Within the Anglican context in which I serve, we are constantly offered up an insight from Romans 14, as the antidote to "fundamentalism." "Fundamentalism" is the word that liberal opponents of our evangelical school of thought within the church use to label our position.
The stock argument deployed against theological conservatives in First-World Anglicanism is that St. Paul in Romans 14 sees the work of the Holy Spirit as a movement that blows down walls based on fear, such as the prohibition on homosexual behavior; and that the liberal voices in the church, like Paul in Romans 14, are moving forward in love and faith while the "weaker brethren" such as ourselves, the "orthodox," are being held back by old taboos. If we, the orthodox, would just catch up, if we would just "get in step with the Spirit," they (the Pauline apostles of love) would show us the brave new way.
As long as we orthodox realize that we are not yet in step with the Spirit, like those in Romans 14 who were not freed up enough to eat meat that had been sacrificed to idols, then they, the theological liberals who are out in front, will hold the train a little longer. But if we continue honestly to believe that our taboos are true, then their train is going to pull out of the station. It is going to pull away.
From an evangelical point of view, this is not the "Love Train" of the O'Jays nor the "Soul Train" of Don Cornelius. It is more like the "Supertrain" of the failed 1970s television series, all electronic and silvery but getting ready to drive right off the tracks.
I use the contemporary but for me real and goring illustration of the Episcopal Church culture wars, because it helps illustrate why Romans 14 is so important. It is a classic text of Scripture that can be misused to make short-term points. It is so commonly abused in the contemporary context that you could almost wish it were hidden away somewhere. But it is not. It is there in plain sight. And it needs our attention. For myself, I think it is wonderful. Here is why.
Unmediated Relation
In contrast to the fear-mongering orthodox, we are told that St. Paul wants us to think for ourselves. Or more precisely, he knows that we must do business directly with God and not man in relation to our closest convictions and ideas.
In verse 4, the apostle writes, "It is before his own master that (the servant) stands or falls." In verse 5, he writes, "Let every one be fully convinced in his own mind." Later, in verse 22, he writes, "The faith that you have, keep between yourself and God." It is definite that Paul conceives of our relationship with God as unmediated. There are two parties to this relationship: each of us alone, and God himself. There is not a third party. There is no eavesdropper, no Polonius to take down every word.
Here is the New Testament point of origin for the tradition of critical intellectual autonomy birthed from the Protestant Reformation. Here is the Pauline source of the proper Christian position of thinking for yourself rather than having the church or another institution think for you. It is entirely in keeping with the idea that the re-discovery of St. Paul by the reformers led to independent thinking in the West and such consequences as civil and religious liberty, the Orange and constitutional tradition in the English-speaking world. The Protestant tradition of the mind's critical life is here! It is pregnant within Romans 14.
The Fourth of July
Now consider the movie Independence Day (1996). It was successful because it was intended to tie in to the Fourth of July celebrations that year, with its in-your-face defiance of an imagined outer space power that sits in huge silver saucers over every world metropolis.
In the movie, which was a big hit, the nations of the world, led by the president of the United States, rise up as one against the aliens. The nations win a plucky and decisive, overwhelming victory. We declare our "independence" and beat the living daylights out of the enemy.
But Christians knew in 1996, and know now, that this idea is a mirage, a pure deception. There is no independence of this kind that does not become tied to tyranny on other fronts, because of original sin. Thus when you storm the Elysée palace, kill the Swiss guards, and capture King Louis, it sounds great, the rush and hullabaloo of freedom. But then you kill everyone else, as in 1789.
Similarly, October 1917 contained the "three days that shook the world". But millions and millions of people ended up getting killed because of one Soviet "Independence Day." Human "independence days" result in original sin's being squeezed into new and different alleyways.
Romans 14 opens the door on human autonomy. But look again! It is in the context of God's universal and explicit righteousness.
Consideration of Others
Sometimes the lofty views of humane consideration, and what is today termed "inter-dependence," that are found within Romans 14, are seen as being anchored in love horizontally understood. And that idea is present. For example, Paul writes, "If your brother is being injured by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love" (v. 15). Paul is concerned that everyone, in every school of thought, be regarded as "one for whom Christ died (v. 15). You are not your own, in other words. You were "bought with a price" (1 Cor. 6:20; 7:23). There is infinite value attached to each human life-not just to your own but to everybody else's, too.
So the command to love, and to evaluate each person on the basis of Christ's love for him or her, is expressed emphatically in Romans 14.
The mercy seat before which the whole passage kneels, however, is the vertical image of God's righteousness. Paul asks, "Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God" (v. 10). Paul adds, "So each of us shall give account of himself to God" (v. 12).
Horizontal loving has this vertical referent. And the vertical referent of Romans 14 peaks at verses 15 and 17. In those verses Paul offers a tour de force for all time: "Do not let what you eat cause the ruin of one for whom Christ died… For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." Not only do Paul's words here stand in opposition to the attempts throughout the history of Christianity to inflate the sacrament of Holy Communion beyond its proper claims and sphere, but they anchor horizontal love in the righteousness of God.
In short, love is not flaky. Love as expressed in Romans 14 is earnestly posited as the consideration given to all for whom Christ died on the cross. In other words, everyone is to be equally loved as the object of Christ's sacrifice. Yet such love kneels at the foot of holiness. Love is not consideration outside the entity of God. Love is, rather, commanded by God. And he is righteousness and peace (v. 17).
The novelist Stephen King makes this point tirelessly within his classic novels, The Stand (1978) and Desperation (1997). There the heroes, Mother Abigail and the Christ-like child David Carver, respectively, ever remind their halting followers of good, that loving neighbors begin and end with loving God.
Consideration in Contemporary Perspective
The impetus given by Romans 14 to different schools of thought within the swirling readjustments and realignments of Christianity today need to be examined just a little more, in order to attain some clarity that will last. Can St. Paul's commandment to love be a pretext to bless whatever is coming down the Zeitgeist as a bright wind of the Spirit? It is certainly used that way.
The way Paul's idea here is presented today, at least in my Episcopal and Anglican context, comes in two forms. The theological liberals present it as a condescending word to theological conservatives. They say, "We wish to bless homosexuality, which is the modern-day form of 'food sacrificed to idols,' which no one should call unclean." They argue homosexual actions, heterosexual actions: these things are neutral because they arise from different God-created sectors of human identity. Do not judge them, because in doing so, you are judging your brother. Is this not exactly what St. Paul told us not to do in Romans 14? But hey, if you insist on doing this, if you "orthodox" still insist on judging-because you are either from Africa, where local cultural taboos still apply, or because you are an ignorant denizen of "double-wide" American fundamentalism-we just may treat you, at least for a little while, as Paul enjoined the stronger brother to treat the weaker. We'll go our own way, in other words, doing what we want to do; and wait for you to catch up with us. This is the usual reading we are given by the majorities within North American and British Protestantisms. It cannot fail to sound condescending.
The other form in which these ideas come is an absolute interdict within our own circles upon judgment. The worst thing you can be as a Christian is "judgmental." The worst thing you can do is "judge" another person. That is the one absolute worst thing you can do, as in verse 10: "Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother?" So from the theological Right, when we make a moral judgment, we are like the men who were caught in the act of stoning the adulteress (John 8:7). We shouldn't do it. Therefore say nothing. It is better every time to say nothing. Watch your tone. Watch your own sin. Hold your tongue in any event.
You can find this thought also embedded within the fourteenth chapter of Romans. Thus "happy is he who has no reason to judge himself for what he approves" (v. 22). That is to say, if you allow your weaker brother to do the bad thing, the thing that is not ideal but is also not horrible, watch that you do not yourself do, or think you want to do, the very thing you are giving him the "space" to do. Look to yourself!
Yet, soteriology (the doctrine of salvation) changes everything.
"All Change at Rye"
Remember the old song-not so old, actually-entitled "Money Changes Everything." It is a line in Madonna's "Material Girl," and rings right out of the eighties, although it probably speaks for the whole world at all times. It is also not true.
What is true is that soteriology changes everything. Soteriology, which is the formal term for Christianity's heart, the teaching that Christ died for our sins, for our whole selves, changes everything. The deliverance from God is not only the Great Emancipator of Life, it is also the Great Equalizer. Love of the brethren flows from sin equality, which is bearable only from the vantage point of salvation equality. And salvation equality is faith. We have all fallen short and have now seen the Savior. This is Paul's reason for considering the measure of value of each Christian as that person's being "one for whom Christ died" (v. 15). And this is the idea that grounds the final verse of Romans 14.
There, in verse 23, Paul writes, "He who has doubts is condemned, if he eats, because he does not act from faith; for whatever does not proceed from faith is sin" (v. 23). The meaning of the verse in context is that if you do the "new thing," the thing which proceeds from the Spirit, such as withdrawing all judgment from homosexual acts because God has now called them 'clean,' but still carry a reservation of any kind, then you do wrong. You have to be fully convinced, from God's Word, that you are doing right in the new situation. If you are not thus convinced, then what you do in "going along," in "getting in step with the Spirit," is sin. For actions arising from justifying faith are always joyful and full-hearted. They are never double-minded. They grow, like fruit from a root, out of a saved heart. Walking by the Spirit is without ambivalence. It is without ambiguity. It is entirely and wholly spontaneous. It is not "messy," to use the contemporary expression.
Here, in Romans 14, is the authentically old, old story of faith. Justifying faith, standing on the "one full perfect and sufficient sacrifice, satisfaction, and oblation for the sins of the whole world" (Book of Common Prayer), is not "messy"! It is not colored or stained by conditions, cautions, or human double-mindedness. When it loses its wholehearted "righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit" (v. 17), then it "does not proceed from faith, but is sin" (v. 23).
Catch the Wind?
Look for a moment at the overwhelming calls within my own context, American Episcopalianism, for changing the Bible's rules concerning human sexuality. This is not just "our" issue, for it is everywhere. It is coming from the world and seizes the initiative in relation to the Presbyterian Church in the USA, the United Methodist Church, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, not to mention the Church of Scotland (the Kirk) and the Church of England. It says that the Spirit of God is blowing in a new direction, and that people who "catch the wind" (Donovan) may wait for us, but not for long.
So now, if these Donovan people are operating from faith in the Romans 14:23 sense, why the unrelenting pressure on those of us who dissent? Why the intimidation and the bullying? Why the demands and the eternal one-way "conversations" and "dialogue," which know only one allowable outcome? Why the hustle and the undertow?
To me, this push on the part of those who quote Romans 14 so triumphantly in favor of innovation goes completely against the spirit of the last verse, that "brilliant corner" (Thelonius Monk) of Pauline perception. If the theological liberals are really so certain in the question of human sexuality, then why the force, why the violence? Why the attack mode for their aims and objectives?
To me, the sheer pressure of their advancing front creates an impression of insecurity, of an aggression even, super-added-to by guilt. Their push creates an impression of inward doubt-its totalitarian tone, I mean-and thus looks like something that does not proceed from faith, but bears the stamp of sin.
