This reflection was born from a question that stayed with me after the article “Burning Desires”.
If the desires of the flesh are not simply overcome by human effort, how are we then to understand such a direct command from Paul?
“Put to death everything that belongs to your earthly nature.”
At first glance, it seems simple: there is something in me that I need to kill.
But Paul did not say only that.
Elsewhere, he wrote:
“If by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”
Two small words change the reading profoundly:
by the Spirit.
Who is fighting?
In the letter to the Galatians, Paul adds something that easily goes unnoticed:
“The flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit; and the Spirit, what is contrary to the flesh.”
It is not only the flesh that fights against the Spirit.
The Spirit also opposes the flesh.
So Paul does not say: first defeat the flesh and then live by the Spirit.
He says:
“Live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”
The direction is another.
I do it, but who works?
In Philippians, we find another seemingly paradoxical sentence:
“Work out your salvation…”
And, immediately:
“For it is God who works in you both to will and to do.”
I do it.
But God works in me the willing and the doing.
I put to death.
But I do it by the Spirit.
And then a very ancient sentence casts an unexpected light on this reflection:
“See now that I, I am the only one. There is no god besides me. I put to death and I make alive…”
God says:
“I put to death and I make alive.”
We do not need to turn this sentence from Deuteronomy into a direct explanation of Paul's words. The contexts are different.
But it is hard not to notice the beauty of the connection.
Paul also speaks of death and life:
“You died…”
And right after:
“Christ, who is your life…”
Then:
“Put to death…”
Without me you can do nothing
Perhaps here is a sentence we need to hear many times:
“Without me you can do nothing.”
Not something.
Nothing.
That includes our own effort to overcome what belongs to the flesh.
And Paul shows us something equally simple when he speaks of life by the Spirit.
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control are not presented as the result of the flesh's effort to become better.
Paul gives them another name:
fruit of the Spirit.
Fruit is not manufactured by the branch.
Jesus had said:
“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself…”
And then:
“Without me you can do nothing.”
The branch does not produce life. The branch remains in the Life, and the fruit appears.
And the fruit begins with love
There is one more very simple thing that may go unnoticed.
Paul says:
“Live by the Spirit.”
And when he describes the fruit of that Spirit, he begins with one word:
love.
Shortly before, he had already written:
“The whole Law is summed up in a single commandment: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
Perhaps “putting to death” cannot be separated from “bearing fruit.”
When the Spirit produces love in me, what belongs to the flesh begins to lose space.
Love does not envy.
It does not seek its own interests.
It keeps no grudge.
It is not only something dying.
It is another Life appearing.
And Jesus, precisely when he spoke of the vine, the branches and the fruit, said:
“My commandment is this: love one another as I have loved you.”
Perhaps everything begins here:
remaining in him.
And the fruit of this Life begins to appear in a very concrete direction:
the other.
The measure of love
There is also a very beautiful change in the measure of this love.
Before:
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
I still appear in the sentence as the reference:
as myself.
But Jesus goes further:
“Love one another as I have loved you.”
Now the measure is no longer me.
The measure is the love with which we were loved.
It is no longer my desire, my interest or my measure that occupies the center.
The reference becomes the love of Christ.
And Jesus also says:
“No one has greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”
This love does not seek its own interests.
It gives itself for the other.
Perhaps it is precisely there that something begins to die in me:
when I stop being the measure.
Perhaps the question is another
Perhaps “put to death” is not a call for the old man to fight against the old man until he manages to defeat him.
Paul points repeatedly in another direction:
by the Spirit.
The Spirit opposes the flesh.
God works the willing and the doing.
The fruit is of the Spirit.
And the fruit begins with love.
Christ is our life.
And without him we can do nothing.
This does not eliminate our doing. Paul keeps saying:
“Put to death.”
But it eliminates the idea of a doing independent of the Life.
And perhaps now we can see a little more.
It is not only something in me that needs to die.
It is the love of Christ appearing in me that begins to displace my own self from the center.
Perhaps, then, the question is not:
How will I manage to put the flesh to death?
Perhaps it is:
From whom am I living?
And, if I live from him, another question begins to appear naturally:
Who is at the center: me or the other?
Because the one who said:
“I put to death”
is the same one who said:
“I make alive.”
