Philemon "On the Basis of Love" Scott Hoezee

Some years ago in a sermon about the power of language in preaching I highlighted the excellent book by Garry Wills, Lincoln at Gettysburg: The Words That Remade America. As many of you know, Wills claims that in the Gettysburg Address Abraham Lincoln, in the span of a scant 272 words which took him all of three minutes to deliver, forever altered our understanding of the Declaration of Independence. Lincoln was not even the main speaker that day. That honor was given to a then-famous orator named Edward Everett, who spoke just prior to the President. Everett's soaring rhetoric about the Civil War lasted a whopping two hours. But few now recall his many words, elegant though they were. Lincoln had been asked to make just a few brief dedicatory remarks for the new cemetery at Gettysburg, and that's what he did. So short was the President's speech that some in the crowd were disconcerted, wondering, "Is that it?!" Indeed, it was. But it changed history.

The Gettysburg Address changed history but it did so subtly. "The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here . . ." Mr. Lincoln intoned. But he was wrong. The world has little noted what the Honorable Mr. Everett had to say, but Lincoln's handful of words are the stuff of oratorical legend. Again, however, it was the subtlety of what he said that altered the nation's collective thought. "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." But Mr. Lincoln, unlike those founding Fathers, was now including the Negro people in the definition of "all men."

"It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that the government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

Through a linguistic sleight-of-hand Lincoln turned the tables on his audience and on the nation: he shifted from dedicating a cemetery to making the American people dedicate themselves to a new birth of freedom--a new birth which was nothing less than the end of slavery. Sometimes you do not need many words to create a huge effect. Sometimes you do not need "in your face" rhetoric to get someone's attention and so alter his or her viewpoint from the inside out.

Exactly this looks to have been Paul's tactic in his letter to Philemon. It is really more of a memo than a full letter. Indeed, most scholars have concluded that this note or memo to Philemon was brought by courier in the same "envelope" which brought the larger Epistle to the Colossians to the church at Colosse (a portion of which met in Philemon's own house). The evidence for that comes in Colossians 4:9 where Paul mentions that among those accompanying the letter to the Colossians was a certain Onesimus. Thus it appears that after completing the public epistle to the Colossians, Paul took a separate piece of paper and penned also this private note to his friend Philemon.

It is far and away Paul's shortest New Testament composition. At just 334 Greek words it takes only a few minutes to read it aloud, as you just witnessed. Yet like Lincoln's equally short Gettysburg Address, so Philemon packs a punch--a punch delivered with the velvet glove of subtlety and maybe even a little irony. Because through this letter it appears that the same apostle Paul who nowhere directly challenged the social institution of slavery nevertheless undermines slavery in a way which would, in Christian circles at least, lead to slavery's abolition. Let's look at this letter to see how and why this may be so.

We begin at the beginning with the curious way by which Paul identifies himself. As we've noted before, whereas today we sign our letters at the very end with something like, "Sincerely, Scott," ancient letter-writers signed their correspondence right up front. There are thirteen New Testament letters by Paul. In each letter the first word is "Paul." But except for the two letters to the Thessalonians Paul immediately tacks on to his name some kind of personal designation. Seven times he identifies himself as "Paul, an apostle" of Christ Jesus. Three times he calls himself "Paul, a servant" of Christ Jesus. But only here in Philemon does he call himself a "Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus." Along with Colossians, Ephesians, and Philippians, the Letter to Philemon is one of four New Testament epistles which were written from prison.

However, this is the only instance when Paul calls himself a "prisoner" right up front. He will repeat the word "prisoner" two more times in verses 9 and 23 and will also twice take care to mention that he is "in chains" in verses 10 and 13. Paul makes more references to his imprisonment in these 334 words than he did in the entire letter to the Philippians, which is about five times longer. Why? After all, Philemon is well aware of Paul's current location and status. Indeed, Philemon has been praying earnestly for God to spring Paul from prison. So why does Paul take such careful pains to remind Philemon of something he already knows quite well?

Perhaps because it sets up the entire argument of Paul's letter! Philemon needs to see the disparity between his earnestly praying to God for Paul's release and his fierce determination effectively to imprison Onesimus. Prior to this letter it appears that Philemon was indeed going to imprison Onesimus by forcing him to remain in slavery. But in verse 6 Paul says that he hopes Philemon will come to a "full understanding" of the faith and of the good things we have in Christ. It soon becomes apparent hat what that "full understanding" would involve for Philemon was a new view of all fellow Christians, starting with slaves like Onesimus.

Paul wants the gospel to take hold in Philemon's life and to sink down roots. So in verses 8 and 9 Paul does not command Philemon to treat Onesimus like a brother instead of a slave but rather Paul cajoles--Paul sidles up alongside of Philemon to help him see the sweet gospel reasonableness of adopting a new viewpoint. In the Greek Paul uses the word parakaleo, which literally means to come up next to a person so as to encourage something. Not only is this a gentle way for Paul to put things, it rather ironically is also the same posture which Paul ultimately wants Philemon to take over against his former slave. There is to be no more top-down, master-slave authoritarianism. Instead Philemon is to view Onesimus as a brother, as an equal, as one who stands alongside Philemon on the same level.

Paul then continues, laying it on pretty thick. He calls Onesimus "my very heart." Then note the quick shift in rhetoric in verse 16: first Paul suggests that Philemon receive Onesimus back not as a slave but as a brother. But before that same verse is finished Paul switches from the suggestion that Onesimus be seen as a brother to the absolute statement that when Onesimus returns to Philemon, he will be a brother in the Lord! This is then rather quickly re-enforced when Paul tells Philemon that Onesimus is to be welcomed the exact same way Philemon would welcome Paul himself. Further, if Onesimus has incurred any debt that needs re-paying, Paul offers to do it himself (although Paul quickly adds that, by the way, Philemon is himself already in debt to Paul in that Paul was instrumental in Philemon's conversion. After that zinger you have the sneaking suspicion that even if there was some money involved in all of this, Philemon would never dare mention it!)

And just in case Philemon thinks he maybe could get away with not following through on Paul's advice, Paul rounds things out in verse 22 by saying, "Oh yes, and one more thing: I will visit you soon so get a room ready." It was Paul's none-too-subtle way of saying, "If you ignore my advice, I will find out soon enough." And as we already noted, verse 22's reference to Philemon's praying for Paul's release packs its own wallop in that it reveals the disjunction in Philemon's life: he can't pray for one brother's release while simultaneously plotting another brother's imprisonment in slavery.

All in all this is a most amazing piece of prose. Paul is highly skilled at working the rhetorical angles, at tugging on all the right emotional strings, and even at being a bit manipulative if that's what it takes to shake Philemon up. But if Paul was opposed to slavery in Christian circles, why didn't he just come right out and say it? Indeed, why in other places in the New Testament does Paul even recommend that slaves keep their station and not rebel against their masters but submit to them "as unto the Lord"?

Most of you no doubt recall the role the slavery analogy played in our denomination's debate about the ordination of women. The argument was advanced that despite Paul's words in some places which appear to approve of the status quo of slavery as part of society, there are other words which effectively undermine slavery with the power of baptism and the gospel. The parallel was then made with Paul's words about women: despite a few places where Paul appears to prohibit the formal ministry of women, there are many other places where the power of baptism and the gospel points in a very different direction.

Whether or not you accept that parallel argumentation what cannot be denied is that despite the fact that Paul nowhere rejects slavery as a cultural reality, it becomes apparent in places like Philemon that whatever the rest of society did, in Christian circles it just wasn't fitting to have one Christian own another Christian. Maybe if the slave was a Christian and the master was not, then the situation was different--perhaps that explains Paul's words about Christian slaves not being rebels. But when everyone involved in a situation was a Christian, then the gospel points in a different and better direction.

Even so, however, a still further question could be pressed: if Paul believed that to be the case within the church, why didn't he muster the full weight of his apostolic authority and command Philemon to release Onesimus and so treat him as a full brother in Christ? As his other letters show, Paul was hardly adverse to being quite stern and directive. So why here does he resort to one-part quiet appeal and one-part subtle argumentation?

That is a hard question to answer and at least some of what I will say is admittedly a bit speculative. But perhaps it has something to do with the fundamental nature of the gospel and of the Christian life generally. Maybe it is no more advisable (or feasible) to order a disciple like Philemon to love Onesimus as a brother than it is advisable or feasible to order someone to become a disciple of Jesus in the first place. As someone once said, sometimes trying to make faith grow in a person through a lot of spiritual pushing and shoving is a little like trying to make flowers grow faster by grabbing the stems and giving them a sharp yank--all you end up accomplishing is uprooting the flower. Flowers don't grow faster if you pull on them and neither does faith grow in a person's heart if you try to strong-arm them into believing.

If that is true in terms of the genesis of faith, perhaps it is somewhat true for also the details of faith even once it is present in a person's heart. "This is my command that you love one another." As we saw a few weeks ago, that's about the only "command" Jesus ever really issued. Of course, it's a bit of a paradox even so: Jesus knew that you cannot ultimately order someone to be loving. One of the sadder spectacles of the Shakespeare play King Lear is seeing the king trying to command his daughters to love him. But it doesn't work that way.

The way of the gospel is likewise the way of love but that love has to grow out of the gospel's core of God's own grace, mercy, kindness, and love toward us. A disciple needs to understand the reach of God's love to all people (both the lovely and the not-so-lovely) before recognizing that so also his or her own love needs to be just that expansive, just that inclusive, just that big. Our human tendency is to draw fairly tight circles--inside the circumference of the circle are those whom we deem worth loving, beyond the rim of this or that social circle are those either too far away or too different from us even to bother loving. But God's love doesn't operate that way--he loves us despite our differences, despite our consistent failures, despite the fact that we none of us ever completely live up to our full potential in Christ.

It is no coincidence that in verses 4-7 Paul twice throws out the word "love." Philemon has distinguished himself as being quite loving. Indeed, Paul says that Philemon has the reputation for loving "all the saints." It's just that now Paul is going to include Onesimus as being in that group of "all the saints," thus obligating Philemon to love also him as the brother in Christ he is.

But Philemon had to come to see it for himself, with the Holy Spirit's help. Paul could only sidle up alongside Philemon in love and, in verse 9 appeal to him on the basis of love to see things in a new way. And it is just here where the message of Philemon hits home with us. I don't know about you, but I've never owned a slave and don't anticipate securing one any time soon, either. However, that hardly makes this memo to Philemon no more than an historical curiosity for me or for you.

Because there are always other groups of people, both within the church and outside of it, from whom we withhold the full extent of our Christian love for one reason or another. Maybe their social status is different (socio-economically "lower") than our own, maybe their culture is different or their race or their ways of expressing the faith or their opinion on some socio-political issue. Maybe it is someone who has hurt us or who we think owes us one. Whoever it is and whatever the reason, we long ago decided that if so-and-so comes our way, a warm welcome he will not receive.

So in this ancient scrap of a memo called Philemon, Paul comes to us and pleads--for where love is concerned that is all anyone can do--he pleads that we work on coming to a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ. But whenever we let old divisions and distinctions and stratifications hold us back from being one with each other in the love and grace of Christ Jesus the Lord, we show thereby that we have not quite gotten it yet--not fully anyway.

Paul is long dead and though we may all hope to meet him in the kingdom one day, Paul himself will not be swinging by Calvin Church any time soon to see how we're doing. But the Lord Jesus is still able to say to us something like, "Prepare a guest room for me because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers." Yes, we want Jesus to come, to return, to be with us. But for that very reason we, like Philemon of old, need to wonder whether or not upon arrival Jesus will discover that we really have taken his gospel advice. Paul gave Philemon a big hint in verse 21 when he confidently declared "I know that you will do even more than I ask." I hope for his sake that Philemon did so. More immediately, however, I hope that we will, too. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with your spirit, Amen.