Homily 16 — Romans 9, verses 1 to 33

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on Romans

Homily 16 — Romans 9, verses 1 to 33

Romans 9, verses 1 to 33

“I am speaking the truth in Christ, I am not lying, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Spirit.”

Did it not seem to you yesterday that I had said some great and extraordinary things about Paul’s love for Christ? And great they were, too great for any words to express. Yet what you have heard today is as far above those things as those things were above ours. I did not think they could be surpassed; still, when I came to what has been read today, it appeared far more glorious than all that went before.

And that he was aware of this himself, he shows by his opening words. He is on the point of entering on greater things than those, things that most people would therefore be likely to disbelieve; so he first gives a solemn assurance about the matter he is going to speak of. Many people do this when they are about to say something that most people do not believe, though they themselves are completely certain of it in their own minds. That is why he says, “I am speaking the truth in Christ, I am not lying, and my conscience bears me witness.”

Verses 2 and 3: “That I have great grief and unceasing sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ.”

What are you saying, Paul? From Christ, your beloved, from whom neither the kingdom nor hell, nor things seen nor things known to the mind alone, nor another world as great, could separate you — is it from him that you would now be accursed? What has happened? Have you changed? Have you given up that love? He replies: “No, do not be afraid. On the contrary, I have made it even more intense.” Then how is it that you long to be accursed, and look for a separation, a removal to such a distance that no greater distance could be found beyond it? He might reply: “Because I love him exceedingly.” How, please, and in what way? The thing seems a riddle. Or rather, if you like, let us learn what the curse is, and then we will question him on these points, and we will understand this love, so extraordinary and beyond words.

What, then, is the curse? Hear his own words: “If anyone does not love our Lord Jesus Christ, let him be accursed” (First Corinthians 16, verse 22). That is, let him be set apart from all, removed from all. Think of a thing dedicated to God and set apart for him: no one would dare so much as touch it with his hand, or even come near it. In the same way, when a man is put outside the church, Paul cuts him off from all and removes him as far away as possible, and calls him by this same name in the opposite sense. So with great fear he warns everyone to keep away from him and to spring back from him.

No one dares to come near the thing set apart, out of respect for it; but from the man who is cut off everyone separates himself from the very opposite feeling. So the separation is the same, and both alike are removed from people in general. Still, the manner of the separation is not the same; in the one case it is the opposite of what it is in the other. From the one they keep back because it is dedicated to God; from the other because he is estranged from God and broken off from the church.

This, then, is what Paul means when he says, “I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ.” And he does not merely say that he could be willing; he uses a stronger word and says, “I could wish” — or even, “I could pray.” But if what he says troubles you in your weakness, consider the real state of the case: not only that he wished to be separated, but also why he wished it. Then you will see the greatness of his love.

He even circumcised Timothy (Acts 16, verse 3), and we pay attention not to what was done but to the intention of it and the reason for it; and so we admire him all the more. And he did not only circumcise someone; he even shaved his own head and offered sacrifice (Acts 18, verse 18, and Acts 21, verse 24). Yet surely we do not say for that reason that he was a Jew. On this very ground we say he was entirely free of Jewish ways and clear of them, and a true worshiper of Christ. When you see him circumcising and sacrificing, you do not condemn him for turning back to Jewish practice; on this very ground you have the best of reasons to crown him as a complete stranger to Judaism. In the same way, when you see that he longed to be accursed, do not be troubled by it; on this very ground give him the loudest praise, once you know why he wishes it.

For if we do not look closely into the reasons, we will call Elijah a killer of men, and Abraham not only a killer but the murderer of his own son. And we will bring charges of murder against Phinehas and Peter as well. Nor is it only in the case of the saints: even in the case of the God of the universe, anyone who does not keep to this rule will suspect all kinds of unworthy things. To keep this from happening in every case of the kind, let us bring together the reason, the intention, the time, and everything that speaks for what was done, and examine the actions in that way. And we must do this now too, in the case of this blessed soul.

What, then, is the reason? It is Jesus himself, whom he loves so much. And yet he does not say “for him.” What he says is, “I could wish that I were accursed from him for my brothers.” This comes from his humility. He has no wish to draw attention to himself, as though he were saying something great and doing Christ a favor. That is also why he said “my kinsmen”: to hide the greatness of what he was aiming at. For to see that he wished it all for Christ’s sake, just listen to what comes next. After speaking of his kinsmen, he goes on:

Verses 4 and 5: “To whom belong the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises; whose are the fathers, and from whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.”

But someone asks: “What does this mean? If it was to bring others to faith that he was willing to become accursed, he ought to have wished it for the Gentiles as well. But if he wishes it for the Jews only, that proves he did not wish it for Christ’s sake, but because they were his own relatives.” On the contrary: if he had prayed for the Gentiles only, this would not have been equally clear. But since it is for the Jews only, it is a clear proof that he is so earnest for nothing but Christ’s glory. I know that what I am saying will seem a paradox to you. Still, if you do not make an uproar, I will soon try to make it clear.

What he has said, he has not said without a reason. Everyone was talking and accusing God. These people had been counted worthy of the name of sons; they had received the law, and knew him beyond all others, and enjoyed such great glory, and served him beyond the whole world, and received the promises; they came from fathers who were his friends; and, greatest of all, they had been the forefathers of Christ himself — for this is the meaning of the words “from whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came.” And now, people said, they are cast out and disgraced, and in their place are brought in people from the Gentiles who had never known him.

Since they were saying all this and blaspheming God, Paul heard it and was cut to the heart and grieved for God’s glory; and he wished he were accursed, had that been possible, so that they might be saved, and this blasphemy might be stopped, and God might not seem to have deceived the descendants of those to whom he promised the gifts. And to show you that it was in sorrow over this that he uttered this wish — so that God’s promise might not seem to have fallen to the ground, the promise that said to Abraham, “I will give this land to you and to your seed” — he goes on:

Verse 6: “It is not as though the word of God had failed.”

He says this to show that he had the courage to bear all these things for the sake of the word of God, that is, the promise made to Abraham. Moses seemed to be pleading for the Jews, yet he was doing everything for God’s glory. For he says, “Otherwise they will say, ‘Because he was not able to save them, he brought them out to destroy them in the wilderness’” (Deuteronomy 9, verse 28) — and so, “Hold back your anger.” Paul does the same. He means: “So that they may not say that God’s promise has fallen to the ground and he has cheated us of it — that he gave us his word and the word has not turned into deeds — I could wish to be accursed.”

This, then, was why he did not speak of the Gentiles. No promises had been made to them by God, nor had they worshiped him, and so no one blasphemed him on their account. It was for the Jews, who had both received the promise and been brought closer to him than others, that he expressed this wish. Do you see that if he had expressed it for the Gentiles, it would not have been shown that he was doing this so purely for Christ’s glory? But since he was willing to become accursed on the Jews’ behalf, it was made fully evident that he desired this for Christ’s sake alone. That is why he says, “To whom belong the adoption, and the glory, and the service of God, and the promises.”

For the law, he means, which speaks of Christ, came from them, and all the covenants were made with them, and Christ himself came from them, and the fathers who received the promises were all from them. Yet the opposite has come about, and they have fallen from all their good things. That is why, he means, he is grieved. If it were possible to be separated from the company around Christ and made a stranger — not to his love (far from it, for it was out of love that he was doing all this), but to all that enjoyment and glory — he would accept that lot, provided his Master were not blasphemed and did not have to hear people saying that it had all been a stage show: “He promises to one people and gives to another. He was born of one race, and he saved another. It was to the forefathers of the Jews that he made the promises, and yet he has abandoned their descendants and brought people who never knew him at any time into their good things. They labored at keeping the law and reading the prophets, while people who came only yesterday from pagan altars and idols have been set above them. What providence is there in all this?” He means: “So that these things may not be said of my Master, even if they are said unjustly, I would gladly lose even the kingdom and that glory beyond words, and undergo any suffering, counting it the greatest comfort possible no longer to hear him whom I long for so much blasphemed like this.”

But if you still object to this explanation, just reflect that many fathers at many times have accepted this much for their children: they have chosen to be separated from them in order to see them honored instead, holding their children’s honor dearer than their company. But because we fall so far short of love like this, we cannot even form an idea of what is meant here.

For there are some so wholly unworthy even to hear the name of Paul, and so far removed from that intensity of his, that they imagine he is speaking here of the death of this present life. I would say they are as ignorant of Paul as the blind are of the sun’s rays, or even much more so. Here is a man who died every day, who set before him dangers as thick as a snowstorm, and then said, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will trouble, or distress, or persecution, or famine?” Still not satisfied with what he had said, he went above heaven and the heaven of heavens, ran through the angels and archangels and all the higher orders of beings, and took in at once things present and things to come, things seen and things known to the mind alone, things painful and things good, whatever there was on either side, leaving nothing out at all. Even then he was not satisfied, but conjured up another creation that does not exist. How would such a man, meaning to say something great after all those things, mention the death of this present life? It is not so; surely it is not! Such a notion belongs to worms nestling in their dunghill. For had he meant this, in what sense would he be wishing himself accursed from Christ? Death of that sort (Philippians 1, verse 23) would have joined him more closely to Christ’s company and made him enjoy that glory all the more.

Yet there are some who venture to say other things, even more ridiculous than these. It was not death he wished for, they say, but to be a treasure, a thing set apart, belonging to Christ. And who, even among the most worthless and lazy, would not wish for that? And how could this have been for the sake of his kinsmen? Let us leave these fables and trifles, then — it is no more worth answering them than answering children babbling at play — and let us go back again to the words themselves. Let us luxuriate in this very ocean of love, swim fearlessly in it in every direction, and reflect on this flame of love beyond words. Or rather, say what one may, one will say nothing worthy of the subject. For there is no ocean so wide, no flame so intense, as this. No language can set it forth as it deserves; only he knew it who truly possessed it. And now let me bring the words themselves before you again.

“For I could wish that I myself were accursed.” What does “I myself” mean? It means: “I who have been a teacher of all (First Corinthians 9, verse 27); who have gathered together countless good deeds; who am waiting for countless crowns; who longed for him so much that I valued his love above everything; who burn for him all my days, and hold everything else second to the love of him (Philippians 3, verse 8).” For being loved by Christ was not the only thing he cared about; loving him exceedingly mattered to him too, and this last he cared about most of all. So he looked to this alone and took everything else lightly. In every circumstance he kept one aim in view: to fulfill this surpassing love. And this is what he wishes for.

But since things were not to take this course, and he was not to become accursed, he next undertakes a defense against the charges, bringing before them what everyone was saying so as to overthrow it. And before he openly enters on his defense against these charges, he first plants some seeds of it in advance. When he says, “to whom belong the adoption, and the glory, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises,” he is simply saying that God did will them to be saved. God showed this by his dealings with them in the past, by Christ’s having come from them, and by what he promised to the fathers. But they, out of their own unmanageable temper, pushed the benefit away from them.

This is also why he sets down things that display God’s gift, not things that praise them. For the adoption came from his grace, and so did the glory, and the promises, and the law. Having taken all these things into account, then, and reflected how earnest God, together with his Son, had been for their salvation, he lifts up his voice aloud and says, “Who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.”

In this way he himself offers up thanksgiving on behalf of all people to the only Son of God. He means: “What if others do blaspheme? Still, we who know his mysteries, and his wisdom beyond words, and his great providence over us, know well that he is worthy not of blasphemy but of glory.” Still not content with being conscious of this himself, he next tries to use arguments and to speak more sharply against them. And he does not aim at them without first freeing them from a suspicion they held. So that he would not seem to be addressing them as enemies, he says further on, “Brothers and sisters, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for Israel is that they may be saved” (Romans 10, verse 1). And here, along with his other remarks, he arranged things so as not to seem to be saying what he was going to say out of hostility toward them. That is why he does not refuse to call them even kinsmen and brothers.

For even if what he said was said for Christ’s sake, he still draws their minds toward himself as well. He paves the way for what he has to say, frees himself of all suspicion over what had to be said against them, and then at last goes into the subject most of them were waiting for. For many, as I have already said, wanted to know why those who had received the promise fell short of it, while those who had never even heard of it were saved ahead of them.

So to clear up this difficulty, he brings forward the answer before the objection. To prevent anyone from saying: “What? Are you more concerned for God’s glory than God is for his own? Does he need your help so that his word will not fall to the ground?” In reply to this he says: “I said this not as though God’s word had fallen to the ground, but to show my love for Christ. For since things have turned out as they have, we are not short of words on God’s behalf, or of ways to show that his promise did stand. God said to Abraham, ‘To you and to your seed I will give the land,’ and, ‘In your seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed’ (Genesis 12, verses 7 and 3). Let us see, then, what kind of seed this is. For not all who come from him are his seed.” That is why he says, “For they are not all Israel who are from Israel.”

Verse 7: “Neither, because they are the seed of Abraham, are they all children.”

Now once you know what kind of seed Abraham’s seed is, you will see that the promise was given to his seed, and you will know that the word has not fallen to the ground. What kind of seed is it, then? He means: “It is no saying of mine. The Old Testament explains itself, when it says, ‘In Isaac your seed will be called’ (Genesis 21, verse 12).” What does “in Isaac” mean? Explain it.

Verse 8: “That is, those who are the children of the flesh are not the children of God; but the children of the promise are counted as the seed.”

And notice the judgment and depth of Paul’s mind. In interpreting, he does not say, “Those who are the children of the flesh are not” the children of Abraham, but “the children of God.” In this way he blends the former things with the present ones, and shows that even Isaac was not merely Abraham’s son. What he means is something like this: all who have been born as Isaac was are sons of God and of the seed of Abraham. That is why he said, “In Isaac your seed will be called”: so that we may learn that those who are born after the manner of Isaac are in the truest sense Abraham’s children. How, then, was Isaac born? Not by the law of nature, not by the power of the flesh, but by the power of the promise. What, then, is meant by the power of “the promise”?

Verse 9: “At this time I will come, and Sarah will have a son.” It was this promise, then, this word of God, that formed Isaac and brought him to birth. What if a womb and the belly of a woman were its instrument? It was not the power of the belly but the strength of the promise that brought the child to birth. So too we are born by the words of God. For in the pool of water it is the words of God that bring us to birth and form us: it is by being baptized into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit that we are born. And this birth is not of nature but of the promise of God (John 3, verse 3; Ephesians 5, verse 26; James 1, verse 18; First Peter 3, verse 21).

For just as he first foretold Isaac’s birth and then brought it about, so he announced ours long before, many ages ago, through all the prophets, and afterward brought it to pass. You know how great he declared it to be, and how, having promised a great thing, he provided it with abundant ease (Hosea 2, verse 1, and the verses that follow).

But suppose the Jews were to say that the words “In Isaac your seed will be called” mean that those born of Isaac are to be reckoned to Abraham as his seed. Then the Edomites too, and all those peoples, ought to be called his sons, since their forefather Esau was Isaac’s son. But as it is, far from being called sons, they are the greatest strangers possible. So you see that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God; rather, even in nature itself the birth from above through baptism was sketched out in advance. If you tell me of the womb, I in turn will tell you of the water. But as in our case everything is of the Spirit, so in the other everything was of the promise. For that womb was colder than any water, because of barrenness and old age.

Let us, then, come to know our own noble birth accurately, and show a life worthy of it. There is nothing fleshly or earthly in it; so let there be nothing of that kind in us either. For it was not sleep, nor the will of the flesh (John 1, verse 13), nor embraces, nor the madness of desire, but “God’s love for humankind” that brought the whole thing about (Titus 3, verse 5). And as in Isaac’s case it happened when their age was past hope, so in ours it happened when the old age of sins had come over us: Isaac suddenly sprang up in youth, and we all became children of God and the seed of Abraham (Isaiah 40, verse 31).

Verse 10: “And not only this, but when Rebekah also had conceived by one, even by our father Isaac.”

The subject in question was an important one. That is why he turns to several arguments and tries every way to solve the difficulty. For if it was strange and new that they should be cast out after such great promises, it is far stranger that we should come into their good things — we who never expected anything of the kind. It was as if a king’s son, who had been promised that he would succeed to the power his father held, were thrown down to the level of disreputable men, and in his place a condemned man, weighed down with countless evils, were taken out of prison and came into the power that properly belonged to the other. What have you to say, he means? That the son is unworthy? Well, so is this man, and far more so. So he ought either to have been punished along with the first, or honored along with him.

Something of this sort is what happened to the Jews and the Gentiles — or rather, something far stranger. That all were unworthy he has shown above, where he says, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3, verse 23). But the new thing is that, when all were unworthy, the Gentiles alone were saved.

And besides this, he says, there is another difficulty that someone may raise: “If God had no intention of fulfilling the promises to them, why make them at all? Men who do not know the future, and are often deceived, do promise their gifts even to the undeserving. But he who knows things to come as well as things present, and knows clearly that they will make themselves undeserving of the promises and so will receive none of the things named — why should he promise at all?”

How, then, does Paul meet all this? By showing who the Israel is to whom God made the promise. For once this has been shown, it is proved at the same time that the promises were all fulfilled. To point this out he said, “For they are not all Israel who are of Israel.” And this is why he does not use the name Jacob but Israel, the name that was a sign of that righteous man’s virtue, of a gift from above, and of his having seen God (Genesis 32, verse 28).

Yet “all,” he says, “have sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3, verse 23). Now if all have sinned, how is it that some are saved and some perish? It is because not all were willing to come to him; for on his part all were saved, since all were called. He does not set this down just yet, however. He meets the question from a position of advantage and from other examples, by bringing another question before them; and, as he did before, he meets a very great difficulty with another difficulty.

For when he was discussing how, by Christ’s being counted righteous, all the rest came to enjoy that righteousness, he brought in Adam’s case, saying, “For if by one man’s offense death reigned, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace reign in life” (Romans 5, verse 17). The case of Adam, indeed, he does not clear up; but from it he clears up Christ’s, and shows that it was more reasonable that he who died on their behalf should have power over them as he wills. For that all should be punished when one had sinned does not seem so very reasonable to most people. But that all should be counted righteous when One had done right is both more reasonable and more fitting for God. Still, he has not solved the difficulty he raised. For the more obscure that point remained, the more the Jew was put to silence. The difficulty of Paul’s own position passed over to his opponent, and his own point became clearer from it.

So in this passage too it is by raising other difficulties that he meets the questions raised, since it was Jews he was contending against. That is why he takes no pains to solve the examples he has brought before us: in the fight against the Jews he was not the one who had to answer for them. But from them he makes his own subject clearer throughout.

Why are you surprised, he means, that at this time some of the Jews were saved and some were not? Why, long ago, in the patriarch’s times, one can see the same thing happening. Why was Isaac alone called the seed, when Abraham was the father of Ishmael too, and of several others? “But Ishmael was the son of a slave woman.” And what has that to do with his father? Still, I will not quibble. Let this son be set aside because of his mother. What are we to say of the sons of Keturah? Were they not free, and born of a free mother? How is it they were not honored with the same preference as Isaac?

But why do I speak of these? Rebekah was Isaac’s only wife, and she bore two children, both of them to Isaac. Yet those two, though of the same father and the same mother, the fruit of the same labor, both of one father and one mother, and twins besides, did not enjoy the same lot. And here you have no slave mother to account for it, as in Ishmael’s case; nor can you say that one was conceived in this womb and the other in a different one, as with Keturah and Sarah, since here they even shared the same hour of birth. This, then, is why Paul, to give a clearer example, says that this happened not in Isaac’s case only, “but when Rebekah also had conceived by one, even by our father Isaac.”

Verses 11 to 13: “For the children not yet being born, neither having done any good or evil, so that the purpose of God according to election might stand, not of works but of him who calls, it was said to her, The elder will serve the younger. As it is written, Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated.”

What was the reason, then, that one was loved and the other hated? Why did one serve, while the other was served? It was because one was wicked and the other good. And yet, while the children were not yet born, one was honored and the other condemned. For when they were not yet born, God said, “The elder will serve the younger.” With what intent, then, did God say this? Because he does not wait, as man does, to see from the outcome of their deeds who is good and who is not; even before these, he knows which is the wicked one and which is not.

And this took place in the Israelites’ case too, in a still more wonderful way. Why do I speak of Esau and Jacob, he says, one of whom was wicked and the other good? In the Israelites’ case the sin belonged to all, since they all worshiped the calf. And yet some had mercy shown them, and others did not.

Verse 15: “For I will have mercy,” he says, “on whom I will have mercy, and I will show compassion on whom I will show compassion” (Exodus 33, verse 19).

One can see this also in the case of those who are punished. For what would you say of Pharaoh, who was punished and had to pay so heavy a penalty? You say he was hardened and disobedient. Was he, then, the only one like that, and not a single person besides? How was it, then, that he was so severely punished? And in the case of the Jews, why did he call that a people which was no people? Or again, why not count all worthy of equal honor?

“For if they are as the sand of the sea,” it says, “a remnant will still be saved” (Isaiah 10, verse 22). And why is it to be only a remnant? You see what difficulty he has filled the subject with — and very rightly. For when you are able to throw your opponent into perplexity, do not bring forward the answer at once. If he turns out to be caught in the same ignorance himself, why take unnecessary dangers on yourself? Why make him bolder by drawing it all onto yourself?

Now tell me, you Jew, who have so many perplexing questions and cannot answer any of them: how is it that you trouble us over the calling of the Gentiles? I, for my part, have a good reason to give you why the Gentiles were counted righteous and you were cast out. What is the reason? That they are of faith, and you of the works of the law. And it is because of this obstinacy of yours that you have been given up in every way. For “being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and seeking to establish their own righteousness, they have not submitted themselves to the righteousness of God” (Romans 10, verse 3).

Here, then, that blessed man brings out the solution of the whole passage, giving its whole sense in brief. But to make this clearer, let us also examine what he says point by point, keeping this in mind: what the blessed Paul aimed at, in everything he said, was to show that God alone knows who are worthy, and that no man at all knows, however well he seems to know, but that in a man’s verdict there are many errors. For he who knows the secrets of the heart, he alone knows for certain who deserve a crown and who deserve punishment and vengeance. That is why he convicts and punishes many who are thought good by men, and crowns those suspected of being bad, after showing that they are not so. He forms his sentence not by the judgment of us slaves, but by his own keen and incorruptible decision, and he does not wait for the outcome of actions to tell from them the wicked man and the one who is not. But so that we do not make the subject more obscure, let us go back again to the apostle’s very words.

Verse 10: “And not only this, but when Rebekah also had conceived by one.”

I might have mentioned the sons of Keturah as well, he implies, but I do not. To win the victory from a position of advantage, I bring forward those born of one and the same father, and of the same mother too. For both were sprung from Rebekah, and from Isaac — the true-born, the chosen, the son honored above all, of whom God said, “In Isaac your seed will be called,” who became “the father of us all.” But if he was our father, then his sons should have been our fathers; yet it was not so. You see how this happens not in Abraham’s case only, but also in that of his son himself; and how in every case it is faith and virtue that stand out and give the real kinship its character.

From this we learn that it is not only by the manner of their birth, but by their being worthy of their father’s virtue, that children are called his children. For if it were only by the manner of birth, Esau ought to have enjoyed the same as Jacob. He too came from a womb as good as dead, and his mother was barren. Yet this was not the only thing required, but character as well — a fact that holds no ordinary amount of practical instruction for us.

And he does not say that one was good and the other bad, and that the first was honored for that reason. He did not want this sort of argument turned against him: “What? Are the men from the Gentiles better than those of the circumcision?” For even supposing that was the truth of the matter, he still does not state it yet, since that would have seemed provoking. Instead he has laid the whole thing on God’s knowledge, and no one would dare to contradict that, however frantic he might be. “For the children not yet being born,” he says, “it was said to her, The elder will serve the younger.”

And he shows that noble birth according to the flesh is of no use, but that we must seek virtue of soul, which God knows even before its works appear. For “the children,” he says, “not yet being born, nor having done any good or evil, so that the purpose of God according to election might stand, it was said to her that the elder will serve the younger.” This was a sign of foreknowledge, that they were chosen from their very birth. So that the election made according to foreknowledge might be plainly God’s, from the first day he at once saw and declared which was good and which was not.

So do not tell me, he means, that you have read the law and the prophets, and have served for so long a time. He who knows how to test the soul knows who is worthy of being saved. Yield, then, to the election that is beyond our understanding. For he alone knows how to crown rightly. How many, for instance, seemed better than Matthew, going by the works that could be seen at the time! But he who knows what is hidden, and is able to test the mind’s fitness, recognized the pearl though it lay in the mud. He passed by others, and, delighted with the beauty of this one, he chose it; and by adding grace from himself to its noble free will, he made it proven.

Think of the crafts that deal with perishable things, and of other matters too. Those who are good judges do not go by the grounds on which the untrained decide when choosing from what is set before them. From points they themselves know well, they often reject what the untrained approve, and choose what the untrained reject. Horse-trainers often do this with horses, and so do judges of precious stones, and workmen in other crafts. Much more, then, will the God who loves humankind, the infinite Wisdom, who alone has a clear knowledge of all things, refuse to go by human guesses, and pass sentence on all men from his own exact and unerring wisdom. That is why he chose the tax collector, the thief, and the prostitute, but dishonored priests and elders and rulers, and cast them out.

One can see this happening in the martyrs’ case too. Many who were utterly despised have been crowned in the time of trial; and on the other hand some whom many held to be great have stumbled and fallen. So do not call the Creator to account, or say, “Why was one crowned and another punished?” He knows how to do these things with exactness. That is why he says, “Jacob I have loved, and Esau I have hated.” That it was just, you know from the outcome; but he knew it clearly even before the outcome.

For it is not a mere display of works that God looks for, but also a noble choice and a well-disposed mind. A man of this kind, if he ever sins by being caught off guard, will quickly recover himself. And even if he should perhaps remain a long time in a state of vice, he will not be overlooked; God, who knows all things, will quickly draw him out. But the man who is corrupt in this respect, even if he seems to do some good things, will perish, because he does them with an evil intention. So David, after committing murder and adultery, quickly washed it away, since he had done it by being carried away when caught off guard, and not from a settled habit of wickedness. But the Pharisee, who had committed no such crime, and even had good deeds to boast of besides (Luke 18, verse 11), lost everything through the bad spirit he had chosen.

Verse 14: “What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God? Far from it!”

So there is no such thing in the case of us and the Jews either. Then he goes on to another point, clearer than this one. And what sort of point is it?

Verse 15: “For he says to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.”

Here again he gives the objection more force, by dividing it in two and meeting it, and by raising another, fresh difficulty. But to make what I have said clearer, I must explain it. God, he means, said that “the elder will serve the younger” before the birth pains began. What then? “Is God unrighteous?” Far from it. Now listen to what follows as well. In that case, the virtue or the vice might have been the deciding thing. But here there was one sin in which all the Jews joined, the sin of the molten calf; and still some were punished and some were not. That is why God says, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion” (Exodus 33, verse 19).

It is not for you to know, Moses, he means, who deserve my love for humankind; leave this to me. But if Moses had no right to know, much less do we. And this is why Paul did not simply quote the passage, but also reminded us to whom it was said. It is to Moses, he means, that God is speaking, so that by the dignity of the person, at least, he might make the objector modest. Having given a solution to the difficulties raised, then, he divides it in two, by bringing forward another objection besides, as follows:

Verses 16 and 17: “So then it is not of him who wills, nor of him who runs, but of God who shows mercy. For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be declared throughout all the earth.”

As, then, in the one case some were saved and some were punished, he means, so it is here too. This man was kept for this very purpose. And then he presses the objection again.

Verses 18 and 19: “Therefore he has mercy on whom he wills, and whom he wills he hardens. You will say to me then, Why does he still find fault? For who has resisted his will?”

See what pains he takes to tangle the subject in every way! And he does not bring out the answer at once — it is useful not to — but first stops the questioner’s mouth, saying, in verse 20: “No, but, my friend, who are you who reply against God?”

He does this to bring down the questioner’s ill-timed inquisitiveness and excessive curiosity, to put a check on it, and to teach him to know what God is and what man is; how incomprehensible God’s foreknowledge is, and how far above our reasoning; and how obedience to him in all things is our duty. So when he has prepared his hearer in this way, and hushed and softened his spirit, then with great skill he brings in the answer, having made what he says easy for him to accept. And he does not say that it is impossible to answer questions of this kind, but that it is presumptuous to raise them. For our business is to obey what God does, not to pry, even if we do not know the reasons for it. That is why he said, “Who are you who reply against God?”

You see how very little he makes of him, how he brings down his swollen pride! “Who are you?” Do you share in his power (compare Job 38)? No — are you sitting in judgment on God? Why, compared with him you cannot even be said to exist — not as this or that sort of being, but not at all! For the expression “Who are you?” sets him at nothing far more than “You are nothing” would. And he shows his indignation in the question in other ways too. He does not say, “Who are you who answer God?” but “who reply against” him — that is, who contradict and oppose him. For saying “things ought to be this way, and ought not to be that way” is what a man does who “replies against.”

See how he scares them, how he terrifies them, how he makes them tremble instead of questioning and prying! This is what an excellent teacher does. He does not follow his pupils’ fancies everywhere, but leads them to his own mind. He pulls up the thorns and then puts the seed in, and he does not answer every question put to him at once.

Verses 20 and 21: “Shall the thing formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why have you made me like this?’ Does not the potter have power to make from the same lump one vessel for honor and another for dishonor?”

He says this here not to do away with free will, but to show how far we ought to obey God. When it comes to calling God to account, we ought to be as little inclined to it as the clay is. We ought to keep not only from contradicting or questioning, but even from speaking or thinking of it at all, and to become like that lifeless matter which follows the potter’s hands and lets itself be drawn about wherever he pleases. And this is the only point to which he applied the illustration: not to laying down how we should live, but to the complete obedience and silence required of us.

We ought to observe this in every case: we are not to take illustrations whole, but to pick out what is useful in them, the point for which they were brought in, and leave the rest alone. For instance, when he says, “He crouched, he lay down like a lion” (Numbers 24, verse 9), let us take what is unconquerable and fearsome, not the savagery or anything else that belongs to a lion. Again, when he says, “I will meet them like a bear robbed of her young” (Hosea 13, verse 8), let us take the vengefulness. And when he says, “Our God is a consuming fire” (Deuteronomy 4, verse 24, and Hebrews 12, verse 29), let us take the destroying power at work in punishment. So here too we must single out the clay, the potter, and the vessels.

And when he goes on to say, “Does not the potter have power over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honor and another for dishonor?” do not suppose that Paul says this as an account of creation, or to imply that the will is under compulsion. He says it to illustrate God’s authority and the differences in his arrangements. If we do not take it this way, many absurdities will follow. For if he were speaking here about the will, and about who is good and who is not, then God himself would be the maker of these, and man would be free of all responsibility. At that rate Paul would also be shown to contradict himself, since he always gives the place of honor to free choice.

So there is nothing else he wants to do here but persuade the hearer to yield entirely to God, and never to call him to account for anything at all. As the potter, he says, makes what he pleases from the same lump, and no one stops him, so too when God, out of the same human race, punishes some and honors others, do not be curious or meddlesome about it. Only worship, and imitate the clay. As the clay follows the potter’s hands, so you too must follow the mind of the one who orders things this way. For he does nothing at random or by mere chance, even if you do not know the secret of his wisdom.

Yet you let the potter make different things from the same lump, and find no fault. But from God you demand an account of his punishments and honors, and will not allow him to know who is worthy and who is not. Because the lump is all of one substance, you insist that the dispositions must be the same as well. How monstrous this is! And yet even with the potter, the honor and dishonor of the things made from the lump do not depend on him, but on the use made of them by those who handle them. So here too it depends on free choice.

Still, as I said before, we must take this illustration as having one bearing only: that no one should oppose God, but should yield to his wisdom, which is beyond our understanding. For examples ought to be greater than the subject, and than the things for whose sake they are brought forward, so as to carry the hearer along better. If they were not greater, and did not rise far above it, he could not press the attack as he should and shame the objectors. In this way, then, with fitting authority, he silenced their ill-timed obstinacy. And then he brings in his answer. Now what is the answer?

Verses 22 to 24: “What if God, wanting to show his wrath and to make his power known, endured with much patience the vessels of wrath made ready for destruction, and did so that he might make known the riches of his glory on the vessels of mercy, which he had prepared beforehand for glory — even us, whom he has chosen, not from the Jews only, but also from the Gentiles?”

What he means is something like this. Pharaoh was a vessel of wrath: that is, a man who by his own hardness of heart had kindled the wrath of God. For after enjoying much patience he became no better, but stayed as he was. That is why he calls him not only “a vessel of wrath” but also one “made ready for destruction” — fully made ready, indeed, but by his own doing. For God had left out nothing that might have brought him back, and he himself left out nothing that would ruin him and put him beyond all forgiveness. Yet even so, though God knew this, “he endured him with much patience,” wanting to bring him to repentance. If he had not wanted this, he would not have been so patient. But since Pharaoh would not use that patience for repentance, but made himself fully ready for wrath, God used him to correct others, making them better through the punishment inflicted on him, and in this way displaying his power.

For Paul had shown above, in every possible way, that God does not want his power to be made known like this, but in another way: through his benefits and kindnesses. If Paul himself does not want to appear powerful in this way — “not that we should appear approved,” he says, “but that you should do what is honorable” (Second Corinthians 13, verse 7) — much less does God. But after God had shown patience so as to lead him to repentance, and he did not repent, God bore with him a long time, so as to display both his goodness and his power at once, even if that man was not minded to gain anything from so great a patience. So, as by punishing this man, who remained beyond correction, he showed his power, so by having pity on those who had committed many sins but repented, he made his love for humankind plain. Yet the text does not say “love for humankind” but “glory,” to show that this above all is God’s glory, and what he was most eager for.

But when he says, “which he had prepared beforehand for glory,” he does not mean that everything is God’s doing. If that were so, nothing would prevent all people from being saved. He is setting out God’s foreknowledge again, and doing away with the difference between Jews and Gentiles. And on this point, too, he grounds a defense of what he has said, and no small one. For it was not only among the Jews that some perished and some were saved; it was the same with the Gentiles. That is why he does not say “all the Gentiles” but “from the Gentiles,” and not “all the Jews” but “from the Jews.”

So, as Pharaoh became a vessel of wrath by his own lawlessness, these became vessels of mercy by their own readiness to obey. For though the greater part is God’s, still they too have contributed a little of their own. That is why he does not say “vessels of good deeds” either, or “vessels of boldness,” but “vessels of mercy,” to show that the whole is God’s. As for the words “It is not of him who wills, nor of him who runs,” even if they come in the course of the objection, they would create no difficulty even if Paul had said them himself. For when he says, “It is not of him who wills, nor of him who runs,” he does not take away our free will, but shows that not everything is our own, since it requires grace from above. We are bound to will, and to run as well; but we must trust not in our own labors but in God’s love for humankind. He has said this elsewhere too: “Yet not I, but the grace that was with me” (First Corinthians 15, verse 10).

And he does well to say, “which he had prepared beforehand for glory.” For since people reproached them with this, that they were saved by grace, and thought to shame them with it, he does far more than set the taunt aside. For if the thing brought glory even to God, much more did it bring glory to those through whom God was glorified.

But notice his restraint and his wisdom beyond words. He could have brought forward as his example of the punished not Pharaoh but those of the Jews who had sinned, and so made his argument much clearer. He could have shown that where there were the same fathers and the same sins, some perished and some were shown mercy, and so persuaded them not to waver in doubt if some of the Gentiles were saved while the Jews were perishing. But so as not to make his words offensive, he takes his display of punishment from a foreigner, and so is not forced to call them “vessels of wrath.” Those who obtained mercy, on the other hand, he takes from the Jewish people. Besides, he has also spoken enough on God’s behalf. For though God knew very well that the nation was making itself ready as a vessel of destruction, still he contributed everything on his part: his endurance, his patience — and not merely patience, but “much patience.” Yet even so, Paul was not minded to say it outright against the Jews.

Why, then, are some vessels of wrath and some of mercy? By their own free choice. God, being very good, shows the same kindness to both. For he showed mercy not only to those who were saved but also to Pharaoh, as far as his part went. Both they and he had the benefit of the same patience. And if he was not saved, it was entirely owing to his own will, since as far as God was concerned, as much was done for him as for those who were saved.

Having given the question the answer the facts supplied, he brings in the prophets as well, who had declared the same things long before, so that his argument might have the support of further testimony. For Hosea, he says, wrote this long ago:

Verse 25: “I will call them my people who were not my people, and her beloved who was not beloved.”

Here, to keep them from saying, “You are deceiving us with plausible reasoning,” he calls Hosea as a witness, who cries out and says, “I will call them my people who were not my people” (Hosea 2, verse 23). Who, then, are the “not-people”? Plainly, the Gentiles. And who are the “not-beloved”? The same again. Yet he says that they will become at once a people, and beloved, and sons of God.

Verse 26: “For even they will be called,” he says, “children of the living God.”

But even if they should claim that this was said of those Jews who believed, the argument still stands. For if so great a change was worked in those who, after so many benefits, had grown hard-hearted and estranged and had lost their very being as a people, what is to prevent those who were not estranged after being brought near, but were strangers from the start, from being called too, and, provided they obey, from being counted worthy of the same blessings? Having finished with Hosea, he does not rest content with him alone, but brings in Isaiah after him, sounding in harmony with him.

Verse 27: “For Isaiah,” he says, “cries out concerning Israel.”

That is, he speaks out boldly and hides nothing. Why, then, bring charges against us, when they declared the same thing long ago, louder than any trumpet? And what does Isaiah cry out? “Though the number of the children of Israel is as the sand of the sea, a remnant will be saved” (Isaiah 10, verse 22).

Do you see that he too does not say that all are to be saved, but only those who are worthy? For he means, “I pay no regard to numbers, and a race spread so far and wide does not trouble me; I save only those who show themselves worthy of it.” And he does not mention “the sand of the sea” without a reason, but to remind them of the ancient promise they had made themselves unworthy of. Why, then, are you troubled, as though the promise had failed, when all the prophets show that not all are to be saved?

Then he names the way of salvation too. Notice the precision of the prophet and the judgment of the apostle: what a testimony he has brought forward, and how exactly it fits! For it not only shows us that those to be saved are some and not all, but also adds how they are to be saved. How, then, are they to be saved, and how will God count them worthy of the benefit?

Verse 28: “He will finish the work and cut it short in righteousness,” he says, “because the Lord will make a short work upon the earth” (Isaiah 10, verse 23, as the Greek Old Testament reads it).

What he means is something like this. There is no need to go the long way around, with all the trouble and burden of the works of the law, for salvation comes by a very short road. That is what faith is like: it holds salvation in a few short words. “For if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10, verse 9). Now you see what this means: “The Lord will make a short word upon the earth.” And what is truly wonderful is that this short word brings with it not salvation only, but righteousness as well.

Verse 29: “And as Isaiah said before, ‘Unless the Lord of Sabaoth had left us a seed, we would have become like Sodom, and been made like Gomorrah’” (Isaiah 1, verse 9).

Here again he shows something further: that not even those few were saved by their own resources. For they too would have perished and met the fate of Sodom — that is, they would have suffered utter destruction. The people of Sodom too were destroyed root and branch, and left not even the slightest remnant of themselves. They too, he means, would have been like them, if God had not shown them great kindness and saved them by faith. This happened in the captivity you could see as well: most were carried off as captives and perished, and only a few were saved.

Verses 30 and 31: “What shall we say, then? That the Gentiles, who did not pursue righteousness, have attained righteousness, the righteousness that comes by faith; but Israel, who pursued the law of righteousness, has not attained to the law of righteousness.”

Here at last is the clearest answer. He had given proof from the facts — “for not all who are of Israel are Israel” — and from the forefathers Jacob and Esau, and from the prophets Hosea and Isaiah. Now he gives the most decisive answer of all, after first adding to the perplexity. Two points, then, are raised: first, that the Gentiles attained; second, that they attained it without pursuing it, that is, without taking pains over it. And in the case of the Jews there are likewise two difficulties of the same kind: first, that Israel did not attain; second, that though they took pains, they did not attain. That is why his wording is more emphatic. He does not say that they “had” righteousness, but that they “attained” it. For what is especially new and strange is that those who pursued it did not attain it, while those who did not pursue it did.

By saying “pursued” he seems to be making allowance for them. But afterward he strikes the blow home. Since he had a strong answer to give them, he was not afraid to make the objection a little harsher. That is why he does not speak of faith either, and the righteousness that follows from it, but shows that even before faith, on their own ground, they were beaten and condemned. For he says: “You Jew, you have not found even the righteousness that came by the law. For you broke it, and became liable to the curse. But these, who came not through the law but by another road, have found a greater righteousness than that: the righteousness that comes from faith.” He had said this before as well: “For if Abraham was counted righteous by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God” (Romans 4, verse 2). In this way he showed that the other righteousness was greater than this one.

Earlier, then, I said there were two difficulties; now they have become three questions: that the Gentiles found righteousness, that they found it without pursuing it, and that they found a greater righteousness than that of the law. The same difficulties appear again, the other way around, in the case of the Jews: that Israel did not find it, that though he took pains he did not find it, and that he did not find even the lesser one. Having thrown his hearer into perplexity, he goes on to give a concise answer, and tells him the cause of everything that has been said. What, then, is the cause?

Verse 32: “Because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law.”

This is the clearest answer in the passage. If he had given it right at the start, it would not have found so easy a hearing. But since he sets it down after many perplexities, preparations and proofs, after countless preliminary steps, he has at last made it both easier to understand and easier to accept. For this, he says, is the cause of their ruin: “because it was not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law” that they wanted to be counted righteous. And he does not say “by works,” but “as it were by the works of the law,” to show that they did not have even this righteousness.

“For they stumbled at the stumbling stone.”

Verse 33: “As it is written, ‘Look, I lay in Zion a stumbling stone and a rock of stumbling, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.’”

You see again how it is from faith that boldness comes, and that the gift is for everyone, since this is said not of the Jews only but of the whole human race. For everyone, he would say, whether Jew or Greek or Scythian or Thracian or whatever else he may be, will enjoy the privilege of great boldness if he believes. But what is wonderful in the prophet is that he foretells not only that they would believe, but also that they would not believe. For to stumble is to disbelieve.

In the earlier passage he pointed out those who perish and those who are saved, where he says, “If the number of the children of Israel is as the sand of the sea, the remnant will be saved,” and, “If the Lord of Sabaoth had not left us a seed, we would have become like Sodom,” and, “He has called not from the Jews only, but also from the Gentiles.” So here too he implies that some will believe and some will stumble. But stumbling comes from not paying attention, from gaping after other things. Since they were intent on the law, they stumbled on the stone. And he calls it “a stumbling stone and a rock of stumbling” because of the state of mind and the end of those who do not believe.

Is the language, then, made plain to you, or does it still need a good deal more clearing up? I think myself that for those who have been paying attention it is easy to see it clearly. But if anything has slipped anyone’s memory, you can meet in private and learn what it was. This is why I have stayed so long on this part of the discourse, the explaining of the text: so that I would not be forced to break the thread of the passage and so spoil the clearness of what was said. For the same reason I will bring my discourse to a close here, without saying anything to you on the more practical points, as I usually do, so as not to blur your memories afresh by saying so much. It is time now to come to the proper ending, and close the discourse by giving glory to the God of all. Let us pause, then, both I who am speaking and you who are listening, and offer up glory to him. For his is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.