The Good We Do for Christ

Philemon
February 22
David A. Davis
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“When I remember you in my prayers [Onesimus], I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.” I pray that your faith may become more effective, more powerful, more active as you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. All the good we do for Christ. The good we do for Christ.

Paul’s Letter to Philemon is notable for its brevity. Compared with the rest of the Apostles’ canon, it is also notable for the lack of a profound theological argument, as in Romans. Or the poetic style reflected in Paul’s description of Christ in Colossians: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” Or the soaring proclamation of resurrection hope in I Corinthians 15. Or the affirmation of the bedrock of the faith in Ephesians: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” As the Letter to Philemon sits in Paul’s portfolio, some may think it is rather….pedestrian.

Paul is under house arrest for preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Writing from Rome, maybe Ephesus. It’s a letter to Philemon, Apphia, Archippus, and the church in the house. Paul writes an appeal for Onesimus, who has become like a son to Paul. Onesimus, whose name means “useful,” is a slave previously working in Philemon’s home. Some suggest that maybe Philemon had dispatched Onesimus to assist Paul during his incarceration, and it has long since passed the time when Onesimus was due to return. It could be that Paul is sending Onesimus back to Philemon in hopes that Philemon would allow him to return to Paul. Of course, more importantly, Paul is asking for a reconciling transformation in their relationship. That Philemon would welcome Onesimus back “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me, but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.” The Apostle underscores his request with the offer to cover any expenses incurred or any wrongs while Onesimus was away. “Charge that to my account…I will repay it”.

It is also striking how this oh so short biblical letter that somehow made the canon formed by the church councils is so un-bible like. Little to none when it comes to reflecting that strange old world of the bible. No demons. No healings. No loaves and fishes multiplied. No walking on water. No miracle. No thousands are joining the church. No tongues of fire and people hearing in their own tongue. No Damascus road voice from heaven and blindness, and conversation for Paul. No, Paul is writing to Philemon on behalf of one man, a slave. And Paul is asking Philemon to love him.

Your love for all the saints. Joy and encouragement from your love. An old man writing and appealing based on love. An old man appealing for a younger man who has become like a son to him. An appeal for love. “Welcome him as you would welcome me.” Oh, and prepare your guest room for me. Pray that I can come and see you soon. A letter so un-bible like. And yet, a letter so everyday. A letter so like the church in the house. The body of Christ. Little talk about faith, but a letter packed full of faith. No theology in words, but a profound theological statement about life in Christ. Not a lot of writing about religious things, but what is described is holy. No religious talk. Just a letter that is full of talk about the Christ-like life. The Apostle Paul, writing from imprisonment bound by the empire, asks Philemon for a radical love that upends culture and humanity’s entrenched way of life. The kind of love that turns upside down how the world works, and challenges how empires and principalities function, and threatens those in power who seek wrap the weak and most vulnerable in chains. This short letter devoid of miracles is actually quite miraculous. Paul appeals for one man named Onesimus. Paul is asking for the very love of Jesus Christ to be unleashed, set free, and on the loose in and through the church in the house. Paul asks Philemon to imagine and to so live all the good we can for Christ.

This week, I started reading Mother Emanuel: Two Centuries of Race, Resistance, and Forgiveness in One Charleston Church. It is written by Kevin Sack, who, as a journalist for the NYTimes, was assigned to cover the horrible murders at the Mother Emanuel AME Church 10 years ago in Charleston, South Carolina. Nine African Americans were shot and killed during their weeknight bible study by a young white man who bought the gun with money his father gave him. The author, along with anyone else following the story at the time, was so struck by the forgiveness voiced by family members almost immediately in the aftermath of their loved ones being murdered. He and they describe a kind of otherworldly, almost divine experience of forgiveness. Kevin Sack set out to write about the history of Mother Emanuel in the context of the African American experience.

The book begins with a detailed description of what the church folks at Emanuel came to call “The tragedy”. The chapter concludes with the author telling of the funeral for the pastor, the Rev. Clementa Carlos Pinckney, conducted at the local college arena. You will remember that President Obama gave the eulogy and concluded the homily singing “Amazing Grace.” Sack writes that the president scrapped what his speechwriters gave him and “rebuilt the scaffolding of the eulogy” around the hymn. Just before starting to sing, President Obama quoted the novelist Marilynne Robinson, who defined grace as “that reservoir of goodness”. “That reservoir of goodness that enabled humans to treat each other with extraordinary generosity.” To be honest, revisiting President Obama’s sermon that day while looking out at the nation today was a bit disheartening. “If we can find that grace,” he preached, “anything is possible. If we can tap that grace, everything can change.” Then, after a pause, he started to sing.

To use Paul’s language, the preacher that day was pointing to all the good we can do for Christ. Standing up in the midst of an unspeakable, unimaginable tragedy and daring to believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary acts of love and forgiveness, empowered, emboldened, and inspirit by God’s grace. Standing up this morning and daring to believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary acts of love and forgiveness, empowered, emboldened, and inspirit by God’s grace.  To use Paul’s own words, daring to believe that there is “a still more excellent way.”  It is not aspirational. It is prophetic. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or clanging symbol. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” In First Corinthians, Paul preaches it. In Philemon, Paul, Onesimus, Philemon, and the church in the house….they live it. The only reason scholars can offer for how this short, pedestrian yet miraculous letter stayed in the canon is that Philemon must have said yes. Everyone knew Philemon said yes. He said “yes” to love and all the good we can do for Christ.

Come to the Table this morning to be nourished for your life in Christ this afternoon. Christ invites you to join the Table fellowship along with his disciples, the great cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints, and the church that’s in the house. Come with praise and thanksgiving to remember the One who could talk theology with the best of them in the synagogue and go and eat with sinners afterward. He would argue with the most educated and most powerful and then go hang out with the outcasts and touch the unclean. The Messiah, the Savior of the whole world, the Ruler of the Universe, lived, died, and rose again with a kind of radical love that upends culture and humanity’s entrenched way of life. A kind of love that turns upside down how the world works, and challenges how empires and principalities function, and threatens those in power who seek wrap the weak and most vulnerable in chains.

Here at the Table, the words are few: “Take, eat, this is my body broken for you”. The words of Jesus, who gave his life for our sins and the sins of the world. Here, around this table, we affirm our life in Christ, and by his grace all the good we can do for him. For it is Jesus Christ who takes your hand, and turns to the Creator and says, “Charge it to my account.”

“When I remember you in my prayers [Paul writes to the church in the house]], I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my siblings in Christ.”