We Become What We Contemplate: Homily on the Letter of St Paul to Philemon

W

hen we think of St Paul, what kind of person comes to mind? Perhaps we imagine a fearless missionary who traveled thousands of miles proclaiming the Gospel, endured persecution, confronted false teachings, and defended his faith even at the cost of his life.

But today's First Reading introduces us to another side of Paul. We encounter not simply Paul the great apostle, but Paul the affectionate friend, the tender father, and the vulnerable old man. It is an intimate portrait of a man whose heart has been transformed by the Gospel he preached.

I would like to draw our attention to three aspects in his letter to Philemon.

First, "I rather urge you out of love."

Paul is writing from prison to Philemon, a Christian who owned a slave named Onesimus. Somehow, Onesimus had become separated from his master and had come into contact with Paul. During Paul's imprisonment, Onesimus became a Christian and developed a close relationship with him.

Now Paul is sending Onesimus back to Philemon with an unusual request: that Philemon receive him no longer merely as a slave, but as a beloved brother.

What is remarkable is how Paul makes this request. He says, "Although I have the full right in Christ to order you to do what is proper, I rather urge you out of love."

Paul could have commanded. Instead, he appeals to Philemon's heart. Paul understands that love cannot simply be commanded. It must be freely given.

How often do we do the opposite? When we know we are right, we sometimes think that gives us permission to impose our will on others. We use our authority or position to pressure people into doing what we want.

But Paul teaches us that there is a difference between making someone do what is right and helping someone freely choose what is right. Christian authority is not simply having the power to command, but knowing when to persuade through love.

Second, "I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you."

This is perhaps the most touching sentence in the entire letter.

Imagine that! This is the same Paul who wrote powerful theological arguments about justification, grace, sin, and salvation. Yet here he speaks with the tenderness of a father about to be separated from someone he loves.

He even calls Onesimus "my child," someone whose father he has become during his imprisonment.

We sometimes imagine that holiness makes people less emotional, less attached, or less vulnerable. But Paul shows us something different. The closer Paul grows to Christ, the more deeply he learns to love. Despite imprisonment and suffering, his heart has not hardened. Instead, it has gradually been configured to the heart of Christ.

Paul could have kept Onesimus with him, but he is willing to let him go for the sake of reconciliation.

Here we discover another dimension of love. When we value people only for what they can do for us, we are using them rather than loving them. True love seeks their good, even when it costs us something. St. Teresa of Calcutta once said that one cannot truly love unless it is at their own expense.

Third, "We become what we contemplate."

Remember, Paul was once a persecutor of Christians. He approved of their imprisonment and even their deaths. But now, we encounter a very different Paul. The man who once inflicted suffering on others is now willing to suffer for another.

What happened to Paul?

There is an old spiritual insight that says, "We become what we contemplate."

Paul had spent years contemplating Christ, who gave himself for others, took upon himself the burden of our sins, and loved us even when we were sinners. Slowly, Paul's heart began to resemble the heart of Christ.

This gradual transformation is what we call sanctification—the lifelong work of God's grace, shaping our thoughts, desires, choices, and actions to reflect those of Christ.

Notice the beautiful parallel. Paul does not merely ask Philemon to forgive Onesimus. He offers to take responsibility for whatever debt Onesimus may owe. He writes, "I, Paul, write this in my own hand: I will pay."

These are extraordinary words from a man already in prison. Paul did not simply preach about Christ. He was becoming like Christ.

Paul's encounter with Christ transformed the way he saw others. The Church, too, would eventually have to undergo that same conversion in its understanding of slavery in the centuries that followed. The power of contemplating Christ transforms not only individual hearts but also institutions and systems.

And perhaps this is our invitation today. The more we contemplate Christ's tenderness, the more tender we should become. The more we contemplate his mercy, the more merciful we should become.

Lord Jesus, may our hearts become more like yours, so that those who encounter us may also encounter your tenderness, mercy, and love. Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ