Homily 3 — Philemon 1, verses 17 to 25

“So if you count me a partner, receive him as you would me. If he has wronged you at all, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, write this with my own hand: I will repay it — not to mention to you that you owe me even your own self besides.” [a]

Nothing wins a hearing so well as not asking for everything at once. See how much praise, how much preparation, came before he brought in this great request. He first said that Onesimus is “my son,” that he shares in the work of the good news, that he is “my very heart,” that Philemon is receiving him back “as a brother” and is to “hold him as a brother”; and only then did he add, “as you would me.” Paul was not ashamed to do this. He was not ashamed to be called the servant of the faithful — he even declares that he was one — so much less would he refuse this. What he is saying amounts to this: “If you are of one mind with me, if you are running on the same terms as I am, if you consider me a friend, receive him as you would me.”

“If he has wronged you at all.” See where and when he brings in the mention of the injury: last, after saying so much on Onesimus’s behalf. Losing money is what annoys people most. So that Philemon would not hold this against him — for most likely the money had been spent — he brings it in only now, and says, “If he has wronged you.” He does not say, “If he has stolen anything.” What then? “If he has wronged you.” In the same breath he admitted the offense, and presented it not as a slave’s offense but as the offense of one friend against another, using the word “wrong” rather than “theft.” [c]

“Charge that to my account,” he says — that is, count the debt as mine — “I will repay it.” Then, with that spiritual playfulness of his: “I, Paul, write this with my own hand.” It is moving and playful at once. Imagine Philemon refusing to take him back, when Paul did not refuse to sign a written bond for him! This would both shame Philemon into agreeing and get Onesimus out of trouble. “I write it,” he says, “with my own hand.” Nothing is more tender than this deep affection of his, nothing more earnest, nothing more eager. See how much care he spends on one man.

“Not to mention to you that you owe me even your own self besides.” Then, so that it would not seem an insult to the man he is asking — as though Paul lacked the confidence simply to ask and be granted pardon for a theft — he softens it somewhat by saying, “not to mention to you that you owe me even your own self besides”: not only your possessions, but yourself as well. This came from love; it was in keeping with the rule of friendship, and it proved how great his confidence was. See how everywhere he provides for both things: that he may ask with full assurance, and that this may not seem a sign that he has too little confidence in Philemon.

Verse 20: “Yes, brother.” What does “Yes, brother” mean? “Receive him,” he says; we must supply that, though it is not spoken. Setting aside all playfulness, he goes back to his earlier line of thought, the serious one. And yet even the playful words were serious, for what comes from holy men is serious in itself, even when it is playful. [d]

“Yes, brother, let me have joy of you in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ.” That is: you are granting the favor to the Lord, not to me. “My heart” means my heart toward you.

Verse 21: “Having confidence in your obedience, I write to you.” What stone would these words not have softened? What wild beast would they not have tamed and made ready to welcome him warmly? After bearing witness to Philemon’s goodness with so many great testimonies, he is not ashamed to excuse himself once more. He says: not merely asking it, not commanding it, not as I please, but “having confidence in your obedience I wrote to you.” What he said at the beginning, “having confidence,” he says here too as he seals his letter.

“Knowing that you will do even more than I say.” By saying this he also spurred him on. For if for no other reason, Philemon would have been ashamed to be trusted so far — to be counted on to do more than Paul said — and then not do even that much. [e]

Verse 22: “But at the same time, prepare a place for me to stay as well; for I trust that through your prayers I will be given to you.” This too was the mark of a man very sure of himself — or rather, this too was for Onesimus’s sake. They would not be careless about it, knowing that when Paul came back he would learn how things stood with Onesimus; and so they would put away every memory of the wrong and be all the readier to grant the favor. For Paul’s staying among them carried great weight and great honor — Paul in his old age, Paul after imprisonment. Again, it shows their love that he says they pray, and he credits them with so much as praying for “him.” “Though I am in danger now, all the same you will see me, if you pray for it.”

Verse 23: “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, greets you.” Epaphras had been sent by the Colossians, so it appears from this that Philemon too lived at Colossae. Paul calls him his “fellow prisoner” to show that he too was in great distress, so that, if not for Paul’s own sake, then for the other man’s, it was right that Paul be listened to. For someone who is in distress, who forgets himself and cares for others, deserves to be listened to. [f]

He also shames him on another ground. If his own countryman is a fellow prisoner with Paul and suffers with him, will Philemon himself not grant Paul a favor concerning his own slave? And he added “my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus” in place of “for Christ’s sake.”

Verse 24: “Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, Luke, my fellow workers.” Why, then, does he put Luke last? And yet elsewhere he says, “Only Luke is with me” (Second Timothy 4, verse 11), and says that “Demas” was one of those who “forsook him, having loved the present world” (Second Timothy 4, verse 10). All these things, though they are mentioned elsewhere, still ought not to be passed over here without inquiry, and we ought not to hear them as a matter of routine. But how does he come to say that the man who forsook him sends greetings to them? For “Erastus,” he says, “stayed at Corinth” (Second Timothy 4, verse 20). He adds Epaphras because they knew him and he was from their own country; and Mark, because he too was an admirable man. Why, then, does he count Demas among these? Perhaps it was after this that Demas grew slack, when he saw the dangers multiplying. But Luke, who was last, became first. And he sends him greetings from these men to urge him all the more to obey; he calls them his fellow workers, and in this way shames him into granting the request.

Verse 25: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen.” [i]

He has closed his letter with a prayer. Prayer is indeed a great good, bringing health to our souls and keeping them safe. But it is great when we do things worthy of it and do not make ourselves unworthy. So you too, when you go to the priest and he says to you, “The Lord will have mercy on you, my son,” do not rely on the words alone, but add works as well. Do things that deserve mercy. God will bless you, my son, if you really do things that deserve blessing. He will bless you if you show mercy to your neighbor. For the very things we want to receive from God, we ought first to share with our neighbors. But if we deprive our neighbors of them, how can we expect to receive them?

“Blessed,” he says, “are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy” (Matthew 5, verse 7). If human beings show mercy to such people, much more will God; but to the unmerciful, never. “For he will have judgment without mercy who has shown no mercy” (James 2, verse 13).

Mercy is an excellent thing! Why, then, have you not shown it to another? You want to be pardoned when you offend — why, then, do you not pardon the one who has offended you? But you come to God asking him for the kingdom of heaven, and you yourself do not give money when someone begs it of you. This is why we do not obtain mercy: because we do not show mercy. [j]

“But why? Isn’t this, too, a part of mercy — to show mercy to the unmerciful?” No! The one who treated with the greatest kindness a hard-hearted, cruel man who had done countless harms to his neighbor — how could he be merciful? “What then? Didn’t the washing save us, who had committed countless evils?” It set us free from them — not so that we would commit them again, but so that we would not commit them. For “how shall we who are dead to sin,” it says, “live in it any longer?” (Romans 6, verse 2). “What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law? Far from it!” (Romans 6, verse 15).

This is why God set you free from those sins: so that you would never again run back to that disgrace. Physicians, too, relieve their fevered patients of the heat — not so that they may misuse their health to their own harm and disorder (it would be better to stay sick, if one was going to use his health only to put himself back in bed), but so that, having learned the evils that come from sickness, they may not fall into them again, may guard their health more securely, and may do everything that helps preserve it.

“How then? What is God’s love for humankind, if he is not going to save the bad?” I often hear many people talking this way: that he loves humankind and will certainly save everyone. So, so that we do not deceive ourselves for nothing — for I remember making you a promise of this kind — come, let us take up this argument today. Not long ago I spoke to you about hell, and I put off my argument about God’s love for humankind. It is right, then, to take it up again today. [k]

That there will be a hell, we have, I think, sufficiently proved. We brought forward the flood and the disasters of earlier times, and argued that it is impossible that the one who did these things should let the people of the present age go unpunished. For if he punished in this way those who sinned before the law, he will not let those go unpunished who have committed greater wickedness after grace was given. The question was then raised: how is he good? How does he love humankind, if he punishes at all? And we put off the argument, so as not to overwhelm your ears with a mass of words.

Come, then, let us pay off the debt today and show how good God is, even in punishing. This discussion will serve us well against the heretics, so let us give it our close attention. God needed nothing from us, and yet he created us. That he did not need us is clear from his making us only after a long time; for if he had needed us, he could have made us long ago. If he himself existed even without us, and we were made in later times, then he made us without needing us. He made the heavens, the earth, the sea, everything that exists, for our sake. Tell me, are these not marks of goodness? And one could mention many more. But to cut the matter short: “He makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5, verse 45). Is this not a mark of goodness? “No.” For once, when I was talking with a Marcionite, I said, “Are these things not a mark of goodness?” And he answered, “If he did not call people to account for their sins, that would be a mark of goodness. But if he calls them to account, it is not goodness.” [l]

That man is not here now. But come, let us go over what was said then, and more besides. For I will go beyond what the case requires and show that if he did not call people to account, he would not be good; it is because he does call them to account that he is good.

Tell me: if he did not call us to account, could human life have held together? Would we not have sunk into the state of beasts? Even now, with this fear hanging over us, with the giving of account and the judgments to come, we have outdone the fish in devouring one another, and put wolves and lions in the shade in plundering one another’s goods. If he did not call us to account, and we were convinced of it, what uproar and confusion would fill life! What would the fabled labyrinth be, next to the tangles of the world then? Would you not see countless indecencies and disorders? Who would have respected his father any longer? Who would have spared his mother? Who would have left any pleasure, any wickedness, untried?

That this is so, I will try to show you from a single household. How? You who raise these questions, and who own slaves: suppose I could make it plain to your slaves that if they wrecked their masters’ household, if they abused their masters’ persons, if they plundered everything, if they turned everything upside down, if they treated their masters as enemies, their masters would not threaten them, or correct them, or punish them, or even hurt them with a word — would this be any proof of goodness? I say it is the height of cruelty. It is not only that wife and children are betrayed by this senseless kindness; the slaves themselves are ruined before anyone else. They will become drunkards, insolent, dissolute, more irrational than any beast. Tell me, is this a proof of goodness — to trample on the noble nature of the soul, and to destroy both themselves and others besides? Do you see that calling people to account is a proof of great goodness?

But why do I speak of slaves, who fall into these sins more readily? Let a man have sons, and let him allow them to do whatever they like, and let him not punish them — tell me, will they not become worse than anything? With human beings, then, it is a mark of goodness to punish and of cruelty not to punish; and is it not so with God? So it is because he is good that he has prepared a hell.

Do you want me to speak of another mark of God’s goodness? It is not only this; it is also that he does not let the good become bad. For if the good and the bad were going to meet with the same things, everyone would be bad. As it is, this too is no small comfort to the good. Listen to the prophet saying, “The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance on the ungodly; he will wash his hands in the blood of the sinner” (Psalm 58, verse 10). Not that he rejoices over it — far from it! — but, afraid that he might suffer the same things, he will make his own life purer. This, then, is a mark of God’s great care. [n]

“Yes, but he ought only to threaten, and not punish as well.” But he does punish, and still you say it is only a threat, and grow lazier because of it. If it really were only a threat, would you not grow more careless still? If the Ninevites had known it was only a threat, they would not have repented. But because they repented, they made the threat stop at words. Do you want it to be only a threat? That is in your hands. Become a better man, and it stops at the threat. But if — may it never be! — you despise the threat, you will come to experience it in fact. If the people before the flood had feared the threat, they would not have experienced it carried out. And if we fear the threat, we will not lay ourselves open to experiencing the reality. May that never happen to us!

And may the merciful God grant that all of us, brought from now on to a sound mind, may obtain those blessings beyond words. May we all be counted worthy of them, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and forever and ever. Amen.