Dear Philemon

Philemon

"Therefore, though I have enough confidence in Christ to command you to do the right thing, I would rather appeal to you through love. I, Paul—an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus— appeal to you for my child Onesimus. I became his father in the faith during my time in prison. He was useless to you before, but now he is useful to both of us. I’m sending him back to you, which is like sending you my own heart."

I've long struggled with Philemon, the shortest "book" in the bible, a personal letter between Paul and Philemon. It's a letter that is difficult to make sense of, mostly due to the nature of its writing. Paul is writing to Philemon on behalf of Philemon's slave, Onesimus. Paul appeals to Philemon's status as a Christian, as someone who has demonstrated their ability to "refresh the hearts of the saints," to give care to fellow Christians. Paul encourages Philemon, reminding him of what a great guy he is and what great authority Paul has but chooses not to use.

There is so much that I want Paul to say to Philemon, but he doesn't. I want Paul to tell Philemon that his treatment of Onesimus determines the very outcome of his relationship with God. I want Paul to tell Philemon that his salvation relies on how far he lets the love of Christ transform his life. I want Paul to tell Philemon that slavery, the system that has supported the growth of nearly every empire in history, is antithetical to the Gospel. However, I find Paul's exhortation silent, sheepish, appealing when I so want Paul to be loud, bold, and sharp.

I struggle with this passage because I think of how many people have laid down their lives to make the world a more just place. In particular I think of those who have laid down their lives for others out of their faithfulness to the kingdom of God. I think of people in the past 100 years like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Mother Theresa, Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela. None who have laid down their lives for the sake of justice have been apologetic in their approach (this is primarily why some of them literally lost their lives). I think of people like Martin Luther King Jr. in his letter from a Birmingham jail. In this letter, like Paul, he too writes to fellow Christians, fellow preachers, those who have a pulpit and are responsible for the refreshing of the saints. Some of the most memorable quotes of Dr. King come from this letter: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," "We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny." At times Dr. King's letter is cordial but there is a tone in his letter that speaks to the harmful choices and beliefs of the clergy he writes.

My favorite quote from this letter is not one of the more famous ones, but consists of two paragraphs toward the end that addresses the tone Dr. King truly has taken with his fellow clergy:

"Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?
If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me."

It is that last paragraph that elevates Dr. King's position from one of morality to salvation. It is this last paragraph wherein Dr. King makes clear that the intent of this letter is not cordiality, or gentleness. This is a matter of the soul, where lives are at stake. To ask for anything less than absolute equality, as brothers and sisters, equality as children of God, would be to sin against God, would be antithetical to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. 

I'm so frustrated with Paul in his letter to Philemon because I want him to be clear that Onesimus' value is inherently derived from the will of God, that in Christ all are equal, all are of sacred worth. Paul spends so much time easing Philemon into the notion that this is the correct way of thinking that he leaves too much room for ambiguity. Perhaps I am more frustrated with never knowing Philemon's response. Does Philemon do the right thing? I would like to believe that Onesimus arrives at Philemon's home and Philemon drops to his knees, asks forgiveness and embraces Onesimus as a brother, as a fellow child of God. But I know the radical nature of this request. This one lesson that Paul attempts to gently teach would break down the very foundations of the Roman empire, would subvert every teaching from Roman philosophical thinking and would entirely reverse the social norms of his culture.

We find evidence of this subversion when we look at what Romans thought of the early church. The early church was derided by Roman authorities and thinkers because it was primarily made up of the poor, women, and slaves. The message of grace, equality and salvation spoke to the hearts of those who were "divinely" ordered at the bottom. 

Perhaps I'm being too harsh. After all, Paul gave his own life for the kingdom and this message, though gentle, is quite radical. I suspect that Paul gave no thought to the long reaching consequences of his words, that they would be considered scripture, or that they would be read in instruction across thousands of years.

Paul concludes his letter saying, "Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say."

I hope that Paul is right. I hope that we, as the church, would seek greater justice and reconciliation beyond what Paul has said. I hope that we will continue to recognize and uplift the brokenness of our world, those who bare crosses among us, whose lives are denied their inherent sacred worth. I pray that in our pursuit of a more just world, a world that more closely resembles the kingdom of God, that we never understate the truth, or indicate that we have patience that allows us to settle for anything less than all as beloved children of God. For if we do, I beg God to forgive us.

Dying is Dangerous

A while ago I was sitting in my class on worship and we were talking about the images of Baptism. One of those images is death. In the original Baptism practice, full submersion, the baptized go from one state of being; as they were, to submerged, to coming out of the water anew. That practice of going under the water is meant to convey being put into the ground, the “final” act in life. However, the person is brought out of the water and back into life as something different. As we talked about this the sentence, “Dying is Dangerous” came up, and this got me thinking.

Regrettably, one of the biggest and earliest failures in my Christian understanding was to fail to answer a question from a classmate of mine. This person, seeking to challenge my faith and to explain her own problems with Christianity, asked how I could accept a faith that was bent on the concept of death. Paul clearly says, as recorded in the book of Romans: 

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.” (Romans 6:4-8)

To her these words seemed particularly negative and reminiscent of modern “cult” experiences like those in Waco, Texas during the 90’s. I hadn’t considered myself particularly knowledgeable about scripture or matters of faith when she asked, and my response was empty. I simply said that that wasn’t what was meant. Paul had been talking about something else. Christianity didn’t require its members to die. How could it? I thought of all of the church folk that I knew; they all lived fairly comfortable lives, in suburbs, in the U.S., and had been like that for a while. There was little that was actually dangerous about the faith.

Now that I revisit this conversation later in life, I come slightly more prepared. I think about what the life of a Christian was like as Paul is writing the letter to the Roman churches. 

This letter is his last. 

He is seeking help in pushing his evangelistic ministry further West. 

He is captured.

He is executed.

He never makes it West of Rome.

The church is not merely a building or a space where people gather to worship. It is literally the flesh and blood of a small group of Jews and Gentiles who have become convinced that there was something greater than a man in a carpenter that was executed in Jerusalem. 

This church is desperately trying to survive.

They are persecuted.

They are executed.

They are kicked out of their communities.

They are small.

They are weak.

There is little that is comfortable for the church during the first century and up until Constantine, when the church becomes the official religion of the state. Professing faith in Jesus of Nazareth was akin to treason. The choice for the early church was Caesar or God. Choosing Caesar meant some form of marginal existence under the empire. So what did choosing God leave someone with?

Death.

Paul goes on in Romans 6: “For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.” (Romans 6:9-14)

For the life that Jesus lived, a life that didn’t work with the first century understanding of law, he was executed. That life was so outside of the norm of the day that it didn’t sit right with those in power.

Not the Pharisees

and later,

Not Caesar.

To be a Christian is to follow the life of Jesus, which means accepting the earthly consequences of that life. However, the story of Jesus doesn’t end there.

Not on the Cross.

Not in the Grave.

There is one thing that Jesus and Caesar have in common. They are both conquerers. Caesar had conquered life, possessing the ability to end life on a massive scale. The story of Jesus reveals that Jesus has conquered death, possessing the ability to make death obsolete. When Paul says that we have been united with Christ in death, he is talking about being united in true life. 

Life that cannot be destroyed.

Life that cannot be conquered.

Life that Caesar does not control.

That which has separated God’s creation from God no longer has any power. God’s ultimate gift to humanity is the freedom from bondage. The first Christians were willing to put away the things that they had been doing, which had separated them from God, because those things could no longer persuade them that they were free. They were willing to follow God because they believed that while Caesar could end their immediate life, he could not have final victory. God had already claimed that prize.

Perhaps this all seems too foreign to so many today because the church in the U.S. is no longer persecuted. I believe that God’s vision for the church is one filled with things upside-down. The church is at its best when its members truly believe that professing their faith, that choosing to follow God, is a sacrifice.

When comfort is no longer found.

When flesh and blood are the church.

When we leave 99 for 1.

When we rejoice for the lost.

When we learn from the foolish.

When we embrace our enemy.

When we give all we have.

When dying is dangerous

and living is impossible.