“Just wait ‘til your father gets home!” I don’t know if kids hear this much anymore. Nowadays, it’s likely that mom and dad get home around the same time these. Or it’s just as likely that mom gets home later than dad, or that, if a family with children is lucky enough for one of them to be a full-time caregiver for the children, that full-time caregiver is just as likely to be dad as mom.
But when I grew up, my mom was the full-time caregiver, a true stay-at-home mom -- so most of the disciplinary tasks fell to her. And for that reason, I hope you’ll pity her and remember her in your prayers -- because my brother and I were a handful. We weren’t really bad overall, but when we put our minds to it, we were capable of being really bad; really, really bad, destructive and rebellious -- hard-headed as my mother would say. And we were well able to fully and consciously disregard whatever stricture had just been laid down by her, both as individuals and as an almost unbeatable team of two.I won’t recount all our misdeeds as children, but let me give you one scenario from my very early childhood. I was about 4 or 5 and therefore my brother was just 3 or 4. Now, imagine walking into a room full of freaked out 3, 4 and 5 year-olds, some of them crying, a few of them bleeding from the shards of glass from the now shattered ceiling light fixture that was until a few minutes ago at least 6 feet above the heads of the tallest of us and that’ll give you some idea of what my mother was up against. I can’t even remember how we did it, but somehow we did manage to break the ceiling light fixture, raining down broken glass on a room full of playing children, though none of us could reach it. In the end, no one was seriously hurt, and stitches and therefore bragging rights were procured for a few. Punishment was meted out, I’m sure. And as my mother admitted later, a certain grudging respect was won from her by us. She later said, “I learned early on not to put anything past the two of you when you made up your minds not to mind me.”
She developed a repertoire of punishments concocted to fit the crimes. There was the ever popular ‘standing in the corner’ which could go on interminably, especially when she forgot that she’d sent us to the corner, as she admitted later she occasionally did. I can remember standing in the opposite corners of the room with my brother and, in an act of penal insubordination, turning away from the wall to whisper to him, “Is she coming back?” I can remember my brother getting bored enough and perhaps a bit indignant over the length of our sentence to start yelling, “Momma, can we come out of the corner yet???”Occasionally, certain toys were put on lock-down or placed out of reach in the top of the closets (or so she thought). There was banishment to your room, or depending upon the crime, banishment to the back yard. There was the revocation of TV privileges, a ban on watching that evening’s broadcast of “Combat!” or “Gunsmoke.” There was going to bed early, of course, and the occasional spanking. But of all the punishments my mom pronounced upon our juvenile criminality, the worst one was the most ambiguous. The ne plus ultra of sentences was the dreaded, “Just wait until your father gets home.”
My dad, unfortunately and for the most part undeservedly, got cast in the role of ‘hanging judge’. His punishments could often be much stricter and our attempts at plea-bargains were more likely to go unheeded by him. But really, when I think about it, it was really not so bad having your case transferred to my dad’s court. Because as often as not, Dad would opt for compassion. We’d often find ourselves the beneficiaries of unwonted and unwarranted parole from my dad. He might be strict, but he might also be merciful. He could tow the line, or he could sympathize with us -- as former rambunctious little boy himself. But oh, it could be terrible waiting all afternoon for the circuit judge to come riding into town wondering how severe or how merciful would be his ruling. My dad’s reputation as arbiter of sin and its punishment was a bit like the Apostle Paul’s. The Apostle Paul is usually thought of as a pretty harsh judge. He makes pronouncements against women, he makes pronouncements against sexuality, both hetero and homo; he tells slaves to obey their masters. He writes quite a few things that seem hard to abide by; some of them don’t jibe with our contemporary sense of what Christian should do or believe. But Paul is also the apostle of mercy and forgiveness. It’s clear from his letters that he loves the people that he, on occasion, must chastise. And his letters are full of examples of him urging us to be as forgiving and merciful to each other as God has been to him and to us.
Paul’s Epistle to his friend Philemon is one such example. We don’t read Philemon very much. In fact, this is the only Sunday in our three-year lectionary cycle that it is read. And that’s because there’s not much of it to read. You’ll notice in your bulletin that the citation for the Epistle reading today is simply Philemon 1-20. No chapter numbers, just verses. That’s because Philemon consists of only one chapter, and we read virtually all of it today. Philemon is basically a note from the Apostle Paul to his friend and fellow Christian Philemon who probably lived at Colossae. And it concerns Philemon’s slave Onesimus who is himself mentioned in Paul’s Epistle to the Colossians. Paul’s is returning Onesimus, a fugitive slave, to his master.
This issue of slavery is an important one -- and this letter of Paul to Philemon was cited by those who favored and those who opposed slavery during the 19th century in this country. Much can be said about Christian culpability in the Atlantic slave trade and the horrors of American chattel slavery. But we should at least note here that slavery in Paul’s day was by in large different from the form of slavery that, to our shame, once was legal in our country in a number of ways. Most importantly, slavery was not tied to race. There were many pathways to manumission in Paul’s day, and some estimates say that more than half of all slaves gained their freedom, if not full Roman citizenship, during their lifetime. They had some rights and gained more throughout the Roman period, including the right to go to court against a harsh master. It was not an easy life by any means, but such was the case for many, slave and free, in the ancient world.
Paul’s letter is to accompany Onesimus upon his return to his master Philemon. The letter seems to indicate that Onesimus has run away from Philemon -- which may well be the reason that he has landed in jail alongside Paul. During his time in jail, Onesimus has been converted to Christianity by Paul, and is now being released. As we’ve noted, slaves did have some rights in the ancient world, but masters, as you can imagine, had many more. In particular, masters had the right to punish slaves that ran away by death. It’s clear that Paul doesn’t want this to happen -- throughout the short letter, Paul’s message is singular. He urges mercy and forgiveness. Paul urges Philemon to accept Onesimus back into his household without punishment or reproach. And he offers to take upon himself any debt or the consequences of any wrong that Onesimus has committed. He urges Philemon not to look upon his slave not as a slave, separated from him by social status and power and wealth, but rather to look upon him as a brother, and more than that, as a brother in Christ.
This epistle is so unusual for Paul. Look how personal it is, how focused. There aren’t the usual theological statements. There aren’t the usual pronouncements of Paul against licentiousness or greed or ego. There aren’t any deep Christological formulas. There are no grand ecclesiastical conceits or attempts to bring peace between factions in the church. This is just a simple note, urging that mercy be shown to a fugitive slave and fellow Christian.
But what I find so striking about it is that in this letter Paul really practices what he has so often preached. Paul believed that God would not forsake those who boast of God’s mercy. He truly believed that Christ came into the world to save sinners like himself, and that in Christ, all sins were forgiven and all sinners were redeemed. He believed that in Christ’s death all debts were paid, all punishments commuted, and that mercy and grace was offered to all.
And in this letter to Philemon, he offers to take on Onesimus’ transgressions just as he believed Christ had done for himself and for all who believe. And he says to Philemon that in Christ, all of us are bound together as one, whether we are Jew or Greek, male or female, slave or free. And he is urging Philemon to honor that spiritual, that heavenly reality, rather than the worldly rights he may enjoy as Onesimus’ master. This little note, this short epistle urging compassion and mercy says so much about who Paul was, and what Paul believed had been revealed in Christ and what Paul believed had been accomplished in Christ’s death and resurrection.
And in this epistle, we see Paul not just talking the talk, but walking the walk, and he is urging everyone else who, like Philemon and like us, have come to Christ as Paul himself has done, to do the same. In our gospel today, Jesus reminds us of the costs of discipleship -- and cautions us to weigh that cost carefully. And in our reading from Deuteronomy, Moses tells us that the choice is a clear one, to seek after life by walking in the ways of the Lord; or to choose death and adversity.But of all of our readings today, it is Paul’s epistle to Philemon, this simple, short, poignant note, which shows us the gospel in action. It is Paul the friend of master and slave alike, who shows what it means to be a Christian, what it means to believe with all your heart and all your soul, and all your mind and to put those beliefs into practice.
Would that we, like Paul, might have such an awareness of God’s mercies, that with truly thankful hearts, we might show forth God’s praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives; by giving up our selves to God’s service, and by walking before him, in holiness and righteousness all our days. +Amen.
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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