But of course He Has

But if he has wronged you in any way or owes you anything, charge that to my account;  Philemon 1:18  NASB

Wronged you – Paul speaks the impossible.  He suggests to Philemon, the slave owner, that Onesimus might not have done anything wrong.  “But if” plants the thought that running away wasn’t unlawful.  In fact, Paul uses a Greek verb, ádikos, that directly contradicts this suggestion.

The term means “violator of the law.” What is against custom is usually distinguished from what is impious. The rootage in law forms a link with the LXX. . . . Distinction is made from what is impious, but there is an association, and in the OT adikía is primarily “sin against God” (cf. Is. 43:24–25; Jer. 31:33), though it may be “dishonesty,” “injustice,” “unreliability,” or “apostasy.”[1]

Imagine the audaciousness of Paul’s sentence.  How could Paul possibly suppose that Onesimus might not have done anything wrong?  Onesimus broke the law.  If ever a slave were guilty, he is!  Philemon has every legal right to consider Onesimus a criminal, a law breaker.  And the use of ádikos confirms this fact.

But Paul isn’t thinking in Roman legal terms.  He’s thinking in terms of the divine plan.  He’s thinking that Onesimus’ flight from slavery was really part of God’s engineering so that now, after Onesimus’ entry into the fellowship of the Messiah, both Philemon and Onesimus are serving God’s greater purpose.  On this basis, what seemed like a violation of the law of the land was really the fulfillment of a divine purpose.  It is therefore not ádikos.

Except, of course, that it is.  That’s why Paul says, “charge it to my account.”  It is possible that breaking the law serves God’s greater good, but there are still consequences.  Just because we fulfill the intentions of the divine ruler doesn’t mean we don’t have to pay the earthly one.  “Give under Caesar” still applies.  We live in that strange world where there really are two masters.  We can serve only one, but sometimes that means paying the other.  Paul is quite aware that his appeal on Onesimus’ behalf will require setting aside the legal implications of the culture.  And, because there really are legal implications, he is willing to pay.  Actually, I’m not sure that monetary recompense fulfills the legal requirement, but the gesture is a nice one.  And it furthers Paul’s argument.  It puts the onus back on Philemon.

What should Philemon do?  If he accepts Onesimus without strings attached, he sets a terrible precedent.  He himself violates the common law.  But if he asks for recompense, he essentially denies that God’s plan involved Onesimus’ actions from the beginning—and he disparages Paul’s friendship.  Philemon has only one choice, the hardest one.  He must forgive!  Oh, the scandal of it all.  The humiliation.  The blow to ego and pride.  Don’t we know it all too well?

Topical Index:  ádikos, wrong, law, forgiveness, Philemon 1:18

[1] Kittel, G., Friedrich, G., & Bromiley, G. W. (1985). Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Abridged in One Volume (p. 23). Grand Rapids, MI: W.B. Eerdmans.

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Richard Bridgan

Paul’s very personal letter to Philemon, while not explicitly expressed in theological terms, demonstrates the theology of a counter-history and counter ethics of redemption by means of a new creation in Christ. Within this counter-society of a new creation, the new bride—the church—becomes the new community wherein a new social practice with a new “meta-ethics” takes place. Instead of rivalry and victimization… the practical expression of forgiveness and burden-bearing. Instead of coercion, the church’s leaders rule pastorally (as shepherds, not lords). Paul effectively demonstrates that even coercion becomes a force that is transformed and made anewfor the sake of the good of the one coerced, and also the entire community. The social politics of the church as Christ’s Bride—this new city (polisof God is pastorally motivated and directed, aimed at promoting a new rule and a new peace (pax)… a true peace of the absolute harmony of love— a consensus of love by which desire is redirected to God in Christ, the proper object of the Bride’s passions.

In this context (that Skip has pointed out to us today), we are directed to both the ethics and politics of the new creation in Christ. Oh, yes, Paul is indeed being coercive; yet in applying the force of coercion he enacts the ethic of the counter-culture of a new creation, whose center is her Lord. This is what it looks like to be “the chaste bride of Christ” as “one” community, deeply enamored and devoted to her lover—who by demonstration of his own sacrificial love for her, has won over her reciprocal sacrificial love for him—such that her desire is only fulfilled and satiated being one body with him.