Homilies on Philemon 2.1

[Homily 2] “I thank my God always, making mention of you in my prayers, hearing of your love and the faith which you have toward the Lord Jesus and toward all the saints, that the fellowship of your faith may become effective in the knowledge of every good thing that is in us toward Christ Jesus.” He does not ask for the favour at once from the opening. First he admires the man and praises him for his achievements, and gives no small proof of his own love, that he always remembers him in his prayers; he says that many are refreshed by him, and that he heeds and obeys everyone; and then he puts the request last, putting him most to shame by this. For if others obtain what they ask, much more Paul; if, coming before the others, he deserved to obtain it, much more after the others, and asking for a thing that does not concern himself, but on behalf of another. Then, lest he seem to write only for this reason, and lest anyone say, “If it had not been for Onesimus, you would not have written,” see how he gives other causes for the letter too: first showing his love, and then bidding a lodging to be prepared for him. “Hearing,” he says, “of your love.” This is marvellous, and much greater than seeing it in person. For it is clear from this that it was surpassing, that it had become conspicuous and had reached even him; and yet the distance between Rome and Phrygia was not small; for it seems to me that Philemon was there, judging from Archippus. For the Colossians are of Phrygia, to whom he said in writing, “When the letter has been read among you, see that it is read also in … , that you too may read it.” And Laodicea is a city of Phrygia. “I pray,” he says, “that the fellowship of your faith may become effective.” Do you see him giving before receiving, and before asking the favour, offering his own, a much greater one? “That,” he says, “the fellowship of your faith may become effective in the knowledge of every good thing that is in you toward Christ Jesus.” That is, that you may go through every virtue, that nothing may be lacking. For so faith becomes effective, when it has works; for “faith without works is dead.” And he did not say “your faith,” but “the fellowship of your faith,” joining him to himself and showing them to be one body, and by this especially putting him to shame. If you are a partner in the faith, he says, you ought to share in other things too. “For we have joy and much comfort in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, brother.” Nothing so puts one to shame as bringing up one's kindnesses to others, especially when the one asking is more worthy of respect than they. And he did not say, “If you do it for others, much more for me”; he hinted at the same thing, but managed it differently: “We have joy,” that is, you have given me confidence from what was done to others. “And comfort,” that is, we are not only pleased but also consoled; for they are our members. If then the harmony must be so great that, when others are refreshed, those in afflictions, even if they obtain nothing, rejoice because of them, as though one body had been benefited, much more if you refresh us too. And he did not say, “because you yield, because you are persuaded,” but more strongly and expressively, “because the hearts of the saints,” as of a child dear and lovely to its fathers. So the love, the tender affection, shows that he too was greatly loved by them. “Therefore, though I have much boldness in Christ to command you what is fitting.” See how he takes precautions, lest even things said from great love should wound the hearer so that he is annoyed. That is why, before saying “to command you” — since it was heavy, although, being said from love, it was rather able to heal — he nevertheless puts in a great correction out of abundance, saying “having boldness,” which was the language of one showing Philemon to be great; that is, you have given us boldness. And not only this, but he adds “in Christ,” which shows that it is not as one more distinguished in the world, nor as more powerful, but because of faith in Christ. And then he set down “to command you,” and not only this, but also “what is fitting,” that is, a reasonable thing. And see from how many things he establishes it. You do good to others, he says, and to me; and it is for Christ's sake; and the thing is reasonable; and love grants it. That is why he adds, “for love's sake I rather beseech you.” As if he said, “I know that even if I command, I do so with great authority, from what has gone before; but since I am very earnest about the matter, I beseech.” He showed both at once: that he has confidence in him (for he commanded), and that he lays great claim to the matter; that is why he beseeches. “Being such a one,” he says, “as Paul the aged.” Ah, how many things to put him to shame! “Paul,” from the dignity of the person; “the aged,” from his age; and, what is the most just claim of all, “and now a prisoner of Jesus Christ.” For who would not receive the athlete, the one crowned, with open arms? Who, seeing one bound for Christ's sake, would not grant countless favours? Having smoothed his soul by so many things, he did not even then at once put in the name; but having made so great a request, he postpones it. For you know the anger of masters against runaway servants, especially when they have run away with theft; even if the servants have kind masters, how the anger grows! This anger, then, he smoothed by all these things; and having first persuaded him to do any service readily, and prepared his soul for complete obedience, he then brings in the petition and says, “I beseech you”; and with praises, “for my child, whom I begot in my bonds.” Again the bonds put him to shame. And then the name; for not only did he quench the anger, but he also made him glad. For I would not call him child, he says, unless he were very useful. What I called Timothy, this I call him too. And in many places, showing his affection, he shames him by the time of the birth pangs: “I begot him as a prisoner,” he says. So for this reason too he deserves to obtain great honour, because he was born in the very contests, in the trials for Christ. “Onesimus, who once was unprofitable to you.” See how great his understanding is: how he confesses his sin, and by this quenches his anger. I know, he says, that he was unprofitable. “But now he will be profitable to you and to me.” He did not say, “But now he will be profitable to you,” lest the other contradict, but brought in his own person too, so that the hopes might be trustworthy. “But now,” he says, “profitable to you and to me.” For if he is profitable to Paul, who demands such strictness, much more to his master. “Whom I have sent back to you.” By this too he quenched his anger, by handing him over. For masters are especially angry when they are asked on behalf of absent servants; so by this very thing he softened him more. “You therefore receive him, that is, my own heart.” And again he does not set the name down bare, but with a word that shames him, warmer than “child.” He said “child,” he said “I begot”; so it is likely that he loved him most, because he begot him in trials. For it is clear that we burn most for those children when we escape dangers and give birth in them; as when Scripture says, “Ouai-barchaboth”; and again when Rachel calls Benjamin “son,” she says, “of my sorrow.” “You therefore,” he says, “receive him, that is, my own heart.” He shows his great love. He did not say, “Accept him,” he did not say, “Do not be angry,” but “receive him”: that is, not only with pardon, but also with honour. “Whom I wished to keep with me, that on your behalf he might minister to me in the bonds of the gospel.” Do you see how many things he established first, and then brought him to the honour of serving in his master's place? And see this too, with how much wisdom it is done: see how much he makes Philemon answerable, and how he honours the slave. “You found,” he says, “a way to render your service to me through him.” Here he shows that he considered Philemon's interest more than the slave's, because he greatly respects him. “But without your consent,” he says, “I wished to do nothing, so that your good deed might not be as of necessity, but voluntary.” This especially exalts the one asked, when, even though the thing is useful, it is done with his consent. For two goods come from this: Philemon gains, and Onesimus is placed more securely. And he did not say, “that it may not be of necessity,” but “as of necessity.” For I knew, he says, that even if you had not been told, but had learned of it all at once, you would not have been indignant; but nevertheless, out of greater abundance, I did so, that it might not be as of necessity. “For perhaps he was parted from you for a while for this reason, that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave.” He rightly said “perhaps,” so that the master may yield. For since the flight came from wilfulness and a perverse mind, and not from good choice, he says “perhaps.” And he did not say, “For this reason he fled,” but “for this reason he was parted,” using a more euphemistic word … for it was not his design to depart for this purpose, nor for that. Joseph too said this, defending his brothers: “God sent me here”; that is, he used their wickedness for what was needful. “For this reason he was parted,” he says, “for a while.” He both shortens the time, and confesses the sin, and turns the whole into God's dispensation. “That you might have him back,” he says, “forever”: not only in the present time but also in the future, that you might have him always, no longer as a slave, but as more precious than a slave; for while he remains a slave, you will have him better disposed than a brother. So you have gained both in time and in quality; for he will not run away again. “That you might have him back forever,” he says, instead of “receive him.” “No longer as a slave, but more than a slave, a beloved brother, especially to me.” You lost a slave for a short time, and you will find a brother forever, a brother not only yours but mine too. Here too his virtue is great. And if he is my brother, you too will not be ashamed of him. By “child” he showed his affection; by “brother,” his great goodwill and equality of honour. These things have not been recorded idly, but so that we masters may not despair of our servants, nor bear down on them too heavily, but learn to forgive the sins of such servants, so that we may not always be harsh, so that we may not be ashamed, because of their slavery, to take them as partners in everything, when they are good. For if Paul was not ashamed to call him child and heart and brother and beloved, how should we be ashamed? And why do I say Paul? Paul's Master is not ashamed to call our slaves his brothers, and shall we be ashamed? See how he honours us: he calls our slaves his brothers and friends and fellow heirs. See how far he came down. What then shall we do, to have accomplished everything? We will never be able to do enough; but however far we go in humility, the greater part of it is left over. For consider: whatever you do, you do toward your fellow slave; but your Master has done it toward your slaves. … humility. Perhaps you laugh at what was said, that humility lifts one up; but do not marvel: it lifts up when it is not genuine. How and in what way? When it is done to win the approval of men and not of God, when it is for the sake of being praised and of thinking highly of oneself; for this too is devilish. For just as many are vainglorious about not being vainglorious, so too they are lifted up by humbling themselves, through thinking highly of themselves. For example, a brother came, or a servant; you received him, you washed his feet; at once you thought highly of yourself: “I did,” you say, “what no one else did; I achieved humility.” How then would one remain in humility? If he remembers the command of Christ which says, “When you have done all things, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants’”; and again the teacher of the world, who says, “I do not count myself to have laid hold of it.” He who has persuaded himself that he has achieved nothing great, whatever he does, he alone can be humble: he who does not think he has reached the goal. Many have been lifted up through humility. But let us not suffer this. Have you done something humble? Do not think highly of yourself, since then you have lost everything. Such was the Pharisee: he was lifted up because he gave tithes to the poor, and he lost everything. But not so the tax collector. Hear Paul again saying, “I am conscious of nothing against myself, but I am not justified by this.” Do you see that he did not exalt himself, but in every way restrained and humbled himself, and that after having ascended to the very summit? And the three youths were in the fire, in the middle of the furnace, and what did they say? “We have sinned, we have done lawlessly with our fathers.” This is to have a contrite heart. That is why they could say, “But with a contrite heart and a humble spirit may we be accepted.” So even after falling into the furnace they were very humble, and more than before they fell in. For when they saw the miracle that happened, they thought themselves unworthy of salvation and were brought down to humility. For when we are persuaded that we have been benefited beyond our deserts … And yet in what were they benefited beyond their deserts? They gave themselves up to the furnace; they were taken captive when others had sinned (for they were still young); and they did not murmur, nor were angry, nor said, “Yes, what good is it to us that we serve God? What did we gain by worshipping him? This man is impious, and has become our master; we are punished with the idolaters by the idolater; we have been carried away into captivity from all our ancestral things, we have become captives and slaves, we serve a barbarian king.” They said none of these things; but what? “We have sinned, we have done lawlessly.” And they make the petition not for themselves but for the others: “For you handed us over,” they say, “to a most hostile and most wicked king.” Again, Daniel, thrown into the pit a second time, said, “For God has remembered me.” Why, Daniel, did he not remember you when you glorified him before the king, saying, “And not by any wisdom that is in me”? But when you were thrown into the lions' pit for not obeying that most wicked decree, why would he not remember you? For this very reason. “Were you not thrown in for his sake now?” “Yes,” he says, “but I am a debtor of many things.” And if he said such things after such virtue, what shall we say then? But hear what David says: “And if he says to me, ‘I have not delighted in you,’ behold, here I am; let him do to me what is pleasing in his sight”; and yet he had countless achievements of his own to tell. And Eli too says, “It is the Lord; he will do what is pleasing in his sight.” This belongs to grateful servants: to yield everything to him not only in his benefits but also in his punishments and penalties. For how is it not absurd, if we let masters beat their servants, knowing that they spare them, since the servants are their own, but think that God, when he punishes, will not spare? This Paul too hinted, saying, “Whether we live or die, we are the Lord's.” He does not want his wealth diminished, he means; he knows how to punish; he punishes his own children. None of us spares himself more than he spares us, who brought us from non-being into being, who makes the sun rise, who sends rain, who breathes in the soul, who gave his Son for us. But, as I said, and the reason for which I have said all this: let us be humble as we ought, moderate as we ought; let this not become an occasion of exaltation for us. Are you humble, and humbler than all men? Do not on this account think highly of yourself, nor reproach others, lest you lose your boast. You are humble for this reason, to be freed from arrogance. If then through humility you fall into arrogance, it is better not to be humble. For hear Paul saying, “Through what is good it works death in me, so that sin might become exceedingly sinful through the commandment.” When it comes into your mind to admire yourself for humility, consider your Master, how far he came down, and you will no longer admire yourself nor praise yourself, but … think yourself a debtor. Whatever you do, remember that parable: “Who of you,” he says, “says, ‘Come at once and recline’? Does he not say, ‘Stand and serve me’?” Do we thank our servants for serving us? Not at all. But God thanks us, not for serving him, but for doing what benefits us. However, let us not be so disposed as though he owed us thanks, so that he may thank us the more; but as fulfilling a debt; for truly the thing is a debt, and all that we do is of debt. For if, buying slaves with silver, we want them to live wholly for us, and whatever they have to have for us, how much more he who brought us from non-being into being, and who afterwards bought us with precious blood? He paid a price for us such as no one would bear to pay even for a child: he poured out his own blood. If then, having ten thousand souls, we laid them all down, would we render the equal? Not at all. Why? Because he did this without owing it to us, and the whole has been of grace, while we owe it from then on. He, being God, became a slave, and not being subject to death, came under death in the flesh; but we, even if we do not lay down our souls for him, will in any case lay them down by the law of nature, and unwillingly we will depart from them a little later. So too with money: even if we do not give it for his sake, we will give it up through the necessity of death. So too with humility: even if we are not humble for his sake, we will be humbled by afflictions, by misfortunes, by the powerful. Do you see, then, how great the grace is? He did not say, “What great thing do the martyrs do? Even if they do not die for me, they will certainly die”; but he is very grateful to them, because they willingly lay down what they would later lay down unwillingly by nature. He did not say, “What great thing do those who empty out their money do? They will certainly lay it aside, even unwillingly”; but he is very grateful to these too, and is not ashamed to confess before all that the Master was fed by his slaves. For this too is the glory of a master, to have grateful servants; and this is the glory of a master, that his slaves love him so; and this is the glory of a master, to make their things his own; and this is the glory of a master, not to be ashamed to confess it before all. Let us then revere so great a love of Christ; let us be warmed by affection. If someone is lowly and cheap, but we hear that he loves us, we are most of all warmed toward him and pay him great honour; do we love so, while our Master loves us so much, and are we not roused? Let us not, I beg you, be so slack about the salvation of our souls, but let us love him as far as we can, and empty out everything for his love, soul and money and glory and anything whatever, with joy, with gladness, with eagerness, not as giving him anything, but as giving to ourselves. For such is the law of lovers: they think they are well treated when they are ill treated for the sake of those they love. So then let us too be disposed toward our Master, so that we may also obtain the good things to come in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father be glory, with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen. [Homily 3] “… me. If he has wronged you at all, or owes anything, charge this to me. I, Paul, have written it with my own hand; I will repay it — not to mention to you that you owe me even your own self besides.” Nothing knows how to commend a matter so well as not asking for everything at once. See after how many praises, after how much preparation, he set down this great thing. After saying that he is “my child,” that you are a partner in the gospel, that he is “my heart,” that you have him back as a brother, that you should hold him as a brother, then he added, “as me.” And Paul was not ashamed of this. For one who was not ashamed to be called the slave of the believers, but even confessed it, would much less have refused this. What he says is this: if you think as I do, if you run on the same course, if you regard me as a friend, receive him as me. “But if he has wronged you at all.” See where and when he set down the wrong: last, after saying much for him beforehand. For since loss of money especially stings people, so that Philemon would not find fault about this either (for it is likely that the money had even been spent), he then sets this down and says, “But if he has wronged you at all.” He did not say, “If he stole anything,” but what? “If he has wronged you at all.” At the same time he confessed the sin, and not as the sin of a slave, but as of a friend toward a friend, by using the name of wrongdoing rather than of theft. “Charge this to me,” he says, that is, hold me as the debtor; I will repay. Then he speaks also of the spiritual grace: “I, Paul, have written it with my own hand,” both shamingly and graciously, as though for this one Paul's very handwriting were to be taken as a bond. This greatly put him to shame, and freed Onesimus from trouble. “With my own hand,” he says, “I have written.” Nothing is warmer than this heart, nothing more earnest, nothing more eager. See how much care he takes for one man. “Not to mention to you,” he says, “that you owe me even your own self besides.” Then, lest it seem an insult to the one asked, if he did not dare to ask and obtain pardon for a theft, he consoles him for this too: “Not to mention,” he says, “that you owe me even yourself besides”: not only your possessions, but yourself too. And this came from love, by the rule of friendship, and from great confidence. See how everywhere he takes care of both: of asking with great security, and of not making this a token of too great confidence in him. “Yes.” What is “Yes, brother”? “Receive him,” he says; for this must be understood from outside. For, leaving the graciousness, he again holds to the earlier, serious matters. And yet these too are serious; for the things that come from the saints are serious too, even if … “… in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ.” That is, you are giving the favour to the Lord, not to me. “My heart,” the heart that is toward you. “Confident of your obedience, I have written to you.” What stone would these things not have softened? What beast would they not have tamed, and prepared to receive him genuinely? After bearing witness to him in such great achievements, he does not refuse to excuse himself again. He does not simply say … “Confident of your obedience, I have written to you.” What he said at the beginning, “having boldness,” he says here too, to seal the letter. “Knowing that you will do even more than I say.” At the same time he roused him by saying this; for he would have been ashamed, if nothing else, having such a reputation with Paul that he does more than he is told, not to do even this much. “At the same time prepare a lodging for me too; for I hope that through your prayers I shall be granted to you.” This too belonged to great confidence; or rather this too was on behalf of Onesimus, so that they would not be slack, but, knowing that when he returned he would certainly hear about him, they would put away all resentment and rather show him favour. For great was the favour and honour of having Paul present, Paul after his years, Paul after his bonds. Again, it is a token of their love that he says that they pray, and attributes so much to them as to pray for him. For even if I am now in dangers, yet you will see me, if you pray. “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, greets you.” This man had been sent by the Colossians; so from this too it is clear that Philemon was at Colossae. He calls him a fellow prisoner, showing that he too was in great affliction; so that even if not for Paul's own sake, it was reasonable that he should be heard for this man's sake. For he who is in affliction, and has left his own affairs, and cares for those of others, ought to be heard. And besides he shames him, if his fellow citizen has become Paul's fellow prisoner and suffers ill with him, while he does not even grant a favour for his own servant. And he added, “my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus,” instead of “for Christ's sake.” “Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, Luke, my fellow workers.” Why does he put Luke last? And yet he says elsewhere, “Luke alone is with me.” And Demas, he says, was one of those who deserted him and loved the present age. Even if these things are said elsewhere, one must not leave them unexamined, nor hear them simply or casually. How does he bid them greet one who deserted him? For “Erastus,” he says, “remained in Corinth.” Epaphras he adds as known to them and from there, and Mark as … Perhaps Demas afterwards became slacker, when he saw the many dangers. But Luke, though last, became first. And he greets him from these men too, urging him more to obedience, and he calls them fellow workers, putting him to shame by this too toward the request. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen.”