial office. The local bishops in the text are plural and humble, more equivalent to what we might think of as parish pastors or elders. They are never depicted as successors to the Apostles in the later Catholic sense; rather, the entire community is guardian of the apostolic tradition. The Didachē even refers to prophets as “your high priests” in receiving the first-fruits offerings, implying that the charismatic ministry of prophecy – speaking God’s word – was considered the highest spiritual service, not a sacerdotal priesthood performing rituals. In the apostolic age, leadership is servant-oriented and charismatically validated, so unlike the highly formalized clerical hierarchy that would develop. The simple reality is that the Didachē knows nothing of a pope, cardinals, or a global episcopal empire. Its vision of church life is grounded in local communities, each with trustworthy bishops and deacons, under the Lordship of Christ and guided by the Spirit through genuine teachers. When errors or abuses arise, the remedy is not to appeal to a distant authority, but to measure everything against the “teaching of the Lord” already handed down.

“Hold Fast What You Have Received”: No Additions, No Subtractions

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the Didachē is its urgent insistence on preserving the purity of apostolic teaching exactly as it was given, without alteration. The text carries an explicit warning that could come straight from the pages of Scripture: “Thou shalt not forsake the commandments of the Lord, but thou shalt keep what thou hast received, neither adding nor taking away.” This admonition (which pointedly echoes Deuteronomy 4:2 and Revelation 22:18–19) shows that the early Church was self-conscious about guarding the deposit of faith. The believers are enjoined to stay true to the Lord’s commands as delivered by the Apostles – to not innovate, augment, or diminish the doctrine of Christ. In the Didachē’s view, the faith was already fully delivered to the saints; the task of the Church was not to expand it with new doctrines, but to live it and keep it whole. Similarly, the community is told: “See that no man lead thee astray from this Way of the Teaching; since he teacheth thee apart from God.” Any divergence from the established way is understood as leading people away from God. These are strong words, reflecting the apostolic urgency that Paul expressed when he said “even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to that which we preached, let him be accursed”. The Didachē captures that same spirit on a practical level for its readers: remain faithful, tolerate no contrary innovations.

Given this emphasis, it is profoundly illuminating to consider what the Didachē does not contain. If indeed this little text represents the core of apostolic instruction as taught in the late first century, then the omissions speak volumes about what was not part of early Christian belief. Nowhere in the Didachē do we find even a hint of the distinctive doctrines that would later come to define Roman Catholic Christianity. For example, Marian dogmas are entirely absent – Mary, the mother of Jesus, is never mentioned, let alone exalted with titles or called upon in prayer. There is no concept of the Immaculate Conception, no sinless co-mediatrix, no Queen of Heaven in this primitive document. The church of the Apostles directed all worship and prayer to God alone, as seen in the exclusive use of the Lord’s Prayer and thanksgiving to the Father. Likewise, the Didachē knows nothing of papal authority or infallibility. There is no pope in Rome issuing decrees to these early Christians; the idea of a supreme pontiff is utterly foreign to the world of the Didachē. Authority rests in the Lord’s commands and in the local elders who faithfully transmit them – not in any single bishop with universal jurisdiction. In fact, as discussed, any teacher who “goes beyond” or contrary to the received teaching is to be rejected, regardless of his claim – a principle hard to reconcile with later assertions of developing doctrine under papal aegis.

Furthermore, doctrines of a post-mortem purgatory or indulgences find no place in the Didachē or the consciousness of the early Church it reflects. The text’s eschatology (chapter 16) looks forward to the imminent return of Christ, the resurrection of the dead, and final judgment – it says nothing of an intermediate state of purging fire for the righteous. Early Christians lived in hope of Christ’s sudden return, urged to watch and pray lest they be found unworthy. They were not taught to expect a second-chance cleansing after death; such an idea would have been an alien addition to the “Way of Life” they were striving to follow. Naturally, then, there is no notion of indulgences (the remission of temporal punishment for sin via the church’s treasury of merits) – a practice that would only arise many centuries later. In the Didachē’s time, forgiveness of sins was sought through sincere confession and repentance within the community (hence the command to confess sins before communion). The grace of forgiveness was understood as God’s free gift in Christ, accessed by repentance and baptism, and continually lived out by humble confession and mutual forgiveness. The elaborate sacramental system of later Catholicism is simply not present: apart from baptism and the Eucharist, the Didachē does not institute any other rites as sacraments. There is no confirmation/chrismation ceremony described, no mention of a ritual of ordination conferring special powers on clergy, no penitential system of satisfactions – only the moral exhortation to reconcile and forgive. Marriage is not treated as a sacrament; anointing of the sick is not mentioned. The early Church’s religious life was focused on the basics Christ gave – baptism and the Lord’s Supper – surrounded by prayer, fasting, and holy living. Anything beyond that lies outside the scope of what the apostles handed down in this manual.

Importantly, the Didachē even contains a built-in safeguard against doctrinal innovation: “Whosoever … shall come and teach you all these things that have been aforesaid, receive him; but if the teacher himself teach another doctrine so as to overthrow it, hearken not to him.” The early Christians were thus actively on guard for anyone introducing teachings that did not accord with what they already received. This included not only obvious heresies and immoral edicts, but also any unwarranted additions presented as necessary doctrine. In light of this, the later medieval accretions – however well-intentioned or logical they may have seemed to those generations – appear as deviations from the original apostolic path. The contrast between the Didachē’s slim, unadorned rule of faith and the voluminous dogmas of Roman Catholicism is impossible to miss. One is a humble blueprint for Christian living; the other, a far-reaching system developed over centuries. The Didachē’s silence on matters Rome treats as dogma is a loud testimony that those matters were not part of the apostolic deposit of faith.

A closer look at their fasting practices reveals…

They describe fasting, prayer, and weekly assemblies, but they never identify Sunday as the “Lord’s Day.” Instead, their language matches the biblical definition of the Lord’s holy day: the Sabbath.

The Didachē (c. 80–100 AD) begins with fasting practices. It warns: “Do not fast with the hypocrites, for they fast on the second and fifth days of the week [Monday and Thursday]; but you fast on the fourth day [Wednesday] and the preparation [Friday]” (Did. 8:1). Early Christians distinguished themselves from Jewish customs, but Friday is still called the “Preparation Day,” the same word used in Luke 23:54 for the day before the Sabbath. This means that their weekly cycle still pointed to the Sabbath as the day of rest and holiness.

Prayer was also patterned on Jewish tradition. Didachē 8:3 commands, “Pray in this way three times a day,” referring to the Lord’s Prayer. This reflects the Jewish custom of praying morning, noon, and evening (cf. Psalm 55:17; Daniel 6:10).

For the assembly, Didachē 14:1 says, “On the Lord’s Day of the Lord (κατὰ κυριακὴν δὲ κυρίου), gather together and break bread, and give thanks …” It never names Sunday. In Scripture, the day called “the Lord’s holy day” is the Sabbath: “the seventh day is the Sabbath of the LORD your God” (Exod. 20:10), and Isaiah calls it “the holy day of the LORD” (Isa. 58:13). By biblical usage, the “Lord’s Day” means Sabbath, not the first day of the week. The Didachē’s wording is entirely consistent with this.

The Judicium Petri (late first to early second century) echoes the same pattern. James instructs: “Let a reader be appointed … present at the κυριακαῖς συνόδοις [assemblies of the Lord].” Again, the language is “Lord’s assemblies,” not “Sunday services.” Nothing in the text suggests that the weekly holy day had shifted to Sunday.

Instead, both texts reflect continuity with the fourth commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy … the seventh day is the Sabbath of the LORD your God … therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy” (Exod. 20:8–11). Isaiah 58:13 confirms this by calling the Sabbath (Saturday) “the holy day of the LORD.” When the Didachē and the Judicium Petri refer to the Lord’s Day or the Lord’s assemblies, the natural biblical meaning is the Sabbath: Friday sunset to Saturday sunset.

If Friday was the preparation for the Sabbath, why did the early Christians also observe a fast on Wednesday?

The text gives no reason. Later writers supplied one: Wednesday marks the betrayal; If you read the Gospels on their own terms; using Jewish timekeeping (sunset to sunset); the Didachē’s pairing fits naturally with a Wednesday crucifixion and a Friday fast as the ordinary Preparation for the Sabbath.

Jewish days begin at sundown (Gen. 1:5; Lev. 23:32). By that reckoning, an event at night and an event in the following daylight still belong to the same “day.” The Gospels say Judas betrayed Jesus by night, after the supper, and Jesus was arrested and tried through the night (Matt. 26–27; John 18). That night already belongs to the same biblical day as the morning that followed. On a Wednesday-crucifixion timeline, the arrest after sunset is the start of Wednesday; the trials run through the night; the crucifixion occurs the same Wednesday daylight; Jesus dies about the ninth hour (~3 p.m.) and is buried before sundown, as the Sabbath that was drawing near was a high Sabbath ; the feast day of Unleavened Bread; not the regular weekly Sabbath (John 19:31).

Betrayal, trial, crucifixion, and burial all fall within one sunset-to-sunset day.

This neatly resolves the “three days and three nights” problem. Jesus prophesied, “so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth” (Matt. 12:40 KJV). Count them by sunset reckoning from a Wednesday burial just before sundown: Night 1/Day 1 (Wed sunset→Thu sunset), Night 2/Day 2 (Thu sunset→Fri sunset), Night 3/Day 3 (Fri sunset→Sat sunset). Matthew 28:1 (KJV) then reads perfectly: ‘In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week…’ By the time the women arrived, the stone had already been rolled away and the tomb was empty. That yields a literal three nights and three days without forcing a symbolic count or compressing the hours to the ~36 of a Friday-to-Sunday scheme.

The Didachē’s Friday fast needs no crucifixion-theory to explain it: “Preparation” (παρασκευή) is the ordinary name for the day before Sabbath (Mark 15:42; Luke 23:54). Christians fasting on Friday aligns with entering the Sabbath rest—precisely the period in which Christ “rested” in the tomb. If Wednesday is His passion day (arrest at night; death by afternoon), the Didachē’s rhythm powerfully memorializes the story itself: fasting on the day of His suffering (Wednesday) and again on the Preparation as the community passes into Sabbath rest as commanded.

This also explains why the earliest manual gives reasons for neither fast: they were already embedded in practice. Only later, as a Friday tradition took hold, did writers like Tertullian supply the “betrayal Wednesday / crucifixion Friday” rationale—an attempt to retrofit the inherited Wednesday–Friday rhythm onto a newer Friday–Sunday chronology. But that retrofit creates a problem the Gospels do not: a silent, purposeless Thursday wedged between betrayal and crucifixion. By contrast, the Wednesday-crucifixion reading honors the narrative’s pace (betrayal at night, trial till morning, execution that day), honors Jesus’ own sign (three days and three nights), and honors the Didachē’s original cadence of fasting and assembly.

Two further anchors inside the Didachē reinforce this. First, its ethic insists on keeping Jesus’ words exactly: “Do not add to or take away from the command of the Lord” (Did. 4:13). A community that takes the Lord’s sayings at face value would not flatten “three days and three nights” into one full day plus parts. Second, baptismal preparation assumes fasting as a settled rhythm (Did. 7:4), which coheres with a Wednesday fast linked to His suffering: the catechumen’s self-denial mirrors the day of the Passion itself.

In sum: the Didachē is our earliest extra-biblical Christian instruction, and it fixes Wednesday and Friday as fasts without explanation; it names Friday “Preparation,” naturally tied to the Sabbath; it speaks of a “Lord’s Day” without naming Sunday, using biblical language that points to the Sabbath; and it exhorts strict obedience to Jesus’ words, which fits a literal “three days and three nights.” Read with Jewish sunset reckoning and the plain sense of Scripture (KJV; LXX), this evidence coheres into a compelling pattern: Wednesday is the day of the Passion, Friday the Preparation, Sabbath the Lord’s holy day, and the resurrection took place about 72 hours after His burial; just before sunset on Saturday, the same time of day He had been laid in the tomb. The later “betrayal-only Wednesday” gloss was a patch for a Friday tradition; the Didachē preserves the older memory that makes the Gospel timeline seamless.

Holding Fast to the Apostolic Faith

Reading the Didachē today, one cannot help but be struck by its clear, firm, and reverent tone – it breathes the atmosphere of the apostolic age, concerned entirely with preserving the purity of the Gospel as taught by Jesus and His twelve apostles. There is an urgency in its closing exhortations that still speaks across the centuries. “Watch for your life,” it warns, “let not your lamps be quenched… but be ye ready, for ye know not the hour in which our Lord cometh”. The Didachē envisages a church always on guard, “frequently gathered together” to build up their souls, enduring trial and deception in the last days, but holding fast till salvation. Implicit in this urgent hope is the understanding that the Gospel delivered once for all must not be compromised before the Lord’s return. This was the “faith once delivered to the saints,” and the early Christians were its custodians. They knew nothing of later dogmatic inventions; what they had was sufficient and saving. The Two Ways morality, the simple baptism, the fervent prayers and common Eucharist, the godly local leaders, and the strict adherence to Jesus’ teaching – these were the hallmarks of authentic Christianity.

In the Didachē’s voice we hear the echo of the Apostle Paul’s charge to Timothy to “guard what has been entrusted to you.” The text effectively says the same to us: “keep what thou hast received, neither adding nor taking away”. This is not a counsel of stagnation, but of faithfulness. True growth in doctrine comes in organic understanding and practice of what the apostles taught, not in layering new requirements or revelations on top of it. The sad reality, as history shows, is that many later doctrinal expansions were not faithful developments but deviations – additions of wood, hay, and stubble on the apostolic foundation. When we return to a document like the Didachē, we recover a vision of the Church in her youthful purity: devoted to “the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers,” and rejecting all adulteration of that precious deposit. In a time when complex traditions and hierarchies had not yet emerged, the believers could focus on what was essential and life-giving – loving God and neighbor, living a holy life, and worshiping with grateful hearts.

There is a profound positive challenge here for today: to retrieve this apostolic simplicity and sincerity as a measure for Christian life and doctrine. The Didachē reminds us that the seed of the Gospel, left in its pure form, bore fruit in transformed lives and tight-knit communities of faith. It urges us, in its own ancient words, to “hold fast” to that original teaching without addition. In doing so, we stand with the earliest Christians, “preserving the purity of apostolic teaching”, and we implicitly acknowledge that whatever is contrary to or beyond that teaching must be judged as an innovation of man, not the enduring truth of God. The clear contrast between the Didachē and later Roman doctrines speaks not in anger or polemics, but in the calm confidence of apostolic truth: “Whosoever cometh and teacheth you all these things… receive him.” The flip side is equally clear – those teachings that do not align with what the apostles left us must be set aside. The earliest church calls us back to the Gospel core with a firm and loving voice. It is now up to us to heed that call, “that [our] sacrifice may be pure” and that we may truly “endure to the end” and be saved.