The Law Did Not Multiply Sins, but the Sin Dwelling in Us (Romans 7:7–8)

To make the representation of the beneficence of faith in Christ more impactful, Saint Paul first depicts the power of our corruption in the Fall, or the power of sin dwelling in us. The occasion for this he took from the preceding demonstration of the powerlessness of the law. This demonstration raised the question: So, according to you, is the law sin? You speak of the law in such a way that it seems all sinfulness comes from it. If it did not exist, there would be less sin or none at all. It came and only multiplied sins.—In answer to this, the Apostle does not deny that the introduction of the law was accompanied by such a consequence; but he places the blame for this not on the law, but on sin dwelling in us (Rom 7:7–13). Then he sets forth what this sin dwelling in us is, how it works, and in what it reveals itself (Rom 7:14–25). Both imprint on the mind a disconsolate picture of our moral corruption, strong enough to evoke from anyone the complaint: wretched as we are! What shall we do? Against this the Apostle sets another picture, far more comforting, representing the most bright state of those graced by faith in the Lord, in which power against sin is replaced by the opposite power toward good—a bright state that prepares for an even brighter life in the age to come (Rom 8:1–39). So this entire section can be entitled: a) A depiction of the power of our corruption in the Fall or the power of sin dwelling in us (Rom 7:7–25); and: b) A picture of the bright state of those restored from the Fall by the beneficent action of faith in Christ (Rom 8:1–39).

a) A depiction of human moral corruption (Rom 7:7–25)

Aa) The law did not multiply sins, but sin dwelling in us (Rom 7:7–13)

Rom 7:7. What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid. Nay, I had not known sin, but by the law: for I had not known lust, except the law had said, You shall not covet.

Blessed Theodoret writes: “The Apostle in what was said above used many such expressions which those wishing to revile the law would use as grounds for condemning it, if he had not made the present resolution of the questions. It was said: ‘The law entered, that the offence might abound’ (Rom 5:20), and: ‘The law works wrath’ (Rom 4:15), and: ‘By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified’ (Rom 3:20), and the like. Presenting an objection on this account: ‘Is the law sin?’—the Apostle answered it with a decisive denial: ‘God forbid.’—Saint Chrysostom, having cited the same passages, and besides them the following: ‘The motions of sins, which were by the law, did work in our members,’ and also: ‘Where there is no law, there is no transgression’ (Rom 4:15), adds: “Since all this is apparently spoken in accusation of the law, the Apostle, to destroy such suspicion, introduces an objection and says: “What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid.” He denies directly, so as to win over his hearer and correct the offended one. For he, having heard and been convinced of the Apostle’s mind, will together with us inquire into what seems difficult, and will not suspect the speaker. Therefore the Apostle, having first proposed an objection, added also his own mind and did not say: What should I say?—but: “What shall we say?” As if advice and opinions were being given at a gathering of the whole Church, as if the objection were not made by the Apostle, but flowed of itself from what was said above and from the nature of the matter. No one will dispute, says the Apostle, “that the letter kills, but the spirit gives life” (2Cor 3:6). (This is cited as a balance to what preceded: “that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.”) This is so clear that there is no room for objection. And when there is no doubt about that: what should we say of the law? Is it that it is sin? God forbid.”—‘God forbid’—we cannot think that the law is sin, that is, that it teaches or indulges the production of sin (Oecumenius). After such an answer, however, there still remained something unclear, what the words spoken before signified. “So, resolve the difficulty” (Saint Chrysostom). And the Apostle resolves this difficulty in the following section (Rom 7:7–13), the content of which can be expressed thus: all that was said indeed accompanied the law; but the law is not to blame for this, but sin dwelling in us. And he establishes the beginning of such a resolution with words that follow immediately after the decisive “God forbid”: ‘Nay, I had not known sin, but by the law: for I had not known lust, except the law had said, You shall not covet.’”

These words present different thoughts or different nuances of the same thought, depending on how they are combined with what precedes: “God forbid.” They can be combined thus: “God forbid”—not only is the law not sin, but I would not even have known what sin and lust are if the law had not taught me to distinguish them. The law made clear to me what ought to be done and what not to do; I know what is a good deed and what is an evil—sinful—deed. And not only did it make all this clear, but applied punishment for non-compliance, so that I would not think at some point that I could fail to comply with its precepts. Thus the law is a teacher of good, not of sin. So understood Blessed Theodoret: “The law is not only not a teacher of sin—‘God forbid’—but precisely the opposite: it is an accuser of sin; for I would not have known what is evil if it had not taught me.” “The Apostle did not say: ‘I had not committed sin, but by the law,’—but: ‘I had not known;’ so the law is not the cause of the production of sin, but of its recognition, like a pedagogue, not allowing us to fall unknowingly to the level of the irrational” (Photius in Oecumenius).

With such an understanding of these words, they strengthen “God forbid.” But they can also be joined with thoughts by which they would weaken this denial. It could be thus: the law is not the author and teacher of sin, but the multiplier and intensifier of my sinfulness. It revealed to me all that is sinful, but gave me no strength not to sin. I now know what is sinful, and yet still sin; and these sins of mine became heavier under the law than they were before without the law. I would sin even without it, but would not know many things were sinful; but now I know and sin. My sins have become conscious and therefore more culpable. But in this there is not blame of the law, but praise: for in revealing before my eyes the weight of my guilt, it strengthened fear of punishment and thereby compelled me to guard against sin. Thus understand Oecumenius: “I do not say that the law is the author of sin, but that it is for me the author of knowledge of sin or consciousness of guilt, which subjected me to the heaviest punishment as one sinning knowingly”—and Ambrosiaster: “The law is not sin, but an indicator of sin. It showed that even the most secret sins are sins and cannot pass without punishment before God. But, learning this, man should have considered himself more guilty and responsible, and, judging by this, could not apparently be grateful to the law. For who will regard favorably one who threatens the most severe punishment?…Yet even in this respect the law is good and right: for to point out impending trouble is a good deed.”

One could also say: the law does not teach sin and does not indulge it; but by forbidding sin, it incites to sin. Many things I never even thought to do; but when the law pointed out to me all unlawful deeds, of some of them, which I had not even thought of before, I began to think, and thinking, came to desire them, and desiring, bent toward them, and bending, began to sin. Even if it did not incite to something sinful—unknown—it intensified the desire for the sinful—known—by some opposition to the law dwelling in me. Thus the law served me as an occasion for sin. But the blame for this lies not with the law, but with myself. The law presented itself to me not as an occasion for sin, but as a restraint from it. But I myself made the law an occasion for sin. So Saint Chrysostom: “Do you see how the Apostle imperceptibly gives us to understand that the law not only exposes sin, but in some way also provides an occasion for it? Nevertheless, he places the blame for this not on the law, but on the foolishness of men.”—The same also says Oecumenius: “The Apostle hints that the law is something that prepares and serves as an occasion for sin, not by its own nature, however, but by the wickedness of men.”

Whichever of these understandings we take, each one absolves the law and confirms “God forbid.” But the first is close to the truth; not far off is the third, being in accord with what follows. The second, however, is not direct, but derivative.

“But in what sense is it said: ‘I had not known sin—I had not known lust!’ For in reality we do know sin and lust is known. It is in the sense that after the proclamation of the law all this became known more clearly, more definitely, and more completely; but before the law, although it was known, it was confused, undefined, and incomplete. Consequently many things seemed permissible and were covered by general indulgence and justification. But now we cannot view any deed in such a way. “Concerning what I did not even suspect was not permitted by God, I now know is sin” (Ambrosiaster).—Blessed Theodoret writes: “The words “I had not known”—do not show here complete ignorance, but by them is expressed that in the law I received more precise knowledge than my natural discernment has” (of good and evil).” Saint Chrysostom expresses the same thought more fully: “If man had not known lust before receiving the law, why would the Flood happen? Why would Sodom be destroyed? In what sense then does the Apostle speak thus of lust? In this, that although those living even before the law knew that they were sinning, they learned it more thoroughly when the law was proclaimed, and therefore from that time began to be subject to greater condemnation. For it is one thing to have nature as an accuser, and another—to have beyond nature a law as well, which gives clear precepts concerning all things.”—Blessed Theophylact points to a particular nuance in the same thought, with an eye to the more active side, namely: I experienced sinful and lustful impulses even before, but not with such force; when, however, the law came, they became so fierce that there was no restraint—they made themselves known to me. “We knew,” he says, “even then that sin and lust are evil; but then the desire was not so intensified.”

By the word “sin”—we can understand a particular sin, and by the word “lust”—generally sinful attraction to all that is forbidden. But it can also be understood conversely: sin as generally sinful attraction, and lust as a particular desire for something that should not be desired, since in the law, where it says “You shall not covet,”—it specifically indicates what should not be desired (Ex 20:17). In the following verse they stand in such a way that sin is clearly considered the source of lust; while in the present it seems rather that lust is set as the source of sin. Therefore we need not insist on one particular meaning of these words here.

The Apostle speaks in his own person: I knew not, I was ignorant. But it is clear he speaks not of himself alone. For later, continuing his discourse in his own person, he says: “I was alive without the law once”—which he could not have said directly of himself. Without written law did not live he alone, but mankind; therefore we must suppose that although he speaks here in his own person, not from his own person: “he brings the general cause of all humanity” (Ambrosiaster). “In himself he understands man in general” (Oecumenius). This remark is not so necessary here as it will become when interpreting the section beginning with verse 14.

Rom 7:8. But sin, taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me all manner of concupiscence. For without the law sin was dead.

The law is not sin, not its producer or teacher; on the contrary, it taught me to distinguish clearly what is the forbidden sin. But how did it come about that sins were multiplied when the law came? Thus: sin dwelling in me, upon hearing the commandment, one part of which commands and the other forbids, began against every commandment to kindle in me the opposite lust and plunge me into sin—and thus sins were multiplied on account of the commandments. Sin dwelling in me lies as if dead until it hears the law opposed to itself; but as soon as it hears it, it awakens and begins to rage and kindle lusts. It resembles a venomous serpent or blood-thirsty beast which lies calmly in its den or lair, as if not there, until it senses that someone has entered its domain; but as soon as it senses this, it immediately rises with all its ferocity and attacks the disturber of its peace.

Sin here in the Apostle is the sin dwelling in us, or the law of self-gratification, which has seized our fallen nature, according to which it is imperative to do only that which pleases oneself, despite all opposition to it, both within and without, however respectable it may be. This self-gratification, by the breadth of its realm, is silent, as if not knowing where to turn, as if sated; but as soon as it hears the forbidding of something sweet to it, immediately it rushes to its defense, unwilling to part with it. Such a law of self-gratification has even been noticed by the heathen, who said that we commonly incline toward what is forbidden and burn with even greater desire for that in which we are refused. Self-gratification lies at the foundation, in the depths of sinfulness. It generates lusts—now one, now another, now a third, depending on which commandment forbidding something it encounters. The lusts themselves are not many; these are the passions. But the deeds satisfying each lust or passion are many. The Apostle speaks of lusts and passions as sources of deeds. Every lust or passion or all the lusts and passions together in his teaching come from sin dwelling in us. Here is the root of the fact that sins multiply despite the commandments or even on account of the very commandments.

Blessed Theodoret writes: “The Apostle thereby attempts to prove that the law is not subject to accusation. Since he said that with the promulgation of the law sins increased, so that no one might think that the law is the cause of this, he necessarily shows the way sin acted, namely that it, turning the promulgation of the law into an occasion for struggle, overcame the weak thought.” Theophylact clarifies: “He did not say: the law ‘wrought concupiscence,’—but: ‘sin;’ the inclination to pleasure (self-gratification) and striving toward the worse itself misused the very teaching of the law.”—But more fully the entire production of sinfulness under the law is set forth by Saint Chrysostom: “Do you see how he has removed the blame from the law? Sin, says the Apostle, not the law, increased lust; and it came about opposite to what the law desired. This proves weakness, not maliciousness of the law. When we cherish a desire for something and are forbidden it, the fire of desire burns more fiercely. But this does not come from the law; it forbade so as to turn away from the desire. Sin, that is, your negligence, your evil will, turned the very good to evil use. And in the misuse of the medicine, the physician is not to blame, but the patient. God did not give the law to kindle lust by it, but to extinguish it. Although the opposite came about, but the law is not to blame for it, but we are. It would be unjust to blame one who, to a patient with fever, who is glad continually to drink cold water, does not permit much drinking and thereby intensifies in him such a destructive desire. It is the business of the physician only to forbid; the patient himself ought to abstain. What of it if sin found occasion through the law? To a wicked man even a good command often serves as occasion to become more depraved. So the devil destroyed Judas, casting him into love of money and making him a thief of what belonged to the poor. But the money box entrusted to him was not the cause of his ruin, but the evil disposition of the will.—Do not marvel that Paul, speaking of the law, employed very strong expressions. He limits himself to what is most necessary; as much as he does not permit his words to serve as an occasion to understand the matter otherwise, so much he cares to correct those already understanding wrongly. Therefore, accept here not bore words, but enter into the reason which compelled the Apostle to speak thus, picture to yourself the fury of the Jews and their invincible stubbornness, which he strove to overcome. When he apparently speaks much against the law, he does not blame the law, but only overthrows the stubbornness of the Jews. If to the law one imputes that sin through it found occasion, then you will find that the very same thing happened also in the New Testament. For in the New Testament too there are thousands of laws concerning many, even the most important matters. And everyone sees that the very same thing happens here not only concerning lust, but generally concerning every vice. ‘If I had not come and spoken to them,’—says Christ,—‘they had not had sin’ (Jn 15:22). Consequently, sin here too found an occasion for itself and greater punishment. And Paul, in reasoning about grace, says: ‘Of how much sorer punishment, suppose you, shall he be thought worthy, who has trodden under foot the Son of God?’ (Hebr 10:29). Consequently, the greater gift served toward the heaviest punishment. Likewise also of the Gentiles the Apostle says that they became without excuse; because, being endowed with reason and having the opportunity through the study of the beauties of creation to raise their mind to the Creator, they did not use God’s wisdom as they ought. You see that good deeds (God’s benefits) for the vicious have always served as an occasion to be more punished. But certainly, for this reason we will not blame God’s benefits; on the contrary, we will admire them all the more; let us condemn those who turned good itself to evil. We will act the same way regarding the law. Note that the Apostle did not simply say: ‘wrought concupiscence,’—but: ‘all manner of concupiscence,’—meaning thereby the excess of lust. You ask: What then is the benefit of the law, if passion is intensified by it? None—on the contrary, still greater harm.—This is how it came about; but it is not the law that is to blame, but the negligence of those who received the law. For lust is produced by sin, and although through the law, yet then when the law cared not for that, but for the opposite. Consequently, sin became much stronger than the law. But even this must be placed again not at the fault of the law, but at human ingratitude.”

What does it mean: “For without the law sin was dead”? He does not say “was dead,”—but “is dead”; consequently he expresses a general principle. Always, he says, it is so that, while the law is not promulgated, sin is dead. But what does this death mean? That sin before the law is not recognized as sin. People sin, but do not know that they sin, and remain at peace. But when the law clearly says that this and that is sin, then sin is seen, as if emerging from some concealment. But since before the Apostle stands the thought that sin dwelling in us, on the occasion of the law, wrought all manner of lust and, consequently, as if awakened by the law; then by “dead”—would it not be better to understand: inactive,—as if asleep and motionless? Among our interpreters both understandings are found.

Blessed Theodoret writes: “While there is no law showing what ought to be done and forbidding what ought not to be done, sin has no place.” Continuing this discourse, Blessed Theophylact says: “That is, it is not considered to exist (not recognized). When, however, there is a law prescribing what is proper, then sin lives, that is, exists and is considered sin by those who transgress the law, who sin consciously.” The same thought also in Ambrosiaster: “The Apostle called sin dead, inasmuch as it was thought that since it (before the law) was not imputed by God, it was dead among men in the sense that people sinned as if unpunished. In reality sin was not hidden under a bushel, but it was not known that God would judge for it—so that when the law was promulgated it became clear, sin seemed to come alive. It lived before, but by the negligence of men was considered dead, being in fact alive. They thought it was not imputed, when it was imputed. That is, it, being alive, was considered dead.”—Oecumenius, however, understands by death the inactivity. “Sin is dead, that is, inactive. Though it acted before the law, it did not do so with such force. Many sins, he says, seemed to sleep or had died. Much I did not know, and, committing the unlawful in ignorance, I did not sin so heavily. And sin then did not attack me so fiercely. But when the law came, it became enraged against me.”