One of the most intensively debated topics in scholarly discussions of Philemon is Paul’s purpose in writing the letter.1 This comes as a surprise to many “non-professional” Bible readers in the West. Having internalized the values of their social context, they tend to assume that Paul is seeking the manumission of Onesimus, and they are taken aback when they learn that many scholars, perhaps even the majority, do not share their view.2 Modern commentators are in fact divided on the question of whether Paul wants Philemon to set Onesimus free.3

Of course, interpretation of Philemon did not begin in the modern era, and one might wonder whether ancient commentators could help us determine whether Paul was asking for the manumission of Onesimus. After all, the earliest among them would have shared Paul’s cultural context, broadly speaking, regarding slavery, and they would have been more familiar with the rhetorical conventions he employed. Their view of his purpose in writing would thus deserve a careful hearing. As surprising as it might seem, however, ancient readers of the letter do not address the issue explicitly. It was only in the modern era that the institution of slavery came to be viewed as a moral problem and only then that commentators begin to show interest in the question of Onesimus’s status as a slave and whether Paul wanted to effect a change in it.4

Thus, what seems like a simple question turns out to be a complex task, since the apostle’s rhetoric reflects the conventions of his time. These demanded more oblique modes of discourse, especially in the public arena, and we must not forget that Paul’s letter was intended to be read aloud to the church that met in Philemon’s house. Although Paul claims apostolic authority over the church, he is at pains to avoid pressing that claim for reasons we will discuss below, so he employs a subtle rhetoric of deflection in pursuit of his goal.

That is why Paul does not “come out and say” what he wants Philemon to do. This irritates modern readers of the letter, who are both chronologically and culturally far removed from members of its original audience. The problem, however, is entirely ours, not theirs. We can assume that the illocutionary force of Paul’s rhetoric was clear enough to them. We can even surmise that it had its intended effect; it is hard to imagine that the letter would have been incorporated into the NT canon as an exemplar of failed communication.5 Yet all these considerations still leave us asking the question: What did Paul want from Philemon?

1. Reconstructing the Narrative behind the Letter

There is no need to throw up our hands in despair. If we delve below the surface of the letter, it may be possible to recover some important information that has bearing on the question. This becomes conceivable when we remember that Paul’s letter to Philemon is an artifact of a complex series of social interactions between two people who knew each other for at least a couple of years when the letter was written. As such it gives us access to an implied narrative up to a particular point in time. Reconstructing that narrative from data in the letter should facilitate correct interpretation of the letter and especially Paul’s aims in writing. It is to that task that we now turn.

Norman Petersen helped lay the methodological foundation for this approach in a 1985 study of what he refers to as the “sociology of narrative worlds.”6 He helpfully differentiates between the referential and poetic sequences of a text. The referential sequence denotes the chronological order of events in the real world that are explicitly or implicitly referred to in the text. The poetic sequence is the order in which these events are referred to in the text. Except in banal texts, these sequences are not identical; good literature mixes them up to powerful effect.7 Reconstructing the referential sequence is usually a straightforward task, however, since common sense will dictate a logical flow to the narrative behind the text.

Felicitously, Petersen himself applied his method for uncovering the implied narrative behind a text to the letter of Philemon. His results may be summarized as follows:8

1. Onesimus becomes a slave in the household of Philemon (v. 16).
2. Philemon becomes a believer in Jesus through Paul (v. 19b).
3. Paul is imprisoned (v. 9).
4. Onesimus leaves Philemon’s house and finds Paul in prison (v. 15).
5. Onesimus becomes a believer in Jesus through Paul (v. 10).
6. Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon with a request (vv. 17–20).

That is as far as the narrative behind the text of Philemon takes us. We know that Paul’s request entailed, at the least, Philemon sending Onesimus back to him (vv. 12–14), but we do not know whether he wanted Philemon to set Onesimus free. Above all, we do not know how the story ends. We have a narrative, though, and we know the main characters: Paul, Onesimus, and Philemon.

2. Getting to Know Philemon

Exegetes and theologians have studied Paul extensively, of course, since he is accessible to us not only in this letter, but in twelve others, in Acts, and perhaps other non-canonical works.9 Onesimus’s status as a slave has also been the subject of extensive inquiry, especially due to the attention scholars have recently devoted to the topic of slavery, both in its ancient and modern manifestations. There is no question that these approaches have yielded important interpretive insights. Philemon, on the other hand, has received comparatively less attention. Though we know little about him as an individual, I think it will prove possible, on the basis of the narrative Petersen has helped us uncover, to situate him fairly well within his social environment.

Doing so will, it is hoped, allow us to hear Philemon’s side of the story. That, however, requires us to overcome our modern Western bias against slave-owners. Perhaps that is one reason he has so seldom been the object of careful inquiry. The emphasis on Onesimus’s plight in recent literature is laudable and entirely understandable given the recent emphasis on postcolonial readings of the New Testament that seek to demonstrate how earlier exegesis often served to legitimate slavery in Christian communities to extremely deleterious effect.10 Still, as we will see, Paul himself shows some sympathy for Philemon’s predicament—what John Barclay has perceptively referred to as the “dilemma of Christian slave-ownership.”11 Even if we, from our vantage point in human history, feel no such sympathy for Philemon, we must align ourselves hermeneutically with Paul’s view of him, if we hope to understand his rhetorical strategy and epistolary aims.

From Paul’s letter to Philemon, we are able to glean the following information about him:

1. Philemon owned a large house; it had at least one guest room (v. 22), and a church of perhaps twenty or thirty members was meeting there (v. 2).12
2. Philemon owned at least one slave—Onesimus (vv. 10, 16).
3. Philemon was a prominent member (and likely the leader) of the church that met in his home (v. 1).

Assuming the authenticity of Colossians, or at least granting that it contains reliable tradition about Philemon,13 we can add the following:

1. Philemon lived in Colossae,14 a small town in the Lycus valley in Phrygia, near the more important first-century cities of Hierapolis and Laodicea. No one seems willing to hazard a guess as to the population of Colossae at that time, but based on the size of the unexcavated mound under which the city lies buried, it could not have been more than a few thousand in Paul’s day.15
2. Philemon had the means to travel. Paul never visited the church in Colossae, so he and Philemon must have met elsewhere, perhaps in Ephesus or earlier in Pisidian Antioch where Paul spent some time on his first missionary journey.16 The most likely reason for Philemon to travel was that he was a merchant. Since the Lycus valley was well known for the production of much-desired Colossian wool and textile manufacturing thrived there,17 we can venture a guess (though it can be no more than that) that he was a manufacturer and purveyor of textiles.

3. Situating Philemon in His Cult Association and His Guild

All this implies that Philemon was a person of at least modest wealth and high social standing in a small provincial town in Asia Minor. He was likely well placed within a network of relationships that, as John Kloppenborg demonstrates in a recent study of the function of Greco-Roman associations, were the true determinants of status in antiquity. Kloppenborg reminds us that

in imagining ancient Roman society, we should not think of it as a series of horizontal layers defined by income levels but instead as vertical integrated pyramids with the elite at the top, connected through patronage and benefaction to multiple associations of non-elite, including freeborn, freedmen and freedwomen, and slaves, citizens, resident aliens, and foreigners.18

These associations were the most important mediators of “connectivity”—the true currency for determining status among non-related individuals in the ancient world. According to Kloppenborg we should think of associations

as social networks—arrays of people related to one another by multiple connections…. Each network has its own ecology, creating social space in which individuals are arranged in categories to foster interactions of various sorts. Network structure facilitates the flow of certain properties, most importantly social capital, trust, a sense of belonging and worth, and competences or skills relevant to the nature of the network.19

There were several different types of associations—guilds, cultic associations, immigrant associations, neighborhood associations, familial associations.20 Importantly for our inquiry, Ulrich Huttner cites abundant epigraphic evidence documenting “a dense concentration” of associations in the Lycus Valley.21 We can say with certainty that Philemon was a member, likely the most prominent member, of a cultic association devoted to a god imported from Palestine named “Christos”; that is how the church in Colossae would have been viewed from an etic perspective.22 As a well-off businessman in a small town like Colossae, he likely would have had a prominent position in a guild, as well, since guilds played an oversized role not only in the organization of trade but also of civic life in general.23

This brief look at the role of guilds and cultic associations in ancient society reminds us that there were two separate social networks observing the drama that was playing itself out between Paul, Philemon, and Onesimus. One was the church in Colossae, before which Paul’s letter to Philemon was publicly read. Recent studies have analyzed the impact this performative aspect of the letter would have had on the discourse between Paul and Philemon and how it shaped Paul’s rhetoric as he anticipated that performance.24 Onesimus had left, perhaps after wronging Philemon in some way (v. 18).25 For whatever reason, the relationship between them needed repair.26 Now Onesimus is back with a letter of recommendation from none other than the great apostle himself.27 Philemon would have been very aware that the congregation in which he had a prominent position was listening in, wondering how he would respond.

The other social network observing the events—from a greater distance, to be sure, but with no less vested interest—was what today we would call the business community in Colossae, prominent members not only of Philemon’s guild, but of all the guilds. Like Philemon these were people of at least moderate wealth, landowners and slaveowners, who ran cottage industries out of their homes. In a small town like Colossae, they would not have been numerous (certainly less than one hundred), but they were the most influential inhabitants of the city. It would not have escaped their notice (or anyone else’s, for that matter) that Onesimus was suddenly gone, and they would have cared little about the exact circumstances under which he did so.28 Likewise, everyone would have heard the news that he had returned.

I am not aware of any studies that analyze the impact of this second network and its expectations on the dynamics of the situation Paul addresses in his letter or on the rhetorical strategy he opts to pursue in response to that dynamic. I hope to provide this missing piece in attempts to position Philemon in what follows. He must have known that his slave-owning peers in the merchant class were “listening in,” eager to hear how Philemon would respond. Paul, a canvas manufacturer by trade and certainly familiar with the guilds, would have anticipated this.

Unfortunately, as we noted above, we do not know how Philemon responded. We can assume, however, that apart from Paul’s influence his response would have been dictated, as a matter of course, by the norms and mores of the all-important honor/shame dynamic that mediated and regulated relationships in the ancient Mediterranean world.29 The accrual and maintenance of honor and the avoidance of shame, its binary opposite, was a primary goal of the participants in virtually all social interactions.30 The value of all non-familial relationships was assessed primarily in terms of the honor one accrued from one’s opposite and the honor one owed him or her in return.31

4. Philemon’s Response to Onesimus’s Return: The Guild’s Expectations and Paul’s

This concern with the maintenance of honor would have meant that Philemon’s slave-owning peers had clear expectations about how a slave-owner should respond to a slave who returned of his own accord. We can gain some sense of what these expectations entailed by examining the well-known letter of Pliny the Younger to Sabinianus, his “friend” (which probably means “client” here).32 A freedman from Sabinianus’s household sought out Pliny and asked him to intercede on his behalf. He had caused Sabinianus some grave offense or injury, and he begs Pliny to take up his cause. Pliny agrees and writes a letter to Sabinianus, explaining to him that the man has shown genuine remorse and asking him to refrain from torturing him. Here we gain a sense of how the ideal slave-owner would be expected to act, accepting back his wayward but remorseful freedman with a measure of severity but also magnanimity. He must be punished, of course, but not too harshly. The thought of simply releasing him from his obligation would have occurred neither to Pliny nor to Sabinianus.

The letters of Paul and Pliny are strikingly similar in some ways, but there are also marked differences. First, Pliny is pleading for a freedman, and Paul is pleading for a slave. Surprisingly, at least for modern readers, the difference in status does not imply much difference in the treatment they can expect. Both the freedman and the slave are obligated to their superiors, and both have failed to fulfill their obligations. Both can expect to be punished as a result.33

Second, Pliny emphasizes the remorse felt by Sabinianus’s freedman, and he clearly expects that the latter’s rueful demeanor will move Sabinianus to show a measure of leniency when he metes out punishment. Paul, by comparison, does not mention any remorse on the part of Onesimus. Much is made by some scholars of this omission in Philemon,34 but I am not sure how much weight this argument from silence can be made to bear. If Onesimus is the actual bearer of the letter to Philemon (see above), then his ritual performance of remorse would have been much more effective than any mention of it by Paul, and perhaps the apostle anticipated this.

Third, Pliny and Paul clearly enjoy different levels of status vis à vis their letters’ recipients. Pliny is an equestrian and a senator, a wealthy nobleman moving through the ranks to the highest levels of imperial power. He does not mention this, but he does not have to. Everyone knows who Pliny is. His rhetoric is pleasant in tone, but it is also designed to make sure that Sabinianus knows his place. Pliny is acting as a patron, not a peer, and he treats Sabinianus like the subordinate he is. He consciously exerts considerable pressure on Sabinianus to take a certain course of action. This rhetoric would have constituted a shameful affront to Sabinianus’s honor if it were coming from a social equal, but the pecking order here is quite clear. As we learn from a subsequent letter,35 Sabinianus followed Pliny’s instructions. Whether his heart was in it or not, we can be sure that he made a great show of his eagerness to fulfill Pliny’s wishes. In terms of the power dynamics among patrons and clients, he really had no choice.

Paul’s situation vis à vis Philemon is more complex. As the apostle who founded the Christ cult in Asia Minor, he would have enjoyed the highest possible status in the Christ association in Colossae even though he was not a member of that chapter. He makes clear that he would have had authority on this basis to command Philemon to do “what is required” (v. 8). Yet in that situation, even an explicit request, to say nothing of an outright command, would have set up a zero-sum game in which Paul would accrue honor and Philemon would lose it, if the latter acceded to the request/command, and it would bring about the opposite result, if he refused. No one in the church would have been served well by either of those outcomes.36

Further, as we noted above, the church was not the only social network waiting to see how Philemon would respond to Paul’s request. His position as a slave owner gave him absolute authority to deal with Onesimus as he saw fit. His peers in the business community would expect him to mete out proper punishment to his slave. Paul would have known this. He also would have understood that in this network he had no influence whatsoever. He was not a member of any guild, and he was Philemon’s social equal, at best. He could not, like Pliny, issue a directive from his high social position with any expectation that Philemon would follow it. Without that power dynamic in place, doing so would have brought about a situation in which Philemon would have felt pressure not to comply in order to preserve his standing in this network.

This is where we encounter Philemon in the narrative: situated between two networks and considering a request from Paul concerning his slave Onesimus. On the one hand, there was the church, where Philemon enjoyed high status as the patron of the community. Paul, though absent (or perhaps because of his absence; see 2 Cor 10:10), would have been held in even higher esteem. We can assume that this network was hoping for an outcome that would have allowed the integration of Onesimus, a new believer, into the community on the basis of a restored relationship with his master.

On the other hand, there was the business community in Colossae. Here Philemon was among peers, and Paul had no standing whatsoever. They would have expected that Philemon restore the status quo ante: Whatever Philemon’s actions—taking the slave back after punishing him, selling him, executing him—they were interested in an outcome in which Onesimus became an exemplum of the power of slave-owners over their slaves and which reinforced the social hierarchy from which this power flowed.

As for Philemon, we can be sure that he would have weighed the impact of Paul’s request in terms of the effect it would have on his standing in both networks. The crucial question for us is whether Paul was aware of Philemon’s predicament? Was he sensitive to Philemon’s situation, and did he choose his rhetorical strategy accordingly? I think there is abundant evidence that he did. Paul could be quite clear when he wanted to, and he generally displays no reticence in telling his congregations what he expects of them. In fact, most other letters echo Pliny’s tone: They are generally cordial and friendly, at times stern, occasionally severe. Whatever his manner, it is almost always clear what Paul wants. His letter to Philemon is palpably different in this regard, and this lends credence to Barclay’s conclusion that its opacity is intentional.37

Though Paul does not come out and say what he wants, he does exert subtle (and in at least one instance—v. 19b—not so subtle) pressure on Philemon to accede to his request.38 By hinting at what he wanted, Paul avoids a zero-sum game (see above) and sets up a situation in which everyone gains something if Philemon acts on his own accord in conformity with Paul’s wishes: Paul by being wise and magnanimous, Philemon by being generous and forgiving, Onesimus by being accepted into the Christ community in Colossae, and even the church, because a potentially serious conflict between its patron and its apostle is averted.

5. Interpreting Paul’s Response: A Theological Approach

What outcome does Paul hope for, then? The very subtlety of Paul’s rhetoric makes it impossible to draw a definitive conclusion based on an analysis of it. There is, however, another avenue of approach: by examining the implicit theology that undergirds the letter. Though the divines of earlier ages felt that there was not much in the way of theology to examine,39 we can detect at least three fundamental theological convictions below the surface of the text. In each case we find Paul implicitly replacing a core conviction of the ancient world with a new one he expects the community of Christ followers in Colossae to live by. Taken together, they leave little doubt, at least to my mind, as to what Paul was coaxing Philemon to do.

5.1. Paul Replaces the Ancient World’s Ethic of Honor with One of Obligation

Against the background of Philemon’s networks analyzed above, Paul’s rhetorical strategy comes as a complete surprise. He completely ignores the expectations and constraints of the honor/shame dynamic, identifying himself not once but repeatedly as a prisoner (vv. 1, 9–10, 23). There was no reason he should have mentioned this, much less emphasized it, since it accorded him the lowest status possible in ancient honor hierarchies.40 Being in prison was considered “deeply, perhaps irredeemably, degrading.”41

In terms of its effect on Paul’s standing with respect to the guilds and Philemon’s position within them, this could have been a disastrous rhetorical move. It would have allowed Philemon to reject Paul’s appeal at no social cost whatsoever. Indeed, it would have had the effect of making it harder for Philemon to comply, since to be seen as taking orders or even advice from a prisoner would have meant risking a loss of esteem. Even in the church, where Paul had standing on other grounds, this rhetorical strategy was a risky one. Members would naturally have been concerned about the Christ association’s reputation among their friends and neighbors. The news that the cult’s founder was in prison could easily have discredited it and led some to reconsider their allegiance to it.

Paul, it seems, is consciously deconstructing antiquity’s conceptions of honor. He does so based on one of the most deeply held convictions of the early church: that Christ himself modeled this path, giving up all his rightful claims to status recognition and becoming a slave (Phil 2:5–11; see also Mark 10:42–45). His goal is to move the church away from the worldly ethic of honor to a Christian conception of koinonia, which entails, in the words of N. T. Wright, “sharing the very life of the Messiah” and “striving for messianic unity across traditional boundaries.”42 Paul is showing the believers in Colossae what it looks like to follow Christ in a situation where the entire discourse is framed in terms of competition for honor and prestige. The old script that comes to light in Pliny’s letter was clear: Onesimus should come creeping back with a convincing performance of deep remorse. Philemon should respond with magnanimous leniency, but not too much. The point, after all, was to reinforce the existing social order and everyone’s place within it.

Paul throws out that script43 and replaces it with one of mutual obligation. If Philemon grants Paul’s request, Onesimus will be indebted both to Paul and Philemon. Paul, for his part, puts himself in the position of receiving undeserved benevolence from Philemon by claiming the status of a prisoner. Further, he takes on any financial obligation that Onesimus might have to Philemon (vv. 18–19a). On the other hand, Paul is quick to remind Philemon that he is much more deeply in Paul’s debt, since he owes the apostle his very soul (v. 19b). This is a move that shocks everyone, it seems,44 but ancient readers, who understood the rhetoric of obligation, probably would have affirmed that Paul had every right to “call in his chips” in this manner.

Protestants have always been wary of framing ethics in terms of obligation and positively allergic to the idea since Kant. Grace has come to be understood as altruistic giving without any expectation of reward. Thankfully, in a study that has the potential to reframe the entire conversation about grace, John Barclay has convincingly shown that this understanding of gifting was not operative prior to the modern era. He demonstrates that gifts in antiquity were based on what he calls “circularity”—they always placed the recipient in the debt of the giver.45 The unique thing about Paul’s understanding of grace within the early Jewish cultural context was not its presumptive “non-circularity,” but rather its incongruity; it was offered to people who were entirely unworthy of it. That is what sets the apostle’s teaching apart.46

The use Paul makes of the Christ Hymn in Philippians would seem to confirm Paul’s belief that even—or rather especially—Christ’s gracious gift of himself obligates its recipients. Those who acknowledge Jesus’s death on the cross and confess him as Lord (Phil 2:8, 11) owe him their obedience (Phil 2:12). This leaves no room for the ancients’ preoccupation with accruing honor. Believers were to render it to Christ and to imitate him by “regarding others as better than themselves” (Phil 2:3). In the ancient world this would have meant not just the cultivation of an attitude, but recognition of others’ higher standing in the community.

How did Paul envision this playing itself out? It was not simply a matter of Philemon releasing Onesimus from slavery. Contrary to the assumptions of modern readers, the manumission of slaves in the ancient world did not free slaves from all obligations to their masters. The libertini did gain legal jurisdiction over their own persons, but they were expected to demonstrate gratitude to their former owners by continuing to perform certain servile duties for them.47 The manumission of Onesimus would also entail new obligations to the Christ association in Colossae. As a slave, Onesimus was merely part of Philemon’s retinue. As a freedman he would be expected to contribute his fair share to the life of the community, not least in terms of finances.48 It seems unlikely that Paul’s aim would be that Onesimus move from the status of slave to that of freedman only to incur a new subservient role in the power hierarchy with a new set of one-sided obligations.49

On the other hand, we misunderstand Paul if we describe his goal as “freedom” for Onesimus in terms of the modern Western understanding of what that term entails: individual autonomy, the ability to do exactly as one chooses. Paul does not want to relieve Onesimus (or any of the other believers in Colossae) of obligations to each other. Rather, he wants to place those obligations on a new foundation. This is expressed potently in v. 17: “Receive him as you would receive me.”50 How did Paul expect to be received? As an equal partner in a relationship defined by a mutual and ongoing debt of love (Rom 13:7–8).

5.2. Paul Replaces the Language of Social Hierarchy with That of Familial Relationships

Paul uses familial language far more frequently than other early Christian writers,51 and in his letter to Philemon he resorts to it more frequently than in any other letter (relative to its length). The following list makes this clear:

• Verse 1: Timothy is “the brother” (ἀδελφός).
• Verse 2: Apphia is “the sister” (ἀδελφή).
• Verses 7, 20: Philemon is Paul’s “brother” (ἀδελφός).
• Verse 10: Onesimus is “my child” (τό τέκνονἐμοῦ).
• Verse 16: Philemon should receive Onesimus as a “beloved brother” (ἀδελφόςἀγαπητός).

Wayne Meeks argued that this was a unique feature of Christian communities compared with associations in the Greek and Roman world, but the work of Philip Harland has made that position untenable.52 Still, there is a “thickness” to the familial language Paul employs that we do not see in the associations. It seems less formal, more personal, like Paul really means it. He is not simply adding family terms on top of the usual social descriptors we find in the membership lists of the associations—citizens, freedmen and freedwomen, slaves, metics, patrons, etc. He wants to replace the old categories with new ones; Christ followers are no longer masters and slaves, but brothers and sisters (v. 16).

Paul, it seems, is working toward the reconfiguration of all social relationships based on a new principle. Paul wants members of the Christ association in Colossae to understand that they are now part of Messiah’s family and reimagine their relationships accordingly. Status counts for nothing in families (at least in good ones). Family members regularly and willingly accept a loss of standing to help another family member. They often put others’ needs above their own. Specifically, Paul wants Philemon to receive Onesimus “no longer as a slave, but as more than a slave, a beloved brother” (v. 16). If this is more than just a platitude on Paul’s lips, and there is every reason to believe it was, it entails a change in status.53 In antiquity the ethics of family are not discussed as extensively as those of friendship, but it seems clear enough that there is an obligation to help a brother or sister who has fallen into need.54 No one enslaved family members; to do so would have amounted to “an extreme instance of sibling treachery, which in the ancient sources is portrayed as the epitome of societal breakdown.”55 On the contrary, they would work to obtain their release.

The extent to which Paul is serious about reconfiguring the Christ cult in Colossae in terms of family relationships can be seen in the one instance of his use of rhetoric that strikes many as manipulative (see n. 44) and in ancient times would have been viewed as “heavy-handed” or even “shameful.”56 In v. 19, he reminds Philemon that “you owe me your very life” (σεαυτόν μοὶπροσοφείλεις).57 There is one context, however, in which this degree of obligation rhetoric is universally regarded as legitimate, if not always wise: the family. Children do quite literally owe their parents their lives, and parents in all cultures sometimes resort to telling them so, if they believe the stakes are high enough. Paul obviously thought they were in the case of Onesimus, and he reminds Philemon of his debt to his spiritual parent.

5.3. Paul Replaces the Concept of Fate with Election

If we were to ask Philemon why he was a landowner and slaveowner or Onesimus why he was a slave (before they met Paul and had their worldviews realigned) or, for that matter, Pliny why he was a senator, they would all have chalked it up to fate. Social order was fixed and what little movement up and down the social scale did occur was all a function of the caprices of fate. Tyche smiled, and one’s lot improved. Tyche frowned, and one landed on the auction block in the slave market. Paul sees a different principle at work here. In a trope vaguely reminiscent of Mordecai’s words to Queen Esther (Esther 4:14), Paul employs a divine passive to admonish Philemon that perhaps Onesimus was separated from him so that he might be reunited with him not as a slave, but as a beloved brother (Phlm: 15–16).58

Paul’s appeal to the purposes of God behind the twists and turns of fate is consequential. The interactions between Philemon and Onesimus before their respective conversions were based on a well-known script that prescribed clearly defined roles for slaves and their masters in a deeply entrenched social hierarchy. In the meantime, however, God had adopted both into his family. He was their father, and they were now brothers through no choice of their own, whether they liked it or not. (Siblings often do not like it!)

Paul’s subtle stress on God’s election clearly implies that he expects a thoroughgoing change in their interactions. This is because he views election as much more than simply the mechanism by means of which individuals come to faith. It grounds the narrative of God’s relationship with his people into which individuals are taken up. It was the reason Paul encouraged the Gentile believers in Corinth to see themselves as now integrated into Israel’s story (1 Cor 10:1–11).59 Paul would have enjoined Philemon and Onesimus to do the same. He would have insisted that the repeated injunction of Moses to his people in Deuteronomy (5:15; 15:15; 16:12; 24:18, 22)—“You shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt”—become the basis for a new ethic for regulating slavery within the community. In Israel a Hebrew slave would be set free after a period of indenture (Deut 15:12–18). It is likely that Paul expected a similar outcome here.

6. What Did Paul Want?

This brief assessment of the theology just below the surface in Paul’s letter to Philemon demonstrates that he wants two things. First, and more importantly, he wants to help Philemon to reimagine the church in Colossae. It is certainly not a guild; it is not even just another cultic association, though outsiders would have viewed it as such. It is—or should be—a community where true koinonia (vv. 6, 17) is practiced. For Paul this entails a “new way of life” that demands “new patterns of thinking,”60 what Richard Hays refers to as a “conversion of the imagination.”61 Paul wants Philemon “to think within the biblical narrative, to see themselves as actors within the ongoing scriptural drama; to allow their erstwhile pagan thought-forms to be transformed by a biblically based renewal of the mind.”62 He envisions a community in which the old norms are replaced by new ones. He is aware that this will destabilize Philemon’s position in the guild, but loyalty to his god—none other than Jesus the Messiah—demands it.

He also wants Philemon to manumit Onesimus. This goal is not as immediately important to Paul as his overarching goal of identity formation described above. That comes as a surprise to modern readers for whom slavery is an unmitigated evil, but it reflects the ambiguity of slavery in the ancient world. Paul’s attitude was not “Onesimus must immediately be released at all costs,” but rather “other things being equal, it is a good thing for a slave to gain freedom” (see 1 Cor 7:21).

That Paul wants this follows from the theological convictions we identified behind his rhetoric. First, we noted that Paul replaces the ethic of honor with one of obligation. If anything, he wants to heighten the sense of obligation that the members of the church in Colossae would feel toward each other. This would be quite clearly the result of Onesimus’s manumission. Second, Paul replaces the language of social hierarchy with that of family. We noted that if Philemon begins to regard Onesimus as his brother, it becomes impossible to hold him as a slave. People of integrity did not treat their siblings like that in the ancient world. Third, Paul replaces the concept of fate with that of election. He wants Philemon and Onesimus to understand that God chose them to be part of his people. They have been “taken up into Israel in such a way that they now share in Israel’s covenant privileges and obligations.”63 As we saw above, Israel’s very identity centered around its self-understanding as a once enslaved people liberated by their God. Paul wanted Philemon to do for Onesimus what faithful Israelites were expected to do to their kinsmen: set him free in order to strengthen the bonds between them.