NOTES for Rom 14:1-23

Paul always treated with respect people who observed the norms and rules of their religion. On the other hand, in the church communities of those days there were many who "did not distinguish days," Gentiles, and in practice simply, to use modern language, secular people, for whom no religion was interesting in itself. What was to be done in such a situation? For religious people, that attitude toward religion caused, at the very least, bewilderment.

But Paul, as we can see, is in no hurry to support them. That will hardly surprise us if we understand the motives that guided the apostle.

Paul himself was, of course, a religious man; he speaks of himself as "a Pharisee of Pharisees." But he by no means makes his own religiousness absolute. There are reasons for that. If religion could be salvation in itself, if it could open for its adherents the way into the Kingdom, the apostle would no doubt have treated it differently. But he understands perfectly well that, if that were so, Christ would not have needed to come to us in order to save us. And if religion does not save, if it is a human affair, then it must be treated accordingly, as a human affair. If there are people in the church for whom religion is important, that is a matter of their conscience, and of course the apostle was far from wanting to fight anyone's religious devotion. But he also understood very well all the dangers that religion carries for spiritual life.

One of the chief dangers was precisely that religious people could make their religiousness absolute, as the only possible and only acceptable form of Christian life. Such absolutizing not only repelled nonreligious people; it distorted the very essence of Christianity, which under this approach turned into a kind of new religion, thereby being emptied out and losing its spiritual essence. And Paul speaks sharply against this, not against religion as such, but against making any religiousness absolute, including the form of it that he himself bore. There was only one way to avoid such absolutizing: leave the choice of religion to the discretion of each member of the church. In that way, each person could choose for himself the form of life in the Church, and therefore in the Kingdom, that suited him best.

In the Roman church, Judeo-Christians who strictly observed all religious regulations and recent pagans lived side by side. For zealots of religious customs and traditions, observing them was inseparable from the very possibility of entering the Kingdom and remaining there. For some, the question of kosher food was a question of spiritual life and spiritual death; others treated it rather indifferently. Paul advises leaving aside the dispute over the finer points of religious regulations, which, as he believes, can quite well be left to each person's discretion.

And the point here is not only that each person who has obtained the Kingdom has his own relationship with the One who opened this Kingdom to him. The point is that religiosity as such has no direct relation to the Kingdom at all. For those who have already obtained the Kingdom, everything turns out to be equally effective on the spiritual path: religious feasts and their absence, food and abstaining from food, and even life itself or death, because in the Kingdom they too cease to be what they are in this world, so that death in the Kingdom turns out to be only the continuation of life in another form.

In that case, disputes about religious rites or, still more, condemnation of those who look at them differently from the way religious people are accustomed to look at them, become not only meaningless but directly harmful, since such disputes often lead to condemning those who deserve no condemnation at all. Everyone who seeks the Kingdom and has obtained it will stand before God's judgment and give Him an account of everything he has done. Earlier it was still partly possible to judge a person's spiritual life by outward religious signs, so that the failure to observe certain religious norms, primarily fundamental ones, could become a basis for judging a person's spiritual life and spiritual condition. Now, when the question is already about residents of the Kingdom, the religious criterion ceases to work at all. Only an open violation of the commandments, especially when the one violating them does not repent of anything, is truly incompatible with remaining in the Kingdom. Religiosity as such has no special significance for the Kingdom. The main thing is that it not interfere, that it not lead to condemning those who do not deserve it at all, and that disputes about religion not frighten away those who are looking in the Church not for a new religion, but for the Kingdom.

How does human existence differ from the being of any other created creature? First of all, by the question of meaning: why, for what do I live? A meaningless existence is empty and unworthy of a human being, and the same is true of life for oneself alone: it is the life of a plant or an animal, but not of a human being. A person cannot always say that he has already found and defined this meaning for himself, but the very search for this meaning already fills his life with content.

And today we read what the apostle Paul writes about his life, whose meaning he found on the road to Damascus (Acts 9). For him, the main thing is his relationship with God, his belonging to Him. It is God, who created the world according to His design, who gives meaning to every creature, and our being is meaningful when it corresponds to this divine meaning. Then it turns out that we live not for ourselves, but for the Lord. Every moment of our existence belongs to Him, including death. And this means that death is not a very important event in our life, because it changes nothing in the most important thing: our belonging to God.

Sometimes upon serious conversations between people, forms an impression that death is the most important event of human life. We begin to value life or maybe even thinking about God only after confronting death or upon reflection of it. It is all the opposite for the Apostle Paul (and generally in Christianity). Foremost God, His everlasting existence, His abundant life. The next according to the implication of facts is our membership in Him. And it is only under this light that we examine the problem of our human life and death. And so, it turns out that my physical death changes nothing in what is more significant: in the existence of God and in my membership in Him, - and thus, it {death} is not so much important in my life, it cannot stop my life. The Christlike victory on death in my own concrete case consists probably of this.

Continuing the discussion of religion in its relation to the Kingdom, Paul proposes criteria that can guide one in matters of religious obligations. First of all, he draws attention to the fact that in the Kingdom there is, in principle, and can be nothing that is sinful or unclean in itself, since sin and uncleanness cannot be part of the Kingdom by definition. The problem arises when someone living in the Kingdom begins to see sin or uncleanness where there is none; in this case, for the person who sees the situation this way, they can become a reality, making life in the Kingdom problematic for him (v. 14). Of course, if the Kingdom were already now revealed to the world in all its fullness, problems of this kind would only be the problems of separate, specific people. But the Kingdom has not yet fully unfolded; it is only conquering the world, and the former order of things, not yet fully transformed, can influence the minds not only of those seeking the Kingdom, but also of those who have already come into contact with it. Not everyone who has gained the Kingdom is yet so rooted in it that everything connected with the former order of things, including religion, has become spiritually indifferent to him, and this has to be taken into account so that someone does not lose the Kingdom simply because those living near him did not consider it necessary to take his weakness into account (vv. 15-16).

The problem of religion here, as we can see, is no longer connected with the spiritual content of religiosity as such, but with its effect on the souls of those seeking the Kingdom and those who have only just gained it (v. 13). But there is also another criterion that allows one to be convinced of one's own sincerity before God. This concerns doubts that can appear quite naturally in someone who does not follow generally accepted religious norms. And here the apostle is quite categorical: if there is even the slightest doubt about one's rightness, then this is precisely a violation of the norm, not the freedom proper to those living in the Kingdom (vv. 21-22).

Indeed, generally accepted norms can simply be violated without regard for them, or one can be above them. But the experience of the Kingdom excludes doubt, and if doubts still appear, then one can say with confidence that what is at issue is precisely a violation of the norm. But since the person living in the Kingdom does not ignore generally accepted religious norms and rules, but simply feels completely free where religion is concerned, it is not difficult for him to follow them for the spiritual benefit of his neighbor. The main task in relations with one's neighbor for those living in the Kingdom is the preservation of that peace and joy without which there is no Kingdom, not the struggle against religiosity as such. That is why it is not difficult for them to follow religious norms and rules if doing so makes life easier for their neighbor (vv. 17-21).

Paul draws attention to what can destroy peace within the church community. What should be done if observant Jews, for whom all the religious prescriptions of Judaism matter, and Gentiles, who care nothing about these prescriptions, sit at one table during the meal of the breaking of bread?

May non-kosher food be put on the table simply because questions of kashrut are no longer relevant for Christians? On the one hand, it may be, and the one who refuses kosher food cannot be accused of apostasy. But on the other hand, there are also the relationships among members of the community. Relationships of mutual love. The apostle understands perfectly well that a person clings to religion not from strength but from weakness.

From spiritual weakness, which, by not allowing a person to experience relationship with God and with Christ in all its fullness, forces him to seek support in what has no direct relation either to the Kingdom or to spiritual life.

Religion is crutches. But can one take crutches away from someone who cannot get along without them simply because others, healthy and strong, get along perfectly well without them? Clearly not. And even showing off one's strength and health before those deprived of them is not especially brotherly. Of course, the point is not that the healthy should pretend to be sick or behave like the sick.

But if it has turned out that the road must be shared with those who cannot get along without crutches, it is the healthy who must adjust their pace on the road to the sick, not the other way around. Of course, a person who feels his strength always wants to give it free rein and express himself in all fullness. But then he will have to forget about the weak, about those who cannot keep up with the strong. And together with them he will have to forget about love, without which no strength is worth anything.

Paul draws attention to what can destroy peace within a church community. What should be done if faithful Jews, for whom all the religious prescriptions of Judaism are important, and pagans, who care nothing for those prescriptions, sit at one table during the meal of the breaking of bread?

May non-kosher food be placed on the table simply because questions of kashrut are no longer relevant for Christians? On the one hand, it may, and no accusation of apostasy can be brought against someone who refuses kosher food. But on the other hand, there are also relations between members of the community. Relations of mutual love. The apostle understands perfectly well that a person clings to religion not from strength, but from weakness.

From spiritual weakness, which, not allowing a person to experience relations with God and with Christ in all their fullness, forces him to seek support in what has no direct relation either to the Kingdom or to spiritual life.

Religion is crutches. But can crutches be taken away from one who cannot do without them merely because others, healthy and strong, manage perfectly well without them? Obviously not. And even flaunting one's strength and health before those who lack them is not very brotherly. Of course, this does not mean that the healthy should pretend to be sick or behave as the sick do.

But if it has happened that the road must be shared with those who cannot do without crutches, it is precisely the healthy who must adjust their pace on the road to the sick, not the other way around. Of course, a person who feels his strength always wants to give it free rein and show himself in all his fullness. But then he will have to forget about the weak, about those who cannot keep up with the strong. And together with them he will have to forget about love, without which no strength is worth anything.

In Yahwism, as in Judaism, the concepts of purity and impurity were key in religious life. At first glance it may appear that these are purely ritual restrictions, partly borrowed from the pagan world. But that is not quite so. The concepts of purity and impurity were connected with those ideas about life and the human being that belonged to pre-exilic Yahwism and then became common in Judaism as well. The Bible describes the human being as a twofold unity, a spiritual-natural creature. God 'breathes' into the human being's 'nostrils' - so it says in the Hebrew text - the breath of life that makes him human. And human life itself is a stream that includes both spiritual and natural components. God's breath of life touches nature in the human being, penetrating it and changing its quality. This stream of life is called by the Hebrew word usually translated into Russian as 'soul.'

Naturally, the intensity and quality of this life stream can vary. In the world and in human life there is something that clogs its channel and slows its flow - this is what biblical language calls impurity or defilement. First of all, of course, a person is defiled by the consequences of committed sin. But in pre-Christian times there were also other things in the world that could defile a person and lead to the shallowing and exhaustion of the stream of his life. Everything connected with death, decay, entropy - all such things diminished the measure of a person's fullness of life and lowered its quality. And in such a state, meeting God became problematic for a person, or even impossible: for in order to meet Him and experience the reality of His presence in the place He Himself had chosen, one already had to possess a certain minimum fullness and intensity of one's own existence. In Sheol, in the realm of the dead, God is not praised because His presence does not reveal itself there: the existence led there by the dead is existence at a minimum, when the stream of life has almost completely dried up. Before the coming of Christ, all this had to be taken into account.

But with Christ the Kingdom entered the world with all its fullness of life, previously unseen and unknown. Now everyone who lives this life no longer needs to fear that some processes in the untransformed world will prevent him from living the whole fullness of the life of the Kingdom. Now only his own sin can hinder a person. And, of course, fear of impurity: for fear often creates its own object. Whoever still fears the impurity of the fallen world will certainly encounter its effect upon himself. But the rest, those who have chosen Christ and the Kingdom, need not worry about this: for the breath of the Kingdom is stronger than any destructive forces of this world.

Is invincible the dream in humanity of an ideal society, where everything will be good, just and bounteous. Only for some reason this doesn’t work out. Maybe, the fact is that each of us considers the society of bad, and that only we are good. The Christ, talking about the Kingdom of God, always underlines the spiritual character of this Kingdom, its fulfillment inside man, and not in the "society". And Apostle Paul writes about the same thing here: our affiliation to Christ is not defined by the outside and carnal categories, but by the action of the Holy Spirit in us.

Preparation for Lent concludes with a reading of Christ's words, handed down to us by the evangelist Matthew, about what fasting and prayer are. In the Sermon on the Mount the Lord tells His disciples that fasting and prayer have meaning only in secret from people. Only when they become events in your deeply personal relationship with God and are visible to no one except God - only then do fasting and prayer have meaning. The Lord warns us about the subtle temptation to "appear to people to be fasting." In this time of fasting, our enemy really does tempt us with the desire to appear so that those around us will think (even if not out loud): "Ah, how devout, practically a saint..." This "Ah!" destroys the whole meaning of fasting. "Rend your hearts and not your garments," as we heard from the prophet Joel (Joel 2:13).

And today the Lord also speaks to us about prayer: do not heap up words like the Gentiles. Neither the length of a prayer nor the number of words said in it means anything. Only the movement of the soul toward God gives prayer its value. And today's reading ends with the Lord's Prayer. The apostles had the custom of saying this prayer three times a day: morning, noon, and evening. Without doubt, the apostles prayed beyond that, but these three times became for Christians a kind of spiritual frame on which the whole day - and all of life - rests.

It sounds a little boring, it doesn’t inspire, isn’t it? It would have been better: "we shall look for what serves our self-affirmation and to the mutual pleasure ". The word "peace" reminds us of old slogans of fight for peace, and the word "edify" - the most disgusting professors at school.

Why is it so? How come that these magnificent words were so pervert in our perception? Indeed, "peace" is not just an absence of war and even nor the absence of hostilities. In the biblical language, "shalom" is a state of the Creation in the seventh day, when God, having achieved everything, rests, when everything is "very good". Such are " the new heaven and the new earth", of which are said to prophets and in the book of Revelation, the new world, which can be compared with the initial meaning of the Greek word "cosmos", word from which derives "cosmetic", because the Cosmos is the Universe filled with beauties. “Peace" - genuine integrity, harmony, order and beauty. And it is exactly what the apostle Paul invites us to look for, such a peace in us and in our relationships one with another, which is created only by God.

And the word "edify" describes not a notation, but the "cultuvation", the increase of good, what is well. There is also a wonderful thing here related to God. God is Good Himself, and He is infinite, that is why the common conservation laws as "if something was added somewhere, then so much decreased somewhere else" do not work in all that is bound to the notion of good. When we share something nice with another (love, consolation, knowledge etc.), it arrives to the another then, and it doesn’t not only decrease in us, but in an unexpected way increases rather, takes place a mutual edification, a mutual growth in good, a joint movement towards the true Good, towards God.

Somehow this sounds dull and uninspiring, does it not? It would be much better to say, "Let us seek what serves our self-assertion and mutual pleasure." The word "peace" reminds us of old slogans about the struggle for peace, and "edification" of the most unpleasant teachers at school.

Why is this so? How did it happen that these wonderful words became so distorted in our perception? After all, "peace" is not simply the absence of war, or even the absence of hostility. In the biblical language, "shalom" is the state of Creation on the seventh day, when God, having completed everything, rests, when everything is "very good." Such also are the "new heaven and earth" spoken of in the prophets and in the book of Revelation, that new world which can be compared with the original meaning of the Greek word "cosmos," the word from which "cosmetics" comes, because the Cosmos is the Universe filled with beauty. "Peace" is true wholeness, harmony, order, and beauty. This is exactly what the apostle Paul calls us to seek: such peace within us and in our relationships with one another, a peace created only by God.

And the word "edification" describes not a lecture, but nurturing, the increasing of good, of what is good. Here is another astonishing thing connected with God. God Himself is the Good, and He is infinite; therefore in everything connected with the idea of good, the ordinary laws of conservation do not operate, the kind that say, "if something has increased somewhere, then the same amount has decreased somewhere else." When we share something good with another person, love, consolation, knowledge, and so on, the other person gains it, and with us it not only does not decrease, but also increases in some unexpected way. Mutual edification takes place, mutual growth in good, a shared movement toward the true Good, toward God.

In his epistles Paul devotes considerable space to reflections on the role and place of religion in church life. In the early Christian church, one community often contained religious Jews, the "circumcised" or "Jews," and nonreligious representatives of other peoples who inhabited the Roman Empire, the "uncircumcised" or "Gentiles." In that era paganism no longer meant belonging to this or that religion; those called pagans then were people we would today call secular. It is no wonder that conflict was ripening between these two groups within the Church: they were too unlike each other. For a Jew, following all the norms and rules of Judaism was a matter of course; they could not imagine themselves in one community with people for whom religion was a matter of indifference. Meanwhile, most recent pagans who had turned to Christ were exactly like that: they needed Christ, not Judaism. Jews, however, often insisted that the rules of their own religion be observed by everyone, often asserting that without observing them salvation was impossible, because for them these rules were associated with the Torah as such, without which one cannot enter the Kingdom. What was to be done? Recent pagans were just as sincere and wholehearted in their rejection of Judaism, which really was foreign to them, as Jews were in following it, without which they could not imagine life either in the present age or in the age to come. How could these two approaches be combined? Paul himself was convinced that religion as such is not necessary for salvation: neither circumcision nor "works of the Law" save in themselves. But what if without all this, for a person, the Torah is no longer the Torah and the Kingdom is no longer the Kingdom? It was truly pointless to tell such a person that religion was unnecessary; he needed to be given the opportunity to take his religion with him into the Kingdom. But it should not be imposed on someone who could do without it. The decision remained with the person himself. But it had to be conscious and unequivocal: neither playing at religion nor arbitrarily rejecting it was suitable for a full spiritual life. And the apostle offers a simple criterion: if a person's conscience is at peace, then everything is in order with his spiritual life. At that point it no longer matters whether he is religious or not. Neither sincere religiosity nor a sincere refusal of religion harms spiritual life. What harms it is only that uncertainty which makes a person rush about, depriving him of spiritual peace. And Paul calls each person to choose the way of life that is closer to him, imposing nothing on others. To choose sincerely and unequivocally.

Today's reading from the Letter to the Romans is one of the most important passages of Scripture, if among them there can be any more or less important than others. It should lie at the foundation of Christian ideas about which means of spiritual life should be used and how they should be regarded. In practice, divinely revealed religion differs from idolatry first of all in that its means do not become its goal. To the question of what must be done to inherit eternal life, the apostle twice says "put on" (ενδύω, endyo, means to put something on oneself or to give oneself wholly to something): put on the armor of light and put on the Lord Jesus Christ. Not "bring the flesh into the proper condition" through a vegetarian diet or other means, but put on the armor of light. A person's material nature requires a certain care; its powers must be sustained, and it must also be restrained so that it does not become the main thing. But: do not turn care for the flesh into lusts. Unlike the Stoics and Epicureans, the apostle asserts that a good life and wise care (πρόνοια, pronoia, wisdom, prudence, care) for the flesh do not automatically lead us to the goal. Strictly speaking, this text approves neither a lack of control over the fleshly side of the person nor mortification of the flesh as the chief meaning of life. In our time, however, as in the apostle's time, the first danger is more pressing than the second.

The second and no less important point in today's passage is this: receive the one who is weak in faith, without disputes over opinions. The apostle affirms that we should not argue about the means of spiritual life (specifically, the issue is fasting). We give account for them before God, not before one another. Incidentally, one cannot help noticing that throughout our history, as also at the present time, fulfilling these words is an impossible task for many of us. On the other hand, the apostle extends this freedom to the realm of the means of spiritual life, but by no means to the content of the faith, as some sometimes try to present it.

Finally, it is useful to hear the word in the original: in the first verse of chapter 14 the apostle says, "the one who is weak in faith..." Άσθενής τή πίστει, astenis ti pistei, asthenic in faith. And there arises before the eyes, as in a mirror, a gaunt asthenic figure with a bloodless face and limp, hanging hands. In Russian we call this a pale infirmity. That is how we believe. And that is why we concentrate on ourselves, on our own spiritual infirmity, and on the outward manifestations of piety. This is overcome, as is known, only by the Blood of Jesus Christ.

"For now salvation is nearer to us than when we first believed." From the moment of our conversion to Christ, we look at the world with different eyes. For each of us something changes in life. And, receiving Communion, we become closer to Christ: we receive Him and the path of salvation that He offers us. And each of us "will be upheld, for God is able to make him stand."

We fall and rise on our path after Christ. A fall in the eyes of this world is prepared for us as the path of salvation. We ourselves will see the depth of our fall in repentance - but He will raise us up by His mercy, raise us on the day of the resurrection of the dead into eternal life.