Who Will Separate Us from the Love of Christ?

A reflection on the Letter to the Romans 8:35

Message of the Rector Major Fr. Fabio Attard, SDB

The apostle Paul, almost 2,000 years ago, in his letter to the Romans (8:35) posed a question that still challenges us in a unique way as believers in Jesus Christ: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?”

This isn’t a question addressed to a group of specialists in theology. Paul offers it as a challenge, first for himself, and then for believers, persecuted and unsure, who lived under the difficult conditions of the Roman Empire. That question still speaks to us today — to the anxieties of our current time and in our search for meaning and stability — in this time marked by an uncertainty that is no less worrisome.

Deep Roots

I would like to comment on this phrase of Paul, first by employing the image of a tree. A tree doesn’t remain standing because someone holds it up from the outside: it stands firm because it has deep roots that anchor it in the depths of the earth, where the fury of the winds and storms do not reach. When Paul uses the words “rooted in Christ,” he means precisely this. It’s not a question of believing certain things at the level of ideas, but of giving shape to one’s identity and of saying: “My life belongs to Christ, and this fact is fundamental, in the sense that it gives a solid foundation and structure to my entire being.”

In modern language, we could say that it’s about finding a solid foundation for one’s identity. In a world where we’re constantly urged to create our own image on social media, through professional achievements, and according to what others think of us, Paul invites us to read our lives in a radically different way. My true identity, Paul would say today, doesn’t depend on how much money I’ve accumulated or what position I occupy in society. My identity depends on my decision and firm determination to belong to Jesus Christ and on my decision to recognize myself as loved by him unconditionally.

Living and being nourished from these roots changes everything. Since they’re deep roots, storms can shake the branches but can never uproot the tree. Trials can shake it, but they can’t tear it from the ground of the love of Christ. I have the awareness of belonging to Someone who never abandons me.

The nutrition of love

A tree absorbs what it needs to live from the soil in which it’s planted. In the same way, the Christian lives his faith fully, nourished by the love of Christ, because he’s rooted in Christ. But what does this mean, concretely?

It means finding moments for listening and for silence. This choice isn’t something extraordinary or reserved only for “religious.” On the contrary, it is for everyone. It consists of the wise practice of taking a break, of reading the Word of God, of praying, and of simply remaining silent in front of a Mystery that’s bigger than ourselves and that we carry in our hearts. In these times of ceaseless running around and constant noise, taking time for these moments on a systematic and regular basis becomes something increasingly necessary, precious, and appreciated.

It also means participating in the sacraments, not as the fulfillment of an external duty, but as a vital encounter with the grace of Christ. When we consider our bodily health, we realize the need to eat. If we’re attentive, we discover that a similar need exists for the soul: it needs to be nourished. The authentic and sincere Christian discovers that without this spiritual nourishment our true life withers and dies.

There’s one sure element that brings everything to life. To allow ourselves to be nourished by the love of Christ means that this love, since it’s authentic, transforms our way of relating to ourselves and others. A Christian who is nourished by the love of Christ gradually begins to see life according to a different logic: not the logic of revenge, of ruthless competition, of the desperate search for security through the accumulation of things, or of indifference to others. Let us begin to live guided by the logic of love: the love that forgives, that serves, and that trusts — not because we’re naturally good people, but because we’ve been transformed from the inside by the love that continually nourishes us.

The “Victory” that sustains us

Perhaps the most powerful dimension of Paul’s message concerns “victory.” This isn’t a theoretical victory but a historical reality: Christ has risen from the dead, and his victory over death radically changes the way we face life. We no longer live in the shadow of death. Instead, we live in the light of the resurrection, in the light of him who, having conquered death, now lives forever.

This doesn’t mean that Christians are exempt from suffering and death. Paul knows this very well: he enumerates the trials that the believer faces, such as hunger, nakedness, danger, persecution. What it does mean is that these trials don’t have the final say. It means that when the Christian is faced with illness, mourning, or injustice, he’s never abandoned to himself within an indifferent universe. He’s supported by the certainty that the One in whom he has placed his trust has already won. It’s not a certainty that takes away suffering, but one that inscribes it within a bigger story, a story that has meaning and doesn’t end in nothingness.

A question for today

Paul’s question resonates today in a world where many seek stability and meaning. Maybe you’re a person of faith, or maybe you’re simply curious about what Christianity has to say about life. In both cases, these questions deserve reflection: On what do I build my identity? What really nourishes me? In what do I trust when everything collapses around me?

Paul offers an answer that isn’t easy, but one which is profound: you can build your life on Christ, you can nourish yourself with his love, and you can live in the certainty of a victory that goes beyond any temporal appearance. It’s not an answer for those looking for ways that are easy, but it’s an answer that has sustained countless people — saints and sinners, heroes and everyday people — through the most difficult moments of their lives.

Perhaps this is worth considering.