15. Paul does not often greet by name individual Christians in the churches to which he writes. The main exception to this is Romans (16:3–16), the one other letter, perhaps significantly, written to a church which Paul had not visited in person. He seems to be taking care to establish relationships with those he has not met. So he writes Give my greetings to the brothers (i.e. the church) at Laodicea, and to Nympha and the church in her house. Much ink has been spilt over the question whether the individual here mentioned (who seems to be part of the church in Laodicea, though that is not absolutely certain) is a woman (Nympha) or a man (Nymphas). Both forms are found in the manuscript tradition, and certainty seems impossible on this (fortunately not very significant) point. What is evident is that the church, possessing as yet no ‘special’ buildings of its own, would meet in private houses. The group might be large or small: the early church felt itself under no obligation, as did the synagogue, to ensure a quorum of worshippers (see Matt. 18:20).
16. The next two verses set further puzzles for the historian. After this letter has been read to you, see that it is also read in the church of the Laodiceans and that you in turn read the letter from Laodicea. It is clear from this that Paul intends his letters to be read out in the assembled church and thus to function as authoritative. This is apparent already in 1:24 – 2:5, and further illustrations of the same point are found in 1 Thessalonians 5:27 and Philemon 2. Here we undoubtedly have the principal reason for the preservation of Paul’s letters in the sub-apostolic period, and their eventual adoption as part of the canonical ‘new covenant’ books: their author intended them to carry, in writing, the authority which had been invested in him as an apostle. His work as a whole was to lay foundations for the new world-wide people of God (1 Cor. 3:10–11; Eph. 2:20), and his letters were designed to function, and did in fact function, as part of the fulfilment of that commission. Colossians is itself a good example, being intended to ensure that the young church was truly founded on Christ himself. And if this is the reason why (apart from their intrinsic worth) Paul’s letters were kept, this verse also indicates something of how the process of collecting them together was at least begun. This letter, sent to Colosse, is to be (copied? and) passed on to the church in Laodicea; the Laodiceans, who have also received a letter, are to pass theirs on to Colosse, perhaps by having Tychicus bring it with him (he would almost certainly pass through Laodicea on his way to Colosse).
But what of this second letter, the one ‘from Laodicea’? Most scholars now agree that this phrase does not indicate a letter written (to Paul? or to the Colossians?) by the Laodicean churches, but rather one written to Laodicea and now to be passed on from Laodicea to Colosse. The almost overwhelming probability is that it was written by Paul himself.5 But what did it consist of? Lightfoot’s discussion of the matter6 remains standard. He argues that the ‘letter from Laodicea’ is none other than (what we call) Ephesians, which shows itself to be a circular by the absence of specific greetings and of advice directed to particular situations, by the lack (in many MSS) of an address, and by the general, wide-ranging tone that prevails throughout. This suggestion has not been widely accepted by scholars (Caird is an exception). But no major arguments have been specifically advanced against it, and it may be worthwhile to outline its implications further in terms of a hypothetical reconstruction of events. According to this possibility, Paul, in prison at Ephesus, wrote ‘Ephesians’ as a general letter to the young churches in the surrounding area, including no doubt the church in Ephesus itself. Tychicus (Eph. 6:21) was dispatched with the copy for the churches in the Lycus valley area, with the intention of visiting Colosse after Laodicea, as would be natural (see the map on p. 18). But Paul does not want the Colossian church to be merely another recipient of a circular, any more than he had wanted to include in that majestic and poetic ‘circular’ the more specific warnings of Colossians 2, relevant though they will be for Laodicea also. So Tychicus takes with him ‘Ephesians’, Colossians, and – Onesimus; the latter bearing the shorter letter intended for his erstwhile master Philemon.
This hypothesis is, of course, unprovable. But (in my judgment at least) it covers the data well, particularly the close relationship between ‘Ephesians’ and Colossians. ‘Ephesians’ may be seen as the result of the author taking a step back, as it were, from Colossians and contemplating in worship the great truths he has been emphasizing. (Conversely, of course, Colossians could be seen as a more sharply focused version of certain themes in ‘Ephesians’.) But even if this detailed reconstruction is not accepted, and if (with most scholars) we consider the ‘Letter to Laodicea’ long since lost, the underlying point of the verse remains clear. The authority which Paul has been given to build up the churches in the faith is to be exercised by the two letters to the Lycus valley being read out in both Laodicea and Colosse.
17. The most cryptic comment comes last: Tell Archippus (who in Phlm. 2 is described as Paul’s ‘fellow-soldier’, and seems to be a member of Philemon’s household, or at least his house-church): ‘See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord.’ It is possible that the ‘work’ (literally, ‘ministry’; see below) is the specific task of acceding to Paul’s request concerning Onesimus. But there are problems with this view, which we will discuss in the introduction to Philemon. Much more likely is the view that Archippus has been set aside for a particular ministry within the congregation, perhaps that of teaching the young converts, building them up in faith and love. If he had (to use Paul’s metaphor) already seen active service in the company of the apostle himself, he would be well fitted for this task. This would cohere with the language used of Paul himself in 1:25, where the verb used for ‘present… in fullness’ is the same as that used here for ‘complete’. Paul’s desire throughout the letter has been that the Colossian church should grow to maturity, and it is likely that this final instruction would relate to that process. Archippus has received a ‘ministry’ (not a specific office, but a specifically Christian task) ‘in the Lord’: he is to find his fulfilment in being the Lord’s agent to bring the church to its fulfilment.
Just as, today, someone who dictates a letter to a secretary will usually sign it in person, so here and in several other letters (1 Cor. 16:21; Gal. 6:11; 2 Thess. 3:17; cf. Phlm. 19) we find that Paul likes to take the pen from the secretary (see Rom. 16:22) and write this greeting in my own hand, as a mark of both authentication and affection. He has bound the young church to himself in prayer and loving concern, and now makes his final appeal to them, and to the Lord on their behalf: Remember my chains. Grace be with you. The first sentence is as much a reminder of his paradoxical authority (see Phlm. 9) as an appeal for prayer support, though it is pretty certainly that as well (see Eph. 6:20, which echoes the present verse and Phlm. 9). The second is another example of a conventional formula charged with rich meaning. From one point of view, grace has been the subject of the whole letter. Paul has written in order to emphasize the undeserved love of God in Christ, and all that follows from it. From another point of view, grace has been the object of the letter: Paul has written in order to be a means of grace, not merely to describe it. The letter closes as it began, in grateful prayer.
As we look back over what Paul has written to the Christians in Colosse, we get a glimpse of the young church in its daily life: worshipping, encouraging one another, learning more fully of the plan of God for the world’s salvation and of their place in that plan, finding out how to fulfil, as individuals and as a community, the ministries they have received in the Lord, and, above all, discovering how to be truly grateful to God and so to advance to maturity as Christians and as human beings.
Wherefore I cry, and cry again;
And in no quiet canst thou be,
Till I a thankful heart obtain
Of thee:
Not thankful, when it pleaseth me;
As if thy blessings had spare days:
But such a heart, whose pulse may be
Thy praise.7
We see, also, an attractive picture of Paul, battling in prayer on behalf of Christians he has never met, tactfully introducing himself and his work to them. His breath-taking vision of what God is doing in the world forms a strange, yet strangely characteristic, contrast with the circumstances out of which he writes. But when we look at the church and the apostle in this way, we see more: the loving wisdom of God, the wise plan of salvation now become flesh and blood, the new Adam ushering in the new Age in which men, women and children of all races are bidden, and enabled, to worship the one true God. Paul’s ministry is ‘in Christ’, and reflects Christ at every point. The young church has come to fullness of life in him. All that Paul has said to the Colossians amounts to a royal invitation to adoration, gratitude and love. God has, in Christ, reconciled to himself the world he created through Christ, and now invites his people to enjoy that reconciliation, to grow up into the full and rich human life of the new Age, and so to enjoy him. By beholding Christ, the image of God, they are to be changed into his likeness.
Although the letter to Philemon is the shortest of Paul’s surviving letters, it is longer than most secular letters from the same period. It is no mere casual note, but a carefully crafted and sensitively worded piece, employing tact and irony. There is no doubt that Paul himself wrote it.
But why did he write it? In particular, to whom is he really speaking, and what is he asking for? Philemon appears to be the addressee (v. 1). But a case has been made for a different view: that Philemon, a resident not of Colosse but of Laodicea, was the overseer of all the Lycus valley churches, and that he merely had the task of handing the letter on to Archippus (v. 2), who was the actual owner of Onesimus, and in whose house the Colossian church, or part of it, met (v. 2). The ‘letter from Laodicea’ which is to be read in Colosse (Col. 4:16) is (on this view) our ‘Philemon’; the ‘ministry’ which Archippus is to fulfil (Col. 4:17) is his acceding to Paul’s request concerning Onesimus, his slave. John Knox, the scholar who pioneered this alternative view of our epistle,1 coupled it with the suggestion of E. J. Goodspeed that the letter was preserved because, despite its personal and apparently non-theological nature, it meant a great deal to the first collector of the Pauline letters, namely Onesimus himself, the Bishop of Ephesus referred to by Ignatius in his own letter to the Ephesians, 1:3 (dated around AD 110–115)
Goodspeed’s theory can be neither proved nor disproved. It is possible: but is it probable? Onesimus’ early training with Paul might well have meant that a young slave of AD 55 (or 60–62, if the letter is written from Rome) might have become a respected senior churchman by AD 115. But the name ‘Onesimus’ was not uncommon, and the echoes of this letter in that of Ignatius are mostly very tenuous. Nor is there any evidence that Onesimus – either the slave, or the bishop – was the collector of the Pauline corpus. Even if Ephesians was designed to stand at the head of the set, that would prove nothing. Goodspeed might be right, but might equally well be wrong, and little of historical or theological importance attaches to the decision.
Knox’s more radical hypothesis (that Archippus is the real addressee) has, however, been shown several times to create more problems than it solves.2 (a) I have suggested in the commentary on Colossians 4:16–17 that there is a more natural way of taking those verses. (b) Though it is true that ‘Philemon’ is addressed formally to a church fellowship as well as to an individual, and that the addressee is spoken to as a member of the Christian community, the body of the letter reads as a one-to-one appeal – hardly designed to be read aloud to the assembled faithful in both Laodicea and Colosse. (c) The fact that it is Archippus’ name that, in verse 2, immediately precedes the mention of the church ‘in your (singular) house’, does not at all prove that Archippus is the leader of the church or the real addressee. Parallels from other ancient letters which begin with more than one greeting3 show that it is the first name that indicates the person for whom the letter is primarily intended. We may therefore safely take it that the letter is being written by Paul, in prison (probably in Ephesus, in which case the action takes place in the early to middle fifties of the first century), to Philemon, who lived, and had the oversight of a house-church, in Colosse. Tychicus and Onesimus are taking with them not only the main Colossian letter (Col. 4:7–9) but also this more personal note to one of the church’s leaders.
But what was Paul asking Philemon to do? Here the matter becomes surprisingly complicated. From the letter itself it appears that Onesimus had run away from Philemon’s household, perhaps taking some money as he went (see the notes on v. 18). This would not be unusual in the ancient world. Many slaves risked the wrath of their owners (backed up by stringent laws) in the attempt to escape. At this point Onesimus could have joined a band of other exslaves, hidden himself in the underworld of a big city, or fled for refuge to a pagan shrine.4 Instead, whether by design or sheer providence, he had met Paul. And he had become a Christian.
Paul was now in a delicate position. Our knowledge of the slavelaws then obtaining in the province of Asia is insufficient to tell us what his legal position would have been (see Stuhlmacher, pp. 23f.), but harbouring a runaway slave was hardly the sort of behaviour to earn Paul a good reputation or to help him regain his own freedom (v. 22). Anyway, more than legality was at stake. Paul was faced with two estranged Christians, both of whom, under God, owed their salvation to him (v. 19). But if the gospel both have embraced is the message of reconciliation (Col. 1:18–20; 3:12–17; cf. 2 Cor. 5:17–21), then it must be able to bring together slave and free as it did Jew and Greek, or male and female (Col. 3:11; Gal. 3:28). Paul is faced with a test case. It is no use preaching grand-sounding theory if it cannot be put into practice when it is needed. So he sends Onesimus back to Colosse, to Philemon, having done his best, in this letter, to ensure that a full reconciliation will take place.
But is their reconciliation Paul’s main aim? It has been suggested that the real purpose of the letter was to ask Philemon to send Onesimus back to Paul. Thus verses 13–14 say that, though Paul would like to keep Onesimus, he prefers only to act with Philemon’s consent.5 But there are four problems with this view.
First, it leaves little room for verse 21 (‘knowing that you will do even more than I ask’). This must mean that Paul is (a) making an initial request and (b) hinting at a further, unspecified favour. But if the initial request is for Onesimus to be given permanently to Paul, what ‘more’ could there be?
Second, verse 15 strongly suggests that Onesimus and Philemon are at least to be prepared to live together again. If this is the basic request, the ‘something more’ may be a delicate hint that Philemon, having been fully reconciled to Onesimus, might consider either giving him his freedom or perhaps (which would amount to the same thing) ‘lending’ him permanently to Paul as a helper and travelling companion.
Third, the weight of argument throughout falls not on Onesimus’ possible future service to Paul but on the reconciliation that Paul wishes to take place. The actual imperatives all point this way: welcome him (v. 17), put down any offences to my account (v. 18), and so refresh my heart (v. 20); and prepare a guest room for me (v. 22).
Fourth, the arguments supporting this appeal likewise point to reconciliation as the main aim. An important parallel, and contrast, is provided by the superficially similar letter of the younger Pliny to his friend Sabinianus, whose freedman (one degree above a slave) had come to Pliny for help (Ep. 9:21). Pliny appeals to self-interest (‘mercy wins most praise when there was just cause for anger… anger can only be a torment to your gentle self’) and sides with Sabinianus against the hapless freedman (‘I have given the man a very severe scolding and warned him firmly that I will never make such a request again’). The request is not for a full-hearted reconciliation, but for ‘some concession to his youth, his tears, and your own kind heart’.6 Paul’s motivation, and appeal, are entirely different (this provides the answer to those early Fathers who thought the book untheological and unworthy of an apostle).7 Paul is not asking for a paternalistic willingness to let bygones be bygones. Nor is he offering good advice to Philemon on how to maintain a dignified detachment, untroubled by passion or anger. He seeks the specifically Christian virtue of loving forgiveness, which will demand humility from both parties – Onesimus to seek forgiveness, Philemon to grant it. Onesimus must abandon fear: Philemon, pride.8 And the thing which will induce both parties to do this is a theological fact, namely the fellowship (koinōnia) which belongs to the people of Christ.
If, then, Christian reconciliation is Paul’s aim, the driving force of the whole letter is the prayer of verse 6, which, though cryptically expressed, is comprehensible in the light of the letter as a whole (see the notes for details). Philemon is to learn in practice that koinōnia means an ‘interchange’ between those who are Christ’s.9 Paul first identifies himself closely with Philemon (vv. 1–7): then he establishes the closest possible ties between himself and Onesimus (vv. 10–14). The result of this ‘interchange’ is that Onesimus and Philemon are brought together – in Paul (vv. 17–20). As Luther saw,10 Paul plays Christ in the drama, identifying himself with both sinner and offended party, so making peace (cf. 2 Cor. 5:16–21, which contains many theological ideas here put into practical effect). The result is that the church, instead of fragmenting, grows together ‘into Christ’ (v. 6). There will always be forces that try to tear the church apart. But there will always be the gospel itself to point the way – of humility, forgiveness and reconciliation – by which unity can be not only precariously preserved but solidly established.
Why did Paul not simply ask for Onesimus to be released from slavery? Why (for that matter) did he not order all Christian slaveowners to release all their slaves, rather than profit from an unjust social structure? Slavery was one of the really great evils of the ancient world, under which a large proportion of the population belonged totally to another person, for better or (usually) for worse, with no rights, no prospects, the possibility of sexual abuse, the chance of torture or death for trivial offences. Some slaves were fortunate in having kind or generous masters, and by the end of the first century some secular writers were expressing disgust at the institution. But for the great majority, life was at best drudgery and at worst ‘merciless exploitation’.11 Why, then, did Paul not protest against the whole dehumanizing system?
What alternatives were actually open to him? He was committed to the life, and the standards, of the new age over against the old (Col. 3). But a loud protest, at that moment in social history, would have functioned simply on the level of the old age: it would have been heard only as a criticism by one part of society (Paul, not himself a slave-owner, had nothing to lose) against another. It would, without a doubt, have done more harm than good, making life harder for Christian slaves, and drawing upon the young church exactly the wrong sort of attention from the authorities. If Paul is jailed for proclaiming ‘another king’ (Acts 17:7), it must be clear that the kingdom in question is of a different order altogether from that of Caesar. In addition, inveighing against slavery per se would have been totally ineffective: one might as well, in modern Western society, protest against the mortgage system. Even if all Christians of Paul’s day were suddenly to release their slaves, it is by no means clear that the slaves themselves, or society in general, would benefit: a large body of people suddenly unemployed in the ancient world might not enjoy their freedom as much as they would imagine.
Paul’s method is subtler. He of course knows (1 Cor. 7:21–23) that in principle it is better to be free than to be a slave. But, like Jesus, his way of changing the world is to plant a grain of mustard seed, which, inconspicuous at first, grows into a spreading tree. And in the meantime (see the commentary on Col. 3:22–4:1) he teaches slaves and masters to treat themselves, and each other, as human beings. Like the artist or poet, he does some of his finest work not by the obscure clarity of direct statement, but by veiled allusion and teasing suggestion.
Why was the letter preserved? We cannot tell. Philemon himself may have treasured it. Onesimus may have kept a copy, and if indeed it is he to whom Ignatius later refers as Bishop of Ephesus, it is quite likely that ‘his’ letter would have been preserved, with others, in that city. Of one thing we may be sure. It is unlikely that the letter would have been preserved if it had not been received in the spirit in which it was sent. We are on safe ground in postulating a happy ending to the story. The reconciliation of Philemon and Onesimus becomes an acted parable of the gospel itself, which breaks into the world of sin, suspicion and anger, of pride and fear, with the good news that Jesus Christ has revealed God’s purposes of salvation, of human wholeness, of loving and forgiving fellowship.
The letter to Philemon appears to pose in a peculiarly acute form the problem of hermeneutics – of how we, today, can appropriate this part of Scripture for ourselves. This letter was written to a private individual in a unique situation in the life of his household. But no part of the New Testament more clearly demonstrates integrated Christian thinking and living. It offers a blend, utterly characteristic of Paul, of love, wisdom, humour, gentleness, tact and above all Christian and human maturity. The epistle’s chief value is not that it is a tract about slavery, for it is not that. It is a letter which, at one level ‘about’ koinōnia, Christian fellowship and mutual participation, is at a far deeper level an outworking, in practice, of that principle. That which it expounds, it also exemplifies. It is a living fragment of the life of Christ, working itself out in the lives of human beings so different from us and yet so similar. Perhaps the only hermeneutical principle we need here is the crisp command, issued in another context where custom and faith were in collision: go, and do thou likewise.
There is no problem about the analysis of this letter into its component parts, except that which we noticed about Colossians: Paul’s thought does not move in neat, packaged sections, but grows and develops from pregnant statements (here, vv. 4–7) to fuller exposition (vv. 8–22). We arrive at the following outline:
1. Opening greetings (1–3)
2. Thanksgiving and prayer (4–7)
3. The request (8–22)
A. Onesimus and Paul (8–16)
B. Onesimus and Philemon (17–22)
4. Closing greetings (23–25)