thou then that teachest another, dost thou not teach thyself? thou that preachest not to steal, dost thou steal?
Paul has just listed what the Jew was proud of: the law, the knowledge of God's will, and the right to teach others (vv. 17–20). Now he turns each of those advantages into a question. The first one lands closest to home: the man who teaches everyone else has never taught himself.
Verse 21 turns the argument round. Everything the Jew held as a credential now becomes the measure that tests him.
The test is applied to him from verse 21 to the end of the chapter. He comes out of it with his reputation utterly shattered. True, he had the form of knowledge and truth in the law, but it all acted as a two-edged sword. He was so busy turning its sharp edge against other people that he overlooked how it applied to himself. For others he treated the law as a standard, a measuring line. For himself he treated it as an ornament, a feather to stick in his cap.
The same knowledge that made him confident leaves him without defence.
By his own account, the law he boasted of knowing brought him no saving power. It gave him fuel only for misusing it arrogantly, in contempt of others. Who, then, dishonoured God more openly?
Paul is not opening a discussion. He shapes each question so that only one honest answer is left.
Each question in verses 21, 22 and 23 is like a sword-thrust. To each implied accusation the Jew had to plead guilty. He had the law truly, but by breaking it he dishonoured God, whose law it was. Their guilt was so open that Gentiles looked at the Jews and blasphemed God, the very God they represented.
The questions move through one area of the religious man's life after another.
Addressing the religious man, the Apostle asks, as it were, What about yourself? You have been boasting of teaching others, do you teach yourself? What about your practice? You preach to others that they should not steal: Do you steal? … What about God? You boast in the knowledge of God; Do you honour God?
Teaching puts a man on record as knowing what is right.
Like the Gentiles, he had a conscience that condemned evil in others. But he also had the Word of God, and he taught others about good and evil. Yet he did not keep what he gloried in teaching. This is the most plainly manifested guilt of all. For to teach the truth is more than to know it; so that the responsibility of the teacher is a grave one indeed.
God does not forget the words a teacher aims at other people.
God is not mocked. He remembers words said lightly — words we might press on others, with little or no thought of our own need. "You then who teach others, do you not teach yourself?" Judgment grows heavier in every way if teaching does not flow from love and in the fear of God.
The verse states a rule that Christ Himself kept before He ever confronted evil in anyone else.
What is the first thing any man ought to do before he speaks to another? Speak to himself. Do not speak to another and carry a careless heart yourself. "While you preach against stealing, do you steal?" … Now, before the Lord goes to attack Satan, He must withstand Satan. He lets him see that he has nothing in Him. If I take part in evil, I cannot rebuke it.
The warning does not stop at formal teachers. It reaches every believer who judges someone else.
We may try to apply it to other people. We sit in judgment on others — on our fellow Christians, or perhaps on the men of the world. But "you who teach others, do you not teach yourself?" The sword of the Spirit does not cut only those whose faults we can see. It cuts us as well.
The questions do not stop with the Jew who first heard them.
Change the name Jew to Christian, and law to Bible, and we have an exact description of the Christian profession. The professing Christian boasts that he is called a Christian and is not a pagan. He has the Bible and the knowledge of the true God. The Bible teaches him what is right, so he can send out missionaries to instruct those who do not know God.
- Privilege — the advantages of verses 17–20 now become the standard that measures the man who holds them.
- Test — every question from verse 21 forces a guilty plea. Knowing the law gave no power to keep it.
- Weight — to teach truth is more than to know it, so the teacher's failure is the plainest guilt of all.
- Order — speak to yourself before you speak to another; a man taking part in an evil cannot rebuke it.
- Reality — a religious name cannot cover a life that contradicts it. The claim may tower over the pagan world while the practice is no better.
thou that sayest [man should] not commit adultery, dost thou commit adultery? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?
Paul is talking to a religious man who is sure he can teach everyone else. Two questions here turn that teaching back on him: he condemns adultery and hates idols in public, but what does he do in private?
The verse belongs to a short run of questions, and each one is aimed at a specific claim the man has made. Read as a group, they do not invite discussion; they force an admission.
Each question in verses 21, 22 and 23 is like a sword-thrust. To each implied accusation the Jew had to plead guilty. He had the law truly, but by breaking it he dishonoured God, whose law it was.
The questions are not random. They move through separate areas of life: what a man does, who he keeps company with, and how he treats what is holy. The last question here reads "do you rob temples," while older translations have "do you commit sacrilege." One writer ties it to how this man deals with the idol-worshipping world he says he despises.
(3) What about the world? You claim to approve the things that are better: do you form unholy alliances with the world? Do you commit adultery? (4) What about the idol-worshipping nations? You claim to hate idols; do you commit sacrilege?
Another writer groups the same charges under three headings, and names the worst damage they do.
Here the Jew stands accused before God of three things: 1. evil work (v. 21); 2. evil walk, or the company he keeps; and 3. evil worship (v. 22). On every one of them he gives the finest teaching. And this brings the most serious issue right to the front: of all people, it was the Jew who had brought direct dishonour on the Name of God.
The man is not accused of ignorance. He knows the law well enough to quote it at other people. That is where his knowledge stops.
It is true that he had the form of knowledge and truth in the law, but it all worked like a two-edged sword. He was so busy turning its sharp edge against other people that he missed how it applied to himself. For others he treated the law as a measuring tool — a plumb line or a spirit level. For himself he treated it as a decoration, a feather to stick in his cap.
Teaching others does not lower the standard. It raises it.
To teach the truth is more than to know it, so the teacher carries a serious responsibility. James has good reason to tell us: "Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness" (James 3:1).
His advantages do not soften the charge. Set beside his own conduct, they make it worse.
If he had a conscience, he had to admit he was more guilty than the Gentile. If he had none, his deadness to it did not make his sin and folly any less obvious to everyone who fears God and judges people rightly. By his own account, his boasted knowledge of the law brought him no saving power. It only gave him fuel for using the law arrogantly to look down on others.
Paul is writing about one people here, but one writer takes the questions wider. Anyone who lectures others while doing the same thing stands in the same place.
The man who preaches morals, whether Jew or Gentile, may in his proud and corrupt heart condemn all this in his neighbour. But God does not let him off for that, if he does the same things he condemns in others… So whether it was the Jew teaching the law or the Gentile teaching morals, God proves both guilty of doing the very things they condemn in others. And He knows the heart.
One writer names the root of it in a single line.
We pride ourselves on our privileges and forget the responsibilities that go with them.
The questions expose something the outward religion could never fix. Behind them stands a settled principle about what God accepts.
An outward religious form cannot cover a life that contradicts the very spirit of that form. On the other side, where that spirit is really there, God will approve it even though the outward form is missing — and it may be missing through no fault of the person. He will have, and must have, what is real in everything that concerns people's relationship with Himself.
- Profession. The man denounces adultery and hates idols out loud. What he says is not in question — only whether he lives it.
- Practice. The questions test work, walk and worship: what he does, who he joins, and how he treats what belongs to God.
- Contradiction. He used the law as a measuring line for others and as an ornament for himself, and had to plead guilty to every question.
- Damage. The contradiction hit God's Name. Of all people, it was the man who held the law who brought dishonour on it.
- Reality. An outward form cannot cover a life that denies it. God must have what is real, and He approves it even where the form is missing.
thou who boastest in law, dost thou by transgression of the law dishonour God?
Paul has spent this chapter taking apart the confidence of the religious man. Here the argument turns sharpest. The very law he is proud of becomes the thing that condemns him. The question is not whether he has the law, but what his life does to the reputation of the God who gave it.
One mistake lies underneath the boasting. He misread what the law was for.
He made one great mistake. He treated the law as something in which he could boast, and so it fed his pride. The apostle says, "you… rest in the law and boast in God." He did not realise this. The law was not given to him as something to rest in, but as something to test him.
The same writer shows the double standard:
True, he had the outward form of knowledge and truth in the law, but it all worked like a two-edged sword. He kept turning its sharp edge against other people, and overlooked how it applied to himself. For others he treated it as a standard — a plumb-line or a spirit level. For himself he thought it a personal ornament, a feather to stick in his cap. We should not be surprised at this, because it is just what we all do naturally. We take pride in our privileges and forget the responsibilities that come with them.
The verse sits inside a run of questions that moves inward until it reaches God Himself.
The apostle tests the claims of the religious man with searching questions. (1) Speaking to the religious man, the apostle asks, in effect, What about yourself? You have been boasting of teaching others — do you teach yourself? (2) What about your practice? You preach to others that they should not steal — do you steal? (3) What about the world? You claim to approve the things that are more excellent — do you form unholy alliances with the world? Do you commit adultery? (4) What about the heathen? You claim to hate idols — do you rob temples? (5) What about the law and the Bible? You boast in the law — do you obey it? (6) What about God? You boast in the knowledge of God — do you honour God?
The charge rests on one word. Commentators note where else Scripture uses it:
Transgression of the law does occur in Scripture — for instance, in Romans 2:23, translated "breaking the law" in the English Bible. "Transgression" in the same sense, without "the law," appears in Romans 4:15, Galatians 3:19, Hebrews 2:2 and Hebrews 9:15.
The word separates two kinds of guilt:
Transgression is therefore a grave and serious offence. It is the sin of the servant who knows his master's will and yet disobeys, and for that reason deserves many blows. The sin of Israel was transgression, in contrast to the sin of the Gentiles, which is lawlessness.
The people who knew God best did the most damage to His name.
Of all people, it was the Jew who had brought direct dishonour on the name of God. His high claims were nothing more or less than hypocrisy. They gave the Gentiles reason to ridicule and despise the God such people claimed to worship. The Gentiles took their impression of the God of Israel from the conduct of Israel.
Israel's separation from the nations had a purpose:
The separation of the Jew from the nations came from God. But he did not use it as a witness to the holiness of God in a world full of corruption. Instead, he took the opportunity to exalt himself by it. He boasted in God and in the law, but he dishonoured God by breaking the law.
God is not satisfied by the outward form on its own.
A religious form cannot cover a life that contradicts its own spirit. On the other hand, where that spirit is truly present, God will approve it even when the form is missing, which may be unavoidable. He will and must have reality in everything that concerns people in their relation to Himself.
The same charge falls on Christians today:
The apostle is speaking of the Jew, but what he says is equally true of the professing Christian. What has mainly stirred unbelievers to blaspheme is the corruption and the degraded practice of those who profess to be Christians. Consistent Christian living would not by itself have made people Christians. But if Christians lived up to what they profess, people would have no reason to blaspheme God.
- Boast — God gave the law as a test, not as a resting place or an ornament. Treating it as a source of pride is the first mistake.
- Blindness — He used the law as a measuring line for others and a decoration for himself. He never turned its edge on his own life.
- Breaking — His sin is transgression: a servant who knows the master's will and disobeys. That is a heavier charge than the lawlessness of those who never had the rule.
- Blasphemy — The dishonour does not stop with him. Onlookers judge God by the conduct of those who carry His name.
- Bedrock — God will have reality. An outward form cannot cover a life that contradicts it, and the warning reaches anyone who names Christ today.
For the name of God is blasphemed on your account among the nations, according as it is written.
This verse is the sting at the end of Paul's questions to the religious man who has the law, teaches it, and breaks it. The failure is not his alone. God's own name takes the damage among the nations watching His people.
The whole passage turns the Jew's advantage into his accusation. Everything he leaned on becomes the evidence against him.
The Jew was more favoured than the Gentile. No other nation had the light in which he boasted, but he was the most unfaithful to it. He was quite able to lay down the law, but he did not keep the law; this was his condemnation. He was no better practically than the Gentile. He had many privileges, but he was unfaithful to them all. He had broken the law in which he boasted, and by doing so he had dishonoured God; and through him the name of God had been blasphemed among the Gentiles.
Note where the reproach lands. The nations were not judging individuals; they were judging the God whose people these were.
Each question in verses 21, 22 and 23 is like a sword-thrust. To each implied accusation the Jew had to plead guilty. He had the law truly, but by breaking it he dishonoured God, whose law it was. Indeed, their guilt was so flagrant that the Gentiles looked at the Jews and blasphemed God, whose representatives they were.
Paul does not invent the charge. He quotes it from Israel's own prophets, so the verdict already stood in books the Jew honoured.
By his own account, his boasted knowledge of the law brought him no saving power, whatever fuel it gave for his arrogant use of it to look down on others. Who, then, more clearly dishonoured God? Was it not written even more strongly in their own prophets? What did Isaiah say (Isa. 52:5)? And what did Ezekiel say (Ezek. 36:20-23)?
The irony is sharp. The Gentiles the Jew looked down on end up as witnesses for God.
But there is more. Jewish Scripture itself has already answered the Jew's plea and thrown out his claim: "For the name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you, as it is written" (Ezek. 36:20-23). So the Gentiles are already God's witnesses, to the shame of the Jew who is under Law. To claim anything on the ground of legal obedience is therefore useless. It is also a lie against God, whose own word records their sin.
The failure has a measure: what Israel was set apart to be.
Israel does not appear to have been meant as a missionary people, eagerly spreading what they knew of the one true God. But they were meant to be a model people. Their laws were perfect, and they had received them straight from Heaven. So all their ways should have pleased God and rebuked the nations around them. But they were untrue to their privileged place of separation to God, the one thing that could have made them a blessing to the world. They copied the evil ways of their neighbours instead.
The verse does not stop with the Jew. It reaches anyone whose profession outruns his practice.
The Apostle is speaking of the Jew; but what he says is equally true of the professing Christian. The corruptions and degraded practices of professing Christendom have provoked most of the blasphemies of unbelievers. Men would not have become Christians just because Christians lived consistently. But if Christians lived up to what they profess, men would have no reason to blaspheme God.
That works out in very ordinary things — the job, the household, the way a person keeps his word.
When a Christian is careless, sloppy, or unprincipled in the way he acts, he does serious damage to the cause of Christ and dishonours His holy name. On the other hand, being diligent, earnest, punctual and faithful brings glory to that Name.
This verse is not the end of the road. It is one step in a case that shuts every mouth.
The very law they trusted was their righteous accuser. It had already said of them, "None is righteous, no, not one." And the apostle says, "We know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God."
And the dishonour is not the last word about that Name. God takes the matter into His own hands.
Israel had defiled the land and profaned the name of Jehovah, and Jehovah had scattered them among the nations. Even in this His name would be profaned by their vileness, because the nations would say, "These are the people of Jehovah, and they have gone out of His land." But Jehovah would step in and sanctify His great name before the nations. He would bring His people back from among them and cleanse them from all their filthiness, taking away the hardness of their hearts and giving them His Spirit.
- The Name entrusted. God gave Israel the law and set them apart to be a model people whose ways would rebuke the nations around them.
- The Name dishonoured. They copied their neighbours instead. The nations watched God's representatives and blamed God.
- The Name witnessed against. The charge comes from Isaiah and Ezekiel. The Jew's own Scriptures convict him, and the Gentiles he looked down on become God's witnesses.
- The Name and us. The same charge falls on Christian profession. What provokes blasphemy is not argument but the gap between what Christians claim and how they live.
- The Name vindicated. The argument ends with every mouth stopped and the whole world accountable. Yet God says He will sanctify His great name Himself, cleansing His people and giving them His Spirit.