Phm

9 September 2001

 

“The Koinonia of Philemon”

 

I think I've said before that I haven't always been a Presbyterian.  I came to this church by way of the Assemblies of God.  And when I went to one of their schools in Florida, I attended what is often referred to as a megachurch.  The sanctuary there is a 10,000 seat auditorium.  (At least, that’s the number I was told.)  I don’t know that I ever saw that many people there, but as you might guess, it was a place where it’s easy to get lost.

Not long after starting to attend, I was told by one of the staff that it's really important to become involved in some type of small group:  a Sunday school class, a prayer group, a home Bible study—something.  And his reason for saying that was, as I’ve indicated, that it’s very easy to become absorbed into the masses, to be lost in the crowd.  Without some type of close connection, much of the ministry of the church falls short.  Certainly, it’s not impossible to hear and respond to God’s word when addressed as part of a large assembly, but much of what could be, of what could happen, simply is missed.

As it turned out, my car’s engine threw a rod—rendering it largely useless—and I quit going to that church altogether, it being way on the other side of town.  I started walking to the churches in the neighborhood.  Still, I took with me that advice about community, and how difficult it can be to find.

And community is what the Sunday school teacher at that huge church was talking about, even though he didn’t use the word.  And what he was talking about, again, even though he didn’t specifically say it, is a level of community that we don’t frequently reach.  We use the word “community” for many different things.  Often we use it to speak of a group of people who have something in common:  for example, the art community or the law enforcement community.

But there is a truer, deeper sense to the idea of community.  It’s marked by what the New Testament calls koinwnia (koinōnia).  That's a word many of you are familiar with!  Often translated as “communion” or “fellowship,” koinwnia refers to “sharing something with someone.”^[1]  Good examples of this are found in Romans 15:26 and in last week's epistle reading, Hebrews 13:16.  In Romans 15, Paul is talking about the churches of Macedonia and Achaia and how they’ve “been pleased to share (koinwnian, koinōnian) their resources with the poor among the saints at Jerusalem.”  In Hebrews 13, the author reminds us to “not neglect to do good and to share (koinwnia", koinōnias) what [we] have.”

Now, I realize that all this may seem well and good, but it may not appear to have anything to do with today’s scripture reading, the letter to Philemon.  Discussion of this letter has tended to focus on two themes.  The first is the question of slavery.  From reading the epistle we see that a slave named Onesimus has run away from (and maybe even robbed) his master, Philemon.  We learn in Colossians 4 that Onesimus is from the city of Colossae (v. 9).

Anyway, it seems that Onesimus has encountered Paul, through whatever means, while the apostle is in prison.  And it’s through that contact with Paul that the runaway slave has come to Christ.  Some people feel that Paul, by not demanding that Onesimus be set free, is going along with the institution of slavery.  Others say that Paul’s emphasis on him as “more than a slave, a beloved brother” shows that Paul's intent is to undermine the practice of slavery.

That’s one theme.  The other one focuses on why Paul wants Onesimus to be set free.  Paul admits, in verse 13, “I wanted to keep him with me” so that he could help in the ministry.  And in a play on words, he requests of Philemon, “let me have this benefit (onaimhn, onaimēn) from you” (v. 20).  The name Onesimus (Onhsimo") itself means “beneficial” or “useful.”

And again, as with the question of freeing this slave, Paul doesn’t demand that Philemon permit Onesimus to return to him.  But it seems that Paul has led both master and slave to Christ, as he reminds him in verse 19:  “I say nothing about your owing me even your own self.”  I’ve always thought this is a great line.  I really like the way Paul denies that he’s going to say something—and then goes ahead and says it!  Philemon owes him his life!  Or to put it less delicately:  “You don’t really need to do what I’m asking¼but oh, by the way, I own you!”  I don't suppose Philemon got the wrong idea when he read that part of the letter!

Anyway, those are the two main themes of the epistle.  Much more could be said about each.  But today I want to especially look at Paul’s prayer for Philemon.  This deserves consideration, I think, especially when we bear in mind the position of each man.

First, let’s look at Paul.  As we might guess from verses 8 and 9, he’s become a figure of great importance in the church.  By this time, in the latter years of his life, he’s known far and wide as a respected and revered apostle of Jesus Christ.  And even though he can’t physically meet with Philemon—he is in prison, after all—he does have the authority in Christ to command Philemon to release his slave.  But he doesn’t exercise that authority.  Instead, Paul chooses to “appeal to [him] on the basis of love.”

Now think of Philemon, at home in Colossae.  His slave has taken off, to God knows where, and he’s probably wondering what has become of him.  Then one day, a man named Tychicus shows up, claiming to have been sent by Paul, who’s in prison.  And look who he’s got with him—Onesimus, that useless scoundrel!  But, in addition, Philemon is presented with a letter from his old friend Paul, a letter which also carries a greeting from Epaphras, the founder of the Colossian church and fellow prisoner of Paul's (v. 23).

How does Philemon respond to Paul’s letter?  We don’t know for sure, but it seems very likely that he does what Paul asks.  For one thing, the early church probably wouldn’t have retained the letter and considered it to be scripture if Philemon had simply ignored it—if he had simply roundfiled it.  Also, history records in the early second century a bishop of Ephesus named Onesimus.^[2]  More likely than not, this is the same former slave who went on to become a leader of the church in his own right.

So there’s a quick look at Paul and Philemon.  The chained apostle appeals to the master of one in chains, one who will one day do the work of an apostle.  So how does Paul pray in such a circumstance?  That Philemon will do as he asks?  That the church in Colossae will pressure him to release Onesimus?  Not exactly.  This is where we see the power of koinwnia, the power of community, at work.

We see in verse 6 that Paul prays “that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ.”  The sharing of your faith.  This is the word koinwnia.  This is a powerful prayer, or at least, if this prayer’s intent is realized, there will be a powerful result.

Paul is praying that the sharing of Philemon’s faith may become “effective.”  The NIV uses the word “active.”  The Greek term is energh" (energēs):  the source for our English word “energy.”  So Paul is praying that the sharing, or the communion, of Philemon’s faith will be energized when he realizes all the good that is possible in Christ.  No one can accuse Paul of having small expectations!

Think of this for a moment.  Before he even gets into the whole business of Onesimus the slave and what he wants done with him, Paul presents Philemon with this grand vision of what could be, of what could happen.  Before he gets caught up in the details, Paul prays that his friend will see the many possibilities that await them in Christ.

That is the power of koinwnia; that is the power of community.  That’s why we all need each other, and that’s why it’s such a sin when we exclude people from our fellowship.  We quench the Spirit by denying God the opportunity to work through new people and in new ways.

Still, I know—it’s one thing to hear this and maybe agree with it, but it’s quite another thing to actually put it into practice.  We may realize the need for trust and intimacy in our relationships, the need for actual community to develop, but find it very difficult to see it accomplished.  Why is that?

Tom Kirkpatrick, a Presbyterian minister in Illinois and teacher at Dubuque Seminary, has written on the subject of community in the church.  He suggests several reasons why koinwnia is often hard to come by.  Among them is something I mentioned earlier—church size.  Too many people in any group make it difficult for everyone in it to be heard.  Even a church the size of ours is too large to fully allow the spiritual development of each person.  All of us need to find some smaller, more intimate group to more fully develop.

Something else he talks about is lack of trust.  Where things can’t be said in confidence, there's no security.  Kirkpatrick notes, “Fear of exposure can prevent people” from revealing personal information.^[3]  I understand that the grapevine, as some people call it, can be a strong influence.  But I wonder, isn’t the church any different?  Isn’t it possible for those in Christ to not just get swept down the stream with everything else?  To not just go along with the flow?

Our friend Rev. Kirkpatrick picks up on this by asking, “What gives us the freedom to face the truth about ourselves?  The Christian gospel affirms that it is okay not to be okay.”^[4]  The gospel says that all of us have flaws, that all of us have sins, no matter how desperately we try to hide them.

But the gospel also says that if we repent and believe the gospel, the good news, we are forgiven in Jesus Christ.  “God’s unconditional acceptance of us is what can give us the freedom to face the truth about ourselves—to be our true selves, warts and all.  Rather than flee from others, then, we become free to reveal our shortcomings, to acknowledge our need for others’ acceptance and support and care, and to change our ways.”^[5]