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Sermon by the Reverend Patrick T. Gray at
The Church of the Advent, We’re getting ready for the birth of our second child, a girl due somewhere between October 7th and 10th, according to the doctors. And compared to the last one, I’d say we’re pretty laid back this time around. We haven’t felt the need to take a birthing class, we already know how to change diapers, we’re a little rusty on our infant CPR, but not too worried. In fact, we recently got a little anxious about how un-anxious we’ve been. Maybe we should have more ready than we do with five weeks to go. But we’re getting there, and we’ll be ready when it happens. We hope. But just a couple of weeks ago, someone said one of the most disturbing things I think I’ve ever heard. As we were talking about this second child, the person I was speaking to said, “Your life is going to change forever.” Now the problem is not that the person said, “Your life is going to change forever,” but that this is the second time I’ve heard this. The first time, it came from the lips of Fr. Warren, who when I told him that Naomi was pregnant the first time around, he didn’t say, “Congratulations, that’s great!” or “Wow! Tremendous!” but he looked at me, smiled, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Your life is going to change forever.” And of course, he was right. I had no idea how much my life would change, and on most days, it’s changed for the better. But I must say, I thought I was done with life-changing experiences, at least when it came to children. I thought the addition of another kid wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Of course, I have an image in my head of what it will be like, and I’ve seen how it’s impacted our friends who have two kids, but life-changing? As one parishioner said to me, the important thing is to not have three, because then you’re outnumbered. This is only number two, so we’re good. It’s at least even up. But even two is, according to this other person, going to be life-changing. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I guess it’s a little late for me to back out now. And that’s, I guess, what happens, when you make a commitment. When you change your life due to what your commitment demands. And most of the time, that type of commitment is a kind of conversion, a kind of transformation, so that the person you say you are is now the person you really are. Onesimus was a slave. He lived in Colossae with his owner Philemon, who was surely a person of some means, Philemon’s family – his wife Apphia and son Archippus, and no doubt other slaves, as well. For us, it’s impossible to imagine slavery’s legitimacy at all. To them, in the ancient world, slavery was as natural as owning a car or a cell phone is today for us.(1) We can’t imagine modern life without them, and they couldn’t imagine society without slaves. And although slavery in the ancient world was different than the slavery this country experienced in the 19 th century, not typically as brutal or dehumanizing, although the dividing line between slaves and free persons were not always as sharply drawn – slaves could sometimes own slaves themselves, they could possess private property within limits, they could work side by side with their owner or other free persons, even Friedrich Nietzsche and some Marxist scholars have acknowledged that in many respects an ancient slave’s treatment was better and his life conditions more secure than those of a 19 th century factory worker, and a slave owner had a keen interest in keeping his slaves healthy and gaining their confidence. Although all these things set slavery in the ancient world apart from the slavery this country experienced, although all these things were true, it was still, at the end of the day, slavery. And Onesimus was a slave. And he ran away. We’re not sure why. Maybe he got in an argument with his owner Philemon, and decided enough was enough. Ironically, Onesimus means “useful,” but perhaps Onesimus had decided he was tired of being “useful,” or at least useful as a slave. Whatever the reason, whether he got himself in trouble or not before running away, he was certainly in trouble now. Not only had Onesimus attempted to change his life, his life was now in danger. Running away was a capital offense in this world, and it was not uncommon for many owners to take that severe of vengeance.(2) So Onesimus ran, he ran the hundred miles to Ephesus, which was a large enough city for him to disappear, to not be found. But it was there in Ephesus, perhaps when his money had run out, it was there in Ephesus that Onesimus met Paul. Onesimus had no doubt heard his master Philemon talk about this Paul, who Philemon had heard preach at Ephesus, and through Paul’s preaching, had become a Christian. Paul was no doubt thrilled that Philemon, a man of some means and influence, had responded to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But Philemon not only responded with the assent of his heart, it changed Philemon’s life, so that the experience of Jesus Christ made him a man of love and generosity, so much so that he even impacted his own family, with his wife Apphia and his son Archippus joining with Philemon and Paul in the work of the Gospel. They had gone home to Colossae and made their house a place of love and hospitality, where the handful of Christians in the area began to meet.(3) Maybe Onesimus wasn’t buying it. Maybe that’s why he left. Maybe this life-changing experience experienced by his owner and his owner’s family was just a little too much for him, or maybe the love and generosity that Philemon now showed was to everyone except the slaves in his own household. They were slaves, after all. Whatever the reason, Onesimus found Paul, hoping Paul might be “useful” to him in some way. And low and behold, Onesimus became a Christian, as well, perhaps against his own better judgment. But he not only became a Christian, he eagerly embraced the Gospel, and was so grateful to Paul for telling him about Jesus, that he had started to look after Paul in prison, to attend to his needs with a devotion he most likely never showed to his owner Philemon. Onesimus and Paul had become friends, brothers in the Lord Jesus, and close partners in the work of the Gospel.(4) Now this could have ended our story. Paul could have told Onesimus to just keep his head down, and let it blow over. That Philemon would get over it. Besides, Onesimus was once again “useful,” useful to Paul, useful in the work of the Gospel. But Paul had other plans. Both Philemon and Onesimus had life-changing experiences, because they had met the living God in Jesus Christ. But God in Christ does not stop with one meeting, with one conversion, but converts everything, permeates everything, and if Paul was serious when he talked about our participation as Christians within Christ’s ministry of reconciliation, if this was what the Gospel was all about, the lordship of Jesus Christ over the real world, over the real lives of people, over the difficult decisions that real people face everyday,(5) then Onesimus had to go back, he had to go back to Philemon. Both Onesimus and Philemon had another life-changing experience coming, or at least were handed the opportunity for one. And apparently, Onesimus accepted his. And he returned to face Philemon, most likely carrying the letter that we heard today in our epistle lesson. Paul had sent Onesimus back to Philemon, not to get his comeuppance, but in the hope that Philemon would accept him back without penalty. But why would Philemon do that? Why would Philemon not only accept Onesimus back, but do so without any punishment at all? Paul’s hope was the Gospel, Paul’s hope was the Gospel of Jesus Christ that Philemon had accepted, Paul’s hope was that the partnership he had with both Philemon and Onesimus would compel these two to be partners in the work of the Gospel, as well. Because partnerships cannot function with division. The Gospel had brought into existence a new reality, a new way of being, so that those who found themselves as partners in the service of the Gospel, things previously thought impossible would now be made possible. All because of Jesus Christ, all because of the transforming, converting, life-changing power of the Gospel. And that was Paul’s hope. But Paul does something very interesting in this letter. In our own Baptismal Covenant, those of us who have been baptized into the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are asked to renew the vows we made at our own baptism every time we are present at another’s baptism, and we are asked, “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” And our response is, “I will, with God’s help.” Now assuming Paul gave those he brought into the faith some kind of catechetical instruction before baptism, Philemon probably knew this, in so many words. They might have put it differently, but the idea was the same – when you see someone, you should see Christ, and you should minister to Christ in that person. That’s a wonderful statement, a wonderful understanding of how the Gospel should quite literally impact everything in our lives, including how we see people, and because of how we see people, how we act and behave towards those God cares so much about. But it’s hard to do. It’s hard to do. It’s hard to do if you’ve been slighted, if you’ve been wronged, if you’ve been hurt, if you have suffered because of the actions of someone else. And I think Paul knew this. He knew that the demands of conversion are not always easy to take. Now he could have said in his letter, “Now Philemon, remember the baptismal covenant that you made, that you are to see Christ in all persons. That means Onesimus, too. So when you see Onesimus standing before you, you should see Jesus.” And therefore you should act the way you would towards Jesus. And that may very well be true. Philemon should see Christ in Onesimus. But this is not what Paul says. Instead, what Paul says in his letter, Philemon reading it while this un-useful Onesimus stands in front of him, Paul says to Philemon that when he looks at Onesimus, when he looks on this one who wronged him, what Philemon should see is not Onesimus, but Paul. Paul says to Philemon, when you look at Onesimus, you are looking at me. Now Paul could have done something else here, too. He could have commanded Philemon to take Onesimus back without penalty. This was Paul the Apostle, after all. Paul could have used his rank against Philemon. He could have said, “Respect the uniform, respect my rank.” But instead he said, “When you see Onesimus, see me, and not just my uniform, not just my apostolic authority, but Paul the man, the one who is partners with you in the work of the Gospel.” It’s a rather bold move on Paul’s part. That the one who called himself “the chief of sinners” in another of his letters would think that he could “stand in” for Jesus, telling Philemon to see Paul when he saw Onesimus. But as we’ve established, it’s hard to see Jesus sometimes, it’s hard to see Jesus in other people. And Paul is willing to reflect God’s glory in Jesus Christ through himself for the sake of Onesimus, for the sake of reconciliation. To offer himself up on behalf of these two partners in the Gospel. To offer oneself up on behalf of another. That might sound vaguely familiar, if you’re a Christian. But Paul here is not talking about how he needs to be crucified on behalf of Onesimus. That’s already been done. But Paul is applying the cross, the cross of Jesus Christ, to this situation. “Paul has grasped the truth that so many [of us] have missed: [Jesus’] achievement of reconciliation is put into effect when his people follow the same pattern. When people allow the cross to shape their own lives, the love of God is set free to change and heal in ways we cannot at the moment even imagine.”(6) Love changes everything. Bringing the love of God into the world through our actions changes everything, including us, including our own lives, including the lives of others. And the world needs love. The world needs reconciliation. Our families, our friends, our workplaces, our very own selves, need love and reconciliation. So on this day let us renew our desire to see Jesus, to see, seek, and serve him in others, and to become examples of what God’s reconciling love is all about, to reflect the glory of the cross into all the world, to let the love of God be set free in our own lives. Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. Glory to him from generation to generation in the Church, and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever. Amen. (Eph. 3:20,21) (1) Tom Wright, Paul for Everyone: The Prison Letters ( London: SPCK, 2002), 199. |