Sermon 06.18.2023: Knit Together as Family

Summer Sermon Series: Short & Sweet

There's a lot of familial language in Paul's letter to Philemon. If we want to call each other siblings in Christ, are we willing to treat everyone we meet like we are all God's children, and a part of our family? By claiming membership in God’s family, we aren’t just interested in our own, personal lives and salvation. We become invested in the lives of each other and in the lives of people we may not even know.

Scripture

Philemon

Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother,

To Philemon our dear friend and co-worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow-soldier, and to the church in your house:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith towards the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus. I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced. Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back for ever, no longer as a slave but as more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.

So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord! Refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say.

One thing more—prepare a guest room for me, for I am hoping through your prayers to be restored to you.
Epaphras, my fellow-prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends greetings to you, and so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, my fellow-workers.

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.

Sermon Text 

Philemon’s runaway slave, Onesimus, ended up with Paul in jail, somehow. And like all slaves throughout history, Onesimus isn’t keen on returning to the man who claimed ownership over his life. So, Paul writes on Onesimus’ behalf to his captor, Philemon, using exclusively familial language.

The hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment.

Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back for ever, no longer as a slave but as more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.

Paul paints the family connections with very strong, and not very subtle, language.

Because Paul believes very strongly we are family, because we are adopted by God into God’s family. You see it in all of his letters. He greets brothers and sisters.

He always refers to “God our Father” in the salutation of his letters.

Paul wants us all to understand that there are implications to claiming membership in God’s family.

Here is how Paul describes it in the 8th chapter of his letter to his brothers and sisters in Rome:

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.

And while he wants Philemon to know these things, generally, he wants to make sure he gets how it affects him specifically in this situation.

If you are going to call me brother, Paul reminds him, it is because God made us family. Which means that everyone else who loves and serves God is family too, even Onesimus. And would anyone refer to a member of their family as a slave? Of course not!

Not only is Onesimus now Philemon’s brother, he is also to be seen as Paul’s own son. If that’s not enough, Paul also refers to him has “my own heart.”

Certainly, Philemon is quick enough to understand that how he treats Onesimus is how he treats Paul.

More than that, how he treats Onesimus is how he treats Christ.

This text is problematic for us in many ways. Clearly, our modern sensibilities would be appeased if Paul came out and condemned slavery in total, and not just for our brother in Christ Onesimus. But he doesn’t.

So, on this weekend when we celebrate Juneteenth, which is the day when the news of the end of the Civil War reached slaves in Texas and they knew they were free, we acknowledge the way scripture has been used to justify sin that harmed people.

The slavery practiced in the ancient world that Paul would have known was different than what we created in this country. It wasn’t racialized. Slaves in Rome might include prisoners of war, sailors captured and sold by pirates, or slaves bought outside Roman territory. In hard times, it was not uncommon for desperate Roman citizens to raise money by selling their children into slavery.

They were treated terribly and life was harsh. Some of them were enslaved for a period of time. Some were allowed to purchase their own freedom. Some were freed by their captors. Once freed, they were allowed most privileges of Roman society other than voting.

And I think it is important for us to remember this context when we read scripture. The bible is God’s Word to us and as Presbyterian flavored Christians, we believe it is inspired, meaning God-breathes into the writing of human men, speaking to us through it.

But the Bible is not the final answer to all things. It is a library of books written in different languages and over the course of 1,000 years. It gives no specific instructions about how to correctly load a dishwasher, what the speed limit of cars should be, or the ethics of gene therapy.

We don’t believe in the Bible. We believe in Jesus, who is revealed to us through the Bible. The Bible is our lens to see Jesus, who is also God’s word to us, the Word made flesh. And in a different letter, to the church in Corinth, Paul says that the way we live our lives becomes a letter. “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone.” We aren’t the word of God, but the way we live as Christians can point people to God.

And people have used scripture to harm people, which always points us away from God. So we acknowledge the harm that has been done, and is being done, under the banner of Christianity. We repent. And we seek, as best we can, for our lives to be good letters, written in love on each other’s hearts, known and read by everyone.

While Paul advocates for Onesimus in this letter, if you read his other letters, I think we can observe the way he is working out the conflict between what he grew up with culturally, in regard to the common practice of slavery, and how God is calling him to new understanding through the life of Jesus.

In Galatians 3, Paul says “for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. 27As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

So, on this weekend that we celebrate the end of a gruesome period of American history and acknowledge that we still have work to do to heal the wounds wrought by slavery, we read this letter by Paul and realize that perhaps the first step to change a system is personal.

Paul loved Onesimus, and used his voice and his influence to make Onesimus’ life better. And once people have different appreciation for Onesimus, they can change the way they see other people who are in a similar captivity. And then we start to treat each other like family.

So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account.

How often do we do that?

What does it mean to treat each other as family?

Especially when we have seen our own human families fall short as the model for good family behavior?

Paul could have found an excuse to not be helpful to Onesimus. “Sorry, buddy, I’m already in prison and my own life is all I can handle right now. But I’ll pray for you.”

I’ve never even been in prison, and I’ve used excuses like that.

I’m thankful for Paul as much as I’m flummoxed by him.

He reminds us that we have privilege in our faith. The new life we receive in Christ frees us to live differently, to be more generous in how we treat each other and more expansive in who we call family.

By claiming membership in God’s family, we aren’t just interested in our own, personal lives and salvation. We become invested in the lives of each other and in the lives of people we may not even know.

By being members of God’s family, we can be bold to speak out for our brothers and sisters, like Onesimus, who need our advocacy and our help.

I read an article[1] a while back that has stuck with me.

Rev. David R Henson wrote:

“There is no longer a war on hunger in this country.
There is no longer a war on poverty.
There is a war on the hungry.
There is a war on the poor.”

He went on to illustrate how cities all over the country, both liberal and conservatively led cities, are making it illegal to be hungry and homeless, rather than trying to help the hungry and homeless.

He writes:

“Cities have made it illegal to lie down. They have made it illegal to share a meal with people who are homeless. They have made it illegal to sit in parks or on benches for long periods of time. They have made it illegal to eat in public spaces. They change their parks’ watering schedules to douse anyone staying there after hours. They have removed completely and banned park benches. They have banned panhandling.”

I kept thinking about it when I read about Onesimus. How easy would it be for us to criminalize him, to decide we don’t need to advocate on his behalf?

Paul doesn’t give us that easy out.

Whether we are like Philemon, who is wealthy enough to own slaves, or we are so poor and without options that we end up in slavery, like Onesimus, we are family, each to the other.

And so we are called to stop treating people like categories, and to start treating them like brothers and sisters.

Slaves, prisoners, rich, poor, hungry, homeless are just categories we use to separate us from each other, to help us forget our connectedness.

They are just categories we use to help us forget our humanity.

Maybe this is why Psalm 139 is my favorite passage of scripture—it refuses to categorize. And it tells the story of a creator God who knows each of us so well because God knit us together in our mothers’ wombs.

God didn’t create us in a factory where each day the production line turned out 1,000 models of “Prisoner, 2.0” or “the Tycoon, platinum edition.”

We are created individually, by our creator, to be exactly who we are, strengths, weaknesses, charms, and challenges all included.

Robert Alter translates the psalm this way:

For You created my innermost parts,
wove me in my mother’s womb.
I acclaim You, for awesomely I am set apart,
wondrous are Your acts,
and my being deeply knows it.
My frame was not hidden from You,
when I was made in a secret place,
knitted in the utmost depths.
My unformed shape Your eyes did see,
and in Your book all was written down.
The days were fashioned,
not one of them did lack.

The creator knitted us in the utmost depths, to be wonderful individual members of God’s own family.

Onesimus, Paul, Philemon, Ruth, David, Mary, Eric, Gabriela, Dorothy, Bob, Carol, Pam, Tosca, Fran, and John.

Maybe this idea of a God who knows us that well, a God who knows our thoughts before they are even on our tongue, is not something we can comfortably believe. There are days, I suspect, when it is easier for us to believe God created Onesimus than it is to believe God knit us together.

But I invite you to believe it about yourself.

And I invite you to believe it about everyone else too—the unhoused people you see each day, the woman in the grocery checkout line whose food assistance won’t quite cover her bill, the ex-con who is seeking a job and trying to rebuild his life, and the politician whose views are most unlike yours.

God created you in beauty and wonder. And God did the same with each of them, for each of us. In our beautiful individuality, we are created to be family.

As many of you know, I was adopted as an infant. And about 8 years ago, Washington state unsealed their adoption records, and I was able to track down my birth family. It had its high and its low moments, and more twists and turns than we have time for today.

But at one point, I called a woman who was the daughter of the man my birth mother said was my father. He had died twenty years previously. I told her who I was and why I was calling. I said I knew it was probably quite a shock. And her response was “I have a sister! I’ve never had a sister!” And that was that. We were family.

Some of my birth family I’ve not had much in common with. And some of them don’t want much to do with me. But that response from Carol was everything. The welcome from her and others, the acknowledging that we are family and that we are connected, has been such a gift.

The gift of our adoption into God’s family is that we can do this for each other. We can see each other on the streets and realize, “we share the same mother, the same father.”

Paul understood this when he wrote these words:

When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith towards the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

So, my brothers and sisters, know how grateful I am for each of you and for the particular way you come together to be God’s family here in San Francisco. It is a gift and an honor to be your sibling.

This week, I invite you to pay attention to how the world tries to separate us by categories. Instead, let’s start recognizing each other as brothers and sisters, people who share the same heavenly parent. Thanks be to God, who did the knitting.

[1] https://www.hugedomains.com/domain_profile.cfm?d=thegodarticle.com