On the Basis of Love

September 4, 2022 + Lectionary 23 + Philemon 1-21 + Seminarian Jonas Ellison

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight; oh lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

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Wow... It’s so great to be here. I just need to take a quick moment; I love this place so much. 

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jonas Ellison. I’m a seminarian at Wartburg Theological Seminary. Though the campus is across the river over in Dubuque, IA, I live with my wife Alex and daughter Rory in the Lost Sierras of rural Northern California, about an hour north of Lake Tahoe. We unexpectedly moved there from here during the first summer of covid so we could be closer to family and have access to the great outdoors. It was supposed to be a 2-week getaway from the city during lockdown, and we had no plans to move, but God had other plans for us. We ended up buying a house there, and now, as far as I can tell, we’re there to stay. But, Holy Trinity is my home church, and I miss this place deeply. It’s where I became a Lutheran. 

See, I grew up in the Roman Catholic church - has anyone heard of it? When I was younger, I really loved it. I loved the physicality and sensorial nature of mass. I had a very tumultuous childhood (like maybe you did). When I walked into the nave (the part where you sit) for mass, first of all, the VERTICALITY of the space took whatever pressure and angst I felt in my chest up and away from me. The smell of the burning candles and the incense anchored me in the feeling tone of love. Yes, I got a little sleepy during the sermons, but the reverence of the RC church had a cleansing effect on me. 

And then I got older. My mom, who was my tie to the RC church, died when I was 16 after her long battle with cancer. I grew more skeptical about religion. I saw Christianity as a dangerous and useless relic. 

I floated for a while and then became more spiritual rather than religious for a couple of decades. And then, in a very roundabout way, I learned about the Lutheran church - particularly the ELCA. It sounded intriguing, so I decided to convince Alex to come with me for a visit (Rory had no choice). 

I remember it like it was yesterday... It was a beautiful spring morning, and as we walked up Magnolia Ave, we heard the famed organ and joyful singing bursting through the stained glass windows. When we entered the building, it was bustling. It wasn’t megachurch-level overwhelming, but it was lively, which I didn’t expect. And that’s when it happened...

Have any of you seen the Disney movie, Ratatouille (show of hands)? If you haven’t or if you need a refresher, it’s about Remi, this little rat who follows his dream to become a chef in France. In the movie, Remi has his big break at one of Paris’s top restaurants. But he has to cook a meal for the harsh, terrifying food critic, Anton Ego (Ego’s voice is spectacularly performed by the late great Peter O’Toole). Remi decides to serve Ego ratatouille (anyone had it?). But Remi puts his heart and soul into it. As soon as it hits Ego’s tongue, it takes him straight back to his childhood dining room table where his mother serves him ratatouille (though a much less refined version of the dish). Ego is rendered speechless in the transformation this dish performs on him. He ecstatically drops his pen like a warrior dropping his sword and, with his eyes closed, savors every bite of that meal. 

That happened to me here! The smells. The sounds. The vestments. The icons. I was back in the church of my childhood, but it was also totally new. It had new life breathed into it. It satiated my nostalgia for traditional liturgy while giving me an expansive theology.

The old hymns made Alex cry. The gospel procession - I’d never seen anything like this before! And then, the sermon. Craig was preaching that day, and though I don’t remember the details, here’s what got me...

What I heard was a message that addressed the bruising in my soul that I’d grown unaware of. There was no attempt to spiritually bypass the harsh reality of the human situation (as I did so much in my previous life’s chapter of secular spirituality). 

In that sermon, my pain was addressed, but I wasn’t left there. In that sermon, Jesus came to life IN THE MIDST OF THE PAIN and brought new life to it. I forget what the closing hymn was, but I walked out of this very building a Lutheran that day, and now, I’m less than a year (God-willing) from being ordained in Word and Sacrament ministry in the ELCA.

I have a lot to thank you for, HT. Along with everything else, I’m grateful for the three endowment fund grants that I’ve received here to help with the expenses of seminary and dampen the blow for our single-income family (thanks, Alex, and hello, Rory, if you’re not still asleep). 

Now, I know this has been more of a homecoming ode to HT rather than a sermon so far, but we’re not done yet. I want to touch on St. Paul’s letter to Philemon because I think it taps into the same base note that you at HT tap into. The words that stand out to me from this passage (this BOOK - we read a whole BOOK of the Bible today) is this line...

...on the basis of love.

See, Philemon is a Christian friend of Paul’s. Philemon enslaved someone named Onesimus. Onesimus ran away from his situation and started helping Paul with his ministry. According to law, Philemon has every right to punish Onesimus for doing this. And Paul tells him that he wouldn’t blame Philemon for doing so. 

Now... Before I go any further. This letter has been used over the centuries as a justification for slavery. I want to say from this pulpit that I, as a Christian, renounce the devil’s motives in doing this. It is utter blasphemy to use God’s word to harm our siblings in Christ. 

For one, yes, being a slave in 1st century Rome was awful. But it was not the same thing as chattel slavery in this country. Owning people as non-human property is a far more sinister phenomenon than what was going on in 1st century Rome where, as awful as it was, people would often volunteer to temporarily enter slavery in order to pay off debts, etc. It was also not based on ethnicity like chattel slavery in the US. 

But even in this case... Paul doesn’t give a big thumbs-up to even THIS form of 1st-century Roman slavery. He doesn’t demand that Onesimus go back to being enslaved. Yes, he admits that it is legal - and it is. But he appeals to Philemon not on the basis of the law but “on the basis of love.”

On the basis of love in light of the New Covenant in Jesus, could you, Philemon, find it in your heart to turn Onesimus from a useless slave into a fruitful sibling in Christ? 

Could you, Philemon, allow Onesimus’s lawful punishment to be absorbed by the one who died for the whole world on the cross? 

Could you, Philemon, allow your false self to die with Jesus on the cross; and then allow Christ’s resurrection to usher in the resurrection of you? 

Could you, Philemon, allow it to bring a new relationship between you and your fellow human? 

Paul isn’t commanding that Philemon do this, though. He wants Philemon to free Onesimus voluntarily. 

See, if this happens... If Philemon frees Onesimus out of this appeal to love... Paul knows that it isn’t just Onesimus who will be set free. It’s Philemon who will also be set free. For the chains of slavery are attached to both parties - enslaver and enslaved.

As the rest of the story goes, Philemon frees Onesimus, and Onesimus eventually becomes the Bishop of Ephesus following Timothy. 

(Now, the story doesn’t end totally happy - Onesimus is martyred by stoning or beheading, depending on what research you go by. But he died with his dignity intact and in service to his fellow people as a messenger of Christ.) 

So, I’ll leave you with this...

In Jesus, God only deals with you in one way. And that is on the basis of love. Not on law. Not on what you deserve or don’t deserve. Just straight-up boundless love. It is this kind of love that can be found within the walls of this very church. And it is on the basis of this love that you have been set free.