Comment

12 διὰ τοῦτο ὥσπερ διʼ ἑνὸς ἀνθρώπου, “therefore as through one man.” The διὰ τοῦτο does not signify a conclusion drawn simply from an immediately preceding argument; v 11 had already effectively rounded off the preceding train of thought. Its function is rather to indicate that vv 12–21 serve as a conclusion to the complete argument from 1:18—5:11 (see further 5:1–21 Introduction). The ὥσπερ, “just as,” clearly is intended to introduce the first half of a contrast which is not in fact completed until v 18 (see also Form and Structure). The “one man” obviously is Adam, although he is not named till v 14. Paul may have it in mind that Adam = = “man” = ἄνθρωπος, but his argument does not depend on it. And though he will use Adam to characterize the state of humankind (vv 15–19), he does not use ἄνθρωπος here to characterize humankind as a whole; the concept of “corporate personality” (H. W. Robinson, Man, 121; Bruce, 126) is more of a hindrance than a help here (so rightly Käsemann; see further Rogerson); still less can it be maintained that Paul has in mind some universal mythical Man—as the distinction between “one man” and “all men” makes clear (see further on 5:14c). The further step back, already behind Moses (and the law) to Abraham (chap. 4), and now behind Abraham to Adam, is deliberate. Not only does it bring the argument back to its starting point (the indictment of human sin in terms of Adam’s fall—see on 1:22) and so completes the circle of his argument (1:18—5:21—see again 5:1–21 Introduction), but it also highlights the universal sweep of God’s saving purpose through Christ: God is Savior (vv 9–10) as Creator (cf. 4:17) and not merely as the God of Israel.

ἡ ἁμαρτία εἰς τὸν κόσμον εἰσῆλθεν καὶ διὰ τῆς ἁμαρτίας ὁ θάνατος, “sin entered into the world and through sin, death.” Paul here shows himself familiar with and indeed to be a participant in what was evidently a very vigorous strand of contemporary Jewish thinking about Adam and the origin of evil and death in the world. Note particularly Sir 14:17, 25:24 (“From a woman sin had its beginning and because of her we die”); Wisd Sol 2:23–24 (“God created man for incorruption . . . but through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his party experience it”); Adam and Eve 44 and Apoc. Mos. 14, 32; 4 Ezra 3.7, 21–22; 4.30; 7.116–18; 2 Apoc. Bar. 17.2–3; 23.4; 48.42–43; 54.15, 19; 56.5–6; for rabbinic references see Str-B, 3:227–29. Gen 6:1–4 was also drawn into this speculation (see on 1:27); the texts are set out by Kuss, 261–72. Unlike most of his contemporaries Paul does not speculate about the way in which sin entered the world—through Satan (as in Wisd Sol 2:24), through Eve (as in Sir 25:24; Adam and Eve 44; Apoc. Mos. 14, 32; cf. 2 Cor 11:3; 1 Tim 2:14; 2 Enoch 30.18), through the “evil heart” (as in 4 Ezra 4.30). Nor like the later Gnostics does he try to trace the cause further back to some primordial cosmic dualism (cf. Bornkamm, “Anakoluthe,” 83–84, 90; Gaugler, who also quotes Bultmann, “Rom 5,” 152—“sin” came into the world through sinning”). And though he clearly personifies “sin” and “death” (see on 3:9 and 1:32 respectively) his language is not so different from that of Sir 25:24 and Wisd Sol 2:24, and his concern is not so much to designate them as cosmic powers as to characterize them as forces of existential reality: what sin entered was the world of human beings, of human experience (“all men”—v 12c; cf. 7:7–12) rather than creation (Wilckens, 315 n. 1037). This is the language of universal experience, not of cosmic speculation (cf. Dodd—Paul “is not really concerned about origins, but about the facts as they are”). Where Paul does come closer to the broader Jewish thought is in the tension between sin as part of human nature and the responsibililty for sinning (see below); and in the clear implication that death was a consequence of sin and so not part of God’s purpose for his creation (cf. Wisd Sol 1:13; 2:23–24; see also Black, “Death,” 414–15, 421). As in the broader sweep of Jewish thought also, there is no suggestion of a distinction between “spiritual” and “physical” death: human weakness (5:6), the corruptibility of the flesh (see on 1:3 and 7:5), and death are all of a piece in that they characterize the whole sweep of creaturely alienation from the Creator (cf. Kuss; against Schmidt). “Sin” and “death,” appearing here for the first time as interdependent categories, will largely dominate the discussion for the next three chapters (“sin” 42 times between 5:12 and 8:10; “death” 19 times between 5:12 and 8:6; together—5:12, 21; 6:16, 23; 7:5, 13; 8:2; see further chaps. 6–8 Introduction).

καὶ οὕτως εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους ὁ θάνατος διῆλθεν, “and so death came to all men.” The καὶ οὕτως does not provide the apodosis for the ὥσπερ clause (see particularly Cranfield and Schlier; otherwise Kirby—“so too [sc. through one man, Adam] death came to all men”—but without offering any explanation for the sequence of thought through vv 12d and 13a). Paul seems to be going off at a tangent, but his purpose is to emphasize the universal rule of death (Robinson, Wrestling, 61), whether as a consequence of all men’s sinful acts (v 12d) or as a consequence of human sin, even if unaccounted (vv 13–14); his theme is original death more than original sin (Feuillet, “Règne,” 482–92; Theobald, 80; Maillot). However, he chooses a linking phrase which prevents the transition from jarring unnecessarily (καὶ οὕτως, where the construction expects οὕτως καί, as in v 18). The διῆλθεν (usually used of journeys) may be chosen to increase the force of εἰσῆλθεν: death passed through the whole range of humankind (SH, Michel; cf. Wisd Sol 7:24). Dibelius, “Vier Worte,” 8, and Englezakis emphasize the chiastic structure of v 12:

sin entered and death

and so death came to all in that all sinned

ἐφʼ ᾧ πάντες ἥμαρτον, “in that all sinned.” The classic debate on the meaning of ἐφʼ ᾧ has more or less been settled in favor of the meaning “for this reason that, because” (cf. 2 Cor 5:4; Phil 3:12; 4:10; classical parallels in BGD, ἐπί IIbγ), “in view of the fact that” (Moulton, Grammar, 1:107); see particularly the full discussion of Cranfield; Black, however, favors the sense “wherefore, from which it follows that” (following Lyonnet) = “thus providing proof that”; unacceptable is Schmidt’s interpretation, “up to which (the end [Ziel] of eternal death) all sinned.” What comes to expression here is not some concept of “corporate personality” or cosmic Man or theology of Adam as Everyman. However much Paul wants to stress the universality of the effects of Adam’s sin (vv 13–14, 18–19), the fact remains that he begins with (v 12) and maintains throughout (vv 15–19) a distinction between “one” and “all”/“the many.” The link between the “one” and the “all” is not explained, but the distinction is clear: the “one” is not the “all,” and the “all” are not simply subsumed within the “one.” What comes to expression is rather what we also see in the same broad stream of Jewish reflection on the Genesis account of Adam’s fall—viz., the tension between the inescapableness of human sin operating as a compelling power from within or without (cf., e.g., Philo, Mos. 2.147—συμφυὲς τὸ ἁμαρτάνειν ἐστίν; Qumran’s “spirit of perversity”—1QS 3:18–4:1; 4 Ezra’s “evil heart”), and the recognition of human responsibility in sinning (particularly 4 Ezra 8.35; 2 Apoc. Bar. 54.15, 19—“Though Adam sinned first and has brought death upon all who were not in his own time, yet each of them who has been born from him has prepared for himself the coming torment . . .”). So here the distinction between the “one” and the “all” is matched by the distinction between ἁμαρτία and ἥμαρτον, where the latter clearly denotes human responsibility in sinful acts (as in 2:12 and 3:23)—hence the problem (v 13) of whether individuals ἥμαρτον when there was no law (Wedderburn, “Rom 5:12,” 351–52; see further Denney, 627–29; Kuss, 241–48; Fitzmyer; Käsemann, 148–49; Kümmel, Theology, 179; Schlier, 160–63; Hendriksen; cf. Danker; against Nygren; Bruce; Murray; Ridderbos, Paul, 96; Johnson, 306–7; and Ladd, Theology, 404). In modern terms we would want to balance questions of individual responsibility against the constraints of hereditary, educational, and other social conditioning factors (cf. Dodd; Leenhardt; Robinson, Wrestling, 61–63). “No one sins entirely alone and no one sins without adding to the collective burden of mankind” (Byrne, Reckoning, 116).

13 ἄχρι γὰρ νόμου ἁμαρτία ἦ ἐν κόσμῳ, “for until the law sin was in the world.” For ἁμαρτία see on 3:9 and 5:12; κόσμος is again the world of human beings, human experience (as in 5:12). νόμος clearly refers to the Torah, and the clause to the period of history prior to the giving of the law at Sinai (between Adam and Moses—v 14). Very noticeable is the speed with which Paul’s thought and argument reverts to the law (cf. Jüngel, “Gesetz,” 52)—a further indication that here was the chief point of tension for Paul the Jew become Christian and for his understanding of the gospel of Christ in relation to the traditional emphases of Judaism.

ἁμαρτία δὲ οὐκ ἐλλογεῖται μὴ ὄντος νόμου, “but sin is not accounted in the absence of the law.” ἐλλογέω is a commercial t.t., “charge to someone’s account” (BGD; cf. its only other NT use, Philem 18). Paul draws here on the idea of the heavenly tablets or books in which the sins (and righteousness) of humankind are recorded—an idea already current in Judaism (see particularly Jub. 30.17–23; 1 Enoch 104.7; 2 Apoc. Bar. 24.1); Black translates “is not entered into the ledger against.” Once again νόμος does not mean “law” in general, but the law, the Torah. The meaning of ἁμαρτία has moved from that of power to that of act (see further on 3:9 and 5:20). Lietzmann appropriately compares Philo, Immut. 134, “For so long as the divine reason (θεῖος λόγος) has not come into our soul . . . all its (our sours) works are free from guilt,” since for Philo the law is also θεῖος λόγος (Migr. 130).

Paul’s reasoning here has puzzled many commentators. “Verse 13 is completely unintelligible. . . . What sort of sin was it if it did not originate as contradiction of the Law? And how can it have brought death after it if it was not ‘counted’? These questions cannot be answered” (Bultmann, Theology, 1:252). “The statement ἁμαρτία οὐκ ἐλλογεῖται is a mere verbal expedient without any real significance. Paul tries to show that, as regards man and sin, the coming of the law makes a difference; what he actually shows is that there is none” (Räisänen, Paul, 146 n. 91). Certainly there is some tension here with what Paul says elsewhere, but such strictures are excessive. What is clear is that Paul’s primary object here is to stress the universal sway of death over the epoch introduced by Adam (cf. Bultmann, Theology, 1:252): v 13 functions as an explanation of v 12c; and v 14 makes it clear that v 13 is to be regarded as raising a possible objection to the claim that death’s sway has been unbroken from the beginning. The objection centers not on sin, because it was through sin that death entered (v 12). It centers rather on the nexus between sin and the law: that sin is not counted except as a breach of the law; and therefore in the absence of the law no acts worthy of death could have happened. Paul could have met this objection by arguing as he did in chaps. 1 and 2 that those outside the law have a knowledge of God and of his will in terms of which they will be judged (see on 2:14), or by arguing that the law itself was already known in whole or in part already in the garden (see on 7:7). That he chooses not to do so, when he was prepared to take up such ideas elsewhere in the same letter, must be significant (cf. Zeller). What the significance is, however, remains unclear. But it must be tied up with Paul’s evident concern here to emphasize the role and power of sin and death as ultimately independent of the law (vv 13–14). Probably because, on the one hand, he already has in mind the argument he will have to make in chap. 7, which will leave a positive role for the law when it is not sin’s catspaw (Theobald, 86–87). And probably also because he is willing to trade on the Jewish claim to a distinctive possession of the law, since he has already been able to turn it against his Jewish interlocutor: the law was given to the Jews to make them conscious of sin (see on 3:20 and 4:15)—the very point he will make with greater force in 5:20. The awkwardness of 5:13 is to be explained in large part therefore by the fact that it is like 3:1–8: it foreshadows lines of argument and emphases which Paul is not yet ready to develop.

What emerges here, however, is two potentially important distinctions. (1) Between sin as a power in human experience from which no one in the epoch can escape, and sin as something for which the individual can be charged—between sin = human sinfulness, and sin “counted” = individual “transgression” (v 14). Once again the two-sidedness of the human condition within the epoch of Adam comes to expression—sin as a given of human character and social environment (“sin was in the world”), and sin as an accountable action of individual responsibility (see also on 5:12d). Paul seems to think of both elements as present in greater or less degree in all sinning—the verb ἁμαρτάνω covering the complete range (vv 12d and 14). We may compare the distinctions already accepted within Judaism between unwitting sins and sins “with a high hand,” between sins atonable within the covenant and sins which put the sinner outside the covenant = outside the scope of forgiveness (Num 15:27–31; cf. 1 John 5:16–17). (2) Between death as an inescapable part of the human condition for which the individual cannot be held responsible, and death as a consequence of the individual’s responsible transgression (1:32; 6:23). It is not entirely fair to criticize Paul here by noting that it makes no difference—all die, for whatever reason (cf. Räisänen above). For, on the one hand, Paul is again giving expression to a much more widely experienced tension between unavoidable destiny and individual responsibility (see Scroggs, Adam, 36, and on 5:12). And, on the other, he is quite capable of distinguishing between different levels of judgment, different qualities of judgment (cf. 2:7–10; 1 Cor 3:12–15): no one can escape death as a destiny; but Paul certainly sees its hold on individuals as something which can be broken (cf. 6:7–11).

14 ἀλλὰ ἐβασίλευσεν ὁ θάνατος ἀπὸ Ἀδὰμ μέχρι Μωϋσέως, “but death ruled from Adam to Moses.” For θάνατος as a power see on 1:32 and 5:12. The imagery of kingly rule appears for the first time—death reigned, “damnation carried all before it” (Lightfoot); it is used equally of “death” (vv 14, 17) and “sin” (5:21; 6:12). The personification is more vivid, but it is still the existential reality which is in view—death as exercising a power over human life which no individual can escape. Whatever the precise relation Paul has in mind between death as consequence of human sinfulness and death as “payment” for sin (6:23; see on 5:13), it is certainly the former he has in mind here—death as man’s inescapable end, an oppressive power for those who delight in life, “the last enemy” (1 Cor 15:26). The period “from Adam to Moses” could hardly be regarded as an “age of innocence” (cf. Gen 6:5!). Paul’s analysis here reflects the related tension in Jewish thought between, on the one hand, pride in the law as given especially to Israel and in God as Israel’s God, and, on the other, the conviction that his rule reached to the ends of the earth (see on 3:29, and again on 5:13). The exception of Enoch (Gen 5:24) hardly constitutes a weakening of Paul’s argument, since Paul’s generalization here is shared by the wisdom and apocalyptic traditions in Judaism (see on 5:12).

καὶ ἐπὶ τοὺς μὴ ἁμαρτήσαντας ἐπὶ τῷ ὁμοιώματι τῆς παραβάσεως Ἁδάμ, “even over those who did not sin in the very manner of Adam’s transgression.” ἁμαρτάνω is used here in a way which implies that there is a sinning which is not a transgression, but nevertheless a responsible act whose result is death (v 12d). παράβασις obviously = “sin accounted” (v 13) = breach of the law (4:15). Adam’s sin was παράβασις since it was an act of disobedience to what he knew to be a command of God (Gen 2:16–17); hence NEB’S “by disobeying a direct command” (see further on 7:7). The clear implication is that even if there was sinning in the period between Adam and Moses which did not have the character of deliberate rebellion against God, it was equally pernicious in its outworking on the perpetrators (cf. 1:18–32). Paul does not mean by this that since Moses all sinning the world over has the character of “transgression.” The inference here, as in 3:20 and 4:15, is that “transgression” is something of which Israel in particular is guilty, since Israel in particular has the law (so 2:1—3:20). The precise meaning of ὁμοίωμα is much disputed—probably “precise likeness,” “exactly like” (Black; see on 6:5); but the meaning here is clear enough—“who did not sin in just the way that Adam transgressed.” Cf. Hos 6:7 MT—“like Adam they transgressed the covenant.” There is no thought of children who die in infancy here (as still in Murray).

ὅς ἐστιν τύπος τοῦ μέλλοντος, “who is the type of the one to come.” τύπος was an obvious and familiar metaphor in the ancient world. The primary sense is of the impression made by a blow; so either “what is stamped,” the “mark” left, or the form or outline of what made the mark. So the chief sense in Paul is “pattern, model” (6:17; Phil 3:17; 1 Thess 1:7; 2 Thess 3:9), but here and in 1 Cor 10:6 it has the more technical sense of “type”; that is, an event or person from the epoch-shaping beginning time (of the world or of Israel) which provides a pattern for the end time (see further (BGD, TDNT 8:246–53; Cranfield’s stretching of τύπος to include every man as a human being [295] distorts the typology unacceptably). Here Jewish eschatology predominates over the use of Exod 25:40, more amenable to a Platonic view of an upper world of realities of which objects on earth are only a shadow and imperfect copy (Heb 8:5; cf. Acts 7:44). The reality to which Adam points is not a heavenly being on whom Adam was patterned, but “the one who was to come” (see further below). “The one to come” is clearly Christ (not Moses, or “man under the law” as Robinson, Body, 35 n. 1, followed by Scroggs, Adam, 81, similarly Haacker, quite inappropriately suggested): Christ is the eschatological counterpart of primeval Adam; Adam is the pattern, or “prototype” (Käsemann) of Christ in that each begins an epoch and the character of each epoch is established by their action. That the actions are very different and the outcomes markedly disproportionate (vv 15–19) does not alter that basic similarity. Conceivably Paul has in mind the fact that the mark made by a stamp is precisely the converse of the pattern on the stamp itself. The μέλλοντος has an eschatological ring, but it is the realized eschatology of what Christ has already accomplished (as in Gal 3:23; Col 2:17), rather than the eschatology of what is yet to come (as in 8:18). It may be this more consistent eschatological overtone which made ὁ μέλλων more attractive to Paul than ὁ ἐρχόμενος (cf. Matt 11:3//Luke 7:20).

The debate which was a significant feature of the earlier decades of the twentieth century still lingers on, as to Paul’s source for his Adam/Christ parallel. The older History of Religions hypothesis that Paul was in fact drawing on a pre-Christian Gnostic Redeemer myth (Bultmann) is still pushed forward, but despite attempts to deduce a form of it from the Nag Hammadi codices it has increasingly taken on the appearance of a wild goose chase. Insofar as the argument affects the exegesis of Rom 5, it has now focused principally on the parallel passage in 1 Cor 15. In brief compass, the argument is that in 1 Cor 15:46 Paul attacks a distinction between spiritual man and natural man which we also find in Philo as an exegetical distinction between Gen 1:27 (the heavenly man) and the man of clay of Gen 2:7 (Leg. All. 1:31), where the heavenly man can also be identified with the Logos (Conf. 41, 62–63, 146–47; more details in Dunn, Christology, 100); and that both reflect a pre-Christian myth of the Urmensch, the pretemporal primal man in heaven. The inference drawn is that the same primal man myth lies behind Rom 5 (see particularly Bultmann, “Romans 5,” 154; Brandenburger, Adam, 117–31; still in Kümmel, Theology, 156–57; Käsemann, 144; and Wilckens, 1:308–10; on the complexity of the claim being made, see Schenke, 220–221; Barth’s insistence that not Adam but Jesus Christ is “first” [still in Shorter, 62] actually depends on a Gnostic Christology, as Bultmann, “Romans 5,” 150, notes). However, the reasoning is highly suspect.

(a) Philo’s treatment of Gen 1:27 can be explained wholly as a combination of three strands of his philosophical theology: (1) the Wisdom figure of the wisdom tradition; (2) the Stoic belief in the λόγος as the rational power which sustains the universe; and (3) the Platonic view of the heavenly world as the realm of eternal realities (Dunn, Christology, 221–22). The Urmensch myth is an unnecessary hypothesis; nor can it find any real foothold in the Wisdom figure of Prov 8 and Sir 24, since Wisdom there is simply a classic expression of the vivid personifications which typify Hebrew poetic style and which in this case provide a way of speaking of God’s immanence without falling back into the outdated anthropomorphisms of the early tradition (ibid., 168–76). Philo’s “heavenly man” is simply the ideal equivalent or pattern of the human version on earth, and otherwise is no different from the “forms” and “ideas” which provide the patterns for all earthly existents (ibid., 124). Even in the case where the heavenly man is identified with the Logos, that is simply an example of Philo’s allegorical exegesis which sees the Logos, the self-revelation of God, in multifarious forms of heaven and earth (ibid., 223–28). See also Wedderburn, “Heavenly Man.”

(b) The most surprising element in the hypothesis is the use made of 1 Cor 15:44–49. Paul does indeed seem to be intent on denying some philosophically based view that the spiritual must precede the natural. But we hardly need to hypothesize more than that to provide a fully adequate explanation of Paul’s reasoning. Where the argument loses touch with the text is in the deduction that by “the man from heaven” (1 Cor 15:47) Paul must have in mind the preexistent Christ taking over the role of the primal Man. For clearly the logic of Paul’s argument runs quite counter to that deduction: the spiritual is subsequent to the natural, as Christ is subsequent to Adam; Christ as heavenly man is the resurrected Christ, Christ the pattern not for the first Adam, but for resurrected believers (vv 21–22, 48–49). If Paul presupposes Christ to have been preexistent, then his whole argument at this point collapses (the “spiritual” does precede the “natural”). Nor does it make too much sense to argue that Paul must have been attacking even a belief like Philo’s, since his argument then becomes reduced to mere assertions which could be easily countered by mere denials. Paul’s argument in 1 Cor 15 is clearly governed by eschatology: Christ as the eschatological equivalent to Adam, his resurrection inaugurating a new epoch as Adam’s creation in corruptible clay inaugurated the old; the importation of the idea of Christ’s preexistence as heavenly man is both unnecessary and undermines what Paul himself is clearly trying to say (see, e.g., Black, “Adam,” 171–72; Scroggs, 92; Ladd, Theology, 422; Dunn, Christology, 107–8, 124, with bibliog, in notes; Schade, 83). At this point the Christology of Rom 5 and that of 1 Cor 15 come close together: Adam as pattern of life leading to death—Christ as pattern of death leading to life; Christ as pattern of a new humanity (dead and risen)—Adam as pattern (in epochal significance) for the one to come. Jewish eschatology is everything here; of a primal Man mythology there is no trace. On the other hand, there is also no real ground for seeing behind the Adam language here an earlier Son of Man Christology (so rightly, e.g., Vögtle, 208–12; see further Dunn, Christology, 90–91, with bibliog). Nor have I been convinced by Wright’s attempt to push the earlier Jewish use of Adam and creation motifs in regard to Israel to support the thesis that there is an apocalyptic belief regarding Israel as the Last Adam, which provides “the correct background against which to understand Paul’s Adam-Christology” (“Adam,” 372).

(c) We might simply add that Paul’s thought here is close to its Jewish Heimat and markedly distinct from that of the later Gnostic systems at several other points—particularly in treating sin and death as quasi-cosmic powers and in his emphasis on human responsibility in sinning (see further Wedderburn, “Rom 5:12,” 342–44, 348–49); see also on 5:12.

On the other hand, we should not go to the opposite extreme and attribute the whole of Paul’s Adam Christology to Paul himself. There is sufficient indication in the combined use of Ps 110:1 and Ps 8:6 that the Adam Christology involved was more widely canvassed in the first generations of Christianity (Mark 12:36//Matt 22:44; 1 Cor 15:25–27; Eph 1:20–22; Heb 1:13—2:8; 1 Pet 3:22; see further Dunn, Christology, 107–23); hence the fact that here Paul can assume the typological Adam/Christ correlation without pausing to prove it (Lietzmann; Eichholz, Theologie, 175–76). The importance of Ps 110:1 in the development of Adam Christology is a further confirmation that it is primarily as the (crucified and) risen one that Christ is last Adam.

15 ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὡς τὸ παράπτωμα, οὕτως καὶ τὸ χάρισμα, “but not as the trespass, so also the effect of grace.” The comparison between Adam and Christ begun in v 12 and taken up again in v 14c is once more interrupted to stress the disparity between them, but with a formula (οὐχ ὡς . . . οὕτως καί) which is again similar to the one which is held in suspense (ὥσπερ . . . οὕτως καί—vv 12, 18) and which reduces the jarring effect of the long interruption (cf. v 12c). παράπτωμα (4:25; 5:15–18, 20) now replaces παράβασις (2:23; 4:15; 5:14). Whether Paul intended them to bear a different meaning is unclear: παράπτωμα can have more the sense “false step, slip, blunder” (LSJ), whereas “transgression” is the more fitting translation for παράβασις (so Cranfield). But the distinction does not amount to much (cf., e.g., Ezek 18:22, 24, 26); both refer to Adam’s disobedience; and it may be that Paul switched to παράπτωμα simply because it read more euphonistically with the other -μα compounds which predominate in the following verses (see Form and Structure). On the other hand, since παράβασις elsewhere in Romans has the force of deliberate breach of the law, the effect of using παράπτωμα is to reinforce the idea of a broader concept of sinning (vv 12d–14). χάρισμα as usual means a concrete enactment of grace (see on 1:11). Here the act of Christ is characterized as an embodiment of grace; with the clear implication that the epoch making χάρισμα stamps the character of the whole epoch as “charismatic” (see further on 12:6).

εἰ γὰρ . . . πολλῷ μᾶλλον, “for if . . . how much more”—see on 5:9 and 10; but here the construction denotes contrast (as in v 17).

τῷ τοῦ ἑνὸς παραπτώματι οἱ πολλοί ἀπέθανον, “by the trespass of the one, the many died”—referring back to and rephrasing v 12. “The one . . . the many” has a Semitic ring (Michel). “The many” has an inclusive sense in Hebrew and Aramaic—“the many who cannot be counted, the great multitude, all” (TDNT 6:536). So here it is clearly synonymous with the “all” of vv 12 and 18; cf. 2 Cor 5:14.

ἡ χάρις τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ ἡ δωρεὰ ἐν χάριτι τῇ τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀνθρώπου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ εἰς τούς πολλοὺς ἐπερίσσευσεν, “the grace of God and the gift in grace, which is of the one man Jesus Christ, has overflowed to the many.” For χάρις see on 1:5. The double expression here should not be taken to imply that “the grace of God” is (merely) God’s gracious disposition, with only the second phrase referring to his gracious giving. Both speak of God’s gracious action. The redundancy partly attests Paul’s concern to express the superlative quality of the act (both in its power and generosity), and partly is intended to hold together the grace (χάρις, χάρισμα) of the Christ event, and the grace actually received by those who believe in Christ. With δωρεά the gift of the Spirit in particular may be in view (see on 5:5), or the gift of righteousness (5:17), but in the description of what comes to man from God “gift,” “grace,” “righteousness,” and “Spirit” are all near synonyms, and so can be used in various prepositional combinations (cf. 3:24; 5:17, 21; 8:10; Gal 4:4–5; Acts 2:38; 10:45; Eph 3:7; 4:7). 1 Tim 2:5 suggests that Paul’s formulation “the one man Jesus Christ” became established in a creedal form in the Pauline churches; but the attempt to see behind the phrase Jesus’ own self-designation as “the son of man” goes too far (Kuss; against Jeremias, TDNT 1:143). περισσεύειν, “overflow,” is one of Paul’s favorite words: he uses it both for God’s generosity (see particularly 3:7; 5:17; 15:13; 2 Cor 9:8) and for believers’ response (1 Cor 14:12; 15:58; 2 Cor 8:2, 7; Phil 1:9; Col 2:7). That he saw the two as interdependent and sought to pattern his own outgoingness on God’s is the implication of 2 Cor 1:5; 4:15; 9:8, 12; Phil 4:12, 18; and 1 Thess 3:12. Here the implication is clearly that God’s response to Adam’s trespass sought not merely to make up the ground which had been lost but also to bring to completion the destiny of which Adam had fallen short (see also on 3:23). “The act of grace does not balance the act of sin; it overbalances it” (Barrett; see further, Theobald, 96–97).

16 καὶ οὐχ ὡς δἰ ἑνὸς ἁμαρτήσαντος τὸ δώρημα, “and not as through one who sinned, the gift.” The language is very compressed, but the thought clear enough. The οὐχ ὡς . . . (οὕτως καί) of v 15 is repeated, but this time the contrast is between the gift and what came through Adam, rather than with Adam’s trespass as such (v 15). The διʼ ἑνὸς ἁμαρτήσαντος brings together the complementary formulations of vv 12a and 14b, with ἁμαρτάνω broad enough to support the full range of παράβασις and παράπτωμα (see on 5:14 and 15). δώρημα, a word rarely used in prose (LSJ; elsewhere in the NT only James 1:17), is obviously chosen for rhetorical effect, as another -μα word.

τὸ μὲν γὰρ κρίμα ἐξ ἑνὸς εἰς κατάκριμα, “for the judgment is from one to condemnation.” κρίμα can mean “judgment” in the sense of “condemnation” (see on 2:2 and 3:8), but here it is complemented by the stronger word κατάκριμα where the idea of “condemnation” includes the carrying out of the sentence (TDNT 3:952); elsewhere in the NT only at 5:18 and 8:1. The thought adds nothing materially to v 15 except that together with v 15 it once again highlights the two-sidedness of humankind’s plight—death as a consequence of the belonging to the epoch inaugurated by Adam, and condemnation as falling upon acts of responsible trespass. As Käsemann observes, “the intensifying of κρίμα by κατάκριμα corresponds to the διὸ παρέδωκεν of 1:24ff.” (see further Käsemann). In view of the rhetorical variation present in the next clause, it is quite possible that Paul intended the ἐξ ἑνός to refer either to Adam or to Adam’s act or to both.

τὸ δὲ χάρισμα ἐκ πολλῶν παραπτωμάτων εἰς δικαίωμα, “but the effect of grace is from many trespasses to justification.” Perhaps conscious of the danger of lapsing into mere repetition Paul varies the use of πολλοί—altering the contrast from the one and the many to the one trespass (or trespass of the one) and the many trespasses (= the trespasses of the many). “Christ stands not with the sin of the one, but with the damnation which has come to all and the transgressions of the many” (Bornkamm, “Anakoluthe,” 86). For χάρισμα see on 5:15. δικαίωμα normally means “regulation, requirement” (BGD; and see on 5:18). But here it is chosen obviously as yet another -μα word to provide rhetorical balance to κατάκριμα. As such it has to be taken as the opposite of “condemnation,” so “Justification, acquittal.” The reintroduction of δικαι- words is significant (see Form and Structure). The use here confirms that Paul’s theology of justification always has in view (implicitly or explicitly) acquittal at the last judgment (see further on 2:13); as κατάκριμα stands at the end of the old age, so δικαίωμα is the goal of the new (Michel). Moreover the fact that he can use δικαίωμα in this way confirms that for Paul final acquittal is in no way at odds with the requirements laid down by God upon both Jew and Gentile (1:32; cf. 3:26).

17 εἰ . . . πολλῷ μᾶλλον, “if . . . how much more”—for the fourth time in 9 verses (see on 5:15).

τῷ τοῦ ἑνὸς παραπτώματι ὁ θάνατος ἐβασίλευσεν διὰ τοῦ ἑνός, “by the trespass of the one, death reigned through the one”; another recapping clause which encapsulates what had already been said in vv 12 and 14. The repetition is not merely redundant. V 14 showed that the chief focus of Paul’s characterization of the age of Adam was the universal reign of death. To that he must return and show how the “much more”-ness of God’s grace transforms that too. The aorist refers either to death’s accession to its kingly role (through Adam’s sin) or views the whole sweep of Adam’s epoch as summed up in the one instant of the death to which all must bow the knee.

οἱ τὴν περισσείαν τῆς χάριτος καὶ τῆς δωρεᾶς τῆς δικαιοσύνης λαμβάνοντες, “those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness.” Paul’s piling up of language in superfluous repetition is an instinctive or deliberate attempt to mirror the superabundant quality of grace given and received. περισσεία, “surplus, abundance,” a rare word (elsewhere in the NT 2 Cor 8:2; 10:15; James 1:21), is drawn in to provide a noun form of περισσεύω (see on 5:15). Paul declines the opportunity to introduce another -μα word in περίσσευμα (“abundance, fullness”—2 Cor 8:14), presumably because in this instance περισσείαν τῆς χάριτος was a more pleasing match for τῆς δωρεᾶς τῆς δικαιοσύνης. Characteristic of his understanding of “grace” is that it is abundant, more than enough (see on 5:15).

The further variation of v 15 (ἡ δωρεὰ ἐν χάριτι) allows Paul once again to recall the principal theme of 1:17—5:21 (ἡ δωρεὰ τῆς δικαιοσύνης). The fact that he can speak so explicitly of “righteousness” as a “gift received” is important. It is not merely a rhetorically stretched usage (like δικαίωμα in v 16); but neither should the usage be given determinative significance for all the other occurrences (in view of the rhetorical character of the context). The phrase signifies that the status of one acceptable to God is a gift of God. As such it is a concrete expression of the outreaching grace of God (χάρισμα) and cannot be separated from the overflowing grace of God (ἡ περισσεία τῆς χάριτος). As such it cannot be regarded as an object, a package received and retained, as if it was one’s own property; on the contrary, the relational force of righteousness remains and is reemphasized—God’s acceptance as always God’s—a gift given not by passing the gift from God’s hands but by drawing the receiver into his arms. See further on 1:17 and 6:18, 22; but also on 6:16 and 10:10.

The use of the participle form (οἱ λαμβάνοντες) is unusual in Paul. The verb he uses quite regularly, usually in a first person plural form to remind his readers of what they have received—grace (1:5), reconciliation (5:11), the Spirit (8:15; 1 Cor 2:12; Gal 3:2, 14). The participle he uses quite regularly with πιστεύειν (1:16; 3:22; 4:5, 11, 24; etc.). He can vary these more regular patterns here presumably because believing and receiving are for him two sides of the same coin. The present tense may be used for the same reason that he regularly uses πιστεύειν in the present (see on 1:16). But here part of the reason at least is to provide a contrast (together with the future tense in the next clause) to the aorist of v 17a. Where the rule of death is abrupt and peremptory, the new era of grace has an open and future character. For the significance of οἱ λαμβάνοντες taking the place of οἱ πολλοί (= πάντες), see on 5:19.

ἐν ζωῇ βασιλεύσουσιν διὰ τοῦ ἑνὸς Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, “shall reign in life through the one, Jesus Christ.” The future tense underlines once again the eschatological tension characteristic of the whole passage (cf. vv 2, 5, 9–10—that ἐν ζωῇ refers to Christ’s life instrumentally, as in v 10, cannot be ruled out); they are already receiving grace, but they are not yet reigning (see further Kösemann; Theobald, 107). The implication clearly is that their rule will be a consequence of their δικαίωμα = final vindication (v 16); elsewhere Paul’s talk is of a still future inheritance of the kingdom (see on 4:13; in 1 Cor 4:8 the ἐβασιλεύσατε is sarcastic!); cf. Bornkamm, “Anakoluthe,” 87; Bultmann, “Romans 5,” 157–58; Wilckens; and see further on 5:21. The expectation that the recipients of God’s favor would exercise kingly rule in the coming age was, of course, a characteristic feature of Jewish hope (e.g., Dan 7:22, 27; Wisd Sol 3:8; 5:15–16; 1QM 12:14–15). But, as usual, Paul has severely transformed it: those receiving grace are those justified by faith (not those who join themselves to Israel); they will reign through Jesus Christ; also, as a further consequence of the “denationalizing” of the older Jewish hope, the idea of a rule exercised over others (the Gentiles) is lacking (they will reign “in life”). Such transformation is typical of Paul’s whole understanding of God’s covenant purpose through the gospel (e.g., chap. 4).

It is also significant that Paul avoids the obvious parallel: death has ruled, life will rule. The thought of “life” as exercising rule over believers is evidently inappropriate (cf. Michel). The opposite to the coldly final rule of death is the unfettered enjoyment of life—the life of a king.

18 ἄρα οὖν ὡς . . . οὕτως καί, “so then, as . . . so also.” In classical Greek ἄρα is never put at the beginning of a clause (BGD), but the fuller phrase used here (ἄρα οὖν) is evidently a feature of Paul’s style of reasoning (12 times in his letters, 8 in Romans); see Lagrange and also on 8:1. The οὖν also serves to resume the main line of argument (v 12) interrupted by vv 12d–17 (cf. BDF §451.1), with ὡς corresponding to the ὥσπερ of v 12, and the οὕτως καί introducing the long-delayed apodosis. The compressed style (v 18 has no verb), however, is closer to that of v 16, as Paul strives to achieve epigrammatic conciseness.

διʼ ἑνὸς παραπτώματος εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους εἰς κατάκριμα, “through the trespass of one to all men to condemnation”—a masterly compression of the different aspects picked out in the preceding verses (διʼ ἑνός—vv 12, 16, 17; παράπτωμα—vv 15–17; εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους—v 12; εἰς κατάκριμα—v 16). The ἑνός could be taken as a neuter (“through one trespass”—so Schmidt, Murray), but most understandably prefer to take it as a masculine (“through one man’s trespass”), since the parallel phrases being echoed all refer to Adam (vv 15–17), and the contrast is with “all men” rather than with “many trespasses” (as in v 16). But we should recall that the Greek allows a degree of ambiguity not easy to retain in translation. For παράπτωμα and κατάκριμα, see 5:15 and 5:16 respectively.

διʼ ἑνὸς δικαιώματος εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους εἰς δικαίωσιν ζωῆς, “through the righteous act of one to all men to righteousness of life.” The ἑνός here is more obviously “the one (man) Jesus Christ” (vv 15, 17, 19), but the ambiguity remains, since Paul evidently has in view a single action which inaugurated a whole epoch (see further on 5:19). The focus is on the act of Christ rather than its outcome, as in χάρισμα, δώρημα, and δικαίωμα in vv 15–16. δικαίωμα normally means “regulation, requirement” (as in 1:32, 2:26, and 8:4; 5:16 is rhetorically determined); but the sense of “righteous act” is attested in Aristotle and the LXX (see BGD; Lagrange also notes that in one LXX passage [2 Sam 19:28] δικαίωμα renders ), and that clearly fits best here, even though rhetorical considerations (the sequence of -μα words) again play a part. The choice of δικαίωμα enables Paul to maintain the sequence of δικαι-words, but the reference is not to “the gift of righteousness” (v 17; “righteous creating act”—Wilckens). On the other hand, to see in it a reference to Christ’s whole life (TDNT 2:221–22, Leenhardt, Gaugler, Murray, Cranfield) weakens both the point of contrast (Adam’s “trespass”) and the echo of 3:24–26 (God’s righteousness displayed in Christ’s death as expiatory sacrifice).

On the issue of whether the “all men” implies a “universalist” view of salvation, see on 5:19. For δικαίωσις see on 4:25. It can embrace the idea of a process as well as its result (BGD), so although the final outcome is primarily in view (final vindication = salvation, vv 9–10 = the still future reign in life, v 17), the eschatological tension is again encapsulated: believers already experience something at least of the new life (cf. particularly 6:4, 11, 13), even if its full manifestation is not yet (cf. particularly 6:5, 22–23; 8:11, 13); see further on 2:13; 5:16; 6:5–6; and 8:23. It is unnecessary to press the genitive (ζωῆς) for one specific sense (genitive of source, cf. v 10; genitive of result, cf. BDF §166; epexegetic genitive). Once again the ambiguity of the genitive form allows a richer sense which need not necessarily exclude any of the particular meanings (cf. Schlier).

19 ὥσπερ γὰρ . . . οὕτως καί, “for just as . . . so also”—the construction previously stretched over vv 12–18 is repeated in summary and climactic form.

διὰ τῆς παρακοῆς τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀνθρώπου, “through the disobedience of the one man.” A further and final contrasting pair is introduced παρακοή/ὑπακοή; cf. vv 15–16). Adam’s sin, transgression, trespass is further identified as an act of disobedience—naturally recalling the account of Gen 2–3 (2:16–17; 3:1–6). The word is little used by Paul and was probably as much prompted by the possibility of the rhetorical antithesis with ὑπακοή (so also in his only other usage—1 Cor 10:6) as by the record of Adam’s disobedience. See also on 11:30–31.

ἁμαρτωλοὶ κατεστάθησαν οἱ πολλοί, “the many were made sinners.” ἁμαρτωλοί probably has the more general sense of “sinners” (as in 5:8), but it is quite possible that Paul intended to recall the more specific sense in which it was then current within Judaism to denote those ignorant of or disobedient to the law (see on 3:7), especially since its antonym here (δίκαιοι) was a favorite self-description of pious Jews (see Introduction §5.3 and on 1:17). Paul then alludes in summary fashion to one of his main theses: the many, Jews as well, stand under the law’s condemnation (cf. 4:15); Jews have not escaped the entail of Adam’s disobedience by virtue of the law. Certainly the intensification of law-related words (disobedience, obedience; sinners, righteous) prepares the way for the reintroduction of the law in v 20.

The anxiety sometimes evident in commentators (e.g., Kirk, Taylor, Hendriksen, Zeller) lest καθίστημι here be too deterministic (Adam’s sin caused the many to become sinners) is unnecessary. Although “make” is the simplest translation, the causal connection indicated thereby is non-specific and can be very loose, so that the passive can function simply as equivalent to γίνομαι (TDNT 3:445; Bultmann, “Romans 5,” 159; see the range of meanings in LSJ and references in BGD; Michel compares Deut 25:6; Barrett notes that “the words ‘sinners’ and ‘righteous’ are words of relationship, not character”). The use here then expresses adequately the two-sidedness in human sinfulness which was clearly in Paul’s view earlier (see on 5:12d). Certainly the only occasion when Paul reaches for this word, and in a passage where rhetorical considerations have pushed other words into less usual meanings and correlations (particularly δικαίωμα—v 18), should not be regarded as sufficient basis for an important theological thesis.

διὰ τῆς ὑπακοῆς τοῦ ἑνός, “through the obedience of the one.” ὑπακοή is an important thematic word in Romans (see on 1:5). It is important for Paul that he can speak of Christ’s death as an “act of obedience” and as a “righteous act” (v 18), both stressing that whereas Adam acted in breach of a divine ruling, Christ acted in accordance with God’s will revealed in the law (cf. again 3:24–26). Several commentators see the reference here as embracing Christ’s whole life (e.g., Michel, Cranfield; cf. 6:17 and 15:2–5), but almost certainly Paul’s thought at this point focuses more or less exclusively on Christ’s death. (1) In the context it stands as the antithesis to the one act of disobedience of Adam. (2) It is the answer to Adam’s disobedience because it provided the counter to the consequences of Adam’s trespass: by being a sin offering (3:25; 5:18; 8:3) he breaks the power of sin; by dying he breaks the rule of death (6:9). (3) In the Adam Christology being used here the theme of Christ’s “obedience” refers to his submission to death (Phil 2:8; Heb 5:8). (4) Since the representative significance of “the one” is an integral part of Paul’s Adam Christology, it is significant that he confines the idea of union with Christ to that of sharing in his sufferings and death as well as his resurrection (hence the closely following sequence of 6:3–11). The writ of the first Adam runs to death. It is by his death and resurrection that Christ breaks through the cul-de-sac of death and inaugurates a new humanity as last Adam (1 Cor 15:21–22, 45–49; see further Dunn, Christology, 127; in his criticism of my formulation in Christology, Wright, “Adam,” 388, underplays the full statement of the theme [Christology, 108–13] and ignores the fact that the Adam imagery is only one formulation of Paul’s Christology which should not be expected to provide a complete statement of Paul’s soteriology).

δίκαιοι κατασταθήσονται οἱ πολλοί, “the many will be made righteous.” For the force of καθίστημι see above. The future could be taken as a logical future, and so δίκαιοι refers to “the present life of believers” (Cranfield; similarly Althaus, Murray), as the parallel with ἁμαρτωλοί suggests. But here again Paul probably has in view the future ratification of the final judgment in part at least (cf., e.g., Dodd, Schlier with further bibliog.): as death is the final ratification of Adam’s age, so it is only with the final acquittal that the divine response will be complete. Certainly it is inviting to regard δίκαιοι κατασταθήσονται as synonymous with δικαιωθήσονται of 2:13 (see on 2:13 and cf. Gal 5:5).

οἱ πολλοί = πάντες (see on 5:15). On the “universalism” of Paul’s thinking here see particularly Käsemann: “all powerful grace is unthinkable without eschatological universalism”; also Hultgren, Gospel, 82–124. According to Boring, “Paul affirms both limited and universal salvation” (“Language,” 292). Wilckens attempts to short-circuit the issue by arguing that here Christ is “not the representative of men before God, as Adam is . . . but the representative of God before men.” But while it is true that for Paul “God’s action comes to effect in Christ’s action” (Wilckens; cf. 2 Cor 5:19, 21), that is not the point Paul is making here. Throughout this section, up to and including v 19, Paul is working with an Adam Christology, where Christ is thought of as the man Adam was intended to be and would have become had he not fallen. Here particularly (v 19) the point hangs on the representative significance of Christ as the one whose action (like Adam’s) determines the character and condition of those who belong to the age he inaugurated by that action. The theme throughout the section is the solidarity of “the all/many” with the one epochal figure whether in trespass to condemnation or in grace to righteousness. What has usually been missed in the discussion is the significance of the δίκαιοι. Since it was such a favorite self-description of devout Jews (see on 1:17), the force of Paul’s final phrase is to emphasize that not just Israel, or the righteous of Israel, will be finally acquitted, but “the many.” The “universalism” therefore is in part at least a way of denying the limited nationalism of the normal Jewish hope—“all” = Gentiles as well as Jews (cf. Hendriksen; see also on 11:32). Alternatively, if death is truly the end of those belonging to Adam’s epoch (vv 12, 14, 17, 21), the “all” may simply denote all those who through sharing Abraham’s faith in the life-giving God (4:17, 23–25) can hope to share also in the life that lives beyond death (cf. 1 Cor 15:22) = “those who receive the abundance of grace” (v 17; cf. Kuss, 237). See also on 11:32.

20 νόμος δὲ παρεισῆλθεν ἵνα πλεονάσῃ τὸ παράπτωμα, “the law came in to increase the trespass.” As consistently in Paul, νόμος means, of course, the Jewish law, the Torah (see on 2:12 and 14). Paul once again, as in v 13, narrows the universal sweep of his exposition by introducing the factor of Jewish particularity. His contrast between the two epochs had been neatly rounded, but he could hardly ignore the fact that for his own religious tradition the law itself had epochal significance, as marking out the people through whom God would effect his righteous and eschatological purpose (see further on 6:14). Paul challenges this positive salvation-history role for the law (cf. Michel, Schmidt); the law rather brings the force of the Adam story to existential reality (Jüngel, “Gesetz,” 67–68). It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that Paul chose παρεισῆλθεν deliberately (since he could have repeated the εἰσῆλθεν of v 12). So the more negative overtone suggested by the double prefix (BGD, “slip in,” “interpose”) was probably intentional (cf. its only other occurrence in the NT—Gal 2:4; Wilckens; otherwise Cranfield). Taken together with the voice (active, rather than divine passive—contrast Gal 3:19), the effect is to set the law alongside sin and death who likewise “entered” human experience (v 12). This in itself may be sufficient explanation of the negative overtone, but Paul may also intend to imply that the law’s purpose (to increase the trespass) is a lesser role than that of grace, or indeed that the law’s entry was later and more temporary than grace’s (Lightfoot, SH; cf. 5:13 and Gal 3:15–29) since its role in increasing sin ends with death and condemnation and does not (in that role at least) last into the new age of life beyond death (cf. 7:1–6); see also on 5:13 and 7:7–13.

Even if “law” is treated as a quasi-power here, analogous to “sin” and “death” (v 12), the ἵνα indicates that it serves God’s purpose (Michel). The πλεονάζω is chosen probably as a slightly lesser equivalent to Paul’s favorite περισσεύειν (though in fact they are near synonyms—cf. 6:1; 2 Cor 4:15; 1 Thess 3:12), possibly in some dependence on Sir 23:3 (cf. Pss. Sol. 5.16). The cutting edge of the verb is that it attributes the multiplying of the one trespass into many trespasses (v 16) to the law. This constitutes an intensifying of the role attributed to the law in 3:20 and 4:15. Here again the polemic against traditional Jewish evaluation of the law is of the essence of the point being made (pace Luz, Geschichtsverständnis, 206): God’s purpose for the law was not to distinguish Jewish righteous from gentile sinners (cf. v 19; Introduction §5), but to make Israel more conscious of its solidarity in sin with the rest of Adam’s offspring. This is not to say that Paul would thus confine the law’s trespass-increasing effect to Israel: Paul was at one with his fellow Jews in his belief that the law increased the Gentiles’ sins, whether by revealing the extent to which they were ἁμαρτωλοί (see on 5:19) or because the just requirements contained in the law were more widely known (1:32); but where he needed to press home the argument was in stressing this more negative role of the law for the Jewish people itself (see also on 3:20, 4:15, and 5:13). For παράπτωμα see on 5:15; no longer, of course, the one transgression of Adam, but the act characteristic of the whole epoch which his transgression began and typifies. Leenhardt lays stress on the singular—“what constitutes sin as sin.”

οὗ δὲ ἐπλεόνασεν ἡ ἁμαρτία, ὑπερεπερίσσευσεν ἡ χάρις, “but where sin increased, grace abundantly overflowed.” The οὗ may be intended as more than a linking word: in the very place/epoch where sin increased, there in the man Christ, in his dying the death of the old epoch, grace overwhelmed the effects of sin (cf. Schmidt). The fact that Paul replaces παράπτωμα by ἁμαρτία here should be noted—a reminder that his concept of “sin” is more flexible than commentators often allow—not just or not always a personified power, but also the act of trespass itself (see on 3:9). The use of the superlative form ὑπερπερισσεύω (elsewhere in the NT only in 2 Cor 7:4) is clearly deliberate, since πλεονάζω and περισσεύω are such close synonyms (see above). In a manner typical of Jewish apocalyptic it signifies eschatological abundance (cf. particularly 4 Ezra 4.50; TDNT 6:60; Philo, Opif. 23, cited by Zeller, is different precisely as referring to this present creation) and makes a fitting climax to the sequence of contrasts begun in v 15, resuming and outdoing the μᾶλλον . . . ἐπερίσσευσεν (v 15).

21 ἵνα ὥσπερ ἐβασίλευσεν ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐν τῷ θανάτῳ, “in order that as sin ruled in death.” The ἵνα matches the ἵνα of v 20a, and introduces the final ὥσπερ . . . οὕτως καί completing the sequence properly begun in v 18. NEB preserves the force of the aorist—“established its reign.” ἁμαρτία shifts back in sense to personified power (see on 3:9 and 5:20), and where Paul had previously spoken of death reigning (vv 14, 17), in this concluding formulation he brings the two powers back into conjunction in a variation of v 12 (death entered through sin). The ἐν can be ambiguous: sin has exercised its rule by means of, through, or in the sphere of death. The sense is plain without pressing for greater precision: sin’s power over the epoch of Adam is characterized by and summed up in its final effect—death (see also 6:16, 21, 23; 1 Cor 15:56). Since the phrase “sin ruled in death” is bound up with the increased trespass (v 20; cf. vv 15, 17), the implication is that ἵνα here as well (as in v 20) catches up sin’s rule within God’s plan—not as a concession or as an unplanned plight but as part of the divine structure of the world of humankind: sin’s rule in death is thus another way of speaking of God’s wrath (1:18–32; 4:15); God’s purpose of salvation embraces death since it is through death that the epoch of Adam ends and the power of sin is broken (6:7–10).

οὕτως καὶ ἡ χάρις βασιλεύσῃ διὰ δικαιοσύνης εἰς ζωὴν αἰώνιον, “so also grace might reign through righteousness to eternal life.” Whereas in v 17 the eschatological equivalent of death’s reign was the reign of the saints, here the contrast to sin’s reign is the reign of grace. As it is sin (power and act) which characterizes the epoch of Adam, so it is grace which characterizes the epoch of Christ—with all the correlations and contrasts already gathered round it in 3:24, 4:4 and 16 (see also Form and Structure). The aorist subjunctive (βασιλεύσῃ) retains the eschatological note characteristic of the chapter to the end. That the sequence of δικαι- words climaxes in one of the key words of the epistle (δικαιοσύνη) is obviously deliberate. Here again the sense should not be forcibly confined to the sense “status of righteousness” (Cranfield), but must at least include the sense of God’s action—δικαιοσύνη as the means by which grace achieves its effect as well as the effect itself (Schlier; see on 1:17; 5:17; and 6:13). So too the ongoing and future dimension of this “righteousness” is indicated in the εἰς ζωὴν αἰώνιον (= εἰς δικαίωσιν ζωῆς, v 18). The ζωή of vv 17–18 is in this climactic conclusion given the fuller description, “eternal life” (see on 2:7), presumably to underscore its eschatological character and to emphasize that in contrast to the epoch which ends in death the epoch of grace is life unbounded. For Paul’s view of salvation-history as implied here see further Kuss, 275–91.

διᾶ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν, “through Jesus Christ our Lord.” The piling up of prepositional phrases (διά . . . εἰς . . . διά . . .) and the concluding Christological formula marks the end of this stage of the argument (Käsemann); see on 6:23 and 8:39. The use of διά as in vv 1 and 11 (see Form and Structure) maintains to the end the emphasis on Christ’s mediatorship as the decisive factor in effecting the transformation from one epoch to the other (see on 5:1). The double διά has the effect of reminding readers that Christ himself is the fullest embodiment and mediator of grace and righteousness.

Explanation

Paul now raises his sight from believers as a group (“we, us”) to embrace humanity as a whole (“man”). Having recalled his earlier indictment of Israel’s pride in chap. 2 (5:11), he now deliberately extends his thought backward to recall the earlier stage of his argument (1:18ff.). As his opening indictment focused on humankind as a whole, with clear enough allusions to the figure of Adam, so now in conclusion to this first major part of his argument he turns again to view humanity as a whole by reference to Adam. And as it was Christ who made the difference between an acceptable boasting in God (5:11) and an unacceptable boasting in God (2:17), so here too it is Christ who forms the counterpart to Adam, and Christ in whom the history of humankind takes its decisive turn for the better. In these verses we might well say that Paul presents the history of humanity as a drama in two parts—two epochs dominated by the two figures, Adam the tragic hero, and Christ the redeemer hero.

12 Paul begins with what is in effect a summary of chap. 1, the condition of the man who has rejected God. At once he introduces the two chief “villains of the piece”—sin and death. Up to this point they had made only brief appearances (3:9, 20; 1:32). But now they take up positions center stage. In dramatic style they are presented as personified powers who exercise a dominant influence upon humanity. “Sin” is not initially defined, but clearly it is the power which human beings experience drawing them into disobedience and transgression. “Death” needs no further definition either: it would have been universally understood as the power which defeats and ends that life which was the chief effect of creation and indeed its whole point.

The first act unfolds the scope of the tragedy with a few concise phrases. Sin, the first hostile power, managed to gain entry through one man (Adam); in its train came its sinister companion death, and death extended its sway over everyone. They enter upon the world stage from “off-stage”; where they actually come from Paul does not stop to say; nor, presumably, did he think it necessary to speculate on the subject. The only pertinent fact is that they are there, brooding presences whose influence determines the unfolding of the plot. Nor is the initial relation of the two powers to each other made any clearer. It is simply assumed that death is the consequence of being under the power of sin and that no one since the beginning has been exempt from their twin rule. The implication is that death is not the proper end of man: death was not part of the original program for humankind; it was the entry of sin, the corrosive effect of man’s refusal to live in dependence on God, which ate away his life. Without sin man would not have died.

In all this Paul is obviously thinking in terms of Gen 3 and drawing on a very common understanding of “the fall.” Many of his readers would be familiar with the Jewish literature of the time which made use of the Adam and Eve stories in wrestling with the problems of evil and death. And Paul in fact shares the sentiment of wisdom and apocalyptic writers very closely (e.g., Sir 25:24; 2 Apoc. Bar. 54.15). So Paul could certainly take this widespread understanding as his starting point and draw it into his argument without any elaboration. Indeed his treatment here and elsewhere in Romans (particularly 1:18–32 and 7:7–11) can be regarded as an important part of and contribution to this prominent strand of Jewish theologizing. His distinctive contribution lies not so much in the analysis of man’s plight—though, as he will shortly remind his readers again, the law plays a very different role in the unfolding plot from the part written for it by other Jewish theologians. The distinctively Christian contribution, however, lies in the solution—the disaster of Adam countered and outweighed by the success of Christ.

In introducing the drama in these terms (he does not even need to name “Adam” initially, he speaks simply of “one man”) Paul indicates that he wants this figure to be seen not so much as an individual in his own right, but as a more than individual figure, what we might call an “epochal figure”—that is, as the one who initiated the first major phase of human history and thereby determined the character of that phase for those belonging to it. Some of his readers indeed, aware that in Hebrew “Adam” means “man,” might have inferred that Paul was using the Adam story simply as a way of speaking about humanity as a whole in timeless terms. But Paul is hardly concerned to make use of the Hebrew meaning of “Adam,” and the bulk of his Greek-speaking readership would probably have been unaware of it even if they knew the LXX. Moreover the historical perspective is integral to the point he is making: the two men between them cover the whole of the human story from start to finish. Still less is there any implication of or encouragement to presuppose a more elaborate speculation about the first man (such as the twentieth-century hypothetical construct known as the pre-Christian Gnostic redeemer myth envisaged). All we need to say to make complete sense of Paul’s argument here is that the reference to Adam’s failure is for Paul a way of characterizing the condition of humankind in the epoch of human history which has extended from the beginning of the human race till now.

At the same time the implication of the argument should not be pushed too far in the opposite direction. In particular, it would not be true to say that Paul’s theological point here depends on Adam being a “historical” individual or on his disobedience being a historical event as such. Such an implication does not necessarily follow from the fact that a parallel is drawn with Christ’s single act: an act in mythic history can be paralleled to an act in living history without the point of comparison being lost. So long as the story of Adam as the initiator of the sad tale of human failure was well known, which we may assume (the brevity of Paul’s presentation presupposes such a knowledge), such a comparison was meaningful. Nor should modern interpretation encourage patronizing generalizations about the primitive mind naturally understanding the Adam stories as literally historical. It is sufficiently clear, for example, from Plutarch’s account of the ways in which the Osiris myth was understood at this period (De Iside et Oriside 32 ff.) that such tales told about the dawn of human history could be and were treated with a considerable degree of sophistication, with the literal meaning often largely discounted. Indeed, if anything, we should say that the effect of the comparison between the two epochal figures, Adam and Christ, is not so much to historicize the individual Adam as to bring out the more than individual significance of the historic Christ.

In introducing so many characters in quick succession (one man, sin, death, all men) Paul evidently felt the need to pause and provide some clarification of their relationships before proceeding further—even at the cost of leaving in suspense the first half of a balanced sentence (“just as . . . so also”) and leaving the sentence itself incomplete (the second half does not appear till v 18). Those listeners in Rome familiar with the effect of his enthusiastic disregard for the rules of syntax would no doubt recognize the characteristic of Paul’s style with a smile.

12d The first clarification (the last four words of v 12) is a vague and subsequently much disputed clause. The point often missed in exegeting such ambiguity is that it would probably have been ambiguous to the first hearers also. From this we may deduce that Paul evidently did not think it necessary to make his thought any clearer, or even that Paul had not clarified his own thinking on the point. So it is best to retain the vagueness in our own translation—“in that all sinned.” Certainly the repetition of the “all” makes the point of emphasis clear: that no one is exempted from the joint rule of sin and death. And the explanatory clause also seems to reinforce the point that death is the consequence of sin: all die because all have sinned. Death continues to dominate humanity not solely because of one primeval act but because of humankind’s continued acts of sin, continued demonstration that all are under the power of sin, held apart from God, the one life-giving power which can defeat the power of death. But the relationship between the one man’s initial failure and all men’s sin is not an issue to which Paul addresses himself, and the imprecision of the syntax forbids us to press for a clear-cut decision on the point. All that Paul seems to want to say is that this epoch of human history is characterized and determined by the fatal interplay of sin and death—as evidenced by the fact that everyone sins and everyone dies—a partnership first established in power at the beginning of the epoch, through the one man Adam.

13–14 The second clarification seems at first to concern the role of the law. Those who were familiar with Paul’s analysis of man’s plight elsewhere as involving the law as well as sin and death (as in 1 Cor 15:56), would probably be expecting the law to be brought in. And Paul may have been aware of an already current tendency in other Jewish theologizing to speak of Adam’s sin as a breach of God’s commandments, as his description of Adam’s sin as “transgression” (v 14) and his subsequent treatment in chap. 7 probably implies (cf. 7:7). But here he insists on preserving the historical time scale: the law did not come in until Moses. This is partly no doubt because the argument of chap. 4 is still in mind (Abraham received the promise before the law). But partly also because he wants to assert the truly universal character of sin’s and death’s dominance: sin and death exercise their power independently of the law—that is, over the whole world of humankind without distinction of Jew and Gentile. That the thought stands in some tension with 7:7–11 (“I was once alive apart from the law”—sin cannot extend its dominance apart from the law) suggests that Paul may have been trying to have his cake and eat it. But the suggestion of confusion diminishes as soon as we realize that the main point of the clarification does not concern the law.

In fact the second clarification really concerns sin rather than the law. In v 12 Paul has used the noun “sin” and the verb “sinned,” as though sin was synonymous with sinful acts. It is this relation Paul now seeks to clarify. He first distinguishes sin from sin which is “counted” (v 13)—that is, sin as power from sin as act. “Sin” is then understood to be the force which functions as the antecedent to particular acts of sin, that power which man experiences influencing his desires and choices to act against his best interests as a creature of God (the analysis already provided in 1:18–32). Paul then makes a further clarification by distinguishing between sinful acts which count as transgression and those which do not (v 14): all sinned even before the law, but before the law (and apart from the law) such sinful acts do not count as transgression like Adam’s, that is, as a deliberate breach of a prohibition known to be a command of God (Gen 3:1–6).

The point Paul is making therefore is that all humankind is under the power of sin, as evidenced by their sinful acts (that is, acts done in disregard for God and his glory as creator—cf. 1:20–23). But not all sinful acts are held by God as transgression, only those committed in deliberate breach of a divine command. Presumably therefore Paul also implies a coordinate distinction between death as a consequence of sin and death as a punishment for sin. He does see death as a punishment deserved or merited by willful self-seeking (1:32; cf. 6:23), but in the analysis of the human condition here death is primarily a consequence of sin—that is, the inevitable entail of being under the power of sin rather than under the power of God, the inescapable consequence of failure to live in dependence on the one power which can defeat death. In short, Paul could be said to hold a doctrine of original sin, in the sense that from the beginning everyone has been under the power of sin with death as the consequence, but not a doctrine of original guilt, since individuals are only held responsible for deliberate acts of defiance against God and his law. This in turn implies that Paul’s gospel had in view not only those laboring under a sense of guilt but all those subject to sin and death, and that the divine solution he offered was at a fundamental level more redemptive than punitive (cf. 3:25–26).

The historical perspective adopted here does of course to some extent cut across the less time-oriented analysis of chaps. 1 and 2. For here it is the entry of law which turns sin into transgression, while in the earlier analysis the Gentiles in particular were shown to be knowingly guilty of rejecting God without knowledge of the law as such. However, this would only be a problem for those who insisted on a pedantic consistency of hard and fast categories. Paul after all was more than ready to speak of transgression before the law (Adam’s transgression was certainly “counted”), so that the more accurate summary should speak of guilt as proportional to knowledge of God, however that knowledge is given (not as proportional to knowledge of the law as such). But what also needs to be remembered is that Paul continually refers to the law because of his concern to demonstrate Israel’s false understanding of its position before God. He emphasizes that the law brings knowledge of sin (3:20), that the law turns sin into transgression (4:15), that sin is only accounted in terms of the law (5:13), not because he wants to deny the existence of transgression or guilt apart from the law, but because he wants Israel to recognize that its possession of the law actually increases its need of redemption. Paul does not deny that the law brought benefit to Israel, but because Israel has, in his view, overemphasized that benefit, he is anxious to emphasize the other side of the picture: that is, precisely because the law turns sin into transgression, it makes Israel’s sin all the more reprehensible and worthy of condemnation and so Israel’s situation much more perilous than that of the Gentiles. This was also the thrust of chap. 2, and will soon become a more explicit theme (5:20; chap. 7), though here it lies below the surface. So too the other chief factor in the analysis of man’s plight, the flesh, has also been alluded to earlier (2:28 and 3:20) but will be brought more clearly into play only at a later stage in Paul’s argument (particularly 8:3–13).

14c After the clarification of vv 12d–14b, the last clause of v 14 is clearly intended to begin building a bridge back to the theme initially announced in v 12—the comparison and contrast between Adam and Christ. Paul defines the relation of Adam to Christ as that of the “type of the one to come.” By this he obviously means that Adam is the exemplar or pattern of Christ in that both are epochal figures: both by one decisive act determine the character of the subsequent epoch for those belonging to that epoch. But the idea of a type is almost certainly also eschatological, denoting a person or event of the past, particularly from the time of the world’s or Israel’s foundation, which prefigures or demonstrates the character of God’s dealings in the new age at the end of history. As Adam by his transgression determined the character of the present age, so Christ has determined the character of the age to come. This same eschatological emphasis is indicated in the description of Christ as “the one to come.” That is to say, the verb probably describes Christ not so much as one who was future in relation to Adam, of a coming still within the context of this age, but Christ as the one whose effective role as epochal figure, as the inaugurator of the new age, is always future in relation to this present age. In other words, it is not Christ’s birth and ministry which is in view, but his death as the eschatological counterpart to Adam’s sin: as Adam’s transgression introduced death, so Christ’s death introduced life. It is the risen and heavenly Christ who characterizes the age to come, just as it is the fallen Adam who characterizes the present age. Thus the thought is parallel to that of 1 Cor 15:45–49, where the risen Christ is designated “the last Adam,” and where the equivalent phrase is “the man from heaven.” In neither case is Paul thinking of a particular coming from heaven (the Parousia), more of the new epoch inaugurated by Christ in its character as heavenly and as the age to come.

15–17 With the last clause of v 14 Paul seemed ready to complete the comparison begun in v 12. But once again he pauses, suddenly overwhelmed, or so it must have appeared to Tertius, his scribe, by the realization that a straight comparison was hardly adequate. Like someone about to offer a clear-cut definition, who at the last moment realizes the definition is not quite so clear-cut after all, and who before the definition is complete begins to insert qualifying clauses which complicate the simplicity of the definition as originally conceived. So here Paul, initially struck by the parallel between Adam and Christ as epochal figures, whose single action determined the destiny of the resultant epoch, catches himself and before completing the comparison hastens to emphasize the contrast between the two actions and their results. The comparison remains valid, and indeed is assumed already within the qualifications, but Paul evidently could not bring himself to complete it until he had made clear the very different characters of the single action in each case and particularly their respective effects.

The contrast reemploys the “how much more” form already used in vv 9–10, this time antithetically, to highlight the dissimilarity between the two epochs. No doubt Paul was partly influenced by the apocalyptic perception of the new age as qualitatively superior to the old (soon to be expressed in almost grotesque exaggeration in 2 Apoc. Bar. 29.5). But in fact the apocalyptic perspective as such only comes to the fore in v 17, where the eschatological reign of the saints following the defeat of death’s rule is in view. The stronger influence seems to be his own experience of grace (the dominant motif in these three verses) and his understanding of how that grace came to him through the one man Jesus Christ. This no doubt accounts for the character of the passage, both highly compressed and repetitive; for it is the language of fervent worship rather than that of cool theological reflection. In his sudden exultation at the thought of divine grace in its unlooked-for richness, Paul’s concern is to register the fact and character of the contrast rather than to achieve a clear formulation. In consequence it would be unwise to look here for primary definitions of the terms used; for what we have here is language stretched to accommodate the wonder of grace received. Nevertheless the passage is valuable if not for primary definitions at least to show us how broad a range of usage the chosen words could encompass.

15 The contrast is posed initially as between “the trespass” and “the gracious act.” The former has already been touched on, and its result: “the many died” (v 12). Paul chose the word “trespass” probably as a variation on the idea of “transgression” (v 14), though it is presumably significant that he sticks with “trespass” throughout the rest of the chapter. The transition may possibly again imply a slight withdrawal from the idea of the basic sin simply as a deliberate breach of a divine command known to be such. For with “trespass” the implication is rather that the fundamental sin has the character of taking a false step, losing one’s way, where the trespasser is as much to be pitied for his folly as the transgressor to be condemned for his deliberate rebellion.

The “many” would be recognized as an acceptable variation for the “all men” of v 12, since it is humankind in the mass which Paul clearly has in view in both cases. And his use of the aorist tense (“the many died”) would not cause confusion for those who bore in mind that Paul was viewing the epoch of Adam as a whole, from beginning to end; for though the rule of the present age has not yet finished, in that all have not yet died, nevertheless the fact remains that death is the inescapable bottom line for all without exception, as certain for those belonging to this age now or in the future as it was for those already dead. Once again the precise nature of the relation between Adam’s trespass and the death of the many is not clarified (even the qualification of v 12d is for the moment not in view). It is the epochal significance of Adam’s act as determining both character and end of the epoch as a whole which Paul emphasizes.

The other half of the contrast focuses on the word grace. The gracious act, the concrete expression of God’s generous outreach, is elaborated as “the grace of God and the gift in grace, that of the one man Jesus Christ.” The double phrase and presumably deliberate ambiguity is probably an indication that Paul wanted his readers to think both of the particular manifestation of divine grace in the generous act of Christ (especially his submission to death) and of the further particular manifestations of that same grace in their individual lives. They would probably recall the experience of their conversion in these terms (as in 1 Cor 1:4–5) or perhaps with explicit reference to the gift of the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 2:38; 8:20; 10:45; 11:17). The logic of the contrast required no more than reference to the two actions of the two epochal individuals, but since “grace” in Paul chiefly denotes divine power as experienced, it looks as though Paul’s thought spilled over once again from the grace of God in the Christ event to the gracious gift which the one man Jesus Christ made available for those of his epoch. His Roman audiences would take the point that it is the same grace in each instance: Christ’s death and resurrection as the actualization of grace par excellence; that gracious act as the measure and definition of all grace experienced thereafter. Here too the precise relation between the inaugurating action of the one man and its benefit to all his race is not explained; it is stated simply that the grace actualized in Christ has become available in abundance to the many. For the second time in the verse, Paul uses aorist tense and “the many,” to once again underline the epochal significance of Christ’s gracious act: it has affected an epochful of humanity, humankind in that age in the mass; and it has determined the character of that epoch from beginning to end as the age of overflowed grace.

The initial contrast therefore sets against each other human failing and the divine initiative of grace. As the age of Adam is characterized by death having the final say, so the age of Christ is characterized by grace actualized and received in plentiful sufficiency. What is sometimes described as Paul’s pessimistic assessment of man is actually therefore his realistic appraisal of the human condition and the individual’s prospects in the present era (man as having lost his way, with death inescapable). Such realism can be sustained without despair only because it also sees the grace of God as having opened up another chapter beyond that which ends in death.

16 Paul now reexpresses the contrast between the two men and their epochs in different terms. The one who sinned is set directly against the gift which Christ has made available—confirming the clear implication of v 15 that it is not merely an objective display of grace at one point in history which is in view, but also the gift actually received. More striking is the variation of “the one and the many” motif: whereas in v 15 it was the act of one man which determined the destiny of the many (= humankind), now the talk is of the one whose sin resulted in condemnation and of the many trespasses from which the gracious act emerges. With emphasis on judgment and condemnation the human responsibility for sin and trespass is reaffirmed. And the contrasting gift is expressed in language recalling the central imagery of divine vindication, underlining the extent to which for Paul justification and the gift of grace (or Spirit) are simply two sides of the one experience of acceptance by God. Here especially the rhetorical spontaneity of the parallel form of the clauses should inhibit any readiness to look for characteristic or definitive usage here: “judgment from one” is a loose enough formulation, but “gracious gift from many trespasses” is looser still; and the nouns are chosen for their parallel endings rather than because Paul is trying to draw precise distinctions. Once again, it should be noted, Paul sums up the contrast between the epochs in terms of their beginnings and ends: the one man whose sin initiated the present epoch and the condemnation which is its end result; the gracious act which initiated the new epoch and the acquittal which is God’s final word in it.

17 Having made his point in the breathless brevity of a theology of awe at grace received, Paul makes one last effort to return to the chief point of comparison between Adam and Christ and to sum up the contrast between them and their epochs at the same time. It was the one man who was responsible for yielding to sin and death: his trespass was in effect a handing over of all humankind to the rule of death. In overwhelming contrast the epoch made possible by Christ is the epoch of life and consists of those “who receive the abundant overflow of grace and of the gift of righteousness”—the present continuous tense presumably reflecting Paul’s appreciation of the ongoing character of grace, both as more and more become recipients of it and as those already members of the new age continue to receive it.

The fact that Paul poses the contrast between “death” and “those receiving . . .” (“death reigned”; “those receiving . . . will reign”) implies that he is not thinking of the participants of the two epochs as set there without having any say in the matter. If all are subject to death as a consequence of their being born into a race at odds with God, Paul also asserts that the many die as a condemnation for their guilt as trespassers. Whereas the new age is characterized not by the rule of a fate one cannot escape (like death) but by the willing reception of a grace freely offered—inevitably so since, in terms of the analysis of chap. 1, death can only be outwitted for those who yield again their submission as creatures to the creator, in dependence on whom alone life can be sustained despite death.

The double characterization (abundant overflow of grace and of the gift of righteousness) is also striking. Again we should beware of taking the latter phrase as a primary usage of “righteousness,” since the flood of language in these verses pulls more than one word out of its more regular setting. But it is clear enough that Paul can think of righteousness as a gift, a potency or status or relationship received from God. The key factor here, however, is the manifest overlap between “grace” and “righteousness” (gift consisting in righteousness): they overlap presumably because both express the outreaching of God to man, and that outreach as experienced in its accepting and sustaining power. At such moments when the heart is full the mind need not insist on careful distinctions between such concepts as grace, Spirit, justification.

Here too the eschatological orientation of Paul’s thought is clear: “they shall reign in life.” Paul underscores once more that he has in view the whole epoch—death as the final result of one, life of the other. In each case the future end determines the character of the whole. As Paul implies that the old epoch is not yet at an end (death has not yet been experienced by all), so he implies that the new epoch has only begun. By such inferences the careful reader is prepared for one of the central emphases in the next stage of the argument.

One final contrast should not go unnoticed. Adam stands only at the beginning of the epoch, even though his action determines the whole epoch’s domination by death (hence the possibility of reading “Adam” as a way of speaking of man/humankind as such). In contrast, the epoch of Christ is not merely initiated by Christ but continues to be determined by Christ throughout its course. Where in the present age it is “the grim reaper” who broods over the offspring of Adam, in the new age it is Christ risen and exalted who enables individuals to receive his grace and to reign in life. All this can be seen as integral to Paul’s Adam Christology: Adam as having failed to realize the full purpose of God for man (to reign in life—cf. Ps 8:5–6) by being subjected to death; Christ as having by his resurrection fulfilled that purpose and at the same time made it possible for those who follow him to reign in life with him. So much was fundamental and indeed self-evident to Paul in his conceptualization and understanding of the grace he here rejoices in.

18–19 With v 18 Paul at last feels able to round off the comparison between Adam and Christ left incomplete in v 12. But it is now a more carefully phrased comparison with major elements of the contrast drawn in from vv 15–17. The correspondence has already become plain and Paul is in some danger of merely repeating himself. It lies in that fact that the act of one man has determined the destiny of all, humankind in the mass—a typological correspondence of epochal figures in that the first man introduced the original and present epoch, while the other has introduced the ultimate and future epoch. The contrast lies in the nature of the one act and in its effect in each case: Adam’s trespass, Christ’s righteous deed; the result of the first, condemnation (as in v 16), of the second, acquittal which brings life (a combination of vv 16 and 17). Or in the terms of v 19, the contrast between Adam’s disobedience and Christ’s obedience, resulting in the many being made sinners in the first case, and being made righteous in the second. Other elements of the contrast (the “how much more,” the rule of death in the first epoch, the gift character of the second, the one trespass and the many trespasses) need not be explained again here.

For the first time in these verses the nature of Christ’s one act is given some clarification (so far alluded to simply under the heading “the gracious act”). Now it is described as a “righteous deed,” and as “the (act of) obedience of the one man.” At this point the features of Adam Christology are most sharply drawn, with Christ’s work described precisely as an antithesis to Adam’s—the deed which accords with God’s will set against the trespass which marked humankind’s wrong turning, the act defined as obedience precisely because it is the reversal of Adam’s disobedience. The inaugurating act of the new epoch is thus presented as a counter to and cancellation of the inaugurating act of the old, Christ’s right turn undoing Adam’s wrong turn. Paul may well intend to suggest the idea of Christ’s role as a retracing that of Adam, a recapitulation or rerunning of the divine program for man in which the first Adam’s destructive error was both refused and made good by the last Adam, thus opening the way for the fulfillment of God’s purpose for man (cf. Heb 2:6–15). Paul’s Jewish readers would also note the significance of his describing Christ’s death as a “righteous deed,” that is, as an action which meets the law’s stipulations, confirming that Paul saw Christ’s death as fulfilling the role of the sin offering as laid down by the law (cf 3:25), and so also reminding us that Paul’s attitude to the law was not so antipathetic as is sometimes assumed.

Here too the degree to which the two verses have clearly been structured to bring out the parallelism between the two men raises the question of whether Paul has sacrificed precision of language for rhetorical effect. How close is the actual parallel in each case? The question arises with particular reference to the parallelism of the “all men” in v 18 and “the many” in v 19. Does the language of v 18 mean that Paul looked for everyone without exception to share in the life of the new age (“universalism”)? Even if Paul had not intended to raise this question, he could hardly deny that it nevertheless arises from the phrasing of his argument. How he would have responded to the question is a good deal less clear. On the one hand, he has already hinted that there is at least an element of human responsibility in the actual receiving of the grace which marks out the members of the new epoch (v 17), with the implication that membership of the new epoch is neither automatic nor conferred without the individual’s consent. (It is hard to imagine Paul or his readers envisaging reception of the gift of righteousness apart from the conversion they had all undergone with the concomitant exercise of faith on the part of the convert—as defined for Paul in Hab 2:4 and illustrated by Abraham in Gen 15:6). So Paul may well have meant “all men” in the sense of everyone belonging to that epoch. On the other hand, he could hardly have complained if his Roman (or subsequent) readership took the “all men” as embracing the totality of the human race in each case. Nor should we exclude the possibility that Paul, enthused by the epochal sweep of his vision, cherished the hope of such a universal salvation, however much a more hard-headed analysis may have persuaded him otherwise in another context (2:8–9). How, after all, can grace be “so much more” in its effect if it is less universal than the effect of death? In Paul as in other Christians the logic of love may well have coexisted uneasily with the simpler logic of systematic consistency; according to Jonah it was not otherwise with God!

With v 19 the question is rather whether Paul intended to imply an equal or equivalent element of predeterminedness in each epoch. That is to say, did Paul mean that members of each epoch have a character (sinners, righteous) which is given them prior to any exercise of choice on their part, simply by virtue of their belonging to that epoch (life as inescapable a consequence of Christ’s act for the mass of humanity as death was of Adam’s)? Or did he simply assume that his readers would understand that a conscious choice of trespass was included in the idea of “sinners” and that a conscious exercise of faith was presupposed by the idea of “righteous” (since he had already argued so persuasively that without faith there is none righteous—1:17; 3:10)? Again Paul leaves his readers in some doubt, and once again the precise cause-and-effect link between the one act and the many’s destiny is left unclear. To be sure, the use of a verb to describe the cause-and-effect link for the first time in these verses promises a clearer definition of the link. But the promise is still-born, since the verb chosen (“were made, became”) lacks clear definition itself. Indeed it may be that Paul chose it precisely because it left the precise link between the one act and the many’s destiny undefined, just as earlier he had used equally ambiguous prepositional phrases (“through one man’s sin,” etc.), in which case it is the fact of the link which Paul intended to assert rather than to define its precise relation. Here, as elsewhere, Paul refuses to be drawn into a more rigorously defined and consistent systematization of his theology, thus leaving space both for the diversity of opinion and the silence of agnosticism on more than one contentious issue.

If the verb itself proves less than helpful, the tense of its second usage may shed a little more light. For the use of the future in v 19b, as in v 17b, may imply that Paul’s perspective is still primarily eschatological, that he sees each epoch from the perspective of its end—according to v 18, condemnation in the one case, acquittal in the other. At that point the character of the members of each epoch will have become established and be recognized as such (sinners in the one case, righteous in the other), without it needing to be explained how these end effects came about (how much predetermined, how much freely chosen; how much consequence of heredity and upbringing, how much willingly embraced). In which case the descriptions chosen (sinners, righteous) function here more as sociological referents than as expressions of blame and praise. Paul’s more attentive readers would probably also take the inference that their own standing as righteous is eschatologically incomplete. Probably in deliberate contrast to his kinsfolk’s too glib assurance of their covenant righteousness, Paul evidently wants to maintain the believer’s quite proper claim to be “righteous” always with the qualification of the eschatological “not yet.” To be righteous is not simply to be accepted by God initially, but to be sustained by God through to the final acquittal of life; without the “how much more” of complete (eschatological) salvation, (initial) righteousness and reconciliation remain incomplete (vv 9–10).

20–21 Paul has now drawn out the comparison/contrast between Adam and Christ as far as it will go. The argument which began in chap. 1 with the indictment of man’s Adamic willfulness, has now been fittingly completed by the repeated emphasis that this Adamic plight and destiny of man has been more than countered and superseded by the gracious act of Christ and its effect, with the whole of human-kind and the whole history of humankind embraced in a simple yet compelling vision of the two men and their two epochs. Paul is now ready to round off the first major section of his treatise. But for one last time he pauses, just as he paused at the beginning of his vision, in v 13, to ensure that the law is not left out of the picture. Why so? For one thing he may have been conscious of the danger of oversimplifying the cause-and-effect link between Adam’s trespass and the many’s destiny; not simply Adam’s sin was involved in the condemnation of v 18 or the being made sinners of v 19, but the multiplied trespasses of the many. For another, his thought may have been prompted by the language he used in vv 18 and 19—condemnation, righteous act, disobedience, sinner, etc.—words which would to a Jew inevitably suggest the law. But if we have followed his train of thought aright, the more probable reason is that the role of the law within the process of sin and within the present epoch lay at the heart of his exposition, at the center of his critique of the understanding of righteousness and salvation which he had been taught as a Jew and had embraced up to the time he was confronted by Christ. He could not round off this fundamental section of his exposition without ensuring that the law was given its proper place within this summary overview.

The role which he actually ascribes to the law must have seemed shocking to most of his Jewish readers. For in a few terse words he turns the role of the law completely on its head. He had already distanced the law with some success from the righteousness of God through faith (3:20–22) as exemplified by Abraham (chap. 4). But now he pulls the gap between law and grace into outright antithesis. Far from being an answer to sin, as his fellow Jews naturally assumed, it increased sin! Far from being an instrument of God in the epoch of grace it is lumped instead with sin and death, a power like them, which like them came in from “off stage” to reinforce the power of sin and death over Adam’s race. For Paul to put the law, God’s good gift to Israel, so emphatically on the wrong side of the division between the epochs, must have seemed like blackest treachery to many of his countrymen, including Jews at Rome who were hearing his exposition of the gospel for the first time. Nothing he had said so far about the law had prepared them for this.

What Paul means by asserting that the law’s function was to increase sin is not wholly clear. He may have meant, as in vv 13–14, that the law increases sin by turning sin into transgressionm—increase in the sense of intensify, by making visible as sin, or make worse by injecting the dimension of guilt. The divine logic in providing the law would then be that only when sin is out in the open can it be dealt with, only when the poison has come to a head can the boil be lanced. He could also think of sin as being increased quantitatively, with the law being seen actually to provoke sin, just as the command of Gen 2:16 could be said to have provoked Adam’s transgression by encouraging him to see that which had been forbidden as desirable. This is a contentious line of thought he would develop later on (7:7–12). But more likely here Paul is recalling the actual effect of the law on his own people—their pride in the law which caused them to identify righteousness too much with distinctively Jewish actions, particularly circumcision, and so to lose sight of the deeper, less easily definable righteousness which could be ascribed to Gentile as well as Jew, to the uncircumcised as well as the circumcised, and which therefore could not be defined simply in terms of such “works of the law.” By letting their dependence on the law obscure the more direct and fundamental dependence on God they were no better off than the Gentiles (chap. 2); indeed they were much worse off, since having the law should have made them all the more conscious of their condition as sinners than Gentiles who have not the law (cf. 3:20). In this one phrase Paul sums up the whole critique of his people’s attitude to the law and gives it a still sharper point.

For Paul the answer to the multiplication and domination of sin is not the law, but grace—and not grace as expressed in the law, but grace apart from the law (3:21). He could state the plight of those belonging to the old epoch in such stark terms because he was so confident that the answer of grace was more than sufficient. The first act of the human drama ends in darkest tragedy—sin reigning with death the final word. The gospel of Christ for Paul is that that power has been broken: God’s grace has more than matched the intensification of sin through the law and so given sure promise of life beyond the cold grasp of death. The different tenses used of grace’s work (“has become present in greater abundance,” “shall reign”) would remind his readers that Paul is talking in terms of a whole epoch. As sin and death encompass the whole of the old epoch, so grace encompasses the whole of the new. As grace became present in its overflowing abundance as the gracious act of Christ, so the rule of grace will continue on into the future into life eternal. Once again the perceptive reader would catch the sound of the typical Pauline balance between that which has already been accomplished for and in the believer and the eschatological not-yet. So too he would also recognize that the righteousness through which grace rules is not to be seen as a once for all package (analogous to Israel’s election), but as the status of one accepted by God and sustained by God in continuing dependence on his grace, till its final and complete outworking in eternal life.

And always through Jesus Christ as Lord: if tffe agency of Adam’s trespass gave free rein to sin and death, it is precisely the force which continues to come through the one man who defeated sin and death, which sustains the believer against their continuing claims upon him and which will prove finally triumphant. The one man who lost his way condemned those like him to fall short of the destiny intended for man; the one man who refused the wrong turning and completed man’s intended destiny thereby made it possible for those who come after him to fulfill that destiny too through the grace which was and is preeminently his.

Thus Paul finally brings the first main stage of his argument to a resounding conclusion, with ringing phrases which both gather up key terms from the preceding chapters and sustain the note of tragedy confounded into a triumphant doxology. But the conclusion is also a coda, which precisely in its shocking character provides an opening for and transition to the next stage of the argument, in which the role of the law for the believer can be further clarified and the condition of the believer, liberated within the new epoch but not yet free from the old, can be elucidated.