NOTES for Rom 7:14-25

In his letters Paul writes much and often about the Law, about the Torah. He mentions the Torah especially often in Romans. One could say that this whole letter is devoted to the theme of the Torah. And one of the definitions of the Torah in the letter characterizes it as "spiritual." In what sense, then, does Paul call the Torah "spiritual"? The issue is undoubtedly God's breath, and the corresponding Greek word, like its Hebrew equivalent, means precisely this: breath, blowing. This is the very breath of God that the prophets sensed, but in his letters the apostle uses the same word also for the breath of life that God gives to every person entering the world. The Torah is related to this breath, to this presence of God. Paul clearly has in mind here not only the Torah as legislation, but also the inner Torah, that spiritual core which supports and defines the whole spiritual life of a person. It is precisely the inner Torah that makes a person able to resist sin.

It becomes for a person a kind of inner imperative, spiritual and moral, experienced not merely as a legal or moral code, but as God's will directly addressed to the person, as God's intentions abiding in his heart. Of course, a person is free to ignore them and forget the path of righteousness, but if this path matters to him, the inner Torah becomes the goal and meaning of his life. For Paul the way of righteousness was the goal and meaning of life even when he was neither a Christian nor an apostle, and was not yet Paul but Shaul, Saul. Even then he tried to walk the way of righteousness, to follow the inner Torah.

And he discovered that this was completely impossible. Or, more precisely, possible, but not to the end. Because to the end means without a single sin: the inner Torah is incompatible with any sin whatever. To live by it in fullness, one must in fact become sinless. But for fallen humanity this is unreal, and most who sought the way of righteousness therefore limited themselves to half measures, made compromises, understanding that they were unable to become perfectly righteous.

In reality, however, such a situation could mean only one thing: the person is not free; he is a slave of sin. A slave could sometimes do what he wanted within the limits set for him by his master. So also a person could follow the Torah within the limits set for him by the sin dwelling in him. But this is not freedom. A person could not follow the Torah as he thought necessary, in all its fullness: he did not belong to himself, he did not dispose of himself.

His faithfulness to the Torah could at any moment be limited by the sin in whose power he found himself. It is in this sense that Paul calls the Torah spiritual and himself a slave of sin. To follow the Torah without looking back, Paul had to become free. The day would come when he would meet his Liberator, his Redeemer. Until then, all that remained was to wait and hope, without forgetting the inner Torah. Waiting for the greater thing: that fullness of the life of the Kingdom which would enter his life together with the freedom from sin he had gained.

Inner division is familiar to very many people. It would appear that Paul's experience in this respect is no different from that of many others. But is that so? What we usually call inner division most often turns out to be only an outward symptom of some hidden spiritual illness. Of course, compared with the outward manifestations of our "I," the division we sometimes experience can be considered something inward.

But its causes lie much deeper, and most often we do not notice them. Where, then, does this division come from? Most often it turns out to be merely one of the manifestations of fallen human nature. Our spiritual "I," what the biblical books usually call the "heart," is in its fallen state inwardly whole in very few people. Strictly speaking, in a fallen person it is never whole at the beginning; one must come to such wholeness by making deliberate efforts toward it.

This work of inwardly building oneself and gaining spiritual wholeness is, in fact, called asceticism. Only after traveling a certain spiritual path can one achieve such wholeness. But this is not yet the end of the path; it is only its first stage. At the first stage a person discovers his own inner world and the chaos that usually reigns there if no effort is made to change the situation.

Ascetic practice can set a limit to this chaos. But at the same time a person suddenly discovers that in his own nature, besides the chaos that hinders inner wholeness, there is another, more powerful force opposing him if he wishes to walk the way of righteousness and follow the Torah. The issue is that sinfulness which is characteristic of fallen humanity. Here we are no longer speaking of inner chaos, but of a powerful destructive force that resists the one who wants to follow the Torah by keeping the commandments given by God. And the apostle, as we can see, encountered precisely this force. He no longer has any inner conflict; he knows perfectly well what he wants.

But at the same time Paul realizes that in his own nature there is something that resists the decision he has made when he tries to carry it out. This something is what we usually call original sin. And Paul understands perfectly well that, unlike ordinary inner division, usually connected with spiritual slackness, original sin is insurmountable for a person. Here only the coming of the Messiah and the breath of the Kingdom He brought into the world can help.

The inner duality is familiar to many. It would seem that the experience of Paul in this respect is not at all different from the experience of many other persons. But is it so? What we usually call the inner duality, is mostly only an outward symptom of a certain hidden spiritual disease. Of course, in comparison with the outward demonstrations of our "I", we can consider this duality that we sometimes experience, as something internal. But its reasons are much deeper, and mostly we do not notice them. Where comes this duality? Mostly it is only one of the demonstrations of the fallen human nature. Our spiritual "I", what is usually called in the biblical books "the heart", in the fallen state there are few to whom the inside is whole.

In fact, at first to the fallen man it is never whole, it has to come to this wholeness, proposing in it directed efforts. Such a work on the alignment of the internal and the obtaining of the spiritual wholeness, in fact, is called asceticism. And only having crossed a defined spiritual path, one can obtain such wholeness. But it is not still the end of the path; it is only its first stage. At the first stage, to man reveals his personal inside and this chaos, which reigns in him usually, if no effort is taking to change the situation. The ascetic practice can end this chaos. But at the same time man opens suddenly for himself that in his own nature, except the chaos, which prevents the inner wholeness, there is another more powerful power resisting him, if he wishes to go on the path of the righteousness and observe the Torah. It is about this sinfulness, which is peculiar to the fallen man.

It is already more here not about the internal chaos, but about the powerful destructive force, which counteracts the one who wants to follow the Torah, observing the commandments given by God. And the apostle, as we see, faced in particular that. He already has no more internal conflict; he knows perfectly, what he wants. But besides Paul is conscious that in his own nature there is something that opposes the decision taken by him, when he tries to realize it. Here is, this “something” is what we usually call the original sin. And Paul understands perfectly that, unlike of the usual internal duality, connected generally with the spiritual weakness, the original sin is irresistible for man. Here can help only the coming of the Messiah and the breath of the Kingdom, which He brought to the world.

In this passage the apostle Paul speaks about himself with more than frankness, revealing to the reader the full depth of his weakness. "Wretched man that I am!" he says of himself, but when we read these words, we cannot help applying them to ourselves and to all humanity. This "wretchedness," in the saint's view, lies in the monstrous discord between what the divine nature in a person wants and what his bodily nature does.

Very often we understand that we are doing something bad, even know where it can lead, and still continue. Our nature is so deeply saturated with sin that we are unable to change it. This is not simply some flaw we can get rid of, not a problem we can handle. Only the Lord can help us in this, the One who works miracles, changing our nature and truly divinizing it.

Paul undoubtedly relies on his own experience. He clearly tried himself to attain the ideal proclaimed in those days by the Synagogue: the ideal of the living Torah. Of course, to become the living Torah did not mean simply to learn the Pentateuch by heart and repeat its text continually, though among believing Jews even now there are many people who know it by heart. The issue was different. To become the living Torah meant that only the Torah should define a person's life, both outward and inward.

No word, no thought, no action, and not even any intention of a person who had become the living Torah was to diverge from the inner Torah, from that spiritual and moral imperative perceived as God's will acting directly in a person, as God's intentions, which ideally define a person's whole life, entirely and without remainder. This, of course, was an ideal, and an unattainable ideal. The living Torah for a Jew of the gospel age is what holiness is for a modern Christian, with this difference, however: holiness for a Christian is still attainable, though not easy, while in the history of the Synagogue no one succeeded in becoming the living Torah.

Here one must speak precisely of an ideal by which one can measure oneself, toward which one can and must strive, but which one cannot realize. Or at least could not realize before Christ's coming. For it could be realized only by completely overcoming the consequences of the fall. And that meant changing fallen human nature itself. But a person could not do this by himself, by his own powers.

Paul, while still not Paul and not an apostle, but the observant Jew Shaul, Saul, became convinced of the impossibility of the ideal through his own experience, which he described in his letter. Through his own experience he became convinced how painful it is to see the goal of one's whole life, to be so close to it that it seems one need only stretch out a hand and reach it, and at the same time to realize that one's hand does not obey, that it lives its own life, disobeying and disregarding one's will. And now the goal that seems so near turns out to be unattainable.

One can understand why Shaul in the end becomes so harsh and intolerant, why he is ready to persecute anyone he considers an apostate: such spiritual failures do not pass without a trace. Otherwise it would be hard to explain how a man raised by the very Gamaliel who treated Christians quite calmly became such a fierce enemy of theirs. And then, on the Damascus road, the meeting took place that changed his life: a meeting with the One who Himself was the living Torah and could help Shaul become the same.

Paul calls the body, which after the fall became for man quite natural and organic, "the body of death". What does he mean by it? The simplest and very first answer: our current body is "the body of death" because in his current state sooner or later he will inevitably die. But in this meaning, in which is used in the biblical books the Greek corresponding word (as, moreover, the Jew also), the body still means and the receptacle, a vessel filled with any contents. With such an understanding "the body of death" is not any more already simply a "mortal body", but "the body - receptacle of death". And it is hardly about a purely physical death.

For the understanding of this dynamism it is important to remember that the Bible has never considered the human life purely spiritualist, as it was typical, for example for the Greek philosophers, who looked at life as a purely spiritual process, and looked generally at the body and all nature as "the prison of the spirit". With such an approach, the body became for them a kind of natural prison, into which is locked the immortal soul connected to the spiritual world. The Bible looks at the man differently: man - is a whole being, but in his life, according to the spiritual state, can prevail either the natural, or the spiritual component.

So, before the fall the life force (" the soul ") of man was connected to this breath of life, which God breathed into man "in his nostrils" during the creation, but after the fall it was connected to the blood, as in animals. As we see, before the fall in the life of man prevailed the spiritual component, but after the fall the natural prevailed. It is not surprising that with such a prevalence the body of man stops being the receptacle of life and becomes the receptacle of death: because for the nature, death is a natural property. But for Paul, is important again another aspect of the problem, connected with the Torah, and, in particular, the internal Torah: he feels a powerful, coming from his own bodily nature, resistance to each of his aspirations to observe the Torah and walk in the way of righteousness.

As we see, for the apostle the predominance in the fallen man of the nature over the spirit becomes the main problem: because it is in particular the inflexibility of the not transformed nature, its resistance to the spiritual influences that makes the body of the man the body of death, now already not only in the sense of the receptacle of death, overtaking man inevitably after the fall, but also in the sense of the main obstacle to a whole spiritual life, the obstacle, which can become the reason of the loss of the Kingdom. And the apostle is conscious that it is necessary to get free from such body: because he understands that with it, he can lose everything, including the most precious he has.

Who would not agree with these words of the apostle? It is rare to meet someone who acts for the sake of evil as such. Our actions are more readily described by the rule, “We meant well, but it turned out as it always does.” The universality of the law formulated by Paul offers no comfort; observing oneself, one risks falling into despair. And what does Paul do? He writes, “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Once again, the way out is given to us only through the perfect Man Jesus, in whom both mind and flesh serve God's law.

Besides everything this text tells us directly, after reading it we can no longer excuse our inaction or lack of faith by appealing to weakness and “Paul's law.” For the apostle Paul is like this too; here he is writing about himself personally. The man who became the apostle to the Gentiles, a teacher, a spiritual shepherd, and an example to follow is afflicted by the same infirmities as we are. Remembering this, we can accomplish a great deal even without becoming apostles to the Gentiles.

Continuing the conversation about life and death, about the Torah and righteousness, Paul turns attention to human choice, seeing in it the foundation of spiritual life. He speaks about the inner division that inevitably opens up in everyone who tries to walk the way of righteousness (vv. 15-20). Of course, such division cannot be considered normal; it is a consequence of the fall, a consequence of the fact that fallen humanity is seriously ill (more precisely, injured) from birth. And without a radical change in human nature, there can be no healing from the inherited trauma received at the fall. Yet a person still has a choice: after all, one can relate to one's own illness or injury in different ways, especially now that the One has come into the world who can offer medicine for a previously incurable disease. One can be freed from inner division by completely renouncing one's own life and beginning to live the life of Christ, where there is no place for any divisions (vv. 24-25).

But this deliverance does not mean that the inner struggle is over. It will end only when the "inner person" and the "members" (vv. 21-23) become one whole, when what the Torah calls for is fulfilled: to love God not only with all one's heart, but with all one's being and all one's strength. The heart's choice has been made (Paul prefers to speak of the "mind," but that does not change the essence of the matter); the apostle is ready to follow Christ along the way of righteousness. He thirsts for the Kingdom with his whole being; his soul strains to follow the Torah, but the body, stricken by sin, resists. There is only one way out: what resists must die. Sin and those who serve sin are ready to kill the righteous person for the mere desire to follow the Torah; it is the commandment that reveals the full power of sin, making it, in Paul's words, "sin beyond measure," sin in all its fullness (v. 13).

But such a death is of little use; it would be only the murder of a righteous person, for whom destruction would remain nothing but destruction. True liberation requires the help of the One who can give the Kingdom to everyone who seeks and trusts. But it will become possible only if consent to the operation that frees one from the "body of death" is given voluntarily. Here the choice made by the one who wants to walk the way of righteousness becomes fundamentally important, for the success of the operation depends on what exactly, on which part of one's being, the person being healed identifies as the self. A person is free, and God will not cut away what is absolutely valuable and important to that person. If the "body of death" turns out to be such an absolute value, there will be no operation: God will cancel it and refuse treatment until better times, which will come only when the one being healed voluntarily agrees to give up what must be cut away. But in that case the way into the Kingdom will also have to be postponed. At best, for a long time. At worst, forever.