Once upon a time there was a slave with a very common slave name—Onesimus. The name means “useful,” and people “used” slaves to meet their own needs and goals. Slaves who ran away were sent back to their owners for punishment. But Roman law also allowed slaves to run away to special temples, or to seek the intervention of an influential friend of the owner, if they anticipated harsh and severe punishment for some reason. Well, this particular Onesimus ran away from a man named Philemon, and ran to someone he believed would have influence with him. He ran to Paul.
Now Paul was in prison at the time. He was there for preaching the Gospel. So Onesimus was not only exposed to that Gospel through his association with Paul, he became a convert. And what that meant, in Paul’s view, was that Onesimus was now an equal. He was not just “equal in the eyes of God” he was equal in practical, concrete terms. He could no longer be treated as a slave. He was free.
Under Roman law, however, Onesimus was Philemon’s “property.” Yet since both were baptized into Christ, they were now brothers. They were equals. And as Paul prepared to send Onesimus back to Philemon, which he was bound to do under Roman law, he wrote a letter to Philemon explaining the situation in coaxing terms.
Basically he is saying: “This is your decision, yet I’m sending my child back to you; I’m sending you my heart. Receive him as your brother. Whatever is between you, let it go. If you regard me as a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.” Paul goes even further. He suggests that what happened may have happened for just this reason—that in giving up “ownership” of another man, Philemon would receive the incredible gift of a dear, beloved brother instead, one who would be a treasured family member and companion forever.
“Who can know the mind of God, or grasp God’s will,” the author of Wisdom asks? Human reasoning is unreliable and our intentions aren’t sound. We tend toward choices that serve our own purposes all-too often. And then it’s relatively easy to justify those choices as moral even when they are simply serving self-absorbed interests.
The great crowd following Jesus in today’s Gospel is composed of people who came for the party, who came to see the great miracle-worker perform a miracle, who came for the excitement, or for a break in an otherwise dull life, or because they wanted to be able to say “I was there when…”
Jesus, however, is on his way to Jerusalem where he will be executed for his “radical view” of religious requirements that burden rather than free people to listen deeply and love truly. His welcoming of the weak, the poor and marginalized is also an obvious risk to the status quo. His teachings threaten the established order, not because he fosters rebellion, but because he promotes the cause of love, mercy and justice, as well as the freedom—and expectation—to listen and follow God’s voice in one’s own life. He knows his priority, and that is to serve his God. Nothing will stop him from doing that. Nothing will stop him from fulfilling his work, work which requires him to pick up his cross daily, meet the questions and derisions of angry religious authorities, try to reach at least some in the crowd of onlookers with the message he has to deliver, continue teaching the obtuse disciples who won’t understand what he’s telling them until after he’s gone. He keeps at it, disregarding the cost, because this is HIS TO DO. And he expects his disciples to have the same priority. He expects God to come first in their lives and ours. He expects the urgings of Spirit to be the organizing principle around which all other choices are made.
He is wise in the ways of heaven, as the book of Wisdom puts it. He knows from experience how human needs and desires can weigh down our good intentions. Those needs and desires, though real and even good in themselves, can drive us toward satisfying our own interests to the point that we give up our freedom, without realizing it, and become slaves to satisfying those wants and needs.
In this harsh-sounding Gospel reading, Jesus is telling us that detachment is a key component of discipleship. He is talking about priorities and pushing us to get our priorities straight. Being a disciple requires that we make hard choices. We can’t just follow conventional patterns around family or around material, social and emotional “possessions.” We can’t just live as though the physical plane is the only reality, catering to that natural drive to acquire more and more of the necessary, interesting, beautiful and pleasurable “things” the world has to offer.
As disciples we must not only accept but also embrace our “cross.” We have work to do—the work of loving those who deride and persecute, the work of unhooking ourselves from ingrained habits of consumption, the work of listening for the subtle voice of Wisdom—the voice of conscience—in our daily activities, the work of “letting go” in countless areas of our lives.
The one and only priority, according to Jesus, is that of following the voice and direction of Spirit. And we can’t hear that voice unless we are free. When we are enslaved by our possessions, when they organize our thoughts and control our lives, we aren’t free and we can’t hear.
Paul tells Philemon to free Onesimus so he, Philemon, can also be FREE. Jesus is saying essentially the same thing in this Gospel. What you possess possesses you. What possesses you enslaves you. The cross, at its root, is the cross of detachment. From what must YOU detach in order to be FREE?
Rev. Toni Tortorilla, Sophia Christi Catholic Community
September 8, 2013, 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
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