Something beyond Seneca's imagination

The gift of one’s life — the costliest gift imaginable — would hardly be given to an undeserving cause: as Seneca comments, if a person is worthy (dignus), I shall defend him even at the cost of my own life; if he is unworthy (indignus), I will do what I can to aid him, but not at such a cost (Ben. 1.10.5).72 Yet Christ died in those inconceivable conditions — a gift that, Paul seems anxious to insist, is no mere throwing away of life, but an expression of love, the deepest personal commitment. This love is figured as God’s rather than Christ’s (5:5, 8; contrast Gal 2:20), since the death of Christ is God’s handing over of his only Son (8:32); but the difference is not great (cf. 8:39: the love of God in Christ). This gift is neither a trivial token, tossed to whomever it might reach, nor a costly gift carefully targeted at the highly deserving. It is the costliest gift, given with the deepest sentiment and the highest commitment to those who, at the time of its giving, had nothing to render them fitting recipients. It is this strange and nonsensical phenomenon that Paul parades in 5:5—11 (cf. 9:6—18). On the basis of this extraordinary gift, Paul can take confidence: if enemies have been reconciled in such a fashion, how much more will the reconciled be saved (5:10)!—J. M. G. Barclay, Paul and the Gift, 478