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§35 Christ: The Point of Convergence (Rom. 15:1–13)

The first 13 verses of chapter 15 continue and conclude Paul’s discussion of the “strong” and “weak.” The discussion which began in 14:1 with the “weak in faith” broadens to the strong and weak in the most general sense. Verses 8–9 reveal that the conflict between the strong and weak basically reflects the differences between Jews and Gentiles which have occupied Paul throughout the epistle. He demonstrates that unity between the two groups can be achieved in Jesus Christ, whose striving was not to please himself but to build up others (vv. 2–3), and who provided a model for true acceptance of others, particularly those different from ourselves (v. 7). Christ is thus the focal point of faith, which Paul noted in 14:23, and both the object of the church’s worship and the model of its life. From this focal point three themes radiate outward. The first, which is keyed off the word “to please” (vv. 1, 2, 3), argues that reconciliation between strong and weak occurs where believers forego self-serving interests in favor of “Christ [who] did not please himself” (vv. 1–3). Second, Christ has come to fulfill the promises made to the patriarchs for the inclusion of Gentiles in salvation (vv. 8–12). And finally, Christ is the ground of hope for all believers (vv. 4, 12, 13). Twice in the argument Paul rises to the height of joyful doxologies or benedictions (vv. 5–6, 13); the latter thematically concludes the epistle, the remainder of which will be devoted to Paul’s travel plans and personal greetings.

15:1 / For the first time since 14:1 Paul designates the strong by name, and his use of the first person plural indicates that he considers himself as one of them. The strong, however, are not the ideal. Rather, strength is a privilege which carries responsibility. We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak. Implicit in the word ought is a moral claim that follows as a result of the love of neighbor (cf. 13:8–10; 15:27). In Greek the term for strong is literally “those who are able,” i.e., those who have the power and means of dominating others; it stands in direct antithesis to the weak (Gk. “those who are unable”). But if Paul does not establish strength as the ideal, neither does he argue against it. He argues instead for a redirection of its potential, advocating power for others rather than power over them.

This thought is reinforced by a word (bear; Gk. bastazein) that is used both of Isaiah’s suffering servant and of Jesus: “ ‘He took up our infirmities and carried (bastazein) our diseases’ ” (Isa. 53:4; Matt. 8:17; also Gal. 6:2). Adolf Schlatter was right in saying that Paul argues for more than tacit toleration. “Toleration is never quite free from disdain and puts the weaker person in danger of being overpowered. Whoever is merely tolerated is not really accepted in his weakness, but is treated in such a way that he is expected to be what he cannot be” (Gottes Gerechtigkeit, p. 379 [my translation]). Agapē is always more than tolerance, and also more than condescension. Christians must accept others (v. 7) and help bear their burdens, just as Christ took our burdens upon himself. Acceptance of the weak, however, is not the same as living for them, much less saving them. That only God can do. The parameters of the present admonition are defined by an earthy realism, namely, as we are able to take the burdens of others upon ourselves and provide what help we can. The accent, however, falls on accepting the weak, not changing them.

15:2 / Each of us should please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. This is not to say that personal pleasure is bad. Radical asceticism always forgets that God made the world good and for the purpose of human delight (Gen. 1–2). Paul’s imperative says nothing either for or against self-gratification, but concerns pleasing others (which in the present context means the weak); and under no circumstances should the self be pleased at the expense of others. Agapē seeks to please the neighbor for his good, to build him up (cf. Phil. 2:3–4). Furthermore, this protects the virtue of forbearance from being reduced to “niceness.” We may, for example, be nice when we should be just, or be agreeable when we should be truthful, or be flattering when honesty and integrity are demanded. The good, as any physician will tell you, is not always what the patient wants to hear, and a Christian, as well as a physician, is worthy of the name only where the good of the other prevails over any other interest.

15:3 / Accepting and bearing the weak are not presented as moral ends, but as extensions of the ministry of Christ, For even Christ did not please himself. Paul, of course, could have supported the principle on the basis of Christ’s teachings (e.g., Matt. 5:43–46; Acts 20:35), but he grounds it instead in Christ’s example. There is thus a historical reality beneath Paul’s ethical principle. Christians are called to act in like manner not simply because it might be shown from ethical canons that this is a proper course of behavior, but because it is the way of Christ. The echo of Christ’s humbling himself and making himself nothing in Philippians 2:5–11 is unmistakable here (see also Mark 10:45; 1 Cor. 11:1; 2 Cor. 8:9).

Nevertheless, there is more here than a general appeal for humility and other-centeredness (e.g., 1 Cor. 10:33). The quotation which Paul appends in verse 3 (“The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me” [Ps. 69:9]) indicates the lengths to which Jesus went not to please himself. More precisely, in his association with sinners Jesus became the most despised of human beings, and this was necessary if he was to be the Messiah of God. In like manner, Christians, through their association with the weak and needy, expose themselves to the reproach and derision of the world, and this too is God’s will for them. If the Son of God willingly forsook claims of privilege and prestige, giving himself up for the weak and needy, how much more should his followers renounce self-gratification and “bear with the failings of the weak” (v. 1).

15:4 / For the early Christians the holy Scriptures (everything that was written in the past) were what we today call the Old Testament. In the modern world the Hebrew Scriptures are read from many different perspectives. “Bible as Literature” courses read the OT as a repository of Hebrew saga, poetry, and narrative. Some theologians are interested in the OT’s layers of oral and written traditions, and others read it as a record of Hebrew social history. Some Christians see it as a book of law analogous to a moral counterpart of the gospel, and others relegate it to a book of preparation and prediction, now superseded by Christ. And, of course, there have always been Christians who have sought to reject the OT (and its God) as inferior and vengeful.

Whatever the merits (or lack thereof) of these various approaches, none of them aptly describe Paul’s approach to the Hebrew Scriptures, for he did not read them as a source book for a particular theory or ideology. The Scriptures were not something he referred to, but something he lived from, for what was written in the past was written to teach us. The Scriptures were, of course, ancient, but not in the sense of being “dated.” In his day, what was oldest was normally thought to be truest because it had survived the most difficult of all tests—time! We do not know what external interests (if any) Scripture held for Paul. We know only that he considered it a living, dynamic tradition which was breaking into his own time, through which God was acting and revealing himself in Christ. Scripture was an unfolding drama wherein what God communicated to one generation became valid for another, for “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb. 13:8). Of all contemporary approaches, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s question, “Who is Jesus Christ for us today?” would have found perhaps greatest resonance from Paul. This question does not exclude historical and literary questions, although it limits them to a secondary status. The validity of such questions would depend on their leading to a renewed understanding of the meaning of the Scriptures for each generation. Bengel’s saying might also speak for Paul, “Apply yourself wholly to the text, and apply the text wholly to yourself.”

Through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. In these words Paul introduces the theme of hope with which he will conclude the epistle (v. 13). We might have expected that Scripture would impart knowledge or salvation, but the apostle views its essential message as one of hope. Hope is the claiming of Christ’s coming triumph and reign by saving faith (8:24–25). Of course, Paul speaks of hope that comes not from the Scriptures per se but from the “God of hope” (v. 13), to whom the Scriptures bear witness.

15:5–6 / In verses 4–6 we discover a continuum from right authority (= Scripture, v. 4), to right thinking (= theology, v. 5), to right glorification (= worship, v. 6). The two benefits of Scripture in verse 4 are steadfastness or constancy (“endurance”) and promise (“encouragement”). These same benefits describe God’s attributes in verse 5, about which believers are (literally in Greek) “to think the same.” This produces right thinking, which culminates in right worship with one heart in verse 6. Right thinking about God and unity among believers are not exactly products of the church. They are gifts from God (v. 5; see also 12:16; Eph. 4:3), the first the gift of revelation, and the second the work of the Spirit. Earlier in Romans we spoke of “alien righteousness” as a righteousness not intrinsic to humanity but as a gift of God. The expression with one heart (v. 6) might also be considered “alien unity.” The Greek word behind it, homothymadon, means a unity that comes from outside ourselves rather than from any denominator common to ourselves. Demosthenes once used the term to describe the sort of oneness that results when a group of soldiers is attacked by an enemy; whatever their differences, the threat of destruction welds them into a fighting unit. So it is that grace draws us into a new relation with God and one another, making the church into something that it was not before, namely, a family of Jews and Gentiles in Christ (so Eph. 3:14–15).

The unity of believers is related inseparably to the purpose of God in redemption, both quantitatively and qualitatively. At the quantitative level Paul will assert in verses 8–9 that redemption radiates outward like ripples in a pool to include Gentiles within the household of faith. At the qualitative level he has just shown how division between the strong and weak (v. 1) has resulted in a unity with one heart in Christ (v. 6). On both levels it is abundantly clear that disruption of the unity of believers also disrupts the work of redemption.

15:7 / Verses 7–13 summarize and conclude what Paul has said since 14:1. Verse 7 especially captures the spirit of the argument, Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God. Addressed to both the strong and weak, this injunction calls for unconditional affirmation and acceptance of each by the other. Paul moves from the historical indicative of Christ’s death for us to the present imperative of acceptance of others. Again, it is not moral principles in themselves but the person of Jesus who provides both rationale and empowerment for such acceptance. There are many ways to give glory to God, among them truth (3:7) and faith (4:20). Not least among them, however, is acceptance of those different from ourselves. How strange, said Luther, is the glory of God, for God is glorified when believers of differing persuasions accept one another and when the strong bear the burdens of the weak! (Lectures on Romans, p. 411).

15:8–9 / In a solemn summary of the thrust of the epistle, Paul affirms, For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God’s truth, to confirm the promises made to the patriarchs so that the Gentiles may glorify God for his mercy (cf. 1:16–17). Truth and mercy are, as Otto Michel notes, frequent attributes of God in the OT (Der Brief an die Römer, pp. 358–59). But whereas they were once thought to be restricted to Jews, they now are seen to include Gentiles. This passage offers rather compelling evidence that the “strong” and “weak” of chapters 14–15 generally correspond in Paul’s thinking to Gentiles and Jews. If the phrasing of verses 8–9 is somewhat rough, it is, as Käsemann reminds us, because Paul has a double purpose in mind. He wants to establish that the saving grace of Christ is available to Jews and Gentiles alike, but that priority was given (at least historically) to the Jews (Romans, p. 385). Gentiles, on the one hand, must understand that their salvation comes through the Hebrew patriarchs. Jews, on the other hand, must understand that God’s promise to the patriarchs was from the beginning inclusive of Gentiles (e.g., Gen. 12:3). Christ is the servant of both, of Jews by confirming the promises made to the patriarchs, of Gentiles by fulfilling the original purpose of the covenant with Israel. In both instances God’s glory is served.

15:10–13 / The conclusion of verses 8–9 finds support from all three divisions of the Hebrew Scriptures (Torah, Prophets, Writings), thus enhancing its effect. All four quotations (v. 9 = Ps. 18:49 / 2 Sam. 22:50; v. 10 = Deut. 32:43; v. 11 = Ps. 117:1; v. 12 = Isa. 11:10) follow the LXX faithfully. They share a common theme of praise of God by a joint chorus of Jew and Gentile. Praise is expressly emphasized by no fewer than six terms in Greek, most of which survive in translation—praise, sing hymns, rejoice, sing praises, and hope. The final quotation in verse 12 culminates with that humblest of messianic metaphors—the root of Jesse—which, in the present context, is entirely in character with a Messiah who “did not please himself” (v. 3). This Christ is the Gentiles’ ruler and hope. Thus, the salvation of the Gentiles, as Paul argued resolutely in chapters 9–11, is anything but a scissors-and-paste act on God’s part. Their salvation was inherent in God’s promise to Israel from the beginning! There should of course be nothing very surprising in this. The God who once defended the cause of an abandoned slave people in Egypt, and later defended the cause of the sojourner, widow, and orphan in its midst, now advocates the cause of the distant Gentiles (Eph. 2:11–13). And the same Lord who draws them into salvation builds bridges between them in the community which bears his name. The weak must not condemn the strong, but rather permit them their freedom of conscience; and the strong must not press for victory, but rather convert their power into advocacy for the weak.

The discussion of the strong and weak is concluded with a rich and festive benediction of hope in verse 13. Christian hope is not merely a sentiment of good fortune or a vague wish that “things will turn out all right in the end.” Hope is an affirmation of the nature of God. The God of hope enables those who put their faith in him to overflow with hope. Gone are the things of the flesh: law, sin, wrath, and death. The benediction sums up the new life in Christ: joy, peace, trust, hope, and power of the Holy Spirit. True, these are not yet present in full measure, but the work and promise of God in Christ are a surety of their ultimate triumph. “Now we see but a poor reflection … then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12).