Galatians, chapter 1

“Paul, an apostle (not from men, nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead), and all the brothers who are with me, to the churches of Galatia: Grace to you and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.” [a]

The opening is full of a fierce and lofty spirit — and not the opening only, but, one might say, the whole letter. For always to speak mildly to one’s disciples, even when they need severity, is not the part of a teacher; it would be the part of someone who corrupts them, and of an enemy. That is why our Lord too, though he generally spoke gently to his disciples, here and there uses sterner language: at one time he pronounces a blessing, at another a rebuke. So, having said to Peter, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona” (Matthew 16, verse 17), and having promised to lay the foundation of the church on his confession, a little later he says, “Get behind me, Satan: you are a stumbling block to me” (Matthew 16, verse 23). And on another occasion: “Are you also still without understanding?” (Matthew 15, verse 16).

And what awe he inspired in them is clear from what John says. When they saw him talking with the Samaritan woman, though they urged him to eat, not one of them dared to say, “What are you looking for?” or, “Why are you talking with her?” (John 4, verse 27). Taught in this way, and walking in the steps of his Teacher, Paul has varied his speech to fit his disciples’ need: at one time he uses the knife and the cautery, at another he applies mild remedies. To the Corinthians he says, “What do you want? Shall I come to you with a rod, or in love and in a spirit of gentleness?” (First Corinthians 4, verse 21). But to the Galatians: “O foolish Galatians!” (Galatians 3, verse 1). And not once only, but a second time, he uses this reproof. Toward the end he says, with a reproachful glance at them, “Let no one trouble me” (Galatians 6, verse 17). Yet he soothes them again with the words, “My little children, for whom I am again in labor” (Galatians 4, verse 19). And so in many other places. [b]

Now, that this letter breathes indignation is plain to anyone, even on a first reading. But I must explain the cause of his anger against the disciples. It could not have been slight or unimportant, or he would not have been so vehement. For to be exasperated over ordinary matters belongs to the small-minded, the sullen and the peevish, just as losing heart over weighty ones belongs to the lazy and sluggish. Paul was not that kind of man. What, then, was the offense that roused him? It was grave and serious, one that was estranging them all from Christ, as he himself says further on: “Look, I, Paul, say to you that if you receive circumcision, Christ will be of no benefit to you” (Galatians 5, verse 2). And again: “You who would be counted righteous by the law have fallen away from grace” (Galatians 5, verse 4).

What, then, is this? For it needs to be explained more clearly. [e]

Some of the Jews who had believed were held down by the prejudices of Judaism, and at the same time drunk with empty glory and eager to win for themselves the rank of teachers. They came to the Galatians and taught them that keeping circumcision, Sabbaths and new moons was necessary, and that Paul, in abolishing these things, was not to be tolerated. For, they said, Peter and James and John, the leaders of the apostles and the companions of Christ, did not forbid them. Now in fact they did not forbid these things. But this was not by way of laying down doctrine; it was a stooping down to meet the weakness of the Jewish believers. Paul had no need of that when he preached to the Gentiles, though when he was in Judea he did the same himself.

But these deceivers kept back the reasons both for Paul’s stooping down and for that of his brothers, and so they misled the simpler people. They said he was not to be tolerated: he had turned up only yesterday, while Peter and his colleagues had been there from the first; he was a disciple of the apostles, but they were disciples of Christ; he was one man alone, but they were many, and pillars of the church. They accused him of play-acting, too, saying that this very man who forbids circumcision practices the rite elsewhere, and preaches one way to you and another way to others.

So Paul saw the whole people of Galatia in turmoil, a fire kindled against their church, and the building shaken and tottering toward its fall. He was filled with mixed feelings, just anger and dejection together, which he expressed in the words, “I could wish to be with you now, and to change my tone” (Galatians 4, verse 20). And so he writes the letter as an answer to these charges. This is his aim from the very beginning. Those who were undermining his reputation had said that the others were disciples of Christ, but this man a disciple of the apostles. That is why he begins this way: “Paul, an apostle not from men, nor through man.” [g]

For these deceivers, as I was saying before, had claimed that this man was the last of all the apostles and had been taught by them. Peter, James and John, they said, were called first and held first place among the disciples, and had received their teaching from Christ himself; so it was right to obey them rather than this man; and they did not forbid circumcision or the keeping of the law. With this kind of talk, running Paul down and exalting the honor of the other apostles — not to praise them, but to deceive the Galatians — they persuaded them to cling to the law after its time had passed. That is why his opening is so fitting. Since they belittled his teaching, saying that it came from men while Peter’s came from Christ, he goes straight to this point and declares himself an apostle “not from men, nor through man.”

It was Ananias who baptized him. But it was not Ananias who delivered him from the way of error and brought him into the faith; Christ himself sent from on high that wonderful voice by which he caught him in his net. For Peter and his brother, and John and his brother, he called as he walked by the sea (Matthew 4, verse 18), but Paul after he had been taken up into heaven (Acts 9, verses 3 and 4). And just as they did not need a second call, but at once left their nets and everything they had and followed him, so this man at his first call pressed vigorously forward: as soon as he was baptized, he took up an unrelenting war with the Jews.

In this he most outdid the other apostles, as he says: “I labored more abundantly than all of them” (First Corinthians 15, verse 10). Here, however, he makes no such claim, but is content to be placed on a level with them. Indeed his great object was not to establish any superiority for himself, but to overthrow the foundation of their error. Being “not from men” applies to all the apostles alike, for the good news has its root and origin in God. But being “not through man” belongs to the apostles in particular, for he called them not through the agency of men but by his own.

But why does he not speak of his calling rather than his apostleship, and say, “Paul, called not by man”? Because here lay the whole question. They were saying that the office of teacher had been entrusted to him by men, that is, by the apostles, and so he ought to obey them. But that it was not entrusted to him by men, Luke declares in the words, “As they were serving the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, ‘Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul’” (Acts 13, verse 2). [h]

From this passage it is plain that the power of the Son and of the Spirit is one: though he was sent out by the Spirit, he says he was sent by Christ. The same appears in another place, where he ascribes the things of God to the Spirit, in the words he speaks to the elders at Miletus: “Keep watch over yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you bishops” (Acts 20, verse 28). Yet in another letter he says, “And God has set some in the church: first apostles, second prophets, third teachers” (First Corinthians 12, verse 28). So he ascribes the things of the Spirit to God, and the things of God to the Spirit, without distinction.

Here too he stops the mouths of the heretics, with the words “through Jesus Christ and God the Father.” Since they claimed that the word “through” was used of the Son to show that he is lower, see what Paul does. He applies it to the Father, teaching us not to lay down laws for the Nature that is beyond words, nor to mark out degrees of divinity between the Father and the Son. For to the words “through Jesus Christ” he has added “and God the Father.” If he had used the phrase “through whom” while mentioning the Father alone, they might have argued, with their clever quibbling, that it applied to the Father in a special sense, since the Son’s acts are referred back to him. But he leaves no opening for this quibble. He names the Son and the Father together and makes his words apply to both. He does this not to refer the Son’s acts to the Father, but to show that the expression implies no difference of being. And further, what can be said now by those who have drawn the notion that the Son is lower from the words of baptism — from our being baptized into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit?

For if the Son is lower because he is named after the Father, what will they say when, in the passage before us, the apostle begins with Christ and then goes on to name the Father? But let us not even utter such a blasphemy. Let us not swerve from the truth in our contest with them; rather, even if they rave ten thousand times over, let us keep within the proper bounds of reverence. It would be the height of madness and ungodliness to argue that the Son is greater than the Father because Christ is named first. In the same way, we dare not hold that the Son is lower than the Father because he is placed after him in the words of baptism. [j]

“Who raised him from the dead.”

Why is it, Paul, that when you want to bring these Judaizers to the faith, you bring in none of those great and glorious themes found in your letter to the Philippians, such as, “Who, being in the form of God, did not count it a prize to be equal with God” (Philippians 2, verse 6)? Or what you declared later in your letter to the Hebrews, “the radiance of his glory, and the very imprint of his being” (Hebrews 1, verse 3)? Or what the son of thunder sounded forth at the opening of his Gospel, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1, verse 1)? Or what Jesus himself often declared to the Jews, that his power and authority were equal to the Father’s (John 5, verses 19 and 27, and elsewhere)? Do you leave all these out, and speak only of the plan by which he became man, bringing forward his cross and his death?

“Yes,” Paul would answer. For if this letter had been addressed to people who thought unworthily of Christ, it would have been right to mention those things. But since the trouble comes from people who are afraid of being punished if they abandon the law, he mentions what removes all need of the law: I mean the benefit given to all through the cross and the resurrection. To have said that “in the beginning was the Word,” and that “he was in the form of God, and made himself equal with God,” and the like, would have declared the divinity of the Word, but would have contributed nothing to the matter in hand.

But it was very much to the point to add, “who raised him from the dead,” for this called to mind our greatest benefit. And people in general are less moved by talk about the majesty of God than by talk that sets out the benefits that come to humankind. So he leaves the first subject aside and speaks of the benefits that have been given to us. [l]

But here the heretics cry out in their insolence: “Look, the Father raises the Son!” For once they are infected, they deliberately shut their ears to all the higher teachings. They take by itself, and insist on, whatever is of a humbler kind and put in humbler terms — whether because of the Son’s humanity, or in honor of the Father, or for some other purpose of the moment — and in this way they outrage, I will not say Scripture, but themselves. I would like to ask such people why they say this. Do they hope to prove the Son weak, without the power to raise one body? Far from it! Faith in him enabled the very shadows of those who believed in him to raise the dead (Acts 5, verse 15). Those who believed in him, mortal as they were, could raise the dead by the mere shadows of their earthly bodies, and by the garments that had touched those bodies — and he could not raise himself? Is this not plain madness, a great stretch of folly? Have you not heard him say, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2, verse 19)? And again, “I have power to lay down my life, and I have power to take it again” (John 10, verse 18)?

Why, then, is the Father said to have raised him, just as he is said to have done other things that the Son himself did? It is in honor of the Father, and in compassion for the weakness of the hearers.

“And all the brothers who are with me.” Why has he never added this phrase anywhere else when sending a letter? Elsewhere he puts either his own name alone or the names of two or three others; but here he has mentioned the whole number, and so has named no one. Why, then, does he do this? They were slandering him as standing alone in his preaching and wanting to bring something new into Christian teaching. So, wishing to remove their suspicion and to show that he had many supporting him in his teaching, he has joined “the brothers” with himself, to show that what he wrote, he wrote with their agreement.

“To the churches of Galatia.” So it appears that the fire of error had spread not over one or two cities only, but over the whole people of Galatia. Notice, too, the deep indignation in the phrase “to the churches of Galatia.” He does not say “to the beloved” or “to those made holy.” He leaves out every name of affection or respect and speaks of them simply as a body of people, without adding “churches of God” — it is simply “churches of Galatia.” This strongly expresses his deep concern and sorrow.

Here at the outset, as elsewhere, he attacks their disorder, and that is why he gives them the name “churches”: to shame them and bring them back to unity. For people split into many parties cannot properly claim this name, since “church” is a name of harmony and agreement. [m]

“Grace to you and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.” He always mentions this as essential, and in this letter to the Galatians especially. Since they were in danger of falling from grace, he prays that they may recover it; and since they had come to be at war with God, he asks God to restore them to the same peace.

“God the Father.” Here again is a plain refutation of the heretics. They say that John, at the opening of his Gospel, where he says “the Word was God,” used the word “God” without the article, to show that the Son is God in a lower sense; and that Paul, where he says the Son was “in the form of God,” did not mean the Father, because the word “God” there has no article. What can they say here, where Paul says “from God the Father” with no article before “God,” and not “from the God”?

And it is not to indulge them that he calls God “Father.” It is a sharp rebuke, reminding them of the source from which they became sons: that honor was granted them not through the law but through the washing of new birth. So everywhere, even in his opening, he scatters traces of God’s goodness, and we may imagine him saying: “You who were lately slaves, enemies and strangers, what right have you suddenly gained to call God your Father? It was not the law that gave you this relationship. Why, then, do you desert him who brought you so near to God, and go back to your guardian?”

But the name of the Son, as well as that of the Father, was enough to declare these blessings to them. This will be clear if we consider the name of the Lord Jesus Christ with attention. For it is said, “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1, verse 21). And the title “Christ” calls to mind the anointing of the Spirit. [o]

Verse 4: “Who gave himself for our sins.” This shows that the service he undertook was free and not forced: he was handed over by himself, not by another. So do not let John’s words, that “the Father gave his only Son” for us (John 3, verse 16), lead you to lower the dignity of the only Son, or to conclude from them that he is merely human. For the Father is said to have given him, not to imply that the Son’s service was a slave’s service, but to teach us that it seemed good to the Father as well — as Paul too has shown in the words that follow: “according to the will of our God and Father.” He does not say “by the command,” but “according to the will”; for since the Father and the Son are one in will, what the Son wills, the Father wills too.

“For our sins,” says the apostle. We had pierced ourselves with ten thousand evils and deserved the gravest punishment. The law not only did not deliver us; it even condemned us, making sin plainer to see, without having the power to release us from it or to turn away God’s anger. But the Son of God made this impossibility possible. He forgave our sins, he brought us back from enmity to friendship, and he freely gave us countless other blessings. [p]

Verse 4: “That he might deliver us out of this present evil world.” Another group of heretics seize on these words of Paul and twist his testimony into an accusation against the present life. “Look,” they say, “he has called this present world evil!” And tell me, what does “world” — or rather, “age” — mean, but time measured by days and seasons? Is the succession of days evil, then, and the course of the sun? No one would say so, even if he were carried away to the very height of unreason. “But,” they say, “it is not the time but the present life that he has called evil.” Now the words themselves do not in fact say this. But the heretics do not keep to the words and make their charge from them; they devise a new way of interpreting. Then at least they must let us put forward our own interpretation, all the more since it is both reverent and reasonable.

We say, then, that evil cannot be the cause of good, and yet the present life yields a thousand prizes and rewards. That is why the blessed Paul himself praises it richly in the words, “But if to live in the flesh — if this is the fruit of my work — then what I will choose I do not know” (Philippians 1, verse 22). Then, setting before himself the choice between living on earth and departing to be with Christ, he decides for the first. But if this life were evil, he would not have spoken of it this way, nor could anyone, however hard he tried, turn it to the service of virtue.

For no one would ever use evil for good — sexual immorality for chastity, or envy for goodwill. So when he says that “the mind of the flesh is not subject to the law of God, nor indeed can it be” (Romans 8, verse 7), he means that vice, as vice, cannot become virtue. And the expression “evil world” must be understood to mean evil actions and a corrupt moral purpose. [r]

Again, Christ did not come to put us to death and release us from the present life in that sense, but to leave us in the world and prepare us to share worthily in our home in heaven. That is why he says to the Father, “And these are in the world, and I am coming to you. I do not pray that you should take them out of the world, but that you should keep them from evil” (John 17, verses 11 and 15) — that is, from sin.

Further, those who will not accept this, but insist that the present life is evil, ought not to blame those who destroy themselves. For just as the one who withdraws himself from evil is not blamed but thought worthy of a crown, so the one who ends his own life by a violent death, by hanging or in some other way, ought not to be condemned. Yet God punishes such people more than murderers, and we all regard them with horror — and rightly. For if it is shameful to destroy others, it is much more shameful to destroy oneself. Moreover, if this life were evil, murderers would deserve a crown for rescuing us from evil. [s]

Besides this, they are caught by their own words. They place the sun in the first rank of their gods and the moon in the second, and worship them as the givers of many good things — and so they contradict themselves. For the use of these and the other heavenly bodies is nothing else than to serve our present life, which they call evil: they nourish and give light to the bodies of people and animals, and bring plants to ripeness. How is it, then, that this “evil life” is ordered and served by beings who, according to you, are gods? Gods they are not — far from it! — but works of God, created for our use. Nor is this world evil.

And if you tell me of murderers, adulterers and grave robbers, these things have nothing to do with the present life. These crimes come not from the life we live in the flesh, but from a corrupt will. For if they were bound up with this life by necessity, as part of one lot with it, no one would be free or clean of them. No one can escape the things that belong to being human — eating and drinking, sleeping and growing, hungering and thirsting, being born and dying, and the like. No one can ever rise above these, neither sinner nor righteous man, neither king nor peasant; we are all under the necessity of nature. So if vice were an essential part of this life, no one could avoid it, any more than the things just mentioned. And do not tell me that good people are rare. The necessity of nature is something no one at all can overcome, so as long as one virtuous person can be found, my argument stands unshaken. You miserable, wretched man! What are you saying?

Is this life evil, the life in which we have come to know God, in which we think about the things to come, in which we have become angels instead of men and take part in the choirs of the heavenly powers? What other proof do we need of an evil and depraved mind? [t]

They ask: “Why, then, does Paul call the present life evil?” In calling the present world evil, he has fitted his words to our own way of speaking. We are used to saying, “I have had a bad day,” and by that we are complaining not about the time itself but about what was done in it, or what happened to us. So Paul, in complaining of evil choices of the will, has used these everyday forms of speech. And he shows that Christ has both set us free from our offenses and made us safe for the future. The first he declared in the words “who gave himself for our sins”; and by adding “that he might deliver us out of this present evil world,” he declared our safety to come. The law could do neither of these things, but grace was enough for both.

Verse 4: “According to the will of our God and Father.”

They were terrified by the idea that if they left that old law and held to the new, they would be disobeying God, who gave the law. So he corrects their mistake and says that this seemed good to the Father too. And not simply “the Father,” but “our Father.” He does this to move them, by showing that Christ has made his Father our Father.

Verse 5: “To whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.”

This too is new and unusual. We never find the word “Amen” placed at the beginning of a letter, but a good way on. Here, though, he has put it at the beginning, to show that what he had already said was charge enough against the Galatians, and that his case was complete. An offense that is plain to see needs no lengthy indictment.

Having spoken of the cross and the resurrection, of redemption from sin and safety for the future, of the Father’s purpose and the Son’s will, of grace and peace and his whole gift, he closes with words of praise.

There is another reason for it too: the overwhelming amazement that came over him at the greatness of the gift and the overflowing abundance of the grace, when he considered who we were and what God had done, and done at once, in a single moment of time. Unable to put this into words, he breaks out into a doxology, sending up a hymn of praise on behalf of the whole world. It was not worthy of its subject, but it was all that was in his power. That is also why he goes on to use stronger language, as if he had been set on fire by the thought of God’s gifts. Having said, “To whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen,” he begins with a sharper rebuke. [u]

Verse 6: “I am amazed that you are so quickly turning away from him who called you in the grace of Christ, to a different good news.”

Like the Jews who persecuted Christ, they imagined that keeping the law was pleasing to the Father. So he shows that in doing this they were displeasing not only Christ but the Father as well, since by it they were falling away not from Christ only but from the Father too. As the old covenant was given not by the Father alone but by the Son as well, so the covenant of grace came from the Father as well as from the Son, and everything they do, they do in common: “Everything the Father has is mine” (John 16, verse 15).

By saying that they had fallen away from the Father, he brings a double charge against them: that they have deserted, and that they have deserted immediately. The opposite extreme, a late desertion, is also to be blamed. But someone who falls away at the first attack, in the very first skirmish, shows the most extreme cowardice. This is exactly what he accuses them of, saying: “How is it that the men leading you astray do not even need time for their schemes, but the first approach is enough to overthrow you and take you captive? What excuse can you have? If this is a crime among friends, and a man who deserts old and useful companions stands condemned, think what punishment awaits the one who deserts God, who called him.” [x]

He says “I am amazed” not only as a reproof, because after such generosity, such forgiveness of their sins, such overflowing kindness, they had deserted to the yoke of slavery. He says it also to show that the opinion he had held of them was a high and favorable one. If he had counted them among ordinary people who are easily deceived, he would not have been surprised. “But since you are of the noble sort, and have suffered much, I am amazed.” Surely this alone was enough to win them back and lead them back to where they first stood. He hints at it again in the middle of the letter: “Did you suffer so many things for nothing? If it really was for nothing” (Galatians 3, verse 4).

“You are turning away,” he says, not “You have turned away.” That is: “I will not believe or imagine that you have been completely led astray.” This is the language of someone who means to win them back, and further on he says it more clearly still: “I have confidence in you in the Lord that you will take no other view” (Galatians 5, verse 10).

“From him who called you in the grace of Christ.” [y]

The calling is from the Father, but the cause of it is the Son. It is he who brought about the reconciliation and gave it as a gift, for we were not saved by works done in righteousness. Or rather, I should say that these blessings come from both, as he says, “All that is mine is yours, and all that is yours is mine” (John 17, verse 10). And he does not say, “You are turning away from the good news,” but “from him who called you,” a more frightening expression and more likely to move them.

Those who led them astray did not act abruptly but little by little. While in fact they were moving them away from the faith, they left the names unchanged. It is Satan’s way not to set his snares in plain sight. If they had urged them to fall away from Christ, they would have been avoided as deceivers and corrupters. But by letting them stay in the faith so far, and putting the name of the good news on their error, they undermined the building without fear, using the familiar terms as a kind of curtain to hide the wreckers themselves. So since they gave the name of good news to this fraud of theirs, he fights against the very name and boldly says, “to a different good news,” and then, verse 7: “which is not another good news.”

And rightly, for there is no other. Yet the Marcionites are misled by this phrase, just as sick people are harmed even by healthy food. They have seized on it and cry out: “So Paul himself has declared that there is no other Gospel!” For they do not accept all the evangelists, but only one, and him cut down and jumbled to suit themselves. Their explanation of the words “according to my good news and the preaching of Jesus Christ” (Romans 16, verse 25) is ridiculous enough. Still, for the sake of those who are easily led astray, it has to be refuted. [z]

We say, then, that even if a thousand Gospels were written, if the content of all of them were the same, they would still be one, and their oneness would not be harmed in the least by the number of writers. On the other hand, if there were only one writer, but he contradicted himself, the oneness of what was written would be destroyed. For the oneness of a work depends not on the number of its authors but on whether its contents agree or contradict each other. From this it is clear that the four Gospels are one Gospel. Because the four say the same thing, its oneness is kept by the harmony of their contents and is not impaired by the difference of persons.

And Paul is not speaking here of how many there are, but of a conflict in what is said. They might rightly seize on this expression if the Gospels of Matthew and Luke differed in the meaning of their contents and in the accuracy of their teaching. But since they are one and the same, let them stop being senseless and pretending not to know things that are plain even to children.

Verse 7: “Only there are some who trouble you and want to pervert the good news of Christ.” [aa]

That is to say: you will not recognize another good news as long as your mind is sound, as long as your sight stays healthy and free of distorted and imaginary phantoms. As a diseased eye mistakes the object in front of it, so does the mind when it has been clouded by the confusion of evil thoughts. That is how a madman confuses things. But this madness is more dangerous than a bodily illness, because it does its harm not in the senses but in the mind. It causes confusion not in the organ of bodily sight but in the eye of the understanding.

“And want to pervert the good news of Christ.”

In fact they had brought in only one or two commandments, circumcision and the keeping of days. But he says the good news was being overturned, to show that a slight corruption spoils the whole. Someone who shaves away even part of the royal image on a coin makes the whole coin counterfeit. In the same way, someone who swerves ever so little from the pure faith soon goes on from there to worse errors and becomes entirely corrupt.

Where, then, are those who accuse us of being quarrelsome because we separate from heretics, and who say there is no real difference between us except what comes from our love of show? Let them hear Paul declaring that those who had made only a slight innovation had overturned the good news. And to say that the Son of God is a created being: is that a small matter? [ab]

Do you not know that even under the older covenant a man who gathered sticks on the Sabbath, breaking a single commandment and not a great one, was punished with death (Numbers 15, verses 32 and 36)? And that Uzzah, who steadied the ark when it was about to tip over, was struck dead on the spot, because he had intruded on an office that did not belong to him (Second Samuel 6, verses 6 and 7)? So if breaking the Sabbath and touching the falling ark brought down God’s anger so strikingly that the offender was not given even a moment’s respite, will the one who corrupts teachings that are awesome beyond words find excuse and pardon? Certainly not.

Lack of zeal in small matters is the cause of all our disasters. Because slight errors escape the correction they deserve, greater ones creep in. In the body, neglected wounds bring on fever, gangrene, and death; in the soul, small evils overlooked open the door to worse ones. It is counted a trivial fault that one man neglects fasting. That another, who is grounded in the pure faith, hides it to suit circumstances and gives up his bold confession of it, is not thought anything great or dreadful either. That a third gets angry and threatens to leave the true faith is excused on the plea of passion and resentment. In this way a thousand similar errors are brought into the church every day, and we have become a laughingstock to Jews and Greeks, since the church is divided into a thousand parties.

But if a proper rebuke had been given at the start to those who attempted slight perversions and a turning aside from the words of God, such a plague would never have arisen, and such a storm would not have seized the churches. Now you will understand why Paul calls circumcision an overturning of the good news. [ae]

There are many among us now who fast on the same day as the Jews and keep the Sabbaths in the same way, and we put up with it nobly, or rather, ignobly and shamefully. And why do I speak of Jews, when many pagan customs are kept by some among us: omens, soothsaying, signs, lucky and unlucky days, a curious attention to the circumstances of their children’s birth? And as soon as the children are born, tablets with ungodly inscriptions are hung on their unhappy heads. In this way they teach them from the very start to give up the effort of virtue, and they draw them, in part at least, under the false rule of fate.

But if Christ is of no benefit at all to those who are circumcised, what will faith be able to do from now on for the salvation of those who have brought in such corruptions? Circumcision was given by God, and yet Paul did everything he could to abolish it, because keeping it out of season harmed the good news. If he was so earnest against holding on to Jewish customs where they did not belong, what excuse can we have for not doing away with pagan ones?

This is why our affairs are now in confusion and trouble. This is why those under instruction, filled with pride, have turned the order of things upside down and thrown everything into confusion; and because we who are over them neglected their discipline, they scorn our reproof, however gentle. And yet even if those over them were far more worthless and full of countless evils, it would not be right for the disciple to disobey. It is said of the Jewish teachers that because they sat in Moses’ seat, their disciples were bound to obey them, though their deeds were so evil that the Lord forbade his disciples to imitate them. What excuse, then, is there for those who insult and trample on men who preside over the church and who, by the grace of God, live holy lives? If it is wrong for us to judge one another, it is far more wrong to judge our teachers.

Verses 8 and 9: “But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you any good news other than what we preached to you, let him be accursed.” [ah]

See the apostle’s wisdom. To head off the objection that he was praising his own teaching out of empty glory, he includes himself in the curse as well. And because they took refuge in authority, the authority of James and John, he mentions angels too, saying: “Do not tell me about James and John. If one of the highest angels in heaven corrupts the good news, let him be accursed.”

The words “from heaven” are added on purpose, because priests too are called angels: “For the priest’s lips should guard knowledge, and they should seek the law from his mouth, for he is the angel of the Lord of hosts” (Malachi 2, verse 7). So that no one would think priests were meant here by “angels,” he points to the heavenly beings by adding “from heaven.” And he does not say, “If they preach a contrary good news, or overturn the whole of the true one, let them be accursed,” but, “if they vary my teaching even slightly, or disturb it in any way at all.”

“As we have said before, so I say now again.” So that his words would not seem to be spoken in anger, or with exaggeration, or recklessly, he now repeats them. Feelings may change when something has been said in anger; but to say it a second time proves that it was spoken deliberately and had first been approved by the judgment.

When Abraham was asked to send Lazarus, he answered, “They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them. If they do not hear them, neither will they be persuaded if someone rises from the dead” (Luke 16, verse 31). Christ brings Abraham in saying this to show that he wants the Scriptures to be counted more worthy of belief even than someone raised from the dead. Paul too (and when I say Paul, I mean Christ, who guided his mind) ranks them above an angel come down from heaven. And rightly, for the angels, mighty as they are, are only servants and ministers, but the Scriptures were all written and sent not by servants but by God, the Lord of all.

He says, if “anyone” preaches to you a good news other than the one we preached, not “if this man or that.” Here his prudence shows, and his care not to give offense. What need was there any longer to mention names, when he had used terms broad enough to take in everyone, in heaven and on earth? By pronouncing the curse on evangelists and angels, he took in every rank; and by mentioning himself, he took in every close friend and relation. He cries out: “Do not tell me that my fellow apostles and colleagues have said so. I do not spare even myself if I preach such teaching.” He says this not to condemn the apostles as though they had swerved from the message they were sent to deliver. Far from it, for he says, “whether we or they preach this way.” He says it to show that when the truth is being discussed, the rank of persons is not to be taken into account.

Verse 10: “For am I now persuading people, or God? Or am I seeking to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” [ak]

“Granted,” he says, “that I might deceive you with these teachings. Could I deceive God, who knows my thoughts before I speak them, and whom it is my constant effort to please?”

See here the spirit of an apostle, the lofty spirit of the good news! He writes to the Corinthians in the same way: “For we are not commending ourselves to you again, but are giving you an occasion to boast” (Second Corinthians 5, verse 12); and again, “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by any human court” (First Corinthians 4, verse 3). Since he is forced to make his defense before his disciples, though he is their teacher, he submits to it. But it grieves him: not out of wounded pride, far from it, but because of the unsteady minds of those who had been led away, and because they did not fully trust him. So Paul now speaks as if to say: “Must I give account to you?”

“Am I to be judged by human beings? My account is owed to God, and everything I do looks toward that inquiry. I am not so wretchedly lost as to twist my teaching, when I must answer for what I preach before the Lord of all.” [al]

He spoke this way as much to push back against their opinions as to defend himself, for disciples should obey their teacher, not judge him. “But now that the order is reversed,” he says, “and you sit as judges, know that I care very little about defending myself before you. Everything I do, I do for God’s sake, so that I may answer to him for my teaching. Whoever wants to persuade people is drawn into acting crookedly and insincerely, and into using deceit and falsehood to win his hearers’ agreement. But whoever speaks to God and wants to please him needs simplicity and a pure mind, for God cannot be deceived. So it is plain that I have written to you this way not out of love of power, or to win disciples, or to receive honor from you. My effort has been to please God, not people. If it were otherwise, I would still be on the side of the Jews, still persecuting the church. I have thrown away my country altogether, my companions, my friends, my relatives, and all my reputation, and taken in exchange persecution, hostility, conflict, and death hanging over me every day. I have given clear proof that I do not speak out of love for human applause.”

He says this because he is about to tell of his former life and his sudden conversion, and to show clearly that it was genuine. And so that they would not be puffed up with the idea that he was doing this to defend himself before them, he puts first the words, “For am I now persuading people?” He knew well how to correct his disciples in a serious and lofty tone when the occasion called for it. He certainly had other grounds from which to prove the truth of his preaching: signs and miracles, dangers, prisons, daily deaths, hunger and thirst, nakedness, and the like. But since he is speaking now not of false apostles but of the true ones, who had shared these very dangers, he uses another method. When his words were aimed at false apostles, he drew a comparison by bringing forward the dangers he had endured, saying, “Are they servants of Christ? (I speak as if out of my mind.) I am more: in labors far more, in prisons far more, in beatings beyond measure, in deaths often” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 23).

But now he speaks of his former way of life and says, verses 11 and 12: “For I make known to you, brothers and sisters, concerning the good news that was preached by me, that it is not of human origin. For I did not receive it from any human being, nor was I taught it; it came to me through revelation of Jesus Christ.”

You see how carefully he insists that he was taught by Christ, who himself, with no human go-between, was pleased to reveal all knowledge to him. And if he were asked for proof that God himself had revealed these mysteries beyond words to him directly, he would point to his former way of life, arguing that his conversion would not have been so sudden if it had not come by divine revelation. When people have been fierce and eager on the opposite side, convincing them by human means takes a long time and a great deal of skill. So it is clear that someone whose conversion is sudden, who has been brought to his senses at the very height of his madness, must have been given a divine revelation and teaching, and so have come at once to complete soundness of mind.

That is why he has to tell of his former life, and to call the Galatians as witnesses of what happened in the past. “That the only Son of God himself was pleased to call me from heaven,” he says, “you could not know, since you were not there. But that I was a persecutor, you do know. My violence reached even your ears; and the distance between Palestine and Galatia is so great that the report would not have spread that far if my deeds had not gone beyond all bounds and all endurance.”

So he says, verse 13: “For you have heard of my way of life in the past in the Jews’ religion, how I persecuted the church of God beyond measure and ravaged it.”

Notice how he does not shrink from making each point worse. He does not say simply that he “persecuted,” but “beyond measure”; and not only “persecuted,” but “ravaged it,” which means an attempt to put out, to pull down, to destroy, to wipe out the church. [am]

Verse 14: “And I advanced in the Jews’ religion beyond many of my own age among my people, being far more zealous for the traditions of my fathers.”

To rule out the idea that his persecution came from passion, or empty glory, or hostility, he shows that he was driven by zeal: not indeed zeal “according to knowledge” (Romans 10, verse 2), but still a zealous devotion to the traditions of his fathers. This is his argument: “If my efforts against the church came not from human motives but from a religious, though mistaken, zeal, why would I be moved by empty glory now that I am fighting for the church and have embraced the truth? If it was not that motive but a godly zeal that possessed me when I was in error, much more ought I to be free of such a suspicion now that I have come to know the truth. As soon as I went over to the teachings of the church, I shook off my Jewish prejudices and showed a zeal still more ardent on this side. That is proof that my conversion is genuine, and that the zeal that possesses me is from above. What other motive could I have for making such a change, for trading honor for contempt, rest for danger, ease for distress? None, surely, but the love of truth.”

Verses 15 and 16: “But when it pleased God, who set me apart even from my mother’s womb and called me through his grace, to reveal his Son in me, so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, immediately I did not confer with flesh and blood.” [an]

Here his aim is to show that it was by some hidden providence that he was left to himself for a time. For if he was set apart from his mother’s womb to be an apostle and to be called to that ministry, and yet was not actually called until that moment — and when the call came, he obeyed it at once — it is clear that God had some hidden reason for the delay. What that purpose was, you are perhaps eager to learn from me, and above all why he was not called together with the Twelve. But so as not to drag this sermon out by wandering away from what is more pressing, I must ask your love not to demand everything from me, but to search it out for yourselves and to beg God to reveal it to you. Besides, I have already partly discussed this subject, when I preached to you on the change of his name from Saul to Paul. If you have forgotten it, you will learn it fully by reading that book. For the present, let us follow the thread of our discussion, and consider the proof he now brings forward that nothing merely natural had happened to him, but that God himself had arranged the event by his providence.

“And called me through his grace.” God, it is true, says that he called him because of his excellent fitness for the work, as he said to Ananias: “For he is a chosen vessel of mine, to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings” (Acts 9, verse 15) — that is, fit for service and for accomplishing great deeds. God gives this as the reason for his call. But Paul himself everywhere puts it down to grace, and to God’s mercy beyond words, as in these words: “But for this reason I received mercy” — not because I was equal to the task, or even useful, but — “so that in me, the foremost, Jesus Christ might display all his patience, as an example to those who would afterward believe in him for eternal life” (First Timothy 1, verse 16). [ap]

See his overflowing humility! I received mercy, he says, so that no one would despair, since the worst of men had shared in his generosity. For this is the force of the words, “so that he might display all his patience, as an example to those who would afterward believe in him.”

“To reveal his Son in me.”

Christ says in another place, “No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Luke 10, verse 22). You see that the Father reveals the Son, and the Son the Father. It is the same with their glory: the Son glorifies the Father, and the Father the Son. “Glorify your Son, so that the Son may glorify you,” and, “As I have glorified you” (John 17, verses 1 and 4). But why does he say “to reveal his Son in me,” and not “to me”? It is to show that he had not only been taught the faith by words, but had been richly filled with the Spirit; that the revelation had lit up his whole soul, and that he had Christ speaking within him. [aq]

“So that I might preach him among the Gentiles.” For not only his faith, but also his being chosen for the office of apostle, came from God. The purpose, he says, of his revealing himself to me in this special way was not only that I might see him myself, but that I might also make him known to others. And he does not say simply “to others,” but “so that I might preach him among the Gentiles.” In this he touches in advance on the great ground of his defense, which lay in the differing character of the people being taught; for the Jews and the pagans had to be preached to in different ways.

“Immediately I did not confer with flesh and blood.” Here he means the apostles, calling them by the name of their bodily nature. Still, I will not deny that he may have meant to include all humankind.

Verse 17: “Nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me.”

Weighed by themselves, these words seem to breathe an arrogant spirit, foreign to the temper of an apostle. For to cast your vote for yourself, and to let no one share in your counsel, is a sign of folly. It is written, “Do you see a man wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him” (Proverbs 26, verse 12); and, “Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and clever in their own sight!” (Isaiah 5, verse 21); and Paul himself says in another place, “Do not be wise in your own estimation” (Romans 12, verse 16). Surely someone who had been taught this way, and had warned others this way, would not fall into such an error even if he were an ordinary man — much less Paul himself. All the same, as I said, this expression, taken bare, can easily become a trap and a stumbling block to many hearers.

But if the reason for it is added, everyone will applaud and admire the speaker. [ar]

So let us do this. The right course is not to weigh the bare words, or to examine the language by itself — many errors will follow from that — but to pay attention to the writer’s intention. And unless we follow this method in our own conversations too, and look into the mind of the speaker, we will make many enemies, and everything will be thrown into confusion.

Nor is this true only of words; the same thing will happen with actions if this rule is not kept. Surgeons often cut, and even break certain bones; so do robbers. Yet it would be pitiful indeed not to be able to tell the one from the other. Again, murderers and martyrs suffer the same pains under torture, yet the difference between them is great.

Unless we pay attention to this rule, we will not be able to tell these things apart. We will call Elijah and Samuel and Phinehas murderers, and Abraham the killer of his own son — that is, if we set about examining the bare facts without taking account of the intention of those who did them. So let us look into Paul’s intention in writing this way. Let us consider his aim, and his whole conduct toward the apostles, so that we may arrive at his meaning here. Neither before nor now did he speak to belittle the apostles or to praise himself — how could that be, when he included himself under his own curse? — but always to keep the good news whole.

The troublemakers in the church were saying that they ought to obey the apostles, who allowed these observances, and not Paul, who forbade them; and in this way the Judaizing heresy had crept in little by little. So it was necessary for him to stand up to them boldly, out of a wish to put down the arrogance of those who were wrongly exalting themselves, not out of a wish to speak ill of the apostles. That is why he says, “I did not confer with flesh and blood.” For it would have been utterly absurd for someone who had been taught by God to refer himself to men afterward. It is right that the one who learns from men should in turn take men as his advisers. But the one who had been granted that divine and blessed voice, and had been fully taught by him who holds all the treasures of wisdom — why should he afterward confer with men?

It was fitting for him to teach them, not to be taught by them. So he spoke this way not out of arrogance, but to show the dignity of his own commission. “Nor did I go up,” he says, “to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me.” Because they kept repeating that the apostles came before him and were called before him, he says, “I did not go up to them.” If it had been necessary for him to consult with them, the one who revealed his commission to him would have told him to do so. [au]

But is it true that he did not go up there? No — he did go up, and not only that, but to learn something from them. When a question about our present subject arose in the city of Antioch, in the church that had shown such zeal from the beginning, and it was being debated whether the Gentile believers ought to be circumcised or were under no need to undergo the rite, this very Paul went up himself, together with Silas.

How is it, then, that he says, “I did not go up, nor did I confer”? First, because he did not go up of his own accord, but was sent by others; and next, because he did not come to learn, but to win others over. For from the first he held the view that the apostles afterward confirmed: that circumcision was unnecessary. But when these people thought him not worth believing and turned to those in Jerusalem, he went up — not to be taught anything further, but to convince those who contradicted him that the people in Jerusalem agreed with him.

So he saw from the first the right course to take, and needed no teacher. From the beginning, before any debate, he held without wavering what the apostles confirmed later, after long debate (Acts 15, verses 2 and 7). Luke shows this in his own account: Paul argued with them at great length on this subject before he went to Jerusalem. But since the brothers chose to be informed on the matter by those in Jerusalem, he went up for their sake, not his own. And his words, “I did not go up,” mean that he neither went at the start of his teaching nor went to be taught. Both are implied in the phrase, “Immediately I did not confer with flesh and blood.” He does not simply say, “I did not confer,” but “immediately”; and his later journey was not made to gain any further instruction. [av]

Verse 17: “But I went away into Arabia.”

Look at a fervent soul! He longed to take hold of regions not yet plowed, still lying wild. If he had stayed with the apostles, since he had nothing to learn, his preaching would have been cramped; for they had to spread the word everywhere. So this blessed man, fervent in spirit, at once set about teaching wild barbarians, choosing a life full of battle and toil. Having said, “I went away into Arabia,” he adds, “and again I returned to Damascus.” Notice his humility here: he says nothing of his successes, nor whom he taught, nor how many. Yet such was his zeal immediately after his baptism that he confounded the Jews, and so enraged them that they and the Greeks lay in wait for him to kill him. That would not have happened if he had not greatly added to the number of the faithful. Beaten in argument, they turned to murder, which was a plain sign of Paul’s superiority.

But Christ did not let him be put to death, keeping him for his mission. Of these successes, however, he says nothing. And so in all his discourses his motive is not love of show, nor a wish to be honored above the apostles, nor hurt at being thought little of, but fear that some harm might come to his mission. For he calls himself “one untimely born,” and “the first of sinners,” and “the last of the apostles,” and “not fit to be called an apostle.” And the man who said this had labored more than all of them. That is real humility. For someone who is aware of no excellence in himself and speaks humbly of himself is honest, not humble; but to speak so after such victories is to be trained in self-control. [ax]

Verse 17: “And again I returned to Damascus.”

What great things must he not have done in that city! For he tells us that the governor under King Aretas set guards over the whole city, hoping to trap this blessed man — the strongest possible proof that he was being fiercely persecuted by the Jews. Here, though, he says nothing of this. He mentions his arrival and his departure, and is silent about what happened there. Nor would he have mentioned those events in the place I referred to (Second Corinthians 11, verse 32), if circumstances had not required him to tell them.

Verse 18: “Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas.” [az]

What could be more lowly than such a soul? After such successes, needing nothing from Peter, not even his approval, but being of equal rank with him — for at present I will say no more — he comes to him as to his elder and superior. And the only purpose of this journey was to visit Peter. In this way he pays the apostles due respect, and considers himself not only not their better, but not even their equal. This is plain from the journey itself. Paul was moved to visit Peter by the same feeling that leads many of our brothers to go and stay with holy men — or rather, by a humbler one. For they do it for their own benefit; but this blessed man went not to be taught or corrected, but simply to see Peter and to honor him by his presence. He says, “to visit Peter.” He does not say “to see,” but “to visit and take in” — the word people use of themselves when they set out to get to know great and splendid cities. So worthy of all that trouble did he consider the mere sight of Peter.

The Acts of the Apostles shows this too (Acts 21, verses 17 and 18, and following). When he arrived in Jerusalem on another occasion — after converting many Gentiles, and after he had, with labors far beyond the rest, set right and brought to Christ Pamphylia, Lycaonia, Cilicia, and all the nations in that part of the world — he first presents himself with great humility to James, as to his elder and superior. Next he submits to his advice, and advice contrary to this letter: “You see, brother, how many thousands there are among the Jews who have believed. So shave your head and purify yourself” (Acts 21, verses 20 and following). Accordingly he shaved his head and kept all the Jewish ceremonies. For where the good news was not harmed, he was the humblest of all men. But where he saw that anyone was being harmed by such humility, he gave up that misplaced use of it; for that was no longer to be humble, but to outrage the disciples and destroy them.

Verse 18: “And I stayed with him fifteen days.” To make a journey for his sake was a mark of respect; but to stay so many days was a mark of friendship and of the warmest affection. [bb]

Verse 19: “But I saw none of the other apostles except James, the Lord’s brother.”

See what a great friend he was of Peter in particular! For his sake he left his home, and with him he stayed. I repeat this often, and I want you to remember it, so that no one, when he hears what this apostle seems to say against Peter, will form a suspicion of him. He lays this down in advance so that when he says, “I opposed Peter,” no one will suppose that the words mean hostility and rivalry. For he honored and loved him more than all the others, and made this journey for his sake alone, not for any of the rest.

“But I saw none of the other apostles except James.” “I only saw him; I did not learn from him,” is his meaning. But notice how respectfully he speaks of him. He does not say simply “James,” but adds this illustrious title — so free is he of all envy. If he had only wanted to point out whom he meant, he could have made it clear by another name, and called him the son of Clopas, as the evangelist does. But since he considered that he had a share in the high titles of the apostles, he raises himself by honoring James; and this he does by calling him “the Lord’s brother,” although he was not his brother by birth, but only reputed to be. Yet this did not keep him from giving the title; and in many other cases too he shows toward all the apostles the generous spirit that befitted him.

Verse 20: “Now in what I am writing to you — look, before God, I am not lying.” Notice throughout the transparent humility of this holy soul. He is as earnest in defending himself as if he had to give an account of his deeds and were pleading for his life in a court of law. [bd]

Verse 21: “Then I came into the regions of Syria and Cilicia.” After his meeting with Peter he takes up his preaching again and the task that lay before him, avoiding Judea, both because his mission was to the Gentiles and because he was unwilling to “build on another man’s foundation.” That is why there was not even a chance meeting, as what follows shows.

Verses 22 and 23: “And I was still unknown by face to the churches of Judea. They only kept hearing it said, ‘The man who once persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once ravaged.’”

What modesty, to mention once again how he persecuted and laid waste the church, and so to put his former life to shame, while he passes over the illustrious deeds he was about to accomplish! He could have told all his successes had he wished, but he mentions none of them. Stepping over a vast stretch with a single word, he says merely, “I came into the regions of Syria and Cilicia,” and, “They had heard that the man who once persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once ravaged.” The purpose of the words “I was unknown to the churches of Judea” is to show that, far from preaching the need for circumcision to them, he was not known to them even by sight.

Verse 24: “And they glorified God in me.” See here again how carefully he keeps the rule of his humility. He does not say, “They admired me, they applauded me, they were amazed at me,” but puts everything down to God’s grace with the words, “They glorified God in me.”