Homilies on Romans, Homily 10

“Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, so death spread to (διἥλθεν6 mss. εἴς…) all people, because all sinned.” Just as the best doctors always work hard to discover the source of diseases and go to the very wellspring of the trouble, so does blessed Paul. After saying that we were justified and showing this from the Patriarch, from the Spirit, and from Christ’s death (for He would not have died unless He intended to justify us), he now draws on other evidence to confirm what he has proved at such length. He confirms his point through the opposites: death and sin. How? In what way? He asks where death came from and how it gained power. How, then, did death enter and gain power? “Through the sin of one.” But what does “because all sinned” mean? It means this: once he had fallen, all those descended from him became mortal, even though they had not eaten from the tree. Ver. 13. “For until the Law, sin was in the world, but sin is not counted against anyone where there is no law.” Some think he used the phrase “until the Law” to refer to the time before the Law was given—the time of Abel, for instance, or Noah or Abraham—until Moses was born. On this interpretation, what was the sin in those days? Some say he means the sin in Paradise. For up to that point it had not been removed (he would say), and its fruit was still flourishing. It had produced the death that everyone shares, which gained power and ruled over us. Why, then, does he continue, “But sin is not counted against anyone when there is no law”? Those who have argued on our side say that he stated this as an objection from the Jews: if there is no sin without the Law, how did death consume everyone before the Law? But it seems to me that the interpretation I am about to give has more in its favor and fits the Apostle’s meaning better. What is that interpretation? When he says, “Until the Law, sin was in the world,” he seems to me to mean that after the Law was given, the sin that came from breaking it gained power, and remained in power as long as the Law existed. For sin, he says, cannot exist if there is no law. If, then, this sin—the breaking of the Law—produced death, he means, how did everyone before the Law die? For if death originates in sin, but sin is not counted against anyone when there is no law, how did death gain power? This makes it clear that it was not this sin, the breaking of the Law, but Adam’s disobedience that ruined everything. What proves this? The fact that everyone died even before the Law: for “death reigned,” he says, “from Adam to Moses, even over those who had not sinned.” How did it reign? “In the likeness of Adam’s transgression, who is the figure of Him who was to come.” This is why Adam is a type of Christ. How is he a type? someone will ask. Because Adam became the cause of death for those descended from him, even though they had not eaten from the tree—the death introduced by his eating. In the same way, Christ became the Provider of righteousness for those descended from Him, even though they had not practiced righteousness—the righteousness He graciously gave us all through His Cross. That is why Paul keeps returning to the “one” at every turn and continually brings it before us, saying, “As sin entered the world through one man,” and, “If through the offense of one many died,” and, “The gift is not like what came through one who sinned,” and, “The judgment came through one and brought condemnation,” and again, “If through one (or, the one) man’s offense death reigned through one,” and, “Therefore, as through the offense of one.” And again, “As through one man’s disobedience many (or, the many) were made sinners.” He never lets go of the one, so that when a Jew asks you, “How was the world saved through the good action of this one Person, Christ?” you can ask him, “How was it condemned through the disobedience of this one person, Adam?” And yet sin and grace are not equal, death and life are not equal, the Devil and God are not equal; an immeasurable distance separates them. So when the nature of the act, the power of Him who performs it, and its very appropriateness all give this side the advantage and the victory (for saving is much more fitting for God than punishing), tell me, what single word can you offer in defense of unbelief? Still, he shows in the following words that what happened was reasonable. Ver. 15. “But the free gift is not like the offense. For if through the offense of one many died, much more have the grace of God and the gift by grace, which comes through one man, Jesus Christ, overflowed to the many.” What he says is something like this: if sin had such far-reaching effects—and the sin of just one man—how could grace, and God’s grace at that, the grace not only of the Father but also of the Son, fail to overflow even more? The latter is by far the more reasonable expectation. For one person to be punished because of another does not seem very reasonable. But for one person to be saved because of another is both more fitting and more reasonable. If, then, the former happened, the latter can happen all the more. On these grounds he has shown that it is likely and reasonable. Once the former was established, the latter would readily be accepted. But he proves from what follows that it must necessarily be so. How does he prove it? Ver. 16. “And the gift is not like what came through one who sinned. For the judgment came through one and brought condemnation, but the free gift came from many offenses and brought justification.” What is he talking about? Sin had the power to bring death and condemnation, but grace removed not only that one sin but also all those that followed in its wake. So, to keep the words “as” and “so” from seeming to make the blessings and the evils equal in extent, and to keep you from thinking, when you hear about Adam, that only the sin he introduced was removed, Paul says that pardon was granted for many offenses. How is this clear? Because after the countless sins committed after the sin in Paradise, the outcome was justification. But where there is righteousness, life and countless blessings necessarily follow, just as death followed where there was sin. For righteousness is greater than life, since it is the very root of life. He shows that many good things were introduced, and that not only that sin but all the others were taken away with it, when he says, “The gift came from many offenses and brought justification.” This necessarily includes proof that death too was torn up by its roots. But since he has said that the second is greater than the first, he must give further grounds for the same point. Earlier he said that if one man’s sin killed everyone, much more will the grace of One have the power to save. Then he shows that grace removed not only that sin but all the others too, and that sins were not merely removed, but righteousness was given as well. Christ did not simply do as much good as Adam did harm, but far more and greater good. Since he has made such statements, he now seeks further confirmation of them here. How does he provide it? He says, Ver. 17. “For if through one man’s offense death reigned through one, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift and (so Field with most mss.) of righteousness reign in life through one, Jesus Christ.” What he says amounts to something like this: what armed death against the world? Only one man’s eating from the tree. If death gained such great power from one offense, how can people who have received grace and righteousness out of all proportion to that sin still be subject to death? That is why he does not simply say “grace” here, but “superabundance of grace.” For we received far more of His grace than we needed merely to remove the sin. We were all at once freed from punishment, stripped off all wickedness, were also born again from above (John iii. 3), rose again with the old man buried, and were redeemed, justified, brought into adoption, sanctified, made brothers of the Only-begotten, joint heirs and members of one Body with Him, and counted as His Flesh. We were united to Him as a Body is united to its Head! Paul calls all these things a “superabundance” of grace, showing that what we received was not merely medicine to counteract the wound, but health, beauty, honor, glory, and dignities far beyond our natural condition. Each of these things by itself was enough to remove death; when they all plainly come together, not the slightest trace of it remains, nor can even a shadow of it be seen, so completely has it been removed. Suppose someone threw a person who owed ten mites (ὀβόλους) into prison, and not just the man himself but also his wife, children, and servants on his account. Then suppose someone else came and paid not only the ten mites, but also gave ten thousand talents of gold, brought the prisoner into the king’s courts and to the throne of supreme power, and gave him a share in the highest honor and every kind of splendor. The creditor would not be able to remember the ten mites. That is what has happened to us. For Christ has paid far more than we owe—as much more as the boundless ocean exceeds a little drop. So, you who hear this, do not hesitate when you see such a great store of blessings, or ask how that mere spark of death and sin was extinguished when such a sea of gifts flooded over it. This is what Paul indicated when he said that “those who have received the abundance of grace and righteousness will reign in life.” Having now clearly proved this, he returns to his earlier argument, driving it home by taking up the same wording again and saying that if everyone was punished for that offense, they can also be justified by these means. And so he says, Ver. 18. “Therefore, just as through the offense of one judgment came on all people and brought condemnation, so through the righteousness of One the free gift came on all people and brought justification that gives life.” And he presses the point again, saying, Ver. 19. “For just as through one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so through the obedience of One many will be made righteous.” What he says certainly seems to raise a serious question, but if anyone pays close attention, this too can easily be resolved. What is the question? It is the statement that through one person’s offense many were made sinners. There is nothing unlikely about his descendants becoming mortal once he had sinned and become mortal himself. But how would his disobedience make someone else a sinner? On that basis, such a person would not even deserve punishment, if he did not become a sinner through his own action. What, then, does “sinners” mean here? It seems to me to mean liable to punishment and condemned to death. He has shown clearly and at length that through Adam’s death we all became mortal. But the question now is: why did this happen? He does not go on to explain this, because it would contribute nothing to his present purpose. His argument is against a Jew who doubted and mocked righteousness through One. That is why, after showing that punishment too came on everyone through one, he has not added the reason for it. He avoids unnecessary matters and keeps to what is needed. The rules of debate no more required him to explain this than they required the Jew to do so, and therefore he leaves it unresolved. But if any of you asked in order to learn, we would answer this way: if we are clear-minded, we are so far from being harmed by this death and condemnation that we actually benefit from having become mortal. First, we do not sin in an immortal body; second, we gain countless reasons to live a godly life (φιλοσοφίας). For death, by its presence and by our expectation of it, urges us to be moderate, self-controlled, humble, and free from all wickedness. Along with these blessings—or rather, even before them—it has introduced other, greater ones. For this is where the martyrs’ crowns and the Apostles’ rewards come from. This is how Abel was justified, and Abraham too, in having killed his son; this is how John was justified, who was put to death for Christ’s sake, and the Three Children, and Daniel. For if we have the right disposition, not only death but even the devil himself will be unable to hurt us. Besides, there is this to say: immortality awaits us, and after being disciplined for a little while, we will enjoy the blessings to come without fear. In this present life we are in a kind of school, taught through disease, distress, temptations, poverty, and the other apparent evils, so that we may become fit to receive the blessings of the world to come. Ver. 20. “Moreover, the Law came in, so that the offense might increase.” Having shown that the world was condemned through Adam, but saved and freed from condemnation through Christ, he now turns at the right moment to discussing the Law, once again challenging the high opinion people have of it. He means that, far from doing any good or helping in any way, its arrival only increased the disorder. But once again, the word “that” states the result, not the cause. It was not given “in order that” the offense might increase; it was given to reduce and destroy the offense. The result went the opposite way, not because of the Law’s nature but because of the indifference of those who received it. But why did he not say, “The Law was given,” instead of “The Law came in along the way”? To show that the need for it was temporary, rather than absolute or essential. He says this to the Galatians too, showing the very same thing in another way: “For before faith came,” he says, “we were kept under the Law, confined until the faith that would later be revealed.” So it tended the flock for another, rather than for itself. Because the Jews were somewhat dull-minded, weak, and indifferent to the gifts themselves, the Law was given to convict them more fully, teach them their own condition clearly, and restrain them more by increasing the charges against them. But do not be afraid: this was done to make grace appear greater, not to make the punishment greater. That is why he continues, “But where sin increased, grace overflowed far more.” He does not say “overflowed,” but “overflowed far more.” For He gave us not only release from punishment, but forgiveness of sins and life as well. It is as if someone not only freed a man with a fever from his illness, but also gave him beauty, strength, and rank; or not only fed a hungry person, but also gave him great wealth and placed him in the highest position of authority. And how did sin increase? someone will ask. The Law gave countless commands. Since people broke them all, transgression increased. Do you see how great the difference is between grace and the Law? The one added to condemnation; the other brought a further abundance of gifts. After mentioning this generosity beyond words, he returns to the beginning and root of both death and life. What, then, is the root of death? Sin. That is why he also says, Ver. 21. “So that, just as sin reigned, leading to death, grace too might reign through righteousness, leading to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.” He says this to show that sin ranks as a king, while death is a soldier, placed under sin’s command and armed by it. If sin (i.e. sin) armed death, it is clear enough that the righteousness introduced by grace, which destroys sin, not only disarms death but destroys it too and completely overthrows its rule. For righteousness is the greater of the two, since it is introduced by God and grace, rather than by man and the devil, and leads our life to a better condition and to blessings without limit. For it will never end (this too shows you its superiority). The other drove us out of our present life, but grace, when it came, gave us immortal and eternal life rather than the present life. Christ is our guarantee of all these things. So do not doubt that you will have life if you have righteousness, for righteousness is greater than life, since it is life’s mother. Chap. vi. ver. 1. “What then? Should we continue in sin so that grace may increase? Absolutely not.” He turns again to exhortation, introducing it indirectly, as though it arose from the doctrines, so that many would not find him tiresome and irritating. For even when he varied his address in this way, he feared that they would take offense at what he said, and therefore said, “I have written to you somewhat more boldly” (Rom. xv. 15). How much harsher would he have seemed to them if he had not done so! Since he had shown the greatness of grace through the greatness of the sins it healed, unthinking people might take this as encouragement to sin. They would say, “If greater grace was shown because we committed great sins, let us keep sinning so that grace may be displayed still more.” To prevent them from saying or suspecting this, see how he turns the objection back on itself. First he does so with his emphatic rejection: “Absolutely not.” This is his usual response to things everyone agrees are absurd. Then he presents an argument that cannot be refuted. What is it? Ver. 2. “How can we,” he says, “who have died to sin, go on living in it?” What does “we have died” mean? Does it mean that, as far as sin itself is concerned, we have all received the sentence of death? Or that we died to it by believing and being enlightened? The latter is the better answer, since what follows clearly confirms it. But what does dying to sin mean? No longer obeying it in anything. Baptism accomplished this once and for all: it made us dead to sin. From then on, however, we must continually maintain this through our own earnest effort, so that even if sin gives us countless commands, we never obey it again, but remain as motionless as a dead person. Elsewhere he says that sin itself is dead. There he puts it that way to show that virtue is easy (Rom. vii. 8.). But here, because he is eager to stir his hearer, he places the death on the hearer’s side. Then, since his statement was unclear, he explains it again, also using what he has said as a rebuke. Ver. 3, 4. “Do you not know,” he says, “my brothers, that all of us who were baptized into Christ were baptized into His death? Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death.” What does being “baptized into His Death” mean? That it is intended for us to die as He did. For Baptism is the Cross. What the Cross and Burial are to Christ, Baptism has been to us, though not in the same respects. For He Himself died and was buried in the Flesh, while we have both died and been buried to sin. That is why he does not say “planted together in His Death,” but “in the likeness of His Death.” Both are a death, but the same thing does not die in each case: in Christ’s case it is the Flesh; in ours it is sin. Just as His death is real, so is ours. But if it is real, we must also contribute our part. And so he continues, “So that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the Glory of the Father, we too should walk in a new life.” Along with the duty to live carefully, he hints here at the resurrection. How? Do you believe, he means, that Christ died and was raised again? Then believe the same about yourself. The one is like the other, since both the Cross and Burial are yours. For if you have shared in Death and Burial, much more will you share in Resurrection and Life. Now that the greater thing—sin, I mean—has been removed, you should no longer doubt the lesser thing: the removal of death. For now, he leaves his hearers’ consciences to work this out. But after setting the coming resurrection before us, he himself requires another resurrection from us: a new way of life, brought about in this present life by a change in our habits. When a sexually immoral person becomes chaste, a greedy person merciful, and a harsh person gentle, a resurrection has taken place even here, as a prelude to the other. How is it a resurrection? Because sin has been put to death, righteousness has risen again, the old life has vanished, and a new, angelic life is being lived. But when you hear of a new life, expect a great transformation, a sweeping change. Yet tears come to my eyes, and I groan deeply when I think of how much godliness (φιλοσοφίαν) Paul requires of us, and how completely we have surrendered to indifference, going back after our baptism to our former old state, returning to Egypt, and remembering the garlic after the manna. (Num. xi. 5.) For ten or twenty days at the very time of our Illumination, we change, but then we take up our former practices again. Yet Paul requires this way of life for our entire lives, not for a set number of days. Instead, we return to our former vomit, building up the old age of sins after the youth of grace. For the love of money, slavery to improper desires, or any other sin makes the person who practices it old. “Now what is decaying and growing old is about to disappear.” (Heb. viii. 13.) For no body—surely none—can be seen so paralyzed by age as a soul is weakened and made unsteady by many sins. Such a soul reaches the furthest extreme of senility, making indistinct sounds like very old people who have lost their minds, weighed down with mucus, severe mental distortion, forgetfulness, and scales over its eyes, repulsive to people and easy prey for the devil. Such are the souls of sinners. The souls of the righteous are different: they are youthful and beautiful, always in the prime of life, ready for any fight or struggle. But sinners’ souls fall and collapse at even a slight shock. This is what the Prophet showed when he said that, like chaff scattered by the wind from the face of the earth (Ps. i. 4), those who live in sin are tossed back and forth and exposed to every kind of harm. They neither see like a healthy person nor listen with an open mind; they cannot speak clearly, but struggle with severe shortness of breath. Their mouths overflow with saliva. If only it were merely saliva, with nothing offensive in it! Instead, they pour out words more foul-smelling than any mud. Worst of all, they cannot even spit this saliva of words away from themselves, but with great indecency take it in their hands and smear it on themselves again, until it becomes so thick that sweat can hardly pass through. Perhaps this description makes you sick. Should the reality not make you sicker still? For if these things are disgusting in the body, they are much more so in the soul. Such was that son who squandered his entire share and was reduced to utter misery, in a weaker condition than anyone mentally impaired or deranged. But when he was willing, he suddenly became young through his decision and change alone. As soon as he said, “I will return to my Father,” that one statement brought him every blessing—or rather, not the bare statement, but the action he added to it. He did not say, “Let me go back,” and then stay where he was. He said, “Let me go back,” and went back, traveling the whole way home. Let us do the same. Even if we have been carried beyond the border, let us go up to our Father’s house instead of lingering over the length of the journey. For if we are willing, the way back is easy and very quick. Let us only leave the strange and foreign land—for that is what sin is, drawing us far from our Father’s house. Let us leave her, then, so that we may quickly return to our Father’s house. For our Father has a natural longing for us, and if we change, He will honor us no less than those who are unstained—even more, just as the father showed that son greater honor. For he himself took greater pleasure in receiving his son back. “And how am I to go back?” someone may ask. Just make a beginning, and the whole thing is accomplished. Stop doing evil and go no further into it, and you have already taken hold of the whole. For just as getting no worse can be the beginning of recovery for the sick, so it is with vice. Go no further, and your wicked actions will come to an end. If you do this for two days, you will find it easier to hold back on the third. After three days you will add ten, then twenty, then a hundred, then your whole life. (Cf. Hom. xvii. on St. Matt. p. 267, O.T.) For the further you go, the easier you will find the way, and you will stand at the very summit and enjoy many good things at once. That is how it was when the prodigal returned: there were flutes, harps, dancing, feasts, and gatherings. The father, who could have called his son to account for his reckless extravagance and his flight so far away, did nothing of the kind. He regarded him as unstained and could not bring himself even to reproach him—or rather, even to mention his past at all. Instead, he threw himself on him, kissed him, killed the calf, dressed him in a robe, and showered him with honors. With such examples before us, let us take courage and keep from despair. For He is more pleased to be called Father than Master, and to have a son than a slave. This is what He prefers. This is why He did everything He has done and “did not spare even His Only-begotten Son” (Rom. viii. 32): so that we might receive adoption as sons and love Him not only as Master but as Father. If He receives this from us, He delights in it as someone receiving glory, and proclaims it to everyone, though He needs nothing from us. This is what He does everywhere in Abraham’s case, for instance, using these words: “I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” Yet it was the members of His household who should have found honor in this; instead, the Lord clearly takes pride in it Himself. That is why He says to Peter, “Do you love Me more than these?” (John xxi. 17), to show that this is what He seeks from us above everything else. This too is why He commanded Abraham to offer his son to Him: to make it known to everyone that the patriarch loved Him deeply. This desire to be loved so greatly comes from loving so greatly. This is also why He said to the Apostles, “Anyone who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me.” (Matt. x. 37.) For this reason He commands us to place even what is most closely connected with us, our soul (or, life, v. 39, and John xii. 25), second to love for Him, since He wishes us to love Him with complete devotion. We too, if we have no strong feelings for someone, have no strong desire for his friendship, even if he is great and noble. But when we love someone warmly and truly, even if the person we love is lowly and humble, we regard his love as a very great honor. That is why He Himself called it glory not only to be loved by us, but even to suffer those shameful things on our behalf. (ib. 23.) Yet those things were glorious only because of love. Whatever we suffer for Him, however, can rightly be called glory and truly is glory, not only because of love but also because of the greatness and dignity of the One we long for. Let us, then, face dangers for Him as though running to win the greatest crowns, and let us regard neither poverty nor disease nor insult nor slander nor death itself as heavy and burdensome when we suffer these things for Him. For if we have the right disposition, we gain the greatest possible benefit from these things; if we do not, even their opposites will do us no good. Consider this: does someone insult you and make war on you? Doesn’t that put you on your guard and give you an opportunity to become like God? For if you love the person who plots against you, you will be like Him who “makes His Sun rise on the evil and the good.” (Matt. v. 45.) Does someone else take your money? If you bear it nobly, you will receive the same reward as those who have spent everything they have on the poor. For it says, “You joyfully accepted the seizure of your possessions, knowing that you have in heaven a better and lasting possession.” (Heb. x. 34.) Has someone reviled and abused you? Whether he spoke truthfully or falsely, he weaves a very great crown for you if you bear his insults gently, since the slanderer too provides us with an abundant reward. For it says, “Rejoice and be very glad when people falsely say all kinds of evil against you, because your reward in Heaven is great.” (Matt. v. 12, 11.) The person who speaks truth against us also does us a great service, if we only bear what is said gently. For the Pharisee spoke evil of the Tax Collector, and spoke truthfully, yet he turned him from a Tax Collector into a righteous man. (Luke xviii. 11.) Why go through individual examples? Anyone who turns to Job’s struggles can learn all these points thoroughly. That is why Paul said, “God is for us; who is against us?” (Rom. viii. 31.) Just as earnest effort lets us benefit even from things that trouble us, indifference keeps us from improving even through things that favor us. Tell me, what did Judas gain from being with Christ? What good did the Law do the Jew, or Paradise do Adam? What good did Moses do those in the wilderness? So we should set everything else aside and look to this one point: how to use our own resources properly. If we do this, even the devil himself will never get the better of us, but will increase our progress by making us watchful. This is how Paul stirs the Ephesians, by describing the devil’s fierceness. Yet we sleep and snore, though we face such a crafty enemy. If we knew that a snake was curled up beside our bed, we would make every effort to kill it. But when the devil curls up in our souls, we imagine that we are suffering no harm and lie at ease, because we do not see him with our bodily eyes. Yet that is precisely why we should rouse ourselves all the more and stay alert. It is easy to guard against an enemy we can see; but unless we are continually armed, we will not easily escape one we cannot see. This is all the more true because he has no intention of fighting openly (for he would certainly be defeated quickly), but often slips in the venom of his cruel malice under the appearance of friendship. This is how he enlisted Job’s wife, putting on the mask of natural affection to give that reckless advice. Likewise, when speaking with Adam, he pretends to be concerned and to be watching over his interests, and says, “Your eyes will be opened on the day you eat from the tree.” (Gen. iii. 5.) In the same way, under the pretext of religion, he persuaded Jephthah to kill his daughter and offer the sacrifice the Law forbade. Do you see his tricks and the different ways he fights? Be on your guard, then, and arm yourself completely with the weapons of the Spirit. Learn his plans thoroughly, so that you can both avoid being caught and easily catch him. This is how Paul got the better of him: by learning his plans thoroughly. And so he says, “For we are not ignorant of his schemes.” (2 Cor. ii. 11.) Let us too be earnest in learning and avoiding his strategies, so that after defeating him we may be proclaimed conquerors, whether in this present life or in the life to come, and receive those unmixed blessings, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ. With Him, may glory, power, and honor be to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.