Philemon 1-25 "Disciples or Admirers?"

         Last Sunday, I suggested that some people would probably need to consult the Table of Contents in their Bible to quickly find the Book of Hebrews.  I would submit that this week an even larger number of us would need to go through the same exercise in order to find this tiny letter which we just read.  It is a letter that the Apostle Paul wrote to his friend, Philemon.

         You see, Philemon is the shortest book in the entire Bible – only 335 Greek words.  If we are used to the rather lengthy letters that Paul wrote to churches in cities like Corinth and Galatia, then coming across Philemon is likely to be a real shocker because it is only 25 verses long – not even divided into chapters – 25 verses start to finish; that’s it.  

         Paul wrote the letter around 60 CE while he was in prison.  For all intents and purposes, it is a both a private and a public letter – the only one of its kind in our Bible.  Paul addressed it to Philemon – friend and Christian – and it is about a personal matter involving this congregational sponsor.  However, Paul likely meant for these words to be read in the presence of the fledgling Christian congregation that met in Philemon’s home. 

         The personal matter that Paul was addressing involved one of Philemon’s slaves named Onesimus.  Now - don’t get all riled up, thinking you are going to get an insider’s view of Paul’s attitudes on slavery and oppression.  These topics are not the point of this letter. 

         The reality here is that Onesimus was no oppressed angel.  He was a lawbreaker.  Not only was he a runaway, fleeing both his master and the severe consequences of breaking Roman law, but he had also apparently taken some amount of loot from Philemon, perhaps to hold him over until he could begin a new life – anywhere - as a free man.

         Somehow, we do not know exactly how, the paths of Paul and Onesimus crossed.  Perhaps it was in prison.  Or maybe they had become acquainted previously through Philemon. It does not matter really.  What is important is that the two men met, Paul did his highly successful evangelism thing, and Onesimus was baptized into the Christian faith. 

         However, not only did Onesimus become a Christian, he became a really good Christian.  Paul says that while in prison, he became like a son even as Paul became his spiritual father. Though as a slave, Onesimus might have been pretty worthless (at least according to his master, Philemon), as a Christian brother, Paul declares that the young runaway fulfilled the meaning of his name, for Onesimus in Greek means “useful.”

         And so Paul wrote this 25 verse, 335-word letter for Onesimus, the runaway slave, to take to his master, Philemon.   Paul musters up all his persuasive powers to convince Philemon to forgive Onesimus and restore him to the household. 

         When you look at the letter closely, Paul really pulls out all the stops, not shying away from emotional manipulation, logical reasoning, and even a veiled threat or two.  Anglican church historian James Kiefer, who considers the letter to be a wonderful example of classic Biblical humor, puts it this way, "As you read the letter, stay loose. It is by all odds the funniest chapter in the New Testament. Note how Paul says, 'Of course I wouldn't twist your arm or anything!' to the accompaniment of splintering bone."  Paul certainly uses some interesting tactics in his appeal.

       He opens the letter by calling Philemon his “dear friend.” However, he also includes a couple of other folks in his salutation, knowing that, as a consequence, the letter will be read to the congregation.  All eyes then will be upon Philemon to see how their church host will respond. 

       Then Paul butters Philemon up a bit by congratulating him on the success he has had in sharing his newfound faith.  ”The hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.”  Who can resist such a good pat on the back?

       But Paul is not done yet. The apostle moves in with a blast of emotionalism.  “I could command you,” Paul writes, but “I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love.” SIGH.  “I do not want to force you to help me; rather, I would like for you to do it of your own free will.”  How Machiavellian!  This is truly an example of the mailed fist in the velvet glove.  And besides, Paul implies, I am an old man, single and lonely and in prison, and this runaway slave has become like a son to me.  DOUBLE SIGH.

       Next Paul switches his argument from emotional to logical. He states that though Onesimus might have been useless to Philemon, he is useful to Paul as a spiritual companion and disciple.  It is here that Paul makes that cute wordplay on Onesimus’ very name. 

       Then Paul begins to wrap up his argument – and on a cosmic note, no less.  Maybe this all had to happen for a reason, he suggests. Maybe Onesimus needed to be separated from Philemon for a while so that he might return as more than a slave, that he might return as a beloved brother in Christ (thanks to Paul, of course)!  “How much more he will mean to you now, Philemon!” Paul reasons artfully.

       And finally Paul ends his appeal on a very practical – though wee bit threatening – note.  First he offers to pay Philemon back for the loot Onesimus stole.  Then Paul finishes with a flourish.  “I am sure, as I write this, that you will do what I ask.”  And, by the way, get me a room, because I intend to visit soon.  Love, Paul.  No pressure, Philemon, no pressure!

       Besides this letter suggesting perhaps a new perspective on the lengths Paul will go to in order to get his way, what else do these 25 verses have to say to us? Whatever do these 335 Greek words about a runaway slave and his master who lived nearly 2000 years ago have to do with you and me?  Is the letter really just about Paul’s artful powers of persuasion and literary prowess? Is it simply about forgiveness - or does it go deeper even than that?  Let’s look for a moment at the context in which this letter was written.

       Face it - the whole situation with Onesimus and Philemon was a messy one.  From the outside looking in, it was not black and white but rather a million shades of gray.  Competing forces pulled and tugged at all the moral compasses involved.  Church of Ireland pastor Robert Ferris outlines some of the aspects of this complex situation in his blog:

         Take Philemon.  (Ferris reasons) He has a good place in his society.  What would the other slave owners think if he let a prisoner dictate what he should do with the slave that ran away?  It would be a bad example. And yet, Philemon knows Paul has cache and authority in the Christian church.  Surely it would behoove Philemon to, at the very least, balance his role in society with his commitment to the faith.  And, of course, both competing forces challenge Philemon to uphold justice – whatever that means.

         Take Onesimus. What will happen if he goes back?  Would he face flogging and torture and perhaps even death under Roman law?  Would he be better off hanging loose and not depending on Paul’s letter-writing ability to get his life back?  Just how far do you take this faith in Christ bit?

       Take Paul.  A large reward awaited him for the return of the runaway slave.  And in addition to the financial incentive, Paul was, after all, a Roman citizen, bound by Roman law.  However, he was also a Christian, bound by the Gospel of Jesus. 

       In short, everyone is caught in the middle.  Everyone is being pulled by competing priorities.  And yet, it is decision time.  For Paul and Philemon:  Are they going to be Romans or Christians?  Citizens or disciples?  What is their fundamental identity?

       For Onesimus:  To what extent is he willing to adhere to his newfound Christian faith?  After all, his relationship with Christ called him to make right his relationship with his owner. And yet, his future— his very life--hangs in the balance.  How much should he trust Paul’s words about there being neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, but all are one in Christ Jesus? What is his fundamental identity?

       What to do, oh what to do!  Why can’t these ethical dilemmas be easier to figure out and their solutions more straightforward?  Why are these three Biblical characters faced with such foundationally competing priorities? But isn’t that the way it is in all of life?  Even today, even for us?

       Look around you.  Our lives are messy.  There is little that is black and white.  Situations we encounter on a daily basis can be a million shades of gray. Any of you who has read even a couple of Jodi Picoult’s novels has seen this messiness play out in a variety of circumstances. 

       And yet, in the midst of all this messiness, in this tiny letter to Philemon, Paul raises the root question for all of us who say that we are Christians.  And the question is this:  What is our fundamental identity?  Are we willing to acknowledge that being a Christian means following Christ instead of culture?  That it means about making the decision to love and to be reconciled at all costs?  That it means deciding to tear down dividing walls and build new relationships based on our identity as a follower of Jesus?

       Christianity has, since its inception, been radically countercultural, transforming lives and communities – but often at a cost.  But then, Jesus never said it would be a Sunday School picnic. 

      As modern Christians, then, we ought to be constantly finding ourselves in the middle of difficult situations – just as Paul and Philemon and Onesimus did.  We ought to be constantly reminded that our lives are messy, that there is not much in black and white.  We ought to be constantly feeling the pull between our culture and the Gospel message that we proclaim. 

       And if we are not, well…as Southern Baptist theologian and ethicist, James W. Mclendon,, wrote, “Clarence Jordan, the founder of the Koinonia community in Americus, GA, said that Jesus has many admirers but few followers. And he had to look no further than his own brother for confirmation of that sad fact.

       Clarence asked his brother, who later was to become a State senator and Georgia Supreme Court Justice, to represent Koinoinia in a legal action. But his brother declined because to do so would be the kiss of death for his political aspirations.

       When Clarence reminded him that they’d both joined the church together, and both had said “yes” to the question “Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior,” his brother said, “I follow Jesus, up to a point.”

       And Clarence asked, “Could that point by chance be the Cross?”

       And his brother said, “That’s right. I follow him to the cross, but I’m not going to get on the cross. I’m not getting myself crucified.”

       And Clarence responded, “Then I don’t believe you are a disciple of Jesus. You’re an admirer. . . but not a disciple.”

         Philemon, Onesimus, and Paul.  Admirers or disciples? 

         As Presbyterian pastor and theologian Frederick Buechner noted, “It's not known whether or not Philemon took the hint and let Onesimus return to be the old saint's comfort for what time was left him, but there's at least one good reason for believing that such was the case.

         Years later, when Paul was long since dead, another saint by the name of Ignatius was in jail. The bishop of Ephesus had sent some friends to visit him, and Ignatius wrote asking if a couple of them could be allowed to stay. Ignatius in his letter used some of the same language that Paul had used in his to Philemon, almost as if he was trying to remind (the bishop) of something. And what was the name of the bishop he wrote to? It was Onesimus.

        There's no proof that he was the same slave boy grown old and venerable with a mitre on his head, but it's very tempting to believe so.”

       And you?  Disciples or admirers?  Like Philemon, Onesimus, and Paul, you too need to decide.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church (U.C.C.), Raymond, Maine