As we saw in the first part of this episode, Paul does not speak in his writings of reconciliation through repentance, but of redemption or forgiveness of sin through blood. For example, he says in Romans 5:9:
“Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him.”
Here he states that it is Jesus’ blood that makes us righteous, not heartfelt repentance. In religious understanding, to be “justified” means to be forgiven of one’s faults. And blood is connected to animal sacrifices and to the value the priesthood attributed to blood within the ritual.
God, however, had given a simple and clear command regarding blood, which we see both in Genesis and in Deuteronomy:
“Only be sure not to eat the blood, for the blood is the life, and you shall not eat the life with the flesh,” and
“But flesh with its life, which is its blood, you shall not eat.”
The phrase “not to eat with the blood” meant not to eat the animal raw. There are two clear examples in the biblical texts of this custom. In 1 Samuel we read:
“The people rushed upon the spoil, and took sheep, oxen, and calves, and slaughtered them on the ground; and the people ate them with the blood.”
And in Ezekiel:
“Therefore say to them: ‘Thus says the Lord: You eat meat with the blood, you lift up your eyes to your idols, you shed blood—shall you then possess the land?’”
About 450 years passed between the generation of Samuel and that of Ezekiel; nevertheless, the people continued the practice of eating raw meat. In Sumerian, Babylonian, and Canaanite cultures there are also indications of raw meat consumption—not as a general dietary practice, but in ritual, magical, or religious contexts.
God’s command undoubtedly had a sanitary origin. However, over time this logical and reasonable instruction was transformed into religion, by attributing to the blood shed in the slaughter of an animal a redemptive value.
Romans 5 relies on the logic of the sacrificial ritual as it has traditionally been taught. Therefore, by following the logic of forgiveness through slaughter rather than through repentance—as the divine instrument of forgiveness—Paul, like the anonymous author of Hebrews, could not speak of simple conversion of heart. If he had, he would have invalidated his entire argument based on blood as payment and cleansing for sin. Whereas forgiveness of faults is repentance of heart and a change of path.
The “Law” Paul mentions in Romans includes, in part, the one given to the people of Israel to show them what they must not do if they wanted to keep their covenant with God active—for example, not stealing or killing, and instead living the opposite in their life, which is to live with integrity. That is the moral law, and Paul goes so far as to say that those who practice it will be justified or declared righteous—which in turn means free of sin. He says:
“It is not those who hear the Law who are righteous before God, but those who practice the Law; those will be justified.”
So Paul develops two kinds of justification for salvation: on one hand, justification through keeping the moral law—without which we are not righteous in God’s eyes; and on the other, justification through acceptance by “faith” of his gospel, that is, the doctrine of salvation through blood.
Repentance as cleansing and forgiveness of faults is absent from both perspectives.
However, the perfect balance—supported by the prophetic voice (not the Levitical one)—is the keeping of the moral law joined to repentance, as instruments of forgiveness, cleansing of faults, and reconciliation with God.
Paul—and to a great extent the author of Hebrews—developed this salvation doctrine with a strong emphasis on faith in blood, a doctrine Paul himself claims to have received by direct revelation from Jesus after His death. He records it in his letter to the Galatians:
“Brothers and sisters, I want you to understand that the gospel I preach is not based on human reasoning. I did not receive it from any human source, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ.”
Of course, the only one who can know whether it was truly a revelation from Jesus, or the result of a personal mental process based on human reasoning, is the one who presents it as such.
However, since the ritual of sacrifices and burnt offerings—and the redemptive value attributed to the blood of animals—was not ordered by God, according to Jeremiah, Isaiah, and other respected prophets, to claim that this doctrine comes from Jesus inevitably places it in contradiction with the prophetic voice.
Even if we cannot know with certainty whether that revelation truly came from Jesus, we can, through an analysis free of bias, evaluate whether what Paul taught is coherent with the prophetic teachings about the value of blood.
We have witnesses of the gospel of Jesus, and we have the prophetic word clearly stating that the ritual was excluded from the covenant with God.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul expresses the scope of his gospel:
“This will take place on the day when God judges the secrets of human beings, according to my gospel, through Jesus Christ.”
That is, Paul presents his gospel as powerful as the very Word of God given to Moses at Sinai. And it is by these words—his gospel—that God will judge humanity’s sins, according to him. Paul places himself at the head of a movement that replaces the message Jesus preached during His life, saying that by revelation Jesus Himself delivered it to him.
And in Galatians he places under a curse anyone who does not follow or believe his gospel:
“But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under a curse. I repeat: if anyone is preaching to you a gospel other than the one you received, let them be under a curse.”
What happens here is that Paul’s gospel is not the same as the one Jesus preached, nor the one He ordered His disciples to proclaim. And of that gospel—the gospel of Jesus—there are many witnesses. Jesus did not curse those who did not accept His message. He warned of the judgment that would come if people rejected what is good, but He did not condemn them with imprecatory words.
And what was His message for the forgiveness of faults?
Jesus’ message about forgiveness is clearly focused on the mercy of God, sincere repentance, change of conduct, and reconciliation with one’s neighbor. Whereas the gospel Paul preached—and placed under a curse anyone who did not believe it—has no witness other than the author who proclaimed it. That curse is based on the Levitical model of sacrifices: blood as the means of forgiveness.
The key phrase in Galatians is: “we preached to you.” Who are “we”? It is not Peter, John, or the disciples who followed Jesus during His life, but Paul’s close followers: Timothy, Titus, Apollos, Silas. Not even Jesus cursed those who did not accept His message. Why? Because He respected the freedom of choice given by God. Each person is responsible for the path they choose, with its consequences. But Paul’s curse seems to seek obedience through fear, not through conviction.
Observe the contrast between the gospel of Jesus and that of Paul.
Jesus proclaimed good news calling people to repentance, inner transformation, forgiveness, and love of neighbor. He never imposed His message or threatened curses upon those who did not accept it. His call was a free invitation—an opening to the Kingdom of God based on compassion, justice, and reconciliation.
By contrast, Paul’s gospel was built upon the structure of the sacrificial system and the idea of blood as a necessary means to obtain justification before God. In that system, man sinned and had to die. The “mercy” of the ritual did not consist in returning to the path of light or in sincere repentance, but in substituting the guilty with another being—an animal—that died in his place. That meant the debt had to be paid with death. There was no inner, spiritual redemption, but a physical compensation. That was the “mercy” of the sacrificial ritual.
In Paul’s letters, the center is not the change of heart nor the abandonment of unjust conduct—which was the center for the prophets and for Jesus Himself—but believing that Jesus died as a sacrifice for sins. And not believing it brings judgment and curse, according to Paul’s own written words.
For Jesus, for the prophets, for the writers of the Psalms, and for King Solomon himself, forgiveness was available to anyone who sincerely returned to God. For Paul, forgiveness depended on accepting a faith formula centered on the death and blood of Jesus. That difference is not minor. It is the contrast between a gospel that liberates—and one that conditions; between one that invites change—and another that imposes a belief under a curse.
One important detail to consider when analyzing Paul’s gospel is the early date of his writings within the New Testament. When examining New Testament texts, it is important to understand how they came to be arranged as we read them today. This gives the necessary context to interpret phrases such as the one in the Gospel of John:
“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”
At first glance, this statement seems to confirm the Pauline doctrine of redemption through the blood of Jesus. However, what many readers do not know is that Paul’s letters were the earliest New Testament writings, and his theological message—centered on the atoning death of Jesus as a sacrificial substitute—deeply influenced later texts, including the Gospels.
The four Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—were originally written anonymously. None of these texts includes the author’s name within the body of the writing, as was common in many ancient works. Titles such as “Gospel according to Matthew” or “Gospel according to Luke” were added later, probably toward the end of the second century, when the church began to collect, classify, and give authority to certain texts in order to form what we now know as the New Testament canon.
As for Luke, although Acts is also attributed to him, the author never identifies himself by name. The attribution to “Luke the physician, Paul’s companion” is based on later traditions and assumptions made by second-century Christian writers such as Irenaeus. This early influence of Paul on the narrative and message of the Gospels reinforces the need to read the New Testament with a reflective lens, also considering what the prophets said: that the sacrificial ritual was not ordered by God. With this prophetic key in hand, many claims that appear to have divine support can be re-evaluated. That is why New Testament texts should also be read in light of prophetic warnings that denounce sacrificial ritual as a practice not commanded by God, and not as the legitimate foundation of authentic spirituality.
Let us continue examining Paul’s thinking: when he speaks of salvation by faith and justification not achieved by works, he uses Abraham’s faith as an example—Abraham believed God’s promise even without seeing its fulfillment. However, in that same letter he shifts the focus: now salvation and justification no longer depend on that kind of faith, but on the blood of Jesus. This is a clear example of justification by the work of a man—Jesus—and the “faith” he speaks of elsewhere is no longer centered on trusting the word of God, as Abraham did, but on believing what Paul teaches—his gospel.
Paul writes:
“What then shall we say that Abraham, our father according to the flesh, has found? For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about—but not before God. For what does Scripture say? ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.’ Now to the one who works, wages are not counted as grace but as debt; but to the one who does not work but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness. David also speaks of the blessedness of the man to whom God credits righteousness apart from works, saying: ‘Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count sin.’”
I agree with the line of his thought here: we are not forgiven—and therefore freed from the final punishment, which is definitive separation from the Light and Love of God—by something we ourselves do, but by gift, grace, and the mercy of God’s love. In that sense, if we believe God’s message—that is faith—we are saved.
Why? Because we ask for forgiveness and change our path. As explained, that is the way of cleansing and reconciliation with the Creator. But that action or “work” is internal, spiritual, and personal. And Paul says: “God credits righteousness apart from works.” Yet contradictorily he develops the idea that it is by Jesus’ work on the cross and His blood that we obtain salvation, based on what he believed about the ritual.
It is possible that because of this kind of tangled and disordered thinking, the writer of 2 Peter said Paul spoke about “things hard to understand.” Of course, that author does not see those matters as I do—incoherent—but as the product of a wisdom inaccessible to the common or “ignorant” man, as he calls them.
This part of Paul’s thought—specifically in Romans, where he says God credits righteousness not by works we do—was not shared by the writer of James, who says:
“So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.”
And he adds:
“Do you want to know, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is dead? Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar? Do you see that faith was working with his works, and faith was perfected by works? And the Scripture was fulfilled that says: ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness,’ and he was called a friend of God. You see then that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone.”
The writer of this passage joins two very different events separated in time by an estimated period of 37 to 45 years. That is, according to his interpretation, God would have taken more than three decades to justify Abraham. Yet Genesis 15:6 clearly states that Abraham believed God’s promise and it was counted to him as righteousness—that is, he was considered righteous at that very moment, without mediation by any external work. To have it “counted as righteousness” means, in this context, that he was forgiven or declared righteous before God.
Therefore, the writer of James’ personal interpretation does not agree with what the original text in Genesis states: God did not justify Abraham because he was willing to offer his son in sacrifice, but because he believed God in his heart that He would fulfill the word or promise He gave him. Justification was the result of a spiritual response—believing God with the heart—not the result of an extreme physical act.
So what does the writer of James mean by “justified by works”?
When we read his example, he is speaking literally about demonstrating faith through a concrete action. In modern terms we would say: “Don’t tell me with words—show me with actions.” In other words, it is not enough to believe inwardly; that faith must be evidenced through visible actions. That is why he presents the example of an extreme action by the patriarch: taking his son, placing him on a stone, and, if necessary, killing him in obedience to God.
According to Paul’s understanding, this example James uses would place Abraham in a position to boast about what he did—though not before God—and it would also imply that God owes him something for that work. As Paul says: “To the one who works, wages are not counted as grace but as debt.” This is a clear collision of ideas between two authors, not to mention the confusion created by claiming all these books were inspired by God.
After that, Paul uses Psalm 32 to support his belief that we are forgiven by God’s grace without needing to do something physical on our part. He quotes:
“Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord does not count iniquity…”
But he omits another key part of the Psalm, where it says:
“I acknowledged my sin to You, and I did not cover my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,’ and You forgave the iniquity of my sin.”
By omitting the part that speaks of personal confession, Paul is able to integrate, elsewhere, his idea that shed blood is the true source of salvation. In Paul’s thought, redemption in the blood of Jesus clearly refers to His death on the cross. That is, Jesus’ death is not recognized as an atrocious injustice caused by human evil, but is clothed with a spiritual meaning imposed by the need to justify doctrinally what happened. This reinterpretation arose from a mixture of ideas: the ritual of sacrifices, and the difficulty of understanding why—being the expected Messiah—Jesus ended His life without fulfilling messianic expectations.
And where do I draw this conclusion from?
From two sources. First, from the prophetic voice that, in God’s name, denies having commanded sacrifices and burnt offerings, and declares that what He desired was obedience, justice, and a repentant heart.
Second, from the analysis of historical reality: the people of Israel expected a Messiah with earthly power, capable of liberating and ruling. When that expectation was not met, an interpretation naturally developed that turned His death into a real sacrifice for sins. But that was not said by Jesus nor by the prophets; it was said by Paul and the writer of Hebrews.
So, according to Paul’s mental process, the blood of Jesus saves and justifies us. The Law Paul mentions—though he does not say it openly—includes both the Decalogue and the ritual laws. This is confirmed when he teaches that we are redeemed by the blood of Jesus. Though he does not explain it clearly, what he says implies that he is comparing that blood to the blood of the sacrificed animal in the ritual, as a substitute for the human being in fault. Because, according to the understanding of the time, the wage of sin was death. In part, that is true. But Paul’s reasoning stumbles on the mistaken belief that the ritual had been established by God, setting aside the prophetic clarification that denies that authorship.
When the first created pair broke the Alliance, death literally entered into them and into their descendants: us. That is why we still all die. So yes: the wage of sin is death. But later understanding in ancient Israel turned that spiritual truth into a literal debt, as if it were necessary to pay something concrete to repair what had been done.
This way of interpreting death as a debt that had to be paid gave rise to an entire sacrificial system in Israel, and it is a purely human interpretation of restoration. However, the structure of the sacrificial practice was not original to Israel but to the pagan peoples of the ancient world. What was original in Israel was attributing sacrifices to restitution or reconciliation with God.
Despite Paul’s conjecture, at some point in Israel’s history God directly corrects the idea that sin must be paid with death through an animal substitute. During the prophetic period, He declares openly that He does not want the wicked to die, but to turn, to depart from the evil way and live—and that He had commanded no sacrifices.
Yet His Voice was not heeded, as is written in Jeremiah, in the same prophetic book where the terms of the covenant are clarified and where the ritual is excluded from the Alliance:
“But they did not listen to Me. They continued doing what they wanted, following the stubborn desires of their evil heart. They went backward instead of forward.”
This prophetic correction dismantles the logic of sacrifice as payment. God insists that if someone sincerely repents, He will not even remember their past sins—and that He Himself will give a new spirit so that the person can stop practicing evil and live according to His will, which is to conduct life with integrity. No blood is demanded, no offering, no punishment—only a change of heart that God promises to facilitate if there is genuine return to Him, with His own Spirit in us. That is true reconciliation.
The idea of a sacrifice implies loss or cost, and God never asked Israel—or us—for sacrifices. That is why, in pagan cultures and even in Hebrew culture, something was given in exchange for a favor from the deities: a sacrificed animal or various offerings to obtain what was desired from the god. They had a very earthly understanding that they had to do something to restore a situation to its original state as quickly as possible.
The conscience of ancient humanity felt something like a legal or moral obligation to repair a great harm established in the beginning. Those ideas—the sense of offense and the need for repair—did not appear out of nowhere. The book of the life of the first created pair explains that they tried to take their own lives several times because of pain and guilt over the transgression, and because of their desire to regain union with their Creator and return to the place where they had been born.
One of those times, God told Adam that nothing he did—no action of his own—would change what God had spoken. There was a set time that had to be reached for things to be restored as in the beginning, before the transgression, and salvation would come from God Himself—not from human effort. That implies waiting, trusting Him, and not acting physically. That was hard for Adam to understand because he had lost his spiritual body and nature and now lived in an earthly one, where the conditions of life had changed radically. So the Lord told them to continue their lives, to populate the earth, to try to make the best of it, and that at the time He had appointed, what they longed for would come.
This book also places the authorship of the blood offering in a man—Adam—not in God. Adam adopted that practice as a personal custom of giving something to the Creator, which by inference was transmitted to his descendants and became a human tradition persisting through generations. Adam’s intention was to restore the lost relationship through an act—by pouring his blood on an altar—something like extending an olive branch as a symbol of peace or reconciliation. And that is exactly what the sacrificial ritual represented: a human effort to reach reconciliation, not understanding—or not wanting to understand—that God’s salvation and forgiveness do not come through sacrifice or human effort. We see, then, that this need to do something to remedy a grave fault committed at the beginning—carried out through sacrifice—was born from man himself.
Adam’s action reflected the natural inclination of our physical essence: to act, to try to repair through personal effort, instead of resting in God and trusting that He will do what we ask. That attitude would be appropriate if it were a matter of correcting material harm—such as physically offending someone—but it does not repair the spiritual damage caused by breaking the Covenant with God, by rejecting His Voice and listening to another that deceived. The repair God expects is internal. It is a spiritual work, not a material one. It is an attitude of rest, humility, and trust—the opposite of the physical impulse to do.
True remedy and restoration are spiritual and come from God—who is Spirit, not flesh—through reconciliation with the Creator by sincere recognition of our faults. Over time, that original guilt became unconscious, but it continued passing from generation to generation. Instead of becoming an inner search, it was institutionalized as a system of physical repair. The pattern became: I give you something, and you forgive me. But that is not what God wanted. And when we do it our way, we turn our backs on the Voice of God.