Continuing the discussion of the advantages of being Jewish, Paul says directly that there are no such advantages. Of course, he is speaking not about religious advantages, but about spiritual ones in the proper sense. This is not about any tradition, any theology, or even any knowledge of the Torah as a text. An advantage in the spiritual sense could belong only to someone able to live without sinning, but in our fallen world, regrettably, there are no such people (v. 9).

To support his thought, the apostle cites the words of an ancient psalm that vividly describes human sinfulness (vv. 10-18). To this, of course, one could always object that the Torah did not require sinlessness from a person; it only required the right choice in a concrete situation, a choice that would conform to the norms of the Torah. But in this case Paul is, as can be seen, arguing with those who were sure that one could be freed from sin and enter the Kingdom by doing what the apostle in Greek calls "works of Torah" or "works of the Law" (v. 20).

The reference is apparently to what in Hebrew is called a mitzvah, literally translated as "command" or "commandment." In Paul's time, however, in the Jewish world it had begun to mean what we today usually call religious obligations. With this understanding of commandment, observance of the Torah was reduced to the performance of numerous religious obligations, some of which found a basis in the text of the Torah, while others rested solely on the rabbinic tradition that existed at that time.

Here one can see a polemic, not very noticeable at first glance, with another well-known rabbinic school: the school of Shammai, with whose representatives the followers of Hillel held constant discussions. Shammai was the one who was sure that the performance of religious obligations in itself sanctifies and purifies a person. But the apostle puts the emphasis elsewhere. He says that the Torah is not meant for competing with one another in the fulfillment of a multitude of religious obligations. It is needed in order, in Paul's words, "to know sin," that is, to learn to distinguish sin from righteousness and to see what hinders a person on the way to the Kingdom (v. 20). The Torah is not a magic wand that opens the gates of the Kingdom for the one who possesses it; it is more like a compass that helps one stay on the path of righteousness. Any other use of it makes the Torah useless, and hopes for its effectiveness illusory.

All people have become sinners, and therefore no one has the right to claim righteousness, much less exalt himself over anyone because of the “small” number of his sins. Even the relative gravity of sins must not become a pretext for self-exaltation, for sin is abhorrent regardless of its degree; moreover, that degree can change, and a small neglected sin inevitably tends to grow.

We are not justified by the law, but through it we come to know sin. We must remember that the law formulates rules that help us live and perceive the world. The law sets the standard toward which we should strive, but which often remains unattainable because of human sinfulness. People speak so easily and habitually of everyday sinful acts as something ordinary and even harmless, while sin is in fact an irrational, dark, and destructive force, like a bog. The law is a map of marshland, but if someone has lost his footing, a map cannot pull him from the mire. The Lord pulls him out.

Paul quotes a text from the Book of Psalms that speaks of universal sinfulness, of the fact that no righteous people remain on earth. These are rather allusions to certain passages from different psalms, so that it is impossible to find the passage cited by the apostle in the form in which it appears in the letter. Such allusions to well-known passages from the Book of Psalms, from the prophetic books, or even from the Pentateuch were not rare in rabbinic discussions.

Paul's main thought is clear: there are no sinless people in the world, and therefore there are no innocent people before God and the Torah. It is precisely the Torah that reveals a person's sinfulness; by it, according to the apostle, sin is known. Here Paul raises a very serious problem, relevant to those who walked the way of righteousness presupposed by the Torah, and above all the inner Torah. It was precisely the inner Torah, perceived and experienced by a person as a spiritual and moral imperative, that revealed to the seeker of the way his own insufficiency.

The Torah, perceived mainly or exclusively in an outward way, could create the illusion of something on which one could establish oneself by contrasting oneself with those who do not know or observe the Torah. But then the Torah is reduced to what the apostle calls "works of the Torah" or "works of the Law," to what we would today call religious duties. And then, of course, the Torah becomes for those who follow it an exclusively religious phenomenon.

Paul, however, speaks of something else. He speaks of the inner Torah and of the spiritual path that following it presupposes. Here the issue is no longer religion. What matters here is to relate each step, each intention, to the inner Torah as to a system of God's intentions opened to a person. This is spiritual work, reducible to no religious practice. But precisely the attempts to relate one's will in its concrete manifestations to equally concrete manifestations of God's will reveal to a person his imperfection.

It turns out that doing this is not at all simple, even with every desire: the will of fallen humanity does not obey a person nearly so easily, and a fallen person cannot even simply track all his intentions, not to mention becoming aware of them. And no "works of the Torah," no religious practice, and no outward religious activity can help a person here. If only because all such practice and any such activity touch only the surface of the human person, the periphery of his existence. But the way of righteousness corresponding to the Torah requires deep changes.