PART I
Paul and His World
Chapter One
Return of the Runaway?
1. A World of Difference
(i) Pliny and Paul
Roughly seventy years after the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, a Roman senator, mindful of his own importance and seniority, wrote to a friend about a third man, a social inferior who had got himself in trouble:
The writer was Pliny: Pliny the Younger, nephew of the great naturalist whose death (at the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79) he memorably described in another letter. This younger Pliny was a barrister, a senator, a public official who held a priesthood and other civil service appointments. He was elected to the Consulship for the autumn of AD 100; the office was, by then, nowhere near as important as it had been under the Republic, but it was still the highest civic honour available. After further work in the courts, the Senate and the civil service, he was sent by the emperor Trajan as his personal representative to Bithynia and Pontus, in todayâs northern Turkey. There, it seems, he died; but not before writing a couple of puzzled letters back home to his master on what to do about those strange people called âChristiansâ. That was where we met him in an earlier volume.
The present letter is remarkable in several ways. We know nothing more about the friend in question, one Sabinianus, except that he granted the request and earned himself a further letter from the great man, congratulating him on âaccepting my authority â or, if you like, indulging my prayersâ, and urging him to be ready for further acts of mercy even if there is nobody to make the case. But we know enough to see whatâs going on. The freedman (in other words, a slave whom Sabinianus has freed but who is still clearly dependent on him) has got himself into trouble. Knowing Pliny to be a friend of his master, he has gone to him for help.
There then ensues a nice little comedy of manners, worthy almost of Jane Austen though without the dry humour. All three dancers retain their places in the implicit social hierarchy, with each making the moves appropriate to those places.
Pliny is at the top of the social pile, giving lordly instructions and emphasizing the fact by saying heâs only making a request. Sabinianus is in the middle, obviously in command of the freedman but presumably a little in awe of the great Pliny, and eager to maintain friendship with such a man. The freedman, who remains unnamed, is no longer a slave, but is nevertheless socially near the bottom of the pile, at the mercy of those above him. Pliny does what a man in his position might be expected to do, dispensing the philosophical and even psychological wisdom of the day: âMercy looks even better when youâve a right to be angry, but being angry is such torture for a gentle-hearted chap like you!â He makes it clear that the freedman deserves anger, and that he himself has given him a good, menacing talking-to. The appeal is based on the manâs genuine repentance; but, despite the protestations that this appears genuine, Plinyâs subsequent warning indicates that he suspects it may not last. In saying one thing to the unfortunate freedman and another to Sabinianus he shows himself again the lofty master of the situation, playing the two others like a pair of (albeit very different) musical instruments.
Sabinianus, for his part, complies with Plinyâs command/request, which involves no social change. He is subservient to Pliny, but his forgiveness, conditional as it is upon the manâs present penitence and future good behaviour, leaves him even more obviously superior to the freedman than before. âHe has not demeaned himself by pardoning an inferior (his freedman), because his action represents his fitting submission to a superior (Pliny).â
The freedman himself, tearful and apparently penitent, and now further frightened by Plinyâs warnings, is, we may suppose, deeply grateful to them both. He is determined, at least until further notice or provocation, to know his place and to play the part of a well-behaved social inferior.
In terms of the customs of the time, the unnamed freedman was quite lucky. He was at least free, not a slave, even though the net result of that change may not have been very significant in real terms (he was presumably technically at liberty to leave Sabinianus and seek his fortune elsewhere, but many ex-slaves remained without the means to do such a thing). His master could have made life very unpleasant for him. He would not have faced the extreme danger of the runaway slave, but punishments and deprivations of many kinds might have awaited his projected return. All the more reason for him to go back with his tail between his legs and learn to lie low.
We move from Plinyâs world of carefully calibrated social distinctions into a very different universe. Roughly half way in time between the resurrection of Jesus and Plinyâs letter, we have another letter whose surface similarities mask a deep, disturbing dissimilarity. Here is its central core:
Paulâs letter to Philemon, of which this extract forms verses 8â22, has some interesting similarities to that of Pliny to Sabinianus. The most obvious is the standard rhetorical ploy: Far be it from me to force your hand â I wouldnât tell you what to do, now would I? No, no, of course not, think Sabinianus and Philemon with a wry smile; you merely put me in an impossible position! The frequent references to friendship, at various levels, is a standard theme right across the world of ancient letter-writing. Then again Paul, like Pliny, speaks simply of âobedienceâ. He is in fact (or so it seems) appealing, still more explicitly than Pliny, to his possession of a status which places him in a position to give orders, should he wish to do so (which of course, he insists, he doesnât!). Here, however, is the first rather shocking dissimilarity: Paul is in prison, a fact he mentions not as though it decreases his social standing (which it naturally did) but as though it gives him a higher status rather than a lower one.
But the main impression, once we study the two letters side by side, is that they breathe a different air. They are a world apart. Indeed â and this is part of the point of beginning the present book at this somewhat unlikely spot â this letter, the shortest of all Paulâs writings that we possess, gives us a clear, sharp little window onto a phenomenon that demands a historical explanation, which in turn, as we shall see, demands a theological explication. It is stretching the point only a little to suggest that, if we had no other first-century evidence for the movement that came to be called Christianity, this letter ought to make us think: Something is going on here. Something is different. People donât say this sort of thing. That isnât how the world works. A new way of life is being attempted â by no means entirely discontinuous with what was there already, but looking at things in a new way, trying out a new path. There is, after all, a world of difference between saying, âNow, my good fellow, let me tell you what to do with your stupid freedman and then weâll all be safely back in our proper positionsâ and âNow, my brother and partner, let me tell you about my newborn child, and let me ask you to think of him, and yourself, and me, as partners and brothers.â This new way of life, and the new patterns of thinking which sustain it, are what the present book is about. I choose to begin here, with this sharp little vignette, one snapshot from Paulâs copious album. Sometimes it is better to get your hands dirty at once rather than approach a topic with lofty generalizations.
But â a new way of life? One can already hear in the background, at the very suggestion of such a difference between Pliny and Paul, a whirring of cogs in the postmodern imagination. Yes, yes, think many readers, this simply reveals Paul as a master of manipulation. The hermeneutic of suspicion casts its usual wet blanket over all possibilities other than the reinscribing of narratives of money, sex and particularly power, and it is power that people often see at work here. Sometimes this proposal is part of the contemporary drive to make Paul simply yet one more hellenistic thinker and writer. He canât, people think, be as different as all that! It must âreallyâ be all about social manipulation âŚ
To this the only real answer is, How might we tell? and the answer is âthrough a more thorough study, not only of the history and theology, but of the entire worldview which here comes to the surfaceâ. Such study must be both as broad as an entire worldview always is, and as deeply rooted as we can make it in an actual close reading of the text. And when we read this Pauline text closely, it compels us to focus on two features not sufficiently remarked upon: the actual request Paul makes, which is clear and sharp despite what people have often said, and the supporting argument he offers, which is likewise clear and sharp, and which opens up a window on the heart of Paulâs beliefs and aims, which are the central focus of this book.
(ii) The Runaway Slave?
Recent scholarship has gone round and round in circles in debating the question of what Paul was actually asking for. The letter to Philemon is sometimes hailed as a crystal-clear example of the âreal Paulâ, an out-an-out abolitionist, demanding of his convert Philemon that he give another convert, Onesimus, his freedom. But the implicit narrative of this letter is more complex than that. And implicit narratives â the âreferential sequenceâ which explains what was going on, as opposed to the âpoetic sequenceâ which consists of the flow of thought in the text itself â are vital if we are to understand any text, whether a poem of Catullus, a treatise of Plato, a novel of Jane Austen, or a letter of Paul. Once we come to grips with that, the real heart of the letter stands out â not simply the request itself, but also the way Paul makes it.
But this is already to run somewhat ahead of the argument. Was Onesimus even a runaway slave? That, to be sure, has been the majority opinion, at least since Chrysostom. According to this view, Philemon was a householder (probably in Colosse) who had been converted under Paulâs ministry, probably in Ephesus. Paul had not been to Colosse himself, but many from that town would find their way the eighty miles or so down the Lycus valley to Ephesus, the great metropolis and seaport of the region. Onesimus, one of Philemonâs slaves, had run away, as slaves often did, perhaps helping himself to some money, again as runaway slaves often did. In this hypothetical narrative, Onesimus made his way to Paul in prison, presumably deliberately and seeking help. This is not as problematic as some have suggested, and is considerably more likely than his happening to run into Paul by some extraordinary coincidence, let alone his finding himself imprisoned by chance alongside him. Granted, he was taking a big risk by going to Paul. Remember Pliny. But he had already risked everything in running away in the first place.
Before looking at the other options, I should stress that I side with the majority of contemporary scholars, who think that the place where Paul was imprisoned at that stage was Ephesus. The fact that such an Ephesian imprisonment is mentioned neither in Acts nor by Paul himself in his letters is no bar to this very likely hypothesis. The matter is clinched, for me, by Paulâs proposal of a visit to Philemon in the near future (verse 22). From Ephesus, that would be easy and natural. When he was in prison in Caesarea he was planning to go to Rome, and a visit to Colosse would not be part of such a journey. When under house arrest in Rome, he was still hoping to go on to Spain. To place this letter in Ephesus, in the middle of Paulâs ministry (before his final visit to Corinth), is easy and natural, and would date it in the early or middle 50s.
This already undercuts some of the objections to the ârunaway slaveâ hypothesis. We do not have to imagine Onesimus undertaking the long and complicated journey to Rome and then, by a wonderful coincidence, meeting up with the apostle through whom his master had been converted. People went to and fro up and down the Lycus valley all the time. Philemon might have had a town house in Ephesus. Onesimus might have grown up in Ephesus in the fi...