§29 The Marks of a Christian (Rom. 12:9–21)
In his famous hymn to love in 1 Corinthians 13 Paul says, “if … I have not love, I am nothing” (v. 2). In Romans 13 he says that “love is the fulfillment of the law” (v. 10), and he enjoins Christians to owe no one anything except the debt of love (v. 8). In the latter half of Romans 12 Paul provides insight and guidance concerning the nature of love. Love is defined at the outset (v. 9), middle (v. 17), and end (v. 21) as a commitment to good, and especially the victory of good over evil. This section is something of a manual on the fruit of the Spirit, for nearly every virtue listed in Galatians 5:22 is expounded here. The examples are loosely joined together, although Paul directs them first to love within the Christian community (vv. 9–13), and then to love toward the world at large (vv. 14–21). The exhortations are seasoned throughout with OT wisdom, especially Proverbs, and the whole echoes the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5–7). In their teachings on love both Jesus and Paul reveal the chasm between the ethics of egoism and the “most excellent way” of agapē (1 Cor. 12:31). Christian love is shaped neither by the standards of the world nor by the promptings of self, but by the power of the Holy Spirit bearing witness within believers to the character of God.
12:9 / Paul first appeals for sincere or genuine love, since love is the primary fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22). An examination of the Greek text reveals several important features not readily apparent in a translation. First, the opening sentence contains no verb and might be correctly translated “love (is) sincere” (cf. NIV, Love must be sincere). It may, in other words, be a statement about the nature of love and not merely a summons to love. Again, the word for love, agapē, has the definite article, indicating that Paul is not thinking of love in general, but of the (Christian) love. Finally, the word for sincere in Greek means “without hypocrisy” or “unstaged.” In Greek drama a single actor (hypokritēs) normally played several roles, with corresponding masks for each character he played. But true love, says Paul, is anypokritos, “un-hypocritical,” because it does not play different roles. Love is not a counterfeit, a mask of pretense, but a sincere expression of one’s intentions. It is, of course, possible to be kind or good from motives which are neither kind nor good. Indeed, there is great temptation for religious people to render obligatory love. Jesus criticized the scribes and Pharisees as hypokritai; they are, he said, “whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean” (Matt. 23:27). Sincere love, Christian love, cannot be measured, calculated, or staged. It must be honest, genuine, and true to the motive of the giver.
Paul characterizes agapē as that which hates what is evil; clings to what is good. In modern society love is used for a host of things which have little, if anything, to do with agapē. If love is not twisted by its ubiquitous associations with lust and sex, then it is reduced to a sentiment. Sentimentality is a particular danger because it grounds behavior in feelings of emotional idealism and divorces itself from a world of imperfect choices. Agapē, on the other hand, commits itself to the good of the other regardless of cost to self. It is discriminating, for it distinguishes truth from falsity. “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth” (1 Cor. 13:6). Agapē is not a nice or pleasing disposition, and it is not complacent in the face of wrong. It hates evil. The word for evil, ponēros, is the strongest word for evil or wickedness in Greek, and this is its only occurrence in Romans. The Christian response to it must be equally strong. The Greek word apostygein means to “detest” or “abhor.” Whoever does not hate evil does not love good. Refusing to condemn evil in whatever form it takes (though not the people who do it), or tolerating evil for whatever reason when there is within our power the ability to do something about it, is no longer love. The prayer for social justice in the Book of Common Prayer says that love “makes no peace with oppression.”
12:10–13 / Ten poignant examples of agapē comprise this section, all of which are cast in parallel form. Each begins in Greek with a substantive in the dative case which is followed by a response in the participial mood; i.e., first a virtue, then an action with respect to it. The sequence is enclosed between two homophones in Greek, Philadelphia (brotherly love, v. 10) and philoxenia (hospitality, v. 13). The following attempts to reproduce the flavor of the original:
In brotherly love, being devoted to one another;
in honor, outdoing one another;
in zeal, never flagging;
in the Spirit, being aglow;
to the Lord, serving;
in hope, rejoicing;
in tribulation, being patient;
in prayer, being constant;
to the needs of the saints, sharing generously;
in hospitality, being diligent.
The sequence begins with Christian fellowship: be devoted to one another in brotherly love (v. 10). Two words define the love of verse 9 in terms of the family. The first, Philadelphia (brotherly love), refers to sibling love, while philostorgos (devoted) refers to the love of parents for children. Intimate affection among family members thus becomes a fitting model for the church. In reality, of course, families are not always charitable, and neither are churches. Nevertheless, with this term at the head of the sequence, Paul establishes familial love as the ideal characteristic of Christian fellowship.
The second word is to honor one another above yourselves. The Greek is somewhat obscure, but it seems to mean “prefer one another with honor” (cf. Phil 2:3, “consider others better than yourselves”). If our neighbor is one for whom Christ died, and if, as Matthew 25:31–46 makes abundantly clear, the Son of Man is mysteriously present in our neighbor (and especially in the needy neighbor), then our neighbor represents Christ to us and is worthy of greater honor than we show ourselves. This essential virtue became the masthead of the Rule of St. Benedict, namely, to receive all strangers as Christ.
The third word is, never be lacking in zeal (v. 11). True love, like any meaningful experience, wants to express itself, and it is no different with Christian love. Christians are constantly confronted by new challenges in life, in the face of which they cannot remain spectators. When such challenges represent the call of God and present opportunities for serving Christ, idleness is disobedience. The word translated never be lacking (Gk. oknēros), means the indolence or laziness of a slave as opposed to the eager motivation of a free citizen. The real enemy of zeal is not opposition but complacency, being “neither cold nor hot” (Rev. 3:15).
In conjunction with zeal Paul says to keep your spiritual fervor (v. 11). The Greek word for fervor, meaning to “boil or bubble,” is used to describe the ardent spirit of Apollos in Acts 18:25. Is there a more attractive model of faith or a more worthy vessel of love than the glowing spirit of a Christian? The very image of ardor, however, warns against zealotry or false enthusiasm. Therefore, lest zealous Christians think themselves more deserving of God than others, let them recall the words of Jesus, “So that you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty’ ” (Luke 17:10).
To zeal and spiritual fervor Paul adds, serving the Lord (v. 11). A few ancient manuscripts read “time” here rather than Lord, but the NIV, following the majority of manuscripts, is doubtlessly correct in its rendering. Paul is not thinking of seizing or savoring the moment (e.g., the classical idea of carpe diem), but of serving Christ. And lest anyone were to confuse zeal and spiritual fervor with mere spiritual effervescence, the apostle interjects the sanguine note of serving. The ardor of the Spirit does not dissipate in emotionalism but produces the constructive energy of service.
The sixth word is, be joyful in hope (v. 12). There is a slight oxymoron in the combination of hope and joy. Joy normally stems from favorable circumstances in the present, whereas hope looks to the good of the future. Consequently, joy may be shortsighted regarding the future, and hope oblivious of the present. Paul, however, says to be joyful in hope. Christian joy finds its source not in the present (whether favorable or not), for that is a hope which “disappoint[s] us” (5:5). Christian joy consists in the hope of “our adoption as sons [and] the redemption of our bodies” (8:23–25).
Not coincidentally, Paul follows being joyful in hope with being patient in affliction (v. 12). Earlier he said that suffering produces perseverance, character, and hope (5:3–4). Afflictions are not illusions as some religions maintain, nor are they necessarily the result of human or even religious failure. If the world hates Christ (Matt. 10:22; John 15:18), then affliction is one of the inevitable consequences for the follower of Christ. James says to “consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials” (1:2). Where affliction cannot be accepted with joy, then it must be endured with patience. Endurance (5:3; Col. 3:13, “putting up with”) is itself a Christian virtue. If one cannot overcome one’s enemies, one may still hope to outlive them! Since the present world is not the final state of affairs, Christians hold on and hold out for the hope to come (John 16:33). For the present, enduring troubles prepares the soul for “an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Cor. 4:17).
There is a logical connection between being patient in affliction and faithful in prayer (v. 12). Prayer makes endurance possible. The verb rendered faithful carries the sense in Greek of “holding fast to” or “persisting in,” and is frequently associated with prayer (Luke 18:1; Acts 1:14; 2:42; 6:4; Eph. 6:18; Col. 4:2; 1 Thess. 5:17). There is nothing either in the OT or in Judaism corresponding to the early Christian ideal of constant prayer. Here again constancy in prayer prepares the soul for its future glory. With the possible exception of faith, nothing in the Christian life requires more effort than prayer. It is a battle between flesh and Spirit, the world and God (Gal. 5:16ff.). Christians pray, and rightly so, for deliverance from harm and adversity on their earthly pilgrimage. But if their prayer is not answered accordingly they must not conclude that God is punishing them or give up their faith. The gospel is indeed a hospice of heaven in this life, but it is more often, and more importantly, a training camp for the life to come. The Spirit does not exempt Christians from hardship, but he promises to support them in it. The NT lays great emphasis on the virtue of endurance (Mark 13:13), and on patience, faithfulness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22–23) as signs of genuine faith.
The ninth admonition is to share with God’s people who are in need (v. 13). Hospitality and generosity were hallmarks of early Christianity, and sharing was an important way by which Christians identified themselves (Acts 2:43ff.; 4:32ff.; James 2:14ff.). Sharing (Gk. koinōnein) is a concrete expression of “brotherly love” (v. 10) and defines the ideal of the church as a koinōnia, a sharing community of believers. Sharing was an appropriate reminder for Roman Christians who, because they lived in the capital city, received many visitors. In at least some quarters local inns were places of ill-repute. When this was the case, principle was augmented by necessity to provide lodging for the community’s needy, and particularly for itinerant missionaries and preachers. In light of the probable conflicts between Jewish and Gentile Christians in Rome following the edict of Claudius (see Introduction), verse 13 may have been more than a general platitude. Paul clearly envisioned practical acts of giving as a way of overcoming the estrangement between Gentiles and Jews (15:26ff.). Given the fact that Western Christians today enjoy a standard of living considerably higher than the majority of people in the world, the relevance of this particular injunction would appear to surpass mere historical interest.
Paul concludes with hospitality (v. 13). This was a matter of practical necessity in a period when there were no church buildings or social agencies. The Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, literally means “kindness to strangers” and complements Philadelphia, “kindness to the brotherhood,” at the head of the list (v. 10). The word for practice (Gk. diōkein) actually means “to press or pursue.” Practice hospitality, therefore, carries the sense of intentionally striving to embrace strangers and needy individuals. Again, in the modern West where jobs are increasingly characterized by bureaucracy and depersonalization, and where cities contain entire districts inhabited by ethnic and racial minorities, it would seem incumbent on the church to consider anew the implication of this imperative for the present day.
12:14–16 / This world is not utopia, whether of a classless society or limitless prosperity. Like everyone else, Christians live in a world twisted by disparities between ideals and double standards, success and failure, friend and foe, life and death. Faced with the sometimes hostile, sometimes hospitable, but usually indifferent nature of this world, believers are not presented with the alternative of withdrawing in Stoic detachment or impassivity. Christians are human believers, and they cannot be more or less than that. But because their minds are being renewed (12:2), they are called to have a significantly different response to the world than they would have apart from the influence of the Spirit. Verses 14–21 cluster around that response and particularly around the problem of retaliation in the face of opposition and persecution.
The first command is to bless and not curse enemies (v. 14). There is no essential contradiction between this command and the earlier command to hate evil (v. 9), for Christians are commanded both in their own person and in others to hate sin but not to curse sinners. The difficulty of this commandment is compounded by the fact that the urge to retaliate against adversaries is not only natural but seemingly justified. No one finds it easy to bless persecutors. The difficulty of the command to love one’s enemies (Matt. 5:44) is evidence, however, that it is the will of God that is commanded here. And where the will of God is revealed, the Spirit of God enables those who receive it with faith and prayerfulness to obey it.
Nearly as difficult is the command to rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn (v. 15). Ancient Judaism as a rule did not extend agapē to this degree, although Sirach 7:34 is close, “Do not fail those who weep, but mourn with those who mourn.” Christians often rejoice and grieve for reasons which are unchristian. Our joy and sorrow are too easily measured by personal gain or loss rather than by the cause of Christ. To rejoice with others (even when we are deprived of their joy) and to weep with others (even when we have not suffered their loss) requires a selflessness which only the power of agapē can bestow. Apart from the renewing of our minds, such commandments make no sense; and apart from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, they are impossible to realize. The converted heart agrees that this is the perfect love of Christ, but the flesh rebels, reminding us of the unfinished progress in our lives before we approximate the “likeness of [God’s] Son” (8:29).
Live in harmony.… do not be proud … associate with people of low position.… do not be conceited (v. 16). Although it is not apparent in the NIV, Paul stresses again (see verse 3) the intentionality of Christian behavior. The Greek word for “thinking” (phronein) appears three times in verse 16 and might be rendered, “Have this mind (phronein) among yourselves, do not think (phronein) inflated things.… do not be wise (phronimos) in yourselves.” The final clause echoes Proverbs 3:7 and repeats Romans 11:25. Paul again reminds us that agapē begins with a renewed understanding.
The Greek of verse 16 is unclear whether association with lowly things is meant (a warning against haughtiness and ambitiousness) or lowly people. On the one hand, the neuter gender of the preceding phrase, “do not think inflated things” (NIV, Do not be proud), would appear to argue for “lowly things.” On the other hand, the Greek word low (tapeinos) is used in the NT only of persons, and not things. Moreover, associate seems to suit persons better than objects. People of low position (so NIV) is therefore the preferable rendering (see 1 Cor. 1:27–29). This accords with the posture and parables of Jesus. “The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me’ ” (Matt. 25:40). Paul thus urges Roman Christians to show solidarity with the poor and oppressed, as he himself did (Gal. 2:10).
12:17–21 / The apostle now tackles the problem of retaliation, Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Retaliation is a response of the natural person (i.e., “flesh”) to exact justice for a wrong incurred. The Christian, however, is not bound to a natural reflex, no matter how just it may seem, but to a considered response (Gk. pronoein, v. 17), which reflects the renewing of the mind and God’s “good, pleasing and perfect will” (12:2). It is probably not coincidental that this command follows on the heels of associating with the humble and needy, for when Christians take their stand with the oppressed they often become the objects of persecution. That early Christians were often in such positions is well known, and that they were tempted to retaliate against their oppressors cannot be doubted. This teaching appears to have been standard throughout early Christianity (Matt. 5:38–42; 1 Thess. 5:15; 1 Pet. 3:9).
The NT is equally clear about peace (v. 18). Christians are commanded to be not only peace keepers (i.e., maintain peace, so Mark 9:50), but peace makers (promote peace, so Matt. 5:9). Like love, peace is a fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22; see also 2 Cor. 13:11; 1 Thess. 5:13). If it is possible (v. 18) implies that peace is not a compromise of good and cannot be purchased at any price. Christians must do all they can to promote peace and tolerance without betraying the will of God. When the good is at stake, however, believers have no alternative but to choose it, even at the risk of jeopardizing peace. For modern Christians, serenaded by the subtle influences of peer pressure to be liked and popular above everything else, there is no negligible caution here.
God is not complacent in the face of evil, but his just wrath is of a wholly different character from human vengeance, which often and easily is fueled by self-interest, excess, and vindictiveness. The early church broke new ground at this point, for in Judaism revenge was permissible against non-Israelites or in cases of personal injury. Paul categorically excludes revenge: Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath (v. 19). “The anger of man does not work the righteousness of God” (James 1:20, RSV). This is particularly true where vengeance is unleashed because of personal injury. The reading of the Greek text, “Do not avenge yourselves,” is instructive at this point. Certainly, nowhere is revenge less likely to express divine justice than where it is pressed into the service of self.
Paul quotes Proverbs 25:21–22 in support of peaceableness over vengeance (v. 20). It is as unnatural as it is difficult to forego revenge apart from God’s help. While it may not be impossible to refrain from revenge in a given circumstance (v. 19), it is quite another matter to do good to the wicked (v. 20). Here, as elsewhere, the flame of agapē purges the dross of selfish ambition and tempers believers to conform to the image of God’s Son.
At first reading verse 20 suggests that the reason for doing good to enemies is to cause them severer punishment, “In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” But considering the importance of motive in NT ethics (above all in the Sermon on the Mount, Matt. 5–7), it is quite impossible to reconcile a malicious intent with the agapē of God, who demonstrated his love by sending his Son to die for sinners (5:8). Rather, heaping burning coals on his head intends to bring shame on wrongdoers so that they will repent of their evil. In this way evil will be overcome with good (v. 21).
Verse 21 consummates everything Paul has said of agapē. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Agapē corresponds to God’s nature (1 John 4:16) and his way of acting toward enemies (5:10). Since Christians are being transformed by God’s will (12:2), love must also become their nature and manner of behavior. Pelagius said, “The enemy has overcome us when he makes us like himself” (quoted from Cranfield, Romans, vol. 2, p. 650). To repay evil for evil is to become like Satan. But to repay good for evil is to become like God. The essential victory over evil is the work of love. And this is no imaginary victory. Overcoming evil with good is the most revolutionary force in the world. Love cannot fail because it represents the sovereign will of God (1 Cor. 13).
12:9 / In the history of creedalism there is a tendency not only to define what the church stands for, but also what it is against. This may be a doctrinal echo of hating what is evil; clinging to what is good, for the love of pure doctrine demands a condemnation of false doctrine. A modern theory of truth verification propounded by Anthony Flew, who maintains that the criterion for truth necessitates the establishing of the falsity of its opposite, would appear to corroborate Paul’s idea here. “If there is nothing which an assertion denies then there is nothing which it asserts either.” See John Hick, ed., Classical and Contemporary Readings in the Philosophy of Religion, 2d ed. (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1970), p. 466.
12:10–13 / For the Benedictine Rule and its many echoes of Rom. 12:9–21, see The Rule of St. Benedict, ed. T. Fry, O.S.B. (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1981).
On the textual variant in v. 11, Metzger notes that a scribe could have easily misread the Greek abbreviation for “Lord” for that of “time” (see TCGNT, p. 528). For full discussions of the variant, see Cranfield, Romans, vol. 2, pp. 634–36, and Dunn, Romans 9–16, p. 737.
On hospitality in v. 13, see V. H. Kooy, “Hospitality,” IDB, vol. 2, p. 654. Especially in the nomadic, Mediterranean world, hospitality was regarded as an unspoken duty independent of written codes. In the Judeo-Christian tradition Abraham was venerated as a model of hospitality (Gen. 18), and more especially Jesus, because of his dependence on hospitality (e.g., Mark 1:29–31) and his teaching about it (e.g., Mark 2:15–17; Luke 14:1–24). Regarding the unreliability of inns in the ancient world, Plato warns of the unseemliness of tavernkeepers and the dishonorableness of the trade (Laws, 11.918).
12:14–16 / The starting point for the NT understanding of agapē is in the OT. Exodus 23:4ff. commanded Israelites to render assistance to their enemies (including non-Israelites) in various emergencies. The fruit of such charity would be peace and friendship among peoples, with the hope that one’s enemies might becomes one’s friends. But ancient Judaism never succeeded in formulating the love for enemies as Jesus taught his disciples. The apex of its formulation was the negative principle not to rejoice over the misfortune of one’s enemies, and not to repay evil for evil. See Str-B, vol. 1, p. 368.
12:17–21 / On Jewish attitudes toward revenge, see Str-B, vol. 3, p. 300. On the same topic, Bengel offers something of a corollary to Pascal’s “wager”: Suppose that your adversary is not better, and that you are not worse, than you think. He will either obtain divine grace at the end, or not. If he obtains grace he will in so doing repent of the wrong he did to you, and you will not desire to press your case to deny him the grace God wills to give him. If he does not obtain grace, the supreme Judge will justly punish him for the wrong. Either way, judgment belongs to God. See Bengel, Gnomon, vol. 3, p. 167.
The metaphor of heaping burning coals on someone’s head may have derived from Egypt where penitents carried burning coals on their head as a sign of contrition. See the material presented in Michel, Der Brief an die Römer, p. 311, footnote 1. This metaphor, and the theology behind it, is the root of the ethics of non-violence as personified by Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. In accepting violence without retaliation, and in repaying hatred with kindness, the victim reveals the extent of the persecutor’s crime, thereby hoping to shame him or her into repentance.