The following is a project based on the study of Romans 12-16 under Scot McKnight. Over three years, we are “reading Romans backward” with Scot, and in this first attempt, I discovered that the occasion and impetus for Paul’s greatest work—indeed the most important Christian theology ever written—was what we today call racism. Prejudice plus power at work exluding Gentiles from Jews was the greatest personal conflict, theological crisis, and existential threat faced in the first century church. And so perhaps it is today, in 2017, in Trump’s America.
Context matters. Depending on the occasion, the simple announcement “we’re having a baby” might be met with instant ecstasy or certain panic. This truism might go without saying in the realm of everyday life, but such is not true in the world of Biblical scholarship. For far too long Paul’s letter to the Romans has been read as a timeless theological treatise, a book of abstract doctrine that could have easily been addressed to Americans, Romans, or Asians—the context mattered little. In recent years, the consensus around many Pauline doctrines has been shaken, from justification to salvation to engagement in politics. (Responses have varied from ecstasy to panic.) In the following overview, we will explore how reading Romans 12 through 16 for context illuminates a world so colorful and complex that it demands a re-examination of the entire letter. We will see that far from abstract theology, what God began in Christ set in motion social changes that would shake and in time overtake the power of Rome, and indeed every power beyond.
As unconventional as it may seem, locating the situation of Romans begins with Paul’s closing ethical statements. His concerns and instructions mirror the on-the-ground reality toward which he writes. This section begins memorably with the language of living sacrifice, the logikos worship, and renewal of mind in contrast to the patterns of this world (12:1-2). To a modern person this language may seem abstract, perhaps vaguely spiritual, and yet in these opening verses Paul frames the letter: this is about death and rebirth, the world that is passing away and that which is to come. The language itself was an affront to Jew and Gentile alike: to the Jew who would limit worship to sacrifice in a Jewish temple, the Roman who would hedge their bets on a dozen deities, or the Greek who would intellectualize worship as merely ‘spiritual’, this is a call to lay down cultural and ethnic identities.[1] They are being reborn as siblings and all old identities—indeed all of life—must be laid on the altar.[2] The pattern is Christ. Those who follow a crucified Messiah can no longer conform to the “pattern of this aion” because a future reality is bursting into the present, and as Wright puts it, “the space-time location where this must happen…is none other than the bodies of Christians.”[3] It is from this eschatological vantage point that we see Paul’s ethical instructions unfold. The next several chapters will describe the ‘fleshing out’ of another kingdom right under the nose of Caesar.
We might expect a cosmic-sized issue would follow, and yet Paul’s next concern is entitled “humble service in the body of Christ.” Christians with different gifts (and presumably conflicting priorities) are to avoid arrogance and status-seeking, recognizing they are members of one body. This appears a rather basic moral principle, and yet if such concerns seem pedestrian it is only because of our great distance from that ancient world. Socioeconomics and lifestyle in the empire was shaped not by race or religion or character or physical attractiveness but by a complex calculus of hierarchical social status.[4] Christians in any age may be tempted to assign honor to the more prominent gifts and yet in Rome the Cursus Honorum or “path of honor” was a time-honored cultural institution, justifying daily indignities by strong against weak.[5] To insist that even slaves and their masters are “each members belong[ing] to all the others” (12:5) was a scandalous assault that undermined public relationships and the viability of a household.[6] It is notable that Paul begins with the most impressive of gifts, prophecy (cf. 1 Cor 14:1), and follows quickly with serving, teaching and encouraging. Charismatic gifts are for some an unmistakable sign of the in-breaking of the kingdom of God, and yet for Paul the surest sign and wonder is not phenomena but a reversal of the status systems of this age.[7]
In Paul’s thinking, this great reversal is not simply virtue ethics, but the very outworking of the agape love of Christ, the original Living Sacrifice. In the litany of ethical imperatives that follow, Paul lays out a new world order governed by agape: serving, sharing, bearing burdens, blessing persecutors, and loving enemies. Here especially we might be tempted to extract universal principles, and yet these too are rooted in a historical situation that requires excavation. In his recent work, Peter Oakes surveys details of the unearthing of Pompeii, a 1st century urban center virtually undisturbed since that time. Oakes’ conclusions force us to reconsider the world of Paul. On-the-ground evidence shows that in all Roman cities the poor vastly outnumbered ‘householders’ and even low-level craftsmen, though people of all classes lived side-by-side. The makeup of Paul’s churches would have reflected this.[8] Rome especially was a city of immigrants: poverty and insecurity were forever crouching at their door, and indeed homelessness was rampant.[9] To command those with comfortable income to share and practice hospitality (12:13) may require of them a shift in priorities, but for the majority that is living hand-to-mouth, this is true agape. Imperatives that seem quite simple—“be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer”—are a tall order for the poor. At the same time, this equal expectation was a dismantling of the social hierarchy. That Paul could command both a slave, a wage earner and prominent citizen to both give generously and work as a “slave to the Lord” (12:11) would have been a shock to their system.
Residents of Pompeii, like all urban centers of that age, lived in housing blocks that nestled together people from every part of the social spectrum. Here there was no hiding one’s wealth or poverty. Unlike our modern suburbs and gated communities, differences in standards of living were conspicuous: well-off homeowners, powerless dependents, work-a-day craftsmen, as well as slaves and freedman of many cultures and languages lived shoulder to shoulder. As such, petty theft, violent crime, and all manner of evil persistently plagued Roman cities, a daily reality for urban Christians. It is to these Paul implores “do not repay evil for evil” but “overcome evil with good” (12:17-21).
The reality within a typical house church would have been no less challenging. Oakes conclude that an average church in Rome could not have been much more than 30 people (perhaps 40 in less dense cities), and this would likely include a hosting householder, immediate family and slaves, some other smaller householders, perhaps some homeless persons and migrant workers—as many as twenty social statuses.[10] In Paul’s concluding greetings of chapter 16, we find this extraordinary diversity.[11] In that light, Paul’s commands do not appear timeless, but a mirror reflection of social realities. The commands to live in harmony, not be proud and do right in the eyes of everyone (12:16-17) reflect the challenges of close-quarter living and churches squeezed into tenements and block housing. To associate those of “low position” (12:16) is one thing for an American living in a community ‘gated’ off from the have-nots. But when the people of low position to whom you are called to “honor…above yourselves” (12:10) might literally live in the closet space beneath your stairs—the instruction is no longer theoretical.
Social awkwardness would be the least of concerns, however. For the hosting householder, there was a more delicate matter: some of those showing up for church would belong to other households, some attending without their head of household (cf. 16:10-11). The livelihood of the householder—and that of his next of kin, employees, and slaves[12]—was dependent on managing relationships of patronage and keeping proper social boundaries intact. Sharing with the Lord’s people that are in need and even practicing hospitality (12:13) would be fraught with peril when the needy belong to your patron, client or competitor.[13] Imagine for a moment hosting a church in your home with a guest list that includes the wife of your employer, the son of your would-be investor, and the assistant to a judge deciding your case. Welcoming those from the household of Aristobulus or Narcissus (16:10-11) as siblings in Christ might very well have proved to be socioeconomic suicide for the host, and yet for Paul this is just the sort of cruciformity envisioned for living sacrifices.
Power and patronage were realities in any Roman city, and yet the citizens of Rome lived in the shadow of a greater power and principality: the regime of Caesar. It is against this backdrop Paul turns toward governing authorities in chapter 13, beginning a section that has been as misused and misappropriated as any in scripture. “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established” (13:1) has in modern times been the preferred scriptural ‘sword’ of totalitarian regimes and a lightning rod for those seeking to dismiss Paul.[14] Both are tragedies resulting from a failure to read Romans in context.
Most accept that Romans is among the last of Paul’s letters, giving it a dating of mid to late 50’s CE.[15] That places it just after the reign of Claudius in the early years of Nero. A few years prior, probably 49 CE, Claudius had expelled all Jews from the city of Rome, among them Jewish Christians including Paul’s future co-workers, Priscilla and Aquila.[16] These had been tumultuous years for Christians in Rome and in view of this, Paul’s turn toward governing authorities makes sense. This is not abstract political philosophy, but instructions to those facing religious persecution on how to overcome evil with good (12:21) when it comes from the highest level. From 12:14 onward, Paul is calling the church to forsake personal vengeance, and in 13:1 he offers reason to hope even when oppression comes: God, not Caesar, is ultimately on the throne. Christians in peaceful societies easily miss what the persecuted would see plainly in this passage: to place all earthly authorities under that of God does not strengthen but relativizes the power of the authority. To call a self-proclaimed divine emperor a servant of God (13:4) is not an elevation but a severe demotion.[17] Where some have seen legitimation for oppression, theologians from marginalized backgrounds open our eyes: Paul’s statements are a limit to power[18] and even open the prospect of God’s judgment on abuses of power.[19]
Recent discussion has emphasized these subtle challenges to power, asking whether Paul was even an anti-empire revolutionary, prodding the church toward insurrection with subversive language. It has been suggested that certain phrases (eg. Jesus is Lord contra Caesar is Lord) are Paul’s dog whistle to those who have the ears.[20] To anyone frustrated by their current government, that is an attractive proposition, and yet here in the last chapters of Romans, two realities speak otherwise. First, the sheer numbers: the total of Christians in Rome at the time was at most 150, hardly the makings of a guerilla army in a city of a million.[21] Second, while we recognize elsewhere that Paul foresaw the eventual conquering of Christ (cf. 1 Cor 15:24-27; Col 1:18), here even alluding to the reign of believers (5:17), the path to power in Paul’s mind is most definitely not a Roman road. Chapter 13 will not permit such conclusions, nor is it easily dismissed as a later addition.[22] If we read it with chapter 12, we notice that this entire section has agape as bookends (12:9-10; 13:8-10). At the center, we find the cruciform-shaped key to Paul’s thinking: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good (12:21). Paul was not naïve to the wickedness of authorities, but recognized the narrow way of Christ who demonstrates and defines cruciformity by his submission to governing authorities. We should not be surprised: a kingdom of “righteousness, peace and joy” (14:17) can hardly be inaugurated by the sword. Nor should we judge Paul as unrealistic: Wright observes “Rome could cope with ordinary revolutions. Rome could not cope, as history bears witness, with a community owing allegiance to the crucified and risen messiah as the world’s true Lord.”[23] Here Paul aligns exactly with Peter, who gives the same instruction in much the same language (1 Pet 2:13ff), suggesting an early tradition. Readers seeking justification for abuses of power or violent insurrection will not find it here.
It should be instructive to Christians in every age that Paul’s great concern—the threat for which he spills the most ink—is not the external power of 13:1-6, but a threat that lies much closer to home. In time, Nero would show himself to be the most diabolical of rulers, and yet it was his allowance of the return of Jews to Rome in 54CE that presented the greatest challenge to the church, to which Paul turns next. The complexity and significance of the re-integration of Jews may well be the issue that prompted this entire letter, Paul’s most significant theological work, and the document at the center of all modern theological studies. It also provides the clearest clues for our inquiry.
Here is how it happened. After Claudius’ expulsion of all Jews, the churches in Rome became de facto Gentile churches. Under the previous Jewish leadership, these churches had likely felt the impact of wider Jewish persecution, and yet in their absence the specter of fear had lifted. Their return five years later would provoke not a celebration but ethnic division. Fears and questions would emerge. Would the return of Priscilla and Aquila and other Jews mean the return of Roman persecution? Would the return of conservative Jewish cultural customs prompt an imperial response? Would non-believing Jews multiply this problem? This close to the eye of the emperor, the return of visibly-distinct Jewish customs would have been especially unsettling. To some it would appear that God had used Claudius to judge the obstinacy of Jews rejecting Christ. A Jewish Christian insistence on maintaining Jewish culture might be more than foolish, for some it might appear unfaithful. To others it would appear that God was now using Nero for his purposes.[24] The modern American would do well to pay attention here: assigning providence to the machinations of political powers has long been a divisive game. For the fledgling church at Rome, Jewish re-integration and the resulting clash of values, culture, politics, and leadership could have well proved devastating. Paul knew this all too well from his experience at Antioch (Gal 2). Here again, his mission was at stake, as was the future of the gospel itself.
Against this backdrop of ethnic tension in the church, Paul turns toward his largest practical concern in this letter: the weak and the strong. Paul has dropped the language of Jew and Gentile from earlier in the letter, so several questions arise. Were these categories in use at the time or did they originate with Paul? To whom do they refer? Is this simply a less direct way of saying Jew and Gentile or are there weak persons in both groups? Paul’s descriptions of the groups defy easy categorization[25] and yet the balance of the evidence tilts decidedly toward an ethnic division. The surest indicator is that here Paul cites multiple Old Testament passages that anticipate the coming of Gentile nations into the people of God. This is not simply about overcoming church bickering to keep life pleasant, but rather Isaiah’s majestic vision of “every knee bowing” (14:10-11)[26] such that both weak and strong with “one mind and one voice” glorify the Lord (15:5-6)—and all in clear fulfillment of God’s plan in Christ to extend mercy from Jew to Gentile (15:8-9).[27] This best explains why “first for the Jew then the Gentile” has been on Paul’s mind from his opening greeting on through his theological discourse (see 1:16, 2:9-10, 3:9, 29-30, 9:24)[28] and here now. In summary of this, the longest ethical instruction to the church at Rome, Paul delivers unassailable declaration, chaining together Law, Prophets, and Writings[29] to prove his case from chapters 9-11: that God’s great purpose has always been to eradicate the curse of human division beginning with Jew and Gentile.
That Paul devotes so much parchment to this issue reveals the day-to-day social complexity of the matter. What some might imagine a small matter of cultural preferences, Paul warns has the power to destroy people (14:15), suggesting there is much more at work than inter-church ‘pet peeves’. The weak held certain days sacred and some food abhorrent, the strong had no hang-ups; that might account for pride, judgement, and condescension—not exactly a unique challenge in any church. This is certainly heightened if we consider the Jewish expulsion and return: both and Jew and Gentile might well have considered each other an existential threat. Perhaps conscience-strained Jewish Christians would even turn on their more-liberated cousins, seeing them as defectors.[30] But does the divide go deeper still?
Obscured by translation we find a clue in 15:1: “We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak” (NIV). Failings might be better translated “weaknesses” (Gk. astheneo), for indeed it carries that sense. Likewise, weak could be rendered “powerless” (Gk. adunatos), leaving us to bear the “weaknesses of the powerless,” a different situation entirely. Such language belies the fact that in the empire cultural markers were not simple novelty, they were status indicators of the strongest kind. To be a foreigner was not a ‘failing’ but a social weakness resulting from status (though to this some might attach moral significance). Given that such slanted translations persist today, we should question whether much has changed.
In the same fashion the NIV’s call to “bear” burdens (or most unhelpfully “put up with” them in the NRSV) is a gross misconstrual of bastazo. This is about carrying burdens (cf. Gal 6:2) with the mindset of him who carries our sorrows![31] It would seem that our modern notion of victim-blaming is not so modern. Neither is our notion of systemic racism, which deems the weak dangerous and the strong ‘self-made’ men. Then, as now, these are divisions which can destroy the work of God and rip churches apart, and for that reason Paul is intent on demolishing the culture of cursus honorum. In this empire, assistance, like honor, is only meant to flow upward, unless the person above gives as a benefactor, which only serves to reinforce upward-flowing honor.[32] Not so in the kingdom of God, for here the powerful “do not please themselves” nor build themselves up (15:2) but follow after the one whose strength bears every insult and dishonor (15:3).
We who worship in modern church facilities, partaking from stylized and symbolic Eucharist tables, might have difficulty imagining these challenges in a 1st century church. Again, Oakes comes to our rescue, reminding us that the life of the church happened in homes as people of all social stations crowded in for dinner. In Rome, five or more churches had gathered[33], likely crowded into tenement or block housing.[34] A typical Roman meal would be arranged by social class, with prominent people gathered around the table for the best fare. Those of lower class would recognize their place at the fringes, perhaps bringing their own food.[35] As Christians gather for dinner, economic inequality might persist (cf. 1 Cor 11:17ff), but those arriving as guests might also face violations of their own consciences: the foods served, the drinks consumed, the company kept, the relics of paganism that remain—in a crowded home church it is hard to hide the dirty laundry. Though for Paul, issues of moral cleanliness are in the background (14:22), this is about the shape and size of the Lord’s Table. Who is included when the Lord sets out the meal? The key imperative is acceptance (14:1; 15:7), and yet here again the picture is skewed by modern translators to the relief of the strong. The acceptance (Gk. prosanalambanō) Paul calls for goes far beyond begrudging toleration or a condescending benevolence, this is a command to welcome. Weak and strong alike must welcome one another at the table as siblings and equals, a proposition that requires great faith for both.[36] Paul’s exhortations follow the pattern of Christ: just as Christ became “servant of the Jews” so too must strong Gentiles serve their Jewish siblings. Just as Christ the servant kept God’s promises to welcome the nations so too should weak Jewish Christians welcome Gentiles. As they do, the church will become the living conclusion to an old, old Jewish story, God’s promise to the patriarchs (15:7-8).
It should be clear by now that Paul has greater concerns than Christian freedoms and inter-church squabbling over debatable matters. For Paul, the conquering of ethnic divisions is the corroboration of the gospel. It is non-negotiable. Even the doctrine of justification, in the words of Käsemann, finds “deepest expression, with cosmic breadth in the fact that God has had mercy on the Gentiles.”[37] This—not a theology of salvation—is the context of Paul’s letter. When borders and barriers between nations begin to fall, powers and principalities are put on notice: there is a new king in town. When all nations rise up in worship together, even Caesar should take the hint: this crucified and resurrected Messiah is Lord of the whole earth.[38] This grand design is a “revelation of the mystery hidden for long ages past…so that all Gentiles might come to the obedience that comes from faith” (16:25), a fitting conclusion to Paul’s letter.
Before we arrive at this ending, Paul raises one more circumstance worth examining. In discussing his travel plans, Paul frames his ministry in priestly terms with the delivery of his offering for the poor in Jerusalem. The question of Paul’s motive for the offering has itself generated numerous theories, but most significant for our purposes is the symbolic meaning Paul attaches to it in this letter. For Paul, the offering is more than alleviation of poverty, it was a reciprocal response. Gentiles are indebted to Jews for spiritual blessings, so material generosity is the appropriate reciprocation (15:27). Paul goes even deeper by comparing the gathering of money for the Jews to his own priestly gathering of the Gentiles as an offering to God (15:16). Both serve the same purpose of unifying Jew and Gentile in worship. Here, we should note the irony: Gentiles would not have been allowed near the Jewish altar, now they are the offering on the altar. Their monetary offering will communicate in no uncertain terms to Jewish Christians: we are now family.[39] It should not go without notice that Paul takes this occasion to divulge personal fears and request that prayers be made (15:31)—ethnic unity is the issue that burdens him most.
Even these concluding thoughts reinforce the conclusion we have been making: Romans is Paul’s labored response to ethnic and social division in the church. He has made it clear from the greeting, and as he winds down his letter even his personal salutations reinforce his point: both Jew and Gentile, male and female, and slave and free are to be honored.[40] Some of these prompt controversies even today. In naming Junia, the only named female apostle, and Phoebe, the benefactor, letter carrier, reader, and expositor of Paul’s greatest work. Paul is missing no opportunity to drive his point home. The one new humanity envisioned in Galatians 3:26, “neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female,” is the community God is intending to build in Rome, of this there can be no doubt. Paul is not ashamed to admit it: the gospel cannot stop with salvation, that salvation must be for everyone, uniting everyone, or the righteousness of God stays hidden (1:16-17). This is the circumstance of his writing. This is the genesis of Paul’s greatest theological reflection. This is the message of Romans for our day. The integration of natural enemies into a renewed human family is the sure sign that the renewal of all things has begun, but the price—then and now—is living sacrifice.
[1] Sarah Heaner Lancaster, Romans: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015), 204–5.
[2] As Calvin noted, this is not merely “bones and skin” but our entire being. John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Romans-Galatians (Wilmington, DE: Associated Publishers & Authors, 1980), 1489.
[3] N.T. Wright, “Romans,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary, vol. 10 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002), 608.
[4] Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1983), 22.
[5] Peter Oakes, Reading Romans In Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2013), 110–11.
[6] Ibid., 102-03.
[7] Käsemann sees a decidedly anti-enthusiastic thrust at work here. Just as in Corinth, Paul is not impressed by phenomena but by transformation evidenced by agape. Ernst Käsemann, Commentary on Romans (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1980), 333.
[8]Contra Jewett’s conclusion of an egalitarian Roman church and Meek’s upward mobility, Oakes, Reading Romans In Pompeii, 92.
[9] Ibid., 95.
[10] Ibid., 82–84.
[11] For full examination of the diversity in Paul’s churches, see Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 56–60.
[12] Oakes, Reading Romans In Pompeii, 117.
[13] Ibid., 111.
[14] For a full survey, see Mark Reasoner, Romans in Full Circle: A History of Interpretation (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), 129–42.
[15] Wright, “Romans,” 320.
[16] Ibid., 327.
[17] Wright contends that this is a demotion of totalitarianism, not a reinforcement of it. “Romans,” 619.
[18] Thomas L. Hoyt Jr., “Romans,” in True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary, ed. Brian K. Blount et al. (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2007), 270.
[19] For Lancaster this implies the empire will stand under God’s judgment Romans, 219.
[20] Dunn is convincing that these claims are oversold, especially in light of Romans 13. We may describe Paul as “deeply, but not openly, subversive” in James D. G. Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids, Mich: Eerdmans, 2008), 552–55.
[21] Mark Reasoner, “Rome and Roman Christianity,” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters, ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin (Downers Grove, Ill: Intervarsity Press, 1993).
[22] Käsemann pleads unconvincingly for reading this as an interpolation, Commentary on Romans, 352.
[23] Wright, “Romans,” 619.
[24] Ibid., 327.
[25]Lancaster notes that Paul may plausibly have dropped ethnic distinction to soften his rhetoric, though it is still unclear that we can neatly distinguish as ascetic food habits existed among both Jews and Gentiles in Romans, 230. Käsemann rules out Jewish orthodoxy and yet lands convincingly on the “rigorist” Jewish Christian of the diaspora comparing Gal 4:9 and Col 2:16 in Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, 368.
[26] Isaiah 45:23. Here too Isaiah has in view the tension of God at work among a Gentile king Cyrus and Egyptians, Cushites, and Sabeans bowing before Israel’s God.
[27] Wright, “Romans,” 636.
[28] Wright contends that Jews and Gentiles sharing table fellowship is visible corollary of justification by faith, in Ibid., 633.
[29] Psalm 18:49 (LXX 17:50), Deut 32:43, Ps 117:1, Isa 11:10
[30] Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, 374.
[31] Hoyt, “Romans,” 272.
[32] Lancaster, Romans, 244–45.
[33] From chapter 16 we count 5: (16:5, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16)
[34] Oakes, Reading Romans In Pompeii, 94–96, 111.
[35] Scot McKnight, Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos Press, 2016), 99.
[36] Lancaster surveys how ‘strong’ commentators miss the point: Paul is not calling for a condescension toward people too weak to have their scruples challenged, but an acceptance without passing judgement, in Romans, 232–3.
[37] Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, 385.
[38] Wright, “Romans,” 648.
[39] Ibid., 653.
[40] Among the 29 persons greeted in ch. 16 there are a higher-than-expected proportion of women (one-third), two-thirds Gentiles, many names likely of slaves and freedmen, and in the case of Prisca, a woman listed ahead of her husband. For a helpful analysis, Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 56–60.
Works Cited
Calvin, John. Calvin’s Commentaries Romans Galatians. Wilmington, Del.: Associated Publishers & Authors, 1980.
Dunn, James D. G. Beginning from Jerusalem. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2008.
Hoyt, Thomas L., Jr. “Romans.” In True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary, edited by Brian K. Blount, Cain Hope Felder, Clarice J. Martin, and Emerson B. Powery. Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2007.
Käsemann, Ernst. Commentary on Romans. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1980.
Lancaster, Sarah Heaner. Romans: A Theological Commentary on the Bible. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.
McKnight, Scot. Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Brazos Press, 2016.
Meeks, Wayne A. The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1983.
Oakes, Peter. Reading Romans In Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level. Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2013.
Reasoner, Mark. Romans in Full Circle: A History of Interpretation. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005.
———. “Rome and Roman Christianity.” In Dictionary of Paul and His Letters, edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove, Ill: Intervarsity Press, 1993.
Wright, N.T. “Romans.” In The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary, Vol. 10. Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon Press, 2002.
