Philemon's Forgiveness

 

Jesu Juva

Philemon 1-21                                                                

September 4, 2022

Proper 18C                                  

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          The three main Scripture readings for each Sunday of the church year are always predetermined.  Those three readings are laid out for us in advance by what’s called the “lectionary.”  The lectionary we use runs on a three-year cycle.  Now, here’s the beauty of the three-year lectionary:  If you faithfully attend every service here for three years straight, your ears will hear God’s Word proclaimed from each and every book of the Bible—all sixty-six, including the briefest of those books.  Nothing gets overlooked—not Second John or Third John or Jude.  Not even Obadiah or Philemon.

          Today’s the day for Philemon.  Philemon is on the menu today; and we won’t hear from Philemon again for another three years.  But there’s a problem with preaching on Philemon:  Reading the book of Philemon is like arriving late for a movie.  After you stumble around in the dark to find your seat, a lot of the action has already taken place.  The main characters have already been introduced.  But by paying close attention, you can piece together the plot; and, ultimately, enjoy the show.

          So, dial-in to what I’m about to say because here’s what you’ve missed; here’s the back story:  St. Paul, who wrote this epistle, is in prison somewhere—probably Rome or Ephesus.  In prison, Paul gets a visitor named Onesimus.  Onesimus, whose name means “useful,” had been a slave in the household of Philemon.  And this Philemon was a wealthy Christian layman in the city of Collosae.  In fact, the Christians of that city met together for the Divine Service in Philemon’s house.

          Philemon’s slave, Onesimus, had run away.  It might actually be better for us to think of Onesimus as Philemon’s household manager, since “slave” has so many negative, modern connotations.  Onesimus ran away (which was bad enough); but to make matters worse, he didn’t just run away emptyhanded.  No, Onesimus helped himself to Philemon’s cash and credit cards when he made his dash for freedom.  Philemon had trusted Onesimus, gave him great responsibility, promoted him, compensated him, educated him.  It might well have been Philemon who gave Onesimus his name which, as you recall, means “Useful.”  But now, as a fugitive thief, “Mr. Useful” had become quite useless.

          But while Onesimus was on the run as a fugitive—as he rose to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list—a beautiful thing happened.  He came into contact with a prisoner named Paul; and this Paul told Onesimus the good news about Jesus.  And Onesimus—the useless, fugitive thief—became Onesimus—the baptized child of God.  The fugitive became a faithful follower of Jesus, the Christ.  St. Paul became a father in the faith to Onesimus.  St. Paul called Onesimus “my very heart” and “my child.”

          Only one problem still loomed large—Philemon.  He was still counting his losses back in Collosae—filing police reports and insurance claims—preparing the blood hounds to track down Onesimus.  The epistle reading we heard today was St. Paul’s attempt to play the peace-maker—to make peace between Philemon and Onesimus.  “Blessed are the peacemakers,” said Christ our Lord.  Have you ever attempted to play the peacemaker?  Have you ever attempted to reconcile two Christians who had solid reasons to write one another off?  Today St. Paul shows us how it’s done.

          St. Paul begins by appealing to Philemon’s faith in the Lord Jesus, and his love for all the saints.  I thank my God . . . because I hear of your love and of the faith that you have toward the Lord Jesus and all the saints.  Faith and love go together.  They are like two sides of the same coin—faith and love.  You really can’t have one without the other.  It’s why we often pray after the Lord’s Supper that God would strengthen us, in faith toward [Him] and in fervent love toward one another. 

          It would be on the basis of Philemon’s God-given faith and love that peace would be achieved.  Peace wouldn’t happen because of Paul’s powers of persuasion, or even because of the power of prayer.  Peace between Christians—peace-making between Christians—rests on God’s gifts of faith in Christ and fervent love for one another.  That faith and that love changes everything about how we treat one another.  What are you doing to strengthen and deepen that faith in you?  What are you doing to exercise that fervent love for those around you?  How will you exercise that love today?  With whom do you need to make peace?

          What would have to precede peace between Philemon and Onesimus?  What would have to come first?  Paul doesn’t even use the exact word, but it’s fairly obvious what would need to happen:  Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you.  What was Paul getting at?  What exactly was “required” of Philemon?  You know.  Philemon would need to forgive Onesimus.

          Let’s let Philemon teach us a thing or two about forgiveness.  It’s easy to talk about forgiveness—in a theoretical, hypothetical way.  It’s easy to pray that our Father in heaven would forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.  But in real life—actually forgiving someone who has hurt or harmed you—seems nearly impossible.  Imagine Philemon’s anger and disappointment with Onesimus.  He had trusted Onesimus with everything—treated him well and gave him great responsibility—and Onesimus stabbed him in the back—betrayed him, stole from him, really, really stuck it to the man.

          I suspect you don’t have to imagine how Philemon felt.  I think you know that same anger and disappointment because someone you trusted has hurt you and stuck it to you.  That pain is real pain.  That pain makes you want to inflict pain on the one who sinned against you.  That pain is not easily forgotten or swept aside.  We can’t know for a fact whether Philemon forgave Onesimus or not; but we do know that it is exactly what St. Paul expected and anticipated would happen.  But how?  How could Philemon actually, honestly, earnestly forgive a sinner—a scoundrel—a thief—like Onesimus?

          It would be easier said than done; and it could only be done on the basis of love.  Not on the basis of human love; but on the basis of Jesus’ love for all sinners.  For Philemon to forgive, he would need to give up his rights.  Runaway slaves could be put to death under Roman law.  Philemon had the “right” to prosecute and persecute and strike back at the one who had struck him first.  But he didn’t.  He wouldn’t.  He couldn’t.  He was following Jesus Christ in faith! 

          Instead Philemon would need to give up every right and every claim for justice and fairness and equity.  In fact, Philemon—wealthy, free Philemon—would

need to make himself a slave, letting go of everything for Jesus’ sake.  Take a minute to savor the irony:  The slave, Onesimus, comes home a free man in the love of Christ; while the free man, his master, Philemon, makes himself a slave in the love of Christ.  Philemon gives up everything, takes up his cross, and follows Jesus in the wonderful way of forgiveness.

          That way of forgiveness is also the way forward for you.  You can deal with those who sin against you like Philemon—on the basis of love.  For on the basis of love, God Himself has chosen to deal with you.  On the basis of love, the Son of God was born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.  On the basis of love, God reached out to name you and claim you as His own dear child in the water of Holy Baptism.  On the basis of love, Jesus takes your sins and has them all charged to His account, instead of yours.  He has paid for them in full.  On the basis of love, He draws near this hour to feed you personally with His body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.

          That calling, cleansing, feeding, forgiving love of God in Christ makes you what you are.  It defines you.  It equips and empowers you to do the impossible—to forgive the people who cause you pain—just as you yourself have been forgiven by our Savior.  The love of God changes you.  It makes you “useful” like Onesimus.  How many people long to be useful—to accomplish meaningful work?  Whatever you do in faith toward God and in fervent love for others—THAT is useful.  Those good works have eternal significance.  Our God makes the useless useful.  He makes the loveless lovely.

          I said earlier that reading Philemon is like arriving late for a movie; but it’s also like leaving the movie early.  We don’t actually know what happened when Onesimus returned home to Philemon’s house—walking up the driveway with nothing more than a letter from Paul in his hand.  There’s no tear-filled, heart-warming embrace before the music swells and the credits roll.  But that’s how it is in real life too.  How your attempts at peace-making and sin-forgiving will work out, no one can say for sure.  All we know is that as you head back out into this messy life, you carry the life of Jesus in your body.  On the basis of His love, you can press on with confidence and joy, knowing that your labor is not in vain—that in Christ you are useful.  You are loved.  You are forgiven.  You will live forever.

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.