Surprised by Philemon
Paul is doing something radical in this little letter, with an ethic that transcends an ancient pagan one or a contemporary post-Christian one.
Paul’s tiny letter to Philemon has stunned me for these last few weeks. I needed to choose a small book of the Bible for our church’s mid-summer teaching series. Without either over-spiritualizing or under-spiritualizing the process, I ended up landing on Philemon. Knowing the story and theme of the letter, I expected it would encourage our church. But I didn’t expect to be so surprised by Philemon.
Paul the apostle wrote this personal letter to Philemon within a few years of the end of his life, while he was in prison in Rome. Philemon was a wealthy, Christian man, who hosted the Colossian church in his house. Paul had led Philemon to Christ and had been instrumental in planting the Colossian church. Paul writes to the church to straighten out some doctrinal wonkiness, sending this letter (we call it Colossians) with the personal one to Philemon. Paul writes to Philemon about Onesimus, a slave in Philemon’s household. Onesimus had robbed Philemon and run away to Rome. In Rome, he somehow connected with Paul, and Paul led Onesimus to Christ. While Paul was in prison, Onesimus became a critical coworker for Paul in his ministry. Paul, though, also knew that the situation between two men, two Christians, and now two brothers, could not remain unresolved. So he sent Onesimus with the letters back home to Philemon in Colossae. This mini-missive shows Paul living out a masterclass in Christian conflict resolution and a radical ethic of Christian love.
Paul lived and served inside of a buzzing nexus of relationships. He drops nearly a dozen names in two dozen verses. Timothy. Apphia. Archippus. Epaphras. Mark. Aristarchus. Demas. Luke. And most of all, Philemon and Onesimus. For Paul these relationships would at times give life and love, but at other times they would disassemble his heart into broken pieces. Earlier in his ministry, Mark had abandoned Paul (Acts 15:36-41), but now he has become useful in serving Jesus with Paul (2 Tim. 4:11). After writing Philemon, Paul was deserted by Demas (2 Tim. 4:10).
Philemon was one of the most life-giving people in Paul’s life. Philemon was the kind of guy who brought life and joy with him into the room. He was a giver not a taker. He eased the burden on others rather than adding to the burden on them. He provided a draft for them rather than a drag on them. When the vehicle in front of you takes the brunt of wind resistance, that vehicle provides a “draft.” Next time you’re on a road trip, get in behind a big rig and watch your instant fuel economy rise. The truck will provide a draft so that your car has to use less energy to keep the same speed. Contrast a draft with the way towing a trailer pulls on a vehicle and drags on it. A drag will pull your fuel economy down low, because the vehicle has to use more energy to keep the same speed. Philemon made life easier for others. Made it easier to live and love and serve Jesus.
So imagine Paul’s situation when Onesimus showed up at the visiting hours of the Roman prison. A runaway slave in the ancient world had no rights and no hope. A runaway slave threatened the order of things, so a runaway slave would have been brutally punished and beaten, if not put to death. Obviously, we have some recent context for this kind of thing with American chattel slavery. More on that in a bit, but first back to Onesimus and Paul. Paul leads Onesimus to Jesus. He finds himself, then, in-between two people he loved, two Christian brothers, and more than that, two Christian “sons.” What’s an apostle to do?
He could have returned Onesimus to Philemon, no questions asked, like ancient society might expect. He could have sent Onesimus far away, to preserve his freedom, like modern society might expect. But he didn’t do either thing, When confronted with the lesser of two evils, he chose neither. Even if Paul had tried to free Onesimus, he knew that Onesimus would never truly be free. The ancient world would have seen him as a slave, always and only a slave. He also knew Philemon needed the chance to prove his Christian character. Paul wanted Philemon to do what only Jesus could lead a man to do: to act on the basis of love: “Although I have great boldness in Christ to command you to do what is right, I appeal to you, instead, on the basis of love” (Philemon 8-9).
Paul explains that Onesimus has become his spiritual son, his own heart, and a critical coworker for Christ. He offers to pay whatever Onesimus has taken from Philemon, then reminding Philemon that Paul already has a credit in Philemon’s life: “So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would me. And if he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, write this with my own hand: I will repay it—not to mention to you that you owe me even your very self” (Philemon 17-19). When Paul says, “charge that to my account” and then says that Philemon owes Paul his own life, he is saying that Paul’s account already has an uncountable credit with Philemon. Philemon owes Paul more than Onesimus could ever owe Philemon. So Paul is saying, “You owe me your life. I’m cashing that in for the sake of another, for the sake of Onesimus.” Yesterday, I was preaching on this, and after the sermon our music pastor made a point: Paul had this massive favor he could call in from Philemon. How did he use it? Not for himself—but for a runaway slave.
Talk about stunning. The grace at work in all three of the main players in the story. Paul knows Philemon’s character so clearly, that he knows he can make this radical ask. Paul knows Onesimus’s character so clearly, that he knows that he won’t bolt but will actually return. And Onesimus must have trusted Paul, and even Philemon, with Christian confidence to come back to Colossae. All of this is what happens when Jesus gets involved in our relationships.
Obviously, like I said, we can’t think of this letter without referring back to our own society’s story of slavery. And folks have read—should I say misread—this little letter every which way. Slavers in the American South used the letter to justify hunting down their own runaway slaves, for example. Talk about an exercise in missing the forest for the trees. Some might find Paul’s promise to repay Philemon as a case for reparations. Some might think that because Paul lived in a society with slavery that he approved slavery.
I think, though, that Paul is doing something far more radical here. His ethic transcends an ancient pagan one or a contemporary post-Christian one. He calls Philemon to do “even more than I ask” (Philemon 21). Most modern scholars see this is as call to set Onesimus free. I agree that was part of it, but not the main part. In the ancient world, Onesimus would have been viewed as permanently less-than, “once a slave, always a slave,” as one scholar explains. So Paul was calling Philemon and the church to do something radical. Set Onesimus free, yes and amen. But what’s more? Welcome him back as a brother, a full member of the family, and then some.
Things turned out better than anyone could have expected. First, as NT Wright notes, the letter survived, so we know Philemon did the right thing. Second, we find Onesimus mentioned in another letter from a Christian leader named Ignatius. Thirty years after the letter to Philemon, Ignatius wrote a letter to the church in Ephesus. He mentions the bishop or pastor of the church—Onesimus! Onesimus went from runaway pagan slave to Christian pastor. As Paul says in the letter to the Colossian church, delivered at the same time as the letter to Philemon, “In Christ there is not Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all” (Colossians 3:11). The church in the ancient world was a radical place, because nowhere else would you find that kind of social change.
That’s what the gospel can do, and it still surprises me sometimes.