Spengler wrote:St. Paul (or the standard interpretation of Paul) says that the Law ends up burdening us with sin. This is unrecognizable from the Jewish vantage point. What Paul actually meant, or if he meant the same thing in different passages, is a question outside my competence.
Spengler,
There's a vast, ancient, still lively and diverse literature about what Paul meant in teaching that the Law brought sin, and, through sin, death. It's past my competence, too. But it's too important a question, for Christianity, for Jewish-Christian realtions, and for Western history, simply to give up for want of expert consensus. An understanding of what Paul might have meant that is quite recognisable from the Jewish vantage point seems readily attainable -- and given Paul's background and his constant reference to Tanakh in his Epistles, only such an interpretation seems likely to be valid.
I suggest we take the most sympathetic view of Paul, namely to assume that he got this from Jesus (though James, Peter, and whoever Paul studied under in "Arabia"), and meant essentially the same thing that Jesus meant, albeit wording it in a new way, suited for preaching to Judaising Greeks and Hellenised Jews rather than to relatively unhellenised Jews in Eretz Israel.
Jesus seems to me centrally concerned with growing Jewish despair over the growing difficulty, increasingly the impossibility, of full Torah observance and ritual purity under Imperial Roman rule. He seems to have been concerned to communicate means of observing Torah subjectively, in spirit, in an age when full objective observance was increasingly impossible. He sometimes deliberately violated the letter of the law and disparaged the Temple cult (an old prophetic tradition) as a rhetorical device for making his point. But his underlying goal was to deflect the Jews from the Zealotic attempt to force the Eschaton by suicidal revolt, toward which their despair of complying with Torah was plainly impelling them; his underlying goal was in the best "choose life" tradition. Jesus remarked that no one who has tasted old wine (objective observance) wants the new (merely subjective observance), for the old is better; but to continue insisting on the old was to choose death, not life.
Jews who must live with inability to comply with Torah due to
force majeure but who choose to endure and survive as Jews rather than either give up Judaism or self-destruct are not unlikely to reflect, and to be strengthened by the reflection, that full Torah compliance is impossible even for the best of Jews under the best of conditions due to weakness of will, that even the best of Jews in the best of times has ample need of the Day of Atonement. If good Jews in good times fail to comply fully with Torah due to weakness of will, but do not despair, why should any Jew in bad times despair about inability to comply fully due to
force majeure? Any objective normative code of conduct raises the "weakness of will" problem, and any objective conditions that impede compliance stimulate reflection on that weakness; that is the philosophical aspect of the problem.
But the historical aspect that occasioned Paul's focus on that philosophical aspect was Zealotry, the notion that Jews collectively, unable due to
force majeure to keep the law, should engage in suicidal revolt as a means of forcing God to rescue them with a messianic miracle, precipitating the Eschaton.
When Paul said that the Law brings sin, and through sin, death, he seems to me to have been referring to the growing threat of Zealotry, of the sin of suicidal despair at inability to comply with Torah, which, as events proved, menaced not only participating Jews in Eretz Israel but also non-participating and non-sympathising Jews throughout the Empire. To be sure, Paul "talks around" this subject, addressing it indirectly, in only its philosophical, abstract aspect. But in his public preaching, including his Epistles (public documents), it was not prudent to speak more plainly about the growing likelihood of Jewish revolt and about its likely consequences. Imperial Rome was not Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park, and Jews of the era killed one another over religious politics. Paul's meaning must have been quite plain to his audience of Hellenised Jews and Judaising Gentiles, all of whom must have been all too keenly aware of the impending horror. As Jesus seems to have been.
Paul, like Jesus's disciples, seems to have anticipated an imminent Eschaton. It seems likely that they thought that the impending Zealot revolt would succeed in precipitating the Eschaton. However, they seem to have thought that that Eschaton would differ from what the Zealots anticipated -- that Jesus, returning as the unveiled messiah to rule in glory, would reward not the Zealots who precipitated the Eschaton, but those who had resisted the temptation to force the Kingdom. In this context, to eschew objective compliance with Torah was the surest way to resist the temptation of Zealotry, of suicidal despair over inability to comply with Torah, and necessary to be saved at the imminent Second Coming.
Given that Rabbinical Judaism, no less than Christianity, is a reaction against Zealotry, and that the Pharisees, by whose survivors Rabbinical Judaism was formed, generally opposed the first Zealot revolt, cannot Paul's meaning be understood in a sense fully comprehensible from a Jewish vantage point? All parties concerned were essentially arguing about how to read Deuteronomy 30: the Zealots insisted on a naive literal interpretation, Christianity offered an explicit ironical revision claiming Authorized discontinuity, and Pharasaic-Rabbinical Judaism offered a similar implicit revision that claimed continuity. The Zealots' naive reading of the Law did bring sin, the sin of despair, and with it, death, not just to themselves but to millions of others; the issue between Rabbinical Judaism and Christianity is merely how to read the Law to ensure that it serves life.
To be sure, Antinomianism has its risks, but so does naive literalism; that is the lesson of the Second Exile. Imitating God is not easy; the one proposition I will maintain with confidence is that none of us has it entirely right. Fortunately, we are not commanded to agree with one another, but rather to love one another.