24. Our relationship to the weak: welcoming, and not despising, judging or offending them
Both previous chapters of Romans have emphasized the priority of love, whether loving our enemies (12:9, 14, 17ff.) or loving our neighbours (13:8ff.). Now Paul supplies a lengthy example of what it means in practice to ‘act in love’ (14:15). It concerns the relations between two groups in the Christian community in Rome whom he names ‘the weak’ and ‘the strong’: ‘we who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak’ (15:1).
It is important to be clear at the outset that Paul is referring to a weakness neither of will nor of character, but of ‘faith’ (14:1). It is a ‘weakness in assurance that one’s faith permits one to do certain things’. So if we are trying to picture a weaker brother or sister, we must not envisage a vulnerable Christian easily overcome by temptation, but a sensitive Christian full of indecision and scruples. What the weak lack is not strength of self-control but freedom of conscience.
But who were the weak and the strong in Rome? Four main proposals have been made concerning the identity of the weak. The strong then identify themselves by contrast.
First, it is suggested that the weak were ex-idolaters, freshly converted from paganism, the same group in fact whom Paul had encountered in Corinth and of whom he had written in 1 Corinthians 8. Although now rescued from idolatry, their overscrupulous conscience prohibited them from eating meat which, before being sold by the local butcher, had been used in sacrifice to an idol. They feared that to eat idol-meats (eidōlothyta) would compromise and so contaminate them.
Comparing Romans 14 with 1 Corinthians 8, there are certainly some obvious similarities. Both chapters refer to eating and abstaining, to the danger of causing the weak to stumble, to the sanctity of the conscience, to the voluntary limitation of Christian freedom, and to ‘the brother or sister for whom Christ died’. But in Romans 14 there is no reference to idol-meats, and no hint that the question of idolatry was involved in the debate. We surely have to conclude that, although some of the same principles were involved in the two debates, the situations in Corinth and Rome were different.
The second suggestion is that the weak were ascetics. To be sure, ‘the broad distribution of religious asceticism in antiquity is . . . well documented’, and ascetic ideas and practices could have infiltrated into the Roman church. Ascetic movements existed both in paganism (e.g. the Pythagoreans) and in Judaism (e.g. the Essenes). Such austerity might explain why the weak abstained from wine as well as meat (14:21). But beyond this the evidence is insufficient.
Third, C. K. Barrett has maintained that the weak were legalists. The phrase ‘weak in faith’, he proposes, ‘attests a failure to grasp the fundamental principle, which page after page of this epistle emphasizes, that we are justified and reconciled to God not by vegetarianism, sabbatarianism, or teetotalism, but by faith alone’. In other words, the weak (being weak in faith) regarded their observances and abstentions as good works necessary for salvation. But in Galatians Paul pronounced a solemn curse upon anyone who in such ways distorted the gospel of grace; could he have been so gentle with the weak in Rome, so lacking in anger towards them, if the very essence of the gospel were at stake?
The fourth and most satisfactory proposal is that the weak were for the most part Jewish Christians, whose weakness consisted in their continuing conscientious commitment to Jewish regulations regarding diet and days. As for diet, they will have kept the Old Testament food laws, eating only clean items (14:14, 20). In addition, either they will have assured themselves that their meat was kosher (the animal having been slaughtered in the prescribed way) or, because of the difficulty of guaranteeing this, they may have abstained from meat altogether. As for special days, they will have observed both the sabbath and the Jewish festivals. All this fits a Jewish Christian context.
Paul’s conciliatory attitude to the weak (not allowing the strong to despise, browbeat, condemn or damage them) is also in keeping with the Jerusalem Council’s decree, which had been designed precisely to restrain the strong and safeguard the consciences of the weak. Having stated categorically that circumcision was not necessary for salvation (the central theological principle in the debate), the Council not only (tacitly) gave Jewish Christians the freedom to continue their distinctive cultural–ceremonial practices, but asked Gentile Christians in certain circumstances to abstain from practices which would offend sensitive Jewish Christian consciences (e.g. asking them to avoid eidōlothyta and non-kosher meat). The apostle Paul evidently followed these guidelines in his own ministry, combining no compromise on principle with concessions on policy.
Further, this understanding of the background to Romans 14:1 – 15:7, and of its purpose to enable conservative-minded Christians (mostly Jewish) and liberal-minded Christians (mostly Gentiles) to coexist amicably in the Christian fellowship, also prepares the way for Paul’s eloquent conclusion (15:5ff.). In it the weak and the strong disappear from view, Jewish and Gentile believers take their place, and this reconciled multi-ethnic community is heard ‘with one mind and one voice’, in glorious gospel harmony, worshipping ‘the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (6ff.).
To be sure, the groups were not identical; there was some overlap. The text does not allow us to make the neat equation that ‘weak = Jewish Christian’ and ‘strong = Gentile Christian’. For doubtless some of the weak were Gentile believers who had been ‘God-fearers’ on the edge of the synagogue and had grown accustomed to the traditions of Judaism, whereas some of the strong were Jewish Christians who (like Paul) had developed an educated conscience and rejoiced in their Christian freedom. Certainly this was Paul’s personal position. He makes it quite clear that he believes the position of the strong to be correct (14:14, 20); he writes throughout from the perspective of the strong; and he explicitly associates himself with them when he writes, ‘We who are strong . . .’ (15:1).
Professor Dunn goes further. The tensions in Rome, he suggests, were ‘between those who saw themselves as part of an essentially Jewish movement and therefore obligated to observe the characteristic and distinctive Jewish customs, and those who shared Paul’s understanding of a gospel which transcended Jewish particularity’. Although diet had always separated Jews from their pagan neighbours (as in the case of Daniel in Babylon), ‘the Maccabean crisis had made observance of these (dietary) laws a test of Jewishness, a badge of loyalty to covenant and nation’. In fact, ‘dietary rules constituted one of the clearest boundary markers which distinguished Jews from Gentiles’. The observance of the sabbath was another. Thus ‘“eating unclean food and violating the sabbath” ranked together as the two chief hallmarks of covenant disloyalty’, while strictness in both was of fundamental importance in maintaining covenant faithfulness. Therefore, James Dunn concludes, to characterize Romans 14 – 15 as ‘a discussion of “unessentials” . . . misses the centrality and crucial nature of the issue for earliest Christianity’s self-understanding’.
All this is without doubt true and well said, but only so long as we go on immediately to clarify Paul’s position in relation to it. For vital to his strategy in these chapters is his insistence that, from a gospel perspective, questions of diet and days are precisely non-essentials. He even approaches sarcasm when he puts ‘the kingdom of God’ alongside ‘eating and drinking’, as if they could be compared (14:17), and when he pleads with the strong, ‘Do not destroy the work of God for the sake of food’ (14:20).
There is a similar need for discernment today. We must not elevate non-essentials, especially issues of custom and ceremony, to the level of the essential and make them tests of orthodoxy and conditions of fellowship. Nor must we marginalize basic theological or moral questions as if they were only cultural and not particularly important. Paul distinguished between these things; so should we.
Paul does not insist that everybody else agrees with him, as he did in the early chapters of his letter regarding the way of salvation. No, the Roman issues were dialogismoi (14:1), ‘disputable matters’ on which it was not necessary for all Christians to agree. The sixteenth-century Reformers called such things adiaphora, ‘matters of indifference’, whether (as here) they were customs and ceremonies, or secondary beliefs which are not part of the gospel or the creed. In either case they are matters on which the Bible does not clearly pronounce. In our day we might mention such practices as the mode of baptism (whether by immersion or pouring), episcopal confirmation (whether it is a legitimate part of Christian initiation), the giving and receiving of a wedding ring (which was hotly contested by the Puritans in the seventeenth century), and the use of cosmetics, jewellery and alcohol, together with such beliefs as which charismata are available and/or important, whether miraculous ‘signs and wonders’ are intended to be frequent or infrequent, how Old Testament prophecy has been or will be fulfilled, when and how the millennium will be established, the relation of history to eschatology, and the precise nature of both heaven and hell. In these and other issues, today as in first-century Rome, the problem is how to handle conscientious differences in matters on which the Bible is either silent or seemingly ambiguous, in such a way as to prevent them from disrupting the Christian fellowship.
One further characteristic of this passage deserves our attention, namely Paul’s remarkable blend of theology and ethics. He is treating some very mundane matters, yet he grounds them in the truths of the cross, the resurrection, the parousia and the judgment.
The outline of Paul’s argument in this long section (14:1 – 15:13) seems to be as follows. First, he lays down the fundamental principle of acceptance (especially the acceptance of the weak) which undergirds the whole discussion. It is positive (‘Accept’), yet qualified (‘without quarrelling over disputable matters’, 14:1). Then second, covering the rest of the passage, he develops three negative deductions which follow from his positive principle. He tells his readers that they must neither despise nor condemn the weak (2–13a); that they must neither offend nor destroy them (13b–23); and that they must not please themselves, but follow Christ’s unselfish example (15:1–4). In conclusion he celebrates the union of Jews and Gentiles in the worship of God (15:5–13).
1. The positive principle (14:1)
The positive principle is in two parts. First, Accept the one whose faith is weak (1a). We note that there is no attempt to conceal or disguise what these brothers and sisters are. They are weak in faith (here meaning ‘conviction’), immature, untaught, and (as Paul’s unfolding argument makes clear) actually mistaken. Yet they are to be neither ignored, nor reproached, nor (at least at this stage) corrected because of this, but rather to be received into the fellowship. Proslambanō means more than to ‘accept’ people, in the sense of agreeing with their existence, even in their right to belong; more even than to ‘receive or accept in one’s society, into one’s home or circle of acquaintances’ (BAGD). It means to welcome into one’s fellowship and into one’s heart. It implies the warmth and kindness of genuine love. It is used in this way in the New Testament of Philemon giving to Onesimus the same welcome that he would give to the apostle, of the Maltese who welcomed the bedraggled, shipwrecked company after they had swum ashore, and even of Jesus who promises to welcome his people into his presence in heaven.
‘Acceptance’ is a popular word today, and rightly so. Theologically, God’s acceptance of us is quite a good contemporary term for justification. But we should be cautious about modern talk of ‘unconditional acceptance’, as when the concept of an ‘open church’ is canvassed, in which membership is offered to everybody, with no questions asked and no conditions laid down. For though God’s love is indeed unconditional, his acceptance of us is not, since it depends on our repentance and our faith in Jesus Christ. We need to bear this in mind when we consider that we are to accept the weak (14:1) since ‘God has accepted them’ (14:3), and to accept one another ‘just as Christ accepted’ us (15:7).
Second, having reflected on the principle of acceptance, we need to observe its qualification: without quarrelling over disputable matters (1b). Both Greek nouns have a range of meanings. Diakriseis (translated quarrelling) can mean discussions, debates, quarrels or judgments, and dialogismoi can mean opinions, scruples or ‘the anxious internal debates of conscience’. Paul is saying, then, that we must receive the weak person with a warm and genuine welcome, ‘without debate over his misgivings’ or ‘not for the purpose of getting into quarrels about opinions’ (BAGD). In other words, we are not to turn the church into a debating chamber, whose chief characteristic is argument, still less into a law court in which weak people are put in the dock, interrogated and charged. The welcome we give them must include respect for their opinions.
2. The negative consequences (14:2 – 15:13)
a. Do not despise or condemn those who are weak (14:2–13a)
It may be helpful, in order that we may grasp the drift of Paul’s argument, to highlight each particular theological truth on which his appeals are based. There are four.
i. Welcome them because God has welcomed them (14:2–3)
Paul chooses the dietary question as his first illustration of how the weak and the strong, the fearful and the free, should behave towards one another. One person’s faith allows them to eat anything, his or her freedom in Christ having set this person free from unnecessary scruples about food, but another, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables (2). This is probably not because this person is a vegetarian on principle or for health reasons, but because the only certain way of ensuring that he or she never eats non-kosher meat is not to eat any meat at all. How are these Christians to regard one another? The one who eats everything [the strong] must not treat with contempt the one who does not [who is weak on account of his or her scruples], and the one who does not eat everything [the weak] must not judge the one who does [who is strong on account of his or her freedom].
It is uncertain why the strong are forbidden to ‘treat with contempt’ the weak, and the weak to ‘judge’ the strong. Perhaps it is that, whereas the strong might be tempted to pity the weakness of the weak, the weak might regard the strong, who have abandoned Israel’s time-honoured traditions, as having committed apostasy and therefore as deserving condemnation. Whether or not this is correct, the reason both the despising and the condemning of fellow Christians are wrong is that God has accepted them (3). How dare we reject a person whom God has accepted? Indeed, the best way to determine what our attitude to other people should be is to determine what God’s attitude to them is. This principle is better even than the golden rule. It is safe to treat others as we would like them to treat us, but it is safer still to treat them as God does. The former is a ready-made guide based on our fallen self-centredness, while the latter is a standard based on God’s perfection.
ii. Welcome them because Christ died and rose to be the Lord (14:4–9)
The argument moves on. If it is inappropriate to reject somebody whom God has welcomed, it is at least as inappropriate to interfere in the relationship between a master and his oiketēs, his household slave. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? (4a). In ordinary life such behaviour would be regarded as outrageous and would be deeply resented. Just so, we have no business to come between a fellow Christian and Christ, or to usurp Christ’s position in his or her life. To their own master, servants stand or fall. For they are not responsible to us, nor are we responsible for them. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand (4b), giving them his approval, whether they have ours or not.
Paul now develops his second illustration of the relations between the strong and the weak. It concerns the observance or non-observance of special days, presumably Jewish festivals, whether feasts or fasts, and whether weekly, monthly or annual. He begins by describing the alternatives without comment. One person considers one day more sacred than another [the weak]; another considers every day alike [the strong]. The latter does not distinguish between days any more than between foods. To whichever group his readers might belong, Paul’s first concern for them is this: Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind (5). Paul is not encouraging mindless behaviour. Nor is he friendly to unexamined traditions.
But assuming that each (weak and strong) has reflected on the issue and has reached a firm decision, they will then reckon their practice to be part of their Christian discipleship. Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord (6a). They do it, that is, to the Lord, with the intention of pleasing and honouring him. And the same is true of those who regard every day alike, although Paul does not mention them in verse 6. Instead, he reverts to the question of meat and in doing so adds an important double principle, which is related to thanksgiving: Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God (6b). Whether one is an eater or an abstainer, the same two principles apply. If we are able to receive something from God with thanksgiving, as his gift to us, then we can offer it back, as our service to him. The two movements, from him to us and from us to him, belong together and are vital aspects of our Christian discipleship. Both are valuable and practical tests. ‘Can I thank God for this? Can I do this unto the Lord?’
This introduction of the Lord into our lives applies to every situation. For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone (7). On the contrary, if [that is, ‘while’] we live, we live for the Lord; and if [that is, ‘when’] we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord (8). Life and death seem to be taken as together making up the sum total of our human being. While we continue to live on earth and when through death we begin the life of heaven, everything we have and are belongs to the Lord Jesus and must therefore be lived to his honour and glory. Why is this? Here is Paul’s answer. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living (9). It is wonderful that the apostle lifts the very down-to-earth question of our mutual relationships in the Christian community to the high theological level of the death, resurrection and consequent universal lordship of Jesus. Because he is our Lord, we must live for him. Because he is also the Lord of our fellow Christians, we must respect their relationship to him and mind our own business. For he died and rose to be Lord.
iii. Welcome them because they are your brothers or sisters (14:10a)
After writing about the strong and the weak, the observers and the abstainers, the living and the dead, all in rather general and impersonal terms, Paul suddenly poses two straight questions in which he sets over against each other ‘you’ and ‘your brother or sister’. You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? (10a). Despising and judging fellow Christians (the same two verbs are used as in verse 3), ‘the smile of disdainful contempt’ and ‘the frown of condemnatory judgment’, are both now shown up to be totally anomalous attitudes. Why? Not only because God has accepted them, and because Christ has died and risen to be our common Lord, but also because they and we are related to one another in the strongest possible way, by family ties. Whether we are thinking of the weak, with all their tedious doubts and fears, or of the strong, with all their brash assurances and freedoms, they are our brothers and sisters. When we remember this, our attitude to them becomes at once less critical and impatient, more generous and tender.
iv. Welcome them because we will all stand before God’s judgment seat (14:10b–13a)
There is an obvious link between our not judging our brother or sister (10a) and our having to stand before God’s judgment seat (10b). We should not judge, because we are going to be judged. There seems to be a reference to the word of Jesus: ‘Do not judge, or you too will be judged.’ But what kind of ‘judging’ was Jesus referring to? He was not forbidding criticism, or telling us to suspend our critical faculties. If we did that, we would not be able to obey one of his next instructions, namely to ‘watch out for false prophets’. No, what is prohibited to the followers of Jesus is not criticism but censoriousness, ‘judging’ in the sense of ‘passing judgment on’ or condemning. And the reason he gives is that we ourselves will one day appear before the Judge. In other words, we have no warrant to climb onto the bench, place our fellow human beings in the dock, and start pronouncing judgment and passing sentence, because God alone is Judge and we are not, as we will be forcibly reminded when the roles are reversed.
In order to confirm this, Paul quotes from Isaiah 45:23: ‘As surely as I live,’ says the Lord [an introductory formula which occurs before several other prophetic oracles, though not in this text], ‘Every knee will bow before me; every tongue will acknowledge God’ (11). The emphasis is on the universality of God’s jurisdiction, in that every knee and every tongue will pay homage to him. So then, Paul continues, in the light of this Scripture, each of us individually, not all of us in a mass, will give an account of ourselves, not of other people, to God (12). Therefore, because God is the Judge and we are among the judged, let us stop passing judgment on one another (13a), for then we shall avoid the extreme foolishness of trying to usurp God’s prerogative and anticipate Judgment Day.
Four theological truths, then, undergird Paul’s instruction to welcome the weak, and neither despise nor condemn them. They concern God, Christ, them and ourselves. First, God has accepted them (3). Second, Christ died and rose to be the Lord, both theirs and ours (9). Third, they are our sisters and brothers, so that we are members of the same family (10a). Fourth, all of us will stand before God’s judgment seat (10b). Any one of these truths should be enough to keep our relationships healthy; the four together leave us without excuse. And there are still two to come!
b. Do not offend or destroy the weak person (14:13b–23)
As in the previous section it is our relationship to the weak which is mainly in mind here. The reciprocal duties between the weak and the strong are mentioned here but the chief emphasis throughout is on the Christian responsibility of the strong towards the weak. The argument moves on, however, from how the strong should regard the weak to how they should treat them, that is, from attitudes (not despising or condemning them) to actions (not causing them to stumble or destroying them).
Instead of passing judgment on one another, Paul writes, make up your mind not to put any stumbling-block or obstacle in the way of a brother or sister (13b). There is a play on words in the Greek sentence, which contains a double use of the verb krinein, ‘to judge’. ‘Let us therefore cease judging one another, but rather make this simple judgment . . .’ (neb). The judgment or decision which we are to make is to avoid putting either a hindrance (proskomma) or a snare (skandalon) in our brother or sister’s path and so causing him or her to trip and fall. But why? Paul goes on to lay two theological foundations for his appeal, in addition to the four developed in verses 1–13a.
i. Welcome them because they are your brothers or sisters for whom Christ died (14:14–16)
Before deploying this argument for not harming weaker brothers or sisters, however, Paul explains in very personal terms the dilemma which faces the strong. It is created by two truths in conflict with each other. First, I am convinced, being fully persuaded in the Lord Jesus, as strong Christians are when they have a good doctrine of creation, that nothing is unclean in itself (14a). Paul’s reference to the Lord Jesus probably does not mean that he is actually quoting him, although he is sure to have been familiar with Jesus’ controversy with the Pharisees over the clean and the unclean, and with the risen Lord’s word to Peter not to call unclean what God has made clean. The reference seems to be more general (‘All that I know of the Lord Jesus convinces me that . . .’, reb), and is also a claim to be in close personal union with Christ as his disciple and specially as his apostle. However he came to his conviction, it was that no food was in itself unclean. But, and this is the second part of the dilemma, if anyone regards something as unclean, because that person’s conscience tells him or her it is, then for that person it is unclean (14b), and he or she should not eat it. Verse 14 refers, of course, to ceremonial or cultural (not moral) issues, for Paul is quite explicit that some of our thoughts, words and deeds are intrinsically evil.
The paradox, then, which faces the strong is that some foods are both clean and unclean simultaneously. On the one hand, the strong are convinced that all foods are clean. On the other, the weak are convinced that they are not. How should the strong behave when two consciences are in collision? Paul’s response is unambiguous. Although the strong are correct, and he shares their conviction because the Lord Jesus has endorsed it, they must not ride roughshod over the scruples of the weak by imposing their view on them. On the contrary, they must defer to the weaker brother or sister’s conscience (even though it is mistaken) and not violate it or cause him or her to violate it. Here is the reason: If your brother or sister is distressed [feels grief and even pain] because of what you eat, not only because they see you doing something of which they disapprove, but because they are encouraged to follow your example against their conscience, you are no longer acting in love (15a), no longer walking the path of love. For love never disregards weak consciences. Love limits its own liberty out of respect for them. For to wound a weaker brother or sister’s conscience is not only to distress but to ‘destroy’ him or her, and that is totally incompatible with love. Do not by your eating destroy someone for whom Christ died (15b).
Paul has already referred to the weaker Christian as a ‘brother or sister’ (10) on two occasions; now he repeats the phrase three more times (13, 15, 21), and adds the poignant description for whom Christ died. If Christ loved them enough to die for them, should we not love them enough to refrain from wounding their consciences? If Christ sacrifices himself for their well-being, should we act in a way which leads to them being harmed? If Christ died to save them, should we not take care not to destroy them?
But what kind of ‘destruction’ does Paul have in mind? Professor Dunn claims that, ‘as all recent commentators agree, what is in view . . . is final eschatological ruin’, meaning hell. I disagree with this, for four reasons. First, are we really to believe that a Christian’s single act against his or her own conscience – which in any case is not that Christian’s fault but the fault of the strong who have misled them, and which is therefore an unintentional mistake, not a deliberate disobedience – deserves eternal condemnation? No, hell is reserved only for the stubborn, the impenitent, those who wilfully persist in wrongdoing (2:5ff.). Second, such a view (the eternal destruction of a brother or sister) is inconsistent with the doctrine of final perseverance, which the apostle has eloquently expressed in 8:28–39, affirming that absolutely nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. The hallmark of every authentic ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ is that he or she will, by God’s steadfast love, persevere to the end. Third, Paul writes in verse 15 that the strong are capable of destroying the weak; but Jesus said that God himself is the only person who can and will destroy people in hell. Fourth, the context demands a different interpretation of ‘destroy’. Apollymi has a broad spectrum of meanings which range from ‘killing’ to ‘spoiling’. Here the opposite of to ‘destroy’ is to ‘build up’ (19f.; 15:2). Paul’s warning, therefore, is that the strong who mislead the weak to go against their consciences will seriously damage their Christian discipleship. He urges the strong against causing such injury to the weak. Do not let what you know is good [i.e. the freedom you have found in Christ] be spoken of as evil (16), because you flaunt it to the detriment of the weak.
ii. Welcome them because the kingdom of God is more important than food (14:17–21)
If the first theological truth which undergirds Paul’s appeal to the strong for restraint is the cross of Christ, the second is the kingdom of God, that is, the gracious rule of God through Christ and by the Spirit in the lives of his people, bringing a free salvation and demanding a radical obedience. Although the kingdom of God is not as central a doctrine in the teaching of Paul as it was in the teaching of Jesus, it nevertheless occupies a prominent place. The apostle’s argument now is that, whenever the strong insist on using their freedom to eat whatever they like, even at the expense of the welfare of the weak, they are guilty of a grave lack of proportion. They are overestimating the importance of diet (which is trivial) and underestimating the importance of the kingdom (which is central). For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (17). Righteousness, peace and joy inspired by the Spirit are sometimes understood as the subjective conditions of being righteous, peaceful and joyful. But in the wider context of Romans it is more natural to take them as objective states, namely justification through Christ, peace with God and rejoicing in hope of God’s glory (5:1f.), of which the Holy Spirit himself is the promise and foretaste (8:23). And the reason for the greater significance of the kingdom is that anyone who serves Christ in this way, who seeks first God’s kingdom and acknowledges ‘that food and drink are secondary matters’, is pleasing to God and receives human approval (18).
Verses 19–21 repeat, enforce and apply the same teaching about proportion or balance. They contain three appeals. First, let us therefore make every effort to do [literally, ‘let us then pursue’] what leads to peace and to mutual edification (19). ‘Peace’ here seems to be the ‘shalom’ which is experienced within the Christian community, while ‘edification’ is building one another up in Christ. This is the positive goal which all should seek, and which the strong were neglecting in their insensitive treatment of the weak.
Second, do not destroy the work of God for the sake of food (20a). ‘The work of God’ could mean the individual weaker brother or sister, but in the context it seems to refer to the Christian community. ‘Destroy’ translates a different verb from the one which Paul has used in verse 15. Katalyō means to ‘tear down’ or ‘throw down’, particularly in relation to buildings. It appears to be deliberately contrasted with the previous verse. Our responsibility is to seek to build up the fellowship (19), not to tear it down (20). And in particular we must not tear it down for the sake of food. In the Greek sentence this clause comes first. Surely ‘for the sake of a plate of meat’ (jbp) we are not going to wreck God’s work! Paul has already used a little irony three times to expose the inconsistency of valuing food above peace, the health of our stomach above the health of the community; this is the fourth. Are you strong really prepared, he asks, to distress a brother or sister because of what you eat (15a), to damage him or her spiritually by your eating (15b), to prize your eating and drinking above God’s kingdom (17), and now to demolish God’s work for the sake of food (20)? There must have been some red faces among the strong as they listened to Paul’s letter being read out in the assembly. His gentle sarcasm showed up their skewed perspective. They would have to revalue their values, give up insisting on their freedoms at the expense of the welfare of others, and put the cross and the kingdom first.
Paul’s third appeal expresses a contrast between two kinds of behaviour, which he declares to be respectively ‘wrong’ and ‘right’, kakos (20b) and kalos (21). All food is clean, he affirms, a truth repeated from verse 14 except that the adjective is now katharos (‘pure’) not koinos (‘common’), but it is wrong [kakos] for a person to eat anything that causes someone else to stumble (20b). This being so, it is better (kalos) not to eat meat or drink wine (which is here mentioned for the first time) or to do anything else that will cause your brother or sister to fall (21). The statement that ‘all food is clean’ sounds like the slogan of the strong. And Paul agrees with it. Here is the theological truth which gave them their freedom to eat anything they liked. But there were other factors to consider, which would require them to limit the exercise of their freedom. In particular, there was the weaker brother or sister with the oversensitive, overscrupulous conscience, who was convinced that not all food was clean. So it would be wrong for the strong to use their liberty to harm the weak. Alternatively, it would be good for the strong (Paul drives the argument to its logical conclusion) to eat no meat and drink no wine, that is, to become vegetarians and total abstainers, and to go to any other extreme of renunciation, if that were necessary to serve the welfare of the weak.
Paul concludes (22–23) by drawing a distinction between belief and action, that is, between private conviction and public behaviour. So, he writes, as regards the private sphere, whatever you believe about these things, whether you are strong and believe you can eat anything, or weak and believe you cannot, keep between yourself and God (22a), keep it a secret. There is no need either to parade your views or to impose them on other people. As for public behaviour, there are two options, represented by two individuals whom we quickly recognize as a strong and a weak Christian respectively. Strong Christians are blessed because their conscience approves of their eating everything, so that they can follow their conscience without any guilt feelings: blessed is the one who does not condemn himself by what he approves (22b). But whoever has doubts, that is, weak Christians who are plagued with misgivings because their conscience gives them ambivalent signals, is condemned if they eat [probably by their conscience, not by God], because their eating is not from faith; and everything that does not come from faith is sin (23). This final expression exalts the significance of our conscience. Although, as we have seen, it is not infallible, it is nevertheless sacrosanct, so that to go against it (to act not from faith) is to sin. At the same time, alongside this explicit instruction not to go against our conscience, there is an implicit requirement to educate it.
Paul comes next to his third negative deduction from the positive principle to ‘accept’ weaker brothers or sisters. Having urged the strong neither to despise and judge them (14:2–13a), nor to distress and damage them (14:13b–23), he now encourages them not to please themselves (15:1–13).
c. Do not please yourselves (15:1–13)
We who are strong, he begins, and so, for the first time, identifies them both by this name and at the same time identifies himself as one of them. What then ought the strong to do? What is their Christian responsibility towards the weak?
First, the strong ought to bear with the failings [literally ‘weaknesses’] of the weak (1a). Strong people are of course tempted to wield their strength to discard or crush the weak. Paul urges them instead to bear with them. The Greek verb bastazō, like the English verb ‘bear’, can mean either to ‘endure’ in the sense of ‘tolerate’, or to ‘carry’ and ‘support’. The context suggests that the latter is correct here. One person’s strength can compensate for another person’s weakness.
Second, we who are strong ought . . . not to please ourselves (1b). To be self-centred and self-seeking is natural to our fallen human nature. But we ought not to use our strength to serve our own advantage. As Paul has been arguing, Christians with a strong conscience must not trample on the consciences of the weak.
Third, each of us should please our neighbours for their good, to build them up (2). Neighbour-pleasing, which the Bible commands, must not be confused with ‘people-pleasing’, which the Bible condemns. In this negative sense, to ‘please people’, usually as the opposite of pleasing God, means to flatter people in order to curry favour with them, to win their approval by some unprincipled compromise. It is always incompatible with integrity and sincerity. Perhaps it is to avoid such a possible misunderstanding that Paul qualifies his appeal to please our neighbours with the clause for their good, to build them up (cf. 14:19). Instead of causing to stumble (14:13, 20, 21), tearing down (14:20) or damaging (14:15) our neighbours, we are to build them up. Edification is a constructive alternative to demolition. And this upbuilding of the weak will doubtless include helping to educate and so strengthen their consciences.
Once again Paul adds a theological foundation to his appeal. This time it concerns Jesus Christ himself, who is now mentioned in almost every verse, and in particular his example. Why should we please our neighbours and not ourselves?
i. Because Christ did not please himself (15:3–4)
This simple statement ‘sums up with eloquent reticence both the meaning of the incarnation and the character of Christ’s earthly life’. Instead of pleasing himself, he gave himself in the service of his Father and of human beings. Although he, ‘being in very nature God’, had the greatest right of all persons to please himself, yet he ‘did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage’, but first ‘made himself nothing’ and then ‘humbled himself’ to serve.
Instead of referring specifically either to the incarnation or to some incident of his life on earth, however, Paul quotes from Psalm 69, which vividly describes the unjust, unreasonable sufferings of a righteous man, and which is quoted of Christ four or five times in the New Testament, being regarded as a messianic prediction. Its verse 9 includes the words Paul quotes. As it is written: ‘The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me’ (3). That is to say, as an example of his refusing to please himself, Christ so completely identified himself with the name, will, cause and glory of the Father that insults intended for God fell upon him.
Christ’s fulfilment of Psalm 69:9 leads Paul into a brief digression about the nature and purpose of Old Testament Scripture. For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope (4). From this thoughtful statement it is reasonable to derive five truths about the Bible, which we would do well to remember.
First, its contemporary purpose. The books of the Bible were of course primarily intended for those to and for whom they were written in the past. Yet the apostle is persuaded that they were also written to teach us.
Second, its inclusive value. Having quoted only half a verse from one psalm, Paul declares that everything written in the past is for us, although obviously not everything is of equal value. Jesus himself spoke of ‘the more important matters of the law’.
Third, its focus on the person of Christ. Paul’s application of Psalm 69 to Christ is a fine example of how the risen Lord could explain to his disciples ‘what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself’.
Fourth, its practical purpose. Not only is it able to make us ‘wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus’, but it can bring us encouragement with a view to endurance, so that we might have hope, looking beyond time to eternity, beyond present sufferings to future glory.
Fifth, its divine message. The striking fact that ‘endurance and encouragement’, which in verse 4 are attributed to Scripture, in verse 5 are attributed to God, can only mean that it is God himself who encourages us through the living voice of Scripture. For God continues to speak through what he has spoken.
ii. Because Christ is the way to united worship (15:5–6)
Verses 5–6 are in the form of a blessing. Paul’s prayer is that the God who gives endurance and encouragement [through Scripture, as we have seen] may give you the same attitude of mind toward each other (5a). This can hardly be a plea that the Roman Christians may come to agree with each other about everything, since Paul has been at pains to urge the weak and the strong to accept each other in spite of their conscientious disagreement on secondary matters. It must therefore be a prayer for their unity of mind in essentials.
For Paul’s petition is this: May . . . God . . . give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had (5b). This seems to indicate that Christian unity is unity in Christ, that the person of Jesus Christ himself is the focus of our unity, and that therefore the more we agree with him and about him, the more we will agree with one another. But what is the purpose of this unity? It is in order that (hina) we may engage in the common worship of God: so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (6). Thus, the one mind (5) is expressed through the one voice (6); indeed without this unity of mind about Christ unity of voice in worship is impossible.
iii. Because Christ accepted you (15:7)
With verse 7 Paul returns to the beginning, to his original and positive appeal for acceptance. Indeed, the long, closely reasoned, theological–practical argument about the strong and the weak (14:2 – 15:6) is sandwiched between the two cries Accept the one (14:1) and Accept one another (15:7a). Both are addressed to the whole congregation, although the first urges the church to welcome the weaker brother or sister, while the second urges all church members to welcome each other. Both also have a theological base. The weak brother or sister is to be accepted for God has accepted them (14:3), and the members are to welcome each other just as Christ accepted you (15:7a).
More than that, Christ’s acceptance of us was also in order to bring praise to God (7b). The entire credit for the welcome we have received goes to him who took the initiative through Christ to reconcile us to himself and to each other.
iv. Because Christ has become a servant (15:8–13)
With verse 8 Paul slips almost imperceptibly from the unity of the weak and the strong through Christ to the unity of Jews and Gentiles through the same Christ. Further, in both cases the unity is with a view to worship, ‘so that’ they ‘may glorify God’ together (6, 9ff.). The grammar of verses 8–9 is uncertain, however. Here is the text: For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God’s truth, so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed (8) and, moreover, that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy (9a).
What is clear is that there are two complementary clauses, the first about the Jews and God’s truth (i.e. truthfulness), the second about the Gentiles and his mercy. But what is the relation between them? Many commentators suspend both clauses on the solemn opening words, I tell you. But because the context highlights the work of Christ, it seems better to suspend them on a longer introduction, namely I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews. Then his role as the servant of the Jews, that is, as the Jewish Messiah, is seen to have two parallel purposes, first so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed, and second, to bring in the Gentiles as well. His ministry to the Jews was on behalf of God’s truth, to demonstrate his faithfulness to his covenant promises, whereas his ministry to the Gentiles was on account of his mercy, his uncovenanted mercy. For, although the Old Testament contains many prophecies of the inclusion of the Gentiles, and indeed the promise to Abraham was that the nations would be blessed through his descendants, yet God had made no covenant with the Gentiles comparable to his covenant with Israel. Consequently, it was in mercy to the Gentiles, as it was in faithfulness to Israel, that Christ became a servant for the benefit of both.
Paul now enforces this truth of the inclusion of Jews and Gentiles in the messianic community with four Old Testament quotations. In each case he uses the text of the Greek Septuagint (lxx), and he chooses one from the Law, one from the Prophets and two from the Writings, which are the three divisions of the Old Testament. All four quotations refer both to the Gentiles and to the worship of God, although each contains a slightly different emphasis. In the first, David, though king of Israel, announces his intention to praise God among the Gentiles, although it is not clear whether the nations are just to be spectators or active participants: Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles; I will sing the praises of your name (9b = Ps. 18:49; 2 Sam. 22:50).
In the second quotation the nations are definitely participants. Moses is represented as summoning them to rejoice in company with God’s people: Again, it says, ‘Rejoice, you Gentiles, with his people’ (10 = Deut. 32:43). In the third quotation the psalmist also addresses all the nations directly and bids them praise the Lord, repeating the word ‘all’: And again, ‘Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, let all the peoples extol him’ (11 = Ps. 117:1). Then in the fourth and final verse the prophet Isaiah predicts the rise of the Messiah, descended from David, Jesse’s son, who would rule the nations and win their confidence: And again, Isaiah says, ‘The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the nations; in him the Gentiles will hope’ (12 = Isa. 11:10). In this way the Messiah would be simultaneously the root of Jesse and the hope of the nations.
Paul concludes the long doctrinal–ethical section of his letter with another blessing (see verse 5 for the first): May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him (13a). The reference to joy and peace recalls the apostle’s definition of the kingdom of God (14:17). Now he adds faith (as you trust in him) as the means by which joy and peace grow within us, and he prays that his Roman readers will be filled with both. He also anticipates that this filling will result in an overflowing: so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (13b). The aim of Paul’s earlier blessing (5) was unity with a view to worship; the aim of this one is ‘hope’. He has already expressed his assurance that the Scriptures bring us hope (4). Now he expresses his prayer-wish that the God of hope may cause them to overflow with hope. Hope of course always looks to the future. And since Paul has just quoted Isaiah’s prophecy that the Messiah will be the object of the Gentiles’ hope (12), we are given a clue as to what hope is in his mind. Paul is looking forward to the time the ‘fullness’ of both Israel and the Gentiles will have come in (11:12, 25), then to the culmination of history with the parousia, and then beyond it to the glory of the new universe which Jews and Gentiles will inherit together. So joy, peace, faith and hope are essential Christian qualities. If faith is the means to joy and peace, overflowing hope is their consequence, and all four are due to the power of the Holy Spirit within us.
Looking back over this whole section (14:1 – 15:13), which is largely devoted to how the strong should regard and treat the weak, it is particularly impressive to see how the apostle backs up his ethical demands with solid theological arguments. Although we have noted six, three of them seem to be central. They concern the cross, the resurrection and the last judgment.
First, Christ died to be our Saviour. Since God has accepted the weaker brother or sister (14:1, 3), and since Christ has accepted us (15:7), we must complete the triangle and accept one another. How could we possibly destroy those whom Christ died to save? The second fundamental argument is that Christ rose to be our Lord. This is explicitly stated (14:9). In consequence, all his people are his servants, and are accountable to him, the weak and the strong alike (14:6ff.). Third, Christ is coming to be our judge. We will all stand before his judgment seat one day, and we will each give an account of ourselves to God (14:10ff.). To presume to stand in judgment on others is to usurp the prerogative of God. These are the three acclamations which are made in many churches during the Lord’s Supper: ‘Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again!’ They not only inform our worship; they also influence our behaviour.
As we have tried to follow the intricacies of Paul’s reasoning regarding relationships between the strong and the weak, it must sometimes have seemed very remote from our own situation. Yet there are two particular principles which Paul develops which, especially in combination, are applicable to all churches in all places at all times. The first is the principle of faith. Everything must be done ‘from faith’, he writes (14:23). Again, ‘each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind’ (14:5). We need therefore to educate our consciences by the Word of God, so that we become strong in faith, growing in settled convictions and so in Christian freedom. Second, there is the principle of love. Everything must be done according to love (14:15). We need therefore to remember who our fellow Christians are, especially that they are our sisters and brothers for whom Christ died, so that we honour, not despise, them; serve, not harm, them; and especially respect their consciences.
One area in which this distinction between faith and love should operate is in the difference between essentials and non-essentials in Christian doctrine and practice. Although it is not always easy to distinguish between them, a safe guide is that truths on which Scripture speaks with a clear voice are essentials, whereas whenever equally biblical Christians, equally anxious to understand and obey Scripture, reach different conclusions, these must be regarded as non-essentials. Some people glory in the so-called ‘comprehensiveness’ of certain denominations. But there are two kinds of comprehensiveness, principled and unprincipled.
In fundamentals, faith is primary, and we may not appeal to love as an excuse to deny essential faith. In non-fundamentals, however, love is primary, and we may not appeal to zeal for the faith as an excuse for failures in love. Faith instructs our own conscience; love respects the consciences of others. Faith gives freedom; love limits its exercise. No-one has put it better than Rupert Meldenius:
In essentials unity;
In non-essentials liberty;
In all things charity.