Cruciform Onesimus? Considering How a Slave Would Respond to Paul’s Call for a Cross-Shaped Lifestyle 1

Cruciformity

Cruciformity is a theological concept developed especially in the scholarship of Michael J. Gorman. ³ The term ‘cruciform’ means ‘cross-shaped’; as a noun, ‘cruciformity’ refers to a Christian orientation and lifestyle that is modeled after the mindset and lifestyle of Jesus Christ, ‘the indwelling crucified and resurrected Lord.’ ⁴ A cruciform life, imitating the person of Jesus, embodies self-giving love that comes to a climax in Jesus’ death on the cross for the sake of sinful humanity. Suffering is often associated with cruciformity as a correlate, but essential to cruciformity is faithfulness, hope, love, and the rejection of exploitative and self-aggrandizing power.

To illustrate this concept, Gorman appeals to the so-called Christ Hymn, Philippians 2.5-11, which he calls Paul’s ‘master story’ of the cruciform pattern. ⁵

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

Who, though he was in the form of God,

Did not regard equality with God

As something to be exploited,

But emptied himself,

Taking the form of a slave,

Being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form.

He humbled himself

And became obedient to the point of death—

Even death on a cross. (Phil 2.5-11 NRSV)

Gorman detects in the Christ Hymn a ‘cruciform pattern’ that ought to be replicated in the life of believers: ‘although [x] not [y] but [z]’. In this formula, [x] is a form of status or power, [y] involves the potential for selfish exploitation, and [z] refers to care and concern for the other. Looking at Philippians 2.6-11, this works out as, though Christ enjoyed the status of equality with God and the privileges of heavenly glory, he did not exploit these things, but humbly lowered himself to die on a cross [to save sinners]. ⁶ The heart of this spiritual ethic is directed towards the Philippian believers in 2.3-4: ‘Do nothing driven by a spirit of competitiveness or vain striving after glory, but in humility consider each other as higher than yourselves. Do not dwell only on your own life’s concerns, but on the concerns of others’ (my translation). ⁷

All of Gorman’s numerous works on Paul, in some way driven by this cruciform theology, have had a sizable impact on the study of Paul. ⁸ I’ve regularly engaged with Gorman’s work, and I have developed my own approach to cruciformity that is a bit different, though complementary and noticeably inspired by his. ⁹

To begin with, my definition of cruciformity: the Pauline pattern of discipleship and imitation of Christ that concentrates on obedience to God the Father whatever the cost. Going back to Philippians 2.6-11, I agree with Gorman that this reflects a kind of ‘master story’ for Paul of Christ’s humility and subsequent exaltation. But it can be noted that this text in particular does not mention Christ’s own compassion for the lost, the sinner. What is at the center of this text, both conceptually and literally, is Christ the Son’s own obedience to the Father, a calling to give himself up at the Father’s will, which Christ follows even unto crucifixion. Of course, the love of Christ towards sinners appears in Philippians (2.1-2) and elsewhere in Paul’s letters (Gal 2.20; Rom 5.8; 8.31-39; 14.15) in clear ways. God the Father has compassion on his creatures, and the sending of his son Jesus implies that Jesus ministers willingly also out of grace and charity (Gal 2.20; 4.4). The cross is the location of the climax of their sacrificial love.

The Cross and a New Value System. ¹⁰ For Paul, the cross marks not only the means of Jesus’s death, but the platform for shifting believers towards a different, and sometimes inverted, value system from the world (Gal 6.14). ‘The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God’ (1 Cor 1.18). This cross-wisdom confounds human wisdom, it demonstrates the hidden power of God sub contrario (1 Cor 1.22-25).

The Cross and Sacrificial Obedience. In Romans 5, Paul contrasts the trespass of the ‘one man’ (Adam) with the faithfulness, righteousness, and obedience of another (Jesus). Adam rejected the divine word, Jesus submitted to God, making way for charis, grace, to rule and bring eternal life through Lord Jesus Christ (5.18-21). Romans 6 puts the pieces together by referencing death as the means of divine life. Christ’s own death was the climax of his righteousness and obedience to God, and God bestowed on him new life (6.1-4). So, for believers, the ‘old self’ must be put to death in crucifixion with Christ to break the power of sin (6.5-6). This allows for a new and true commitment to living for God (6.12-14). To be dead to sin means to be alive to God, now as slaves of God, dedicated to righteousness, consecrated, and infused with the light and power of eternal life (6.15-23).

The Cross and the Nobodies. For Paul, to be crucified with Christ (Gal 2.20) and have the ‘I’ live no longer does not mean loss of self or personal agency. It means that ‘I’ can no longer boast in myself, acquire for my own glorification, rely on my own privilege as of first importance. Instead, the ‘Christ-in-me-“I”’ requires me to identify with the least and the last, just as the Lord Jesus himself did. ¹¹ Even the great apostles were called to live as fragile clay pots—yes, gospel power resides within, but there is no way to circumvent this humble calling where they will know defeat, despair, ruin, and rejection (2 Cor 4.7-12). The cruciform can and must identify with those in society who are pushed to the margins; after all, God chose the insignificant (ta agenē) in society, the misfits (ta exouthenēmena), the ‘nobodies’ (ta mē onta) to nullify the top contenders in the cursus honorum (1 Cor 1.28). For Jesus himself to die on a cross, the punishment especially reserved for slaves, ought to remind believers to walk humbly before God, boast in the Lord alone, and notice the forgotten. ¹²

The Cross as Protest and Symbol of Hope. To boast in the cross is absolute foolishness from the world’s perspective because crucifixion is Rome’s way of judging and condemning the worst of society. So, for Paul to valorize the cross of Christ (Gal 6.14), to seek to enter into the sufferings and death of Christ (Phil 3.10) is to reevaluate and repudiate worldly ways of judging and rejecting (2 Cor 5.16). Paul doesn’t use explicit martyrological language in his letters, but the logic is there: Jesus willingly succumbs to an undeserved death as a form of protest. ¹³ This, then, becomes a symbol of hope. Just as Christ gave himself over to crucifixion and death out of obedience to God and to challenge Sin and Death directly, so God vindicated Jesus and raised him up from the dead and bestowed on him an even higher name (Phil 2.9-11). Likewise, the cruciform trust God to vindicate those who willingly step forward into his cross-shaped life and self-giving death (2 Cor 4.16-5.5).

Cruciformity, as a theological concept, has a lot of explanatory power; numerous Pauline texts make sense and find coherence in light of this approach. ¹⁴ However, questions have been raised about how cruciformity applies to people who are oppressed, victimised, or at the bottom of society, i.e., the disempowered. ¹⁵ Let’s go back to Gorman’s basic master story formula: ‘although [x] not [y] but [z]’. The [x] here presumes some form of privilege, power, of status; something that could be exploited [y]. So, the question is: what if you have no [x]? For Jesus, he experienced heavenly glory and surrendered that in the incarnation (Phil 2.6-8; 2 Cor 8.9). As for Paul, he had gravitas as an apostle, which he could intentionally set aside (1 Thess 2.7). But what if you are a peasant? A woman? An immigrant or ‘barbarian’? Or a slave who has no status in society? ¹⁶ That last example, a slave, makes for an interesting case study. We have very few instances in the New Testament where we find a named figure in the Christian community who is a slave. We know slaves were a part of Christian assemblies—as signalled by the Household Codes (Col 3.8-4.1; Eph 5.21-6.9; Titus 2.1-10; 1 Peter 2.18-3.7). But aside from Paul’s letter to Philemon, we otherwise don’t have concrete details about their names, lifestyles, activities, etc. In the case of Philemon’s slave, Onesimus, we can actually try to imagine what it would have been like for Onesimus to return home with Paul’s letter urging reconciliation. Scholars have devoted time and attention to considering how Philemon would have responded to Paul’s letter. ¹⁷ Much less attention has been paid to what might have been going on in Onesimus’ mind. ¹⁸ Given Onesimus had recently heard the gospel (afresh?) from Paul and became a believer in Jesus, we can imagine Paul called the slave Onesimus to a cruciform life. But what might this look like as he darkened the doorstep of Philemon’s house with Paul’s letter in hand? That question will occupy the remainder of our attention.

‘O Slave, Where Art Thou?’ Theories on Onesimus’ Situation

While this short Pauline letter presents itself as a fascinating context to consider how the cruciform life might work for a person without social status and power—Onesimus—we must also recognize that scholars find themselves puzzled and at odds regarding how to reconstruct the historical situation. ¹⁹ The traditional reading, going back at least to Chrysostom, assumes that Philemon’s household slave Onesimus was a runaway who took some valuables with him along the way. ²⁰ Somehow, the fugitive slave found his way to the imprisoned Paul, heard the message of the gospel, became a believer, and Paul was sending him back to make amends with his master. This hypothetical scenario has been repeated, sometimes with small variations, throughout the years and faced little pushback until the middle of the twentieth century. ²¹ Scholars like J.L. Houlden and Sara Winter have proposed that perhaps Onesimus didn’t flee from Philemon to Paul, but rather was sent by Philemon or by his church to serve the chained apostle. ²² This view has not earned wide acceptance, but certainly deserves consideration.

A view that has grown significantly in popularity in the last few decades suggests that Onesimus did leave his household and master without permission, but did not intend to run away forever. ²³ Rather, having some issue or problem with his master, he left the house to pursue a mediator, a ‘friend of the master’ (amicus domini) to aid with reconciliation. To illustrate this from the Roman world, proponents of this approach tend to appeal to Pliny’s letter to Sabinianus (letter 103, ‘To Sabinianus’). In this particular case, Pliny was not advocating for Sabinianus’ slave, but rather his freedman. This freedman came to Pliny and threw himself at his feet, pleading for help. Pliny asks Sabinianus to have mercy on the man. Pliny recognizes Sabinianus’ good nature and mild temperament. But we must be wary of reading Philemon in light of Pliny’s letter and drawing parallels that may not actually be there. For example, Pliny makes much of the slave’s confession of guilt and his remorse, but Paul says nothing of the kind about Onesimus. Pliny urges Sabinianus to forgive his freedman for his wrongdoing, Paul does not actually explicate any wrongdoing on the part of Onesimus. ²⁴

Lewis Brogdon has spoken out in recent years against trends in the study of Paul’s letter to Philemon that presume guilt on the part of Onesimus, that too easily (gullibly?) believes the story of the lazy or devious slave. Brogdon quotes A.D. Callahan’s important claim that the popular slave-flight theory ‘buys into the stereotype of the thieving, indolent slave which is a part of all slave-holding societies.’ ²⁵ Brogdon offers a different scenario: what if Philemon had a bias against slaves as a whole, and barred them from Christian fellowship in his own household community? Philemon would not be the first person to consider slaves ‘useless’ and unfit for fellowship. ²⁶ Onesimus may have been a slave of higher position in Philemon’s household, and he took concern over this behavior, perhaps even tried to engage with master Philemon on the matter. Brogdon imagines that Philemon and Onesimus had a serious falling out over this, which led to Onesimus’ travel to Paul, on one level to secure personal reconciliation, but perhaps on another level to gain Paul’s support in confronting Philemon’s bias. Now, Brogdon’s ‘exclusionary koinonia’ approach offers a lot of details of the scenario without concrete proof from Paul’s letter, but even the popular runaway theory does not have direct support either. Still, it is important to maintain openness to situational scenarios that do not presume guilt and criminal misbehavior on the part of Onesimus. ²⁷

In our analysis below of ‘cruciform Onesimus’, we will not presume legal or even moral guilt on the part of Onesimus. We will only take for granted that whatever the situation, Paul acknowledged a relational breach and desired reconciliation and restoration. One more thing to say before we imagine how Onesimus might step back into the house of Philemon. Peter Head has written an immensely important article defending the view that Onesimus was most likely the letter carrier who brought Paul’s message to Philemon and the church in his house. ²⁸ If this is so, Onesimus went home not just as Philemon’s slave, but also as an agent on behalf of Paul himself. This ought to color how we perceive Onesimus’ role and agency in the context of reconciliation.

Cruciform Onesimus

That has been a bit of a long prolegomenon to set up the heart of our study: what would it look like for Onesimus, a slave (perhaps even a wronged slave), to interface with Philemon and his community with a view towards reconciliation? Cruciformity takes as its highest model the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself up. But that does not mean that cruciformity requires resignation or passivity. Cruciformity is not about not doing something per se; it is about imitating the character of Christ and adopting his other-centered frame of mind towards ‘gospeling’ the world. ²⁹ When it comes to Onesimus, doing nothing, or giving up his power would actually work at cross-purposes with his and Paul’s desire for reconciliation. We will conceive of cruciformity for Onesimus in terms of four dynamics: obedience, not meekness; love, not hate; forgiveness, not revenge; hope, not pessimism.

Obedience, not meekness. We could imagine these questions as Onesimus walked away from Paul and began his return trip—was Onesimus nervous as he journeyed home? Was he scared? Did he second guess his and Paul’s plan? In such a case, cruciformity for Onesimus would repudiate any sense of meekness, or shrinking away from what God has called him to in standing face to face with Philemon, now as a Christian equal, a ‘partner’ rather than a subservient (Phm 17). While Roman culture would compel Onesimus to submit to master Philemon with fear and trembling, here he was a new man in Christ called to a new master (the Lord Jesus Christ). For someone in power, cruciformity often means lowliness and humility. For someone without human-granted power, cruciformity will sometimes mean that courage becomes the master virtue, and fortitude to do what is right in the eyes of God, not that of mortals alone.

Love, not hate. Again, cruciformity is not absolutely and always about relinquishing power. After all, even in the case of Jesus, his giving up of status and glory was temporary. In the end, he was given an even higher status and name by God. For Paul, he humbly worked hard in labor so as not to be a burden on the Thessalonians, to spare them the expense of supporting him financially. And yet, he asked other churches to enter into relationships of ‘giving and receiving’ (Phil 4.15). The cross-shaped life is not resignation to having nothing. The ‘engine’ of cruciformity is love. For Onesimus, most of the context theories involve some hostility between him and his master. With such situations, bitterness and anger are endemic. Put another way, it is easy to hate. Hate comes from a place of feeling that something is unfair, and hate harbors resentment and ill-will. Perhaps we could identify with Onesimus and sympathize with him if he hated Philemon. But Paul’s gospel is not about hate, however unjust the behavior of the other. It is about love. Love does not excuse wrongdoing, it does not turn a blind eye to sin and injustice. In fact, the ‘loving thing’ might be exactly the calling out of wrongdoing. Love is about caring for the other and wanting the good of not just oneself, but also the whole community and even the offender.

Paul writes to the Romans that they ought to love one another with the affection siblings have (12.9). Reject what is evil—Paul uses the neuter here (to poneron); don’t treat the other person as evil, but hate any evil action. And cling to what is good (tō agathõ; Rom 12.10). Suffer patiently with each other and bless those who persecute and trouble you (Rom 12.13-14). Onesimus is surely called to love Philemon, not a blind love that ignores wrong, but a love that is patient, kind, generous, and long-suffering (1 Cor 13.4-6). One way to think about this in terms of cruciform love is imagining that reconciliation is not an instantaneous process. Does the story of Onesimus and Philemon have a happy ending? Ignatius refers to a bishop of Ephesus named Onesimus (Ephesians 1.3), but there is no way to know if this is true or even the same Onesimus. But even if this pair reconciled, it is hard to imagine it happened in a day. Perhaps it took weeks, months, or even years. The cruciform life is often the calling to patience with love in the pursuit of justice, even restitution.

Forgiveness, not revenge. Again, we don’t know the exact causes of the breakdown between Onesimus and Philemon, but if Onesimus felt unjustly treated (how could slaves in the Roman world not feel this way?), he may have experienced bitterness in his heart. That would be quite natural. If I were in Onesimus’ sandals, I might want to seek out an opportunity to shame Philemon, even to embarrass him in front of his community. But if we turn to Romans 12 again, we see that cruciform love does not seek out revenge: ‘leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord”’ (12.19). Imitation of Christ does the opposite of resentment and vengeance—knowing that God the judge will make things right in the end—love showers the enemy with grace, giving them food when they are hungry, drink when they are thirsty (12.20). Perhaps, for Onesimus, cruciform love means bringing not only Paul’s letter calling Philemon out, but maybe also a gift. What if Onesimus brought to Philemon the equivalent of a ‘box of chocolates’? Again, cruciformity is not about suffering wrong endlessly, nor about condoning wrong or enabling it; it is about obedience to God no matter the cost, and love of neighbor without reservation, limitation, qualification, or hesitation. Love may look like confrontation (think of planning an ‘intervention’ for a friend who has a drug problem). But all of this is driven by a prayer for God’s formative work on all parties, including the wrongdoer.

Hope, not pessimism. The cruciform live by faith, not fear, hope, not futility. As dark of an image as the cross is, it became a symbol of joy and hope for Christians precisely because God brought such good out of Jesus’ loving self-sacrifice. When it comes to hope in a relationship, we mortals cannot ‘change’ people. We can plant knowledge, we can water wisdom and reach out to embrace the other, but only God can grow true and lasting peace. We have a situation with the Corinthians where someone in the church was causing problems and unrepentant. Paul instructed the community to confront this man. They took Paul’s words seriously—perhaps too seriously, and shunned him. So, in 2 Corinthians, Paul draws a clear line. Yes, there is the need for accountability and punishment. That must happen to protect and preserve the truth of God and the community. But there is a line that can be crossed, where we lose hope for the restoration of the sinner. Paul called the Corinthians to an ‘about-face’ in their treatment of the man: ‘instead you should forgive and console him, so that he might not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I urge you to reaffirm your love for him’ (2 Cor 2.7-8). There is an uncomfortable beauty in Paul’s capacity to forgive. Forgiveness is an exercise in hope, that God can bring great things out of the act of clemency. Satan relishes in pessimism and resentment, Paul reminds them (2 Cor 5.11). He makes us feel that resentment is a form of justice. That it serves the good. But it doesn’t. So with Onesimus, he is called to hope. Hope does not condone wrong. It is an act of faith, trusting that God is capable of doing the impossible, like he did when he brought a dead man back to life.

If I were to try to summarize what cruciformity might look like for Onesimus in his return to Philemon as I imagine it, I would offer this: courageous obedience to God in confrontation with Philemon, love and forgiveness for Philemon driven by the love and patience of God, and hope that God can do the impossible, even bringing a slave and master together as brothers in the Lord. This may seem to leave so much to chance, to open the door for ‘what ifs’: ‘What if Philemon does not grant Onesimus his freedom?’ ‘What if Philemon seeks out his own advocate in another apostle to defend his side?’ ‘What if Philemon beats or punishes Onesimus anyway?’ These are troubling thoughts, indeed. Cruciformity is a risk. It makes the believer vulnerable. But God promises vindication in the end, and this is where hope dwells, not in our own ability to control the outcomes, but God’s tried and true work of ‘gospeling’ that places the result in his hands.

The Cruciform Community

What we have discussed above can sometimes make it seem as if the cruciform life is an individual life of loss, suffering, and weakness. But it is crucial to see in Paul’s letters that this life is meant to be lived in community, where sacrifice is made, one to another and vice versa; power is shared, not just given up, and the community itself helps to ensure that exploitation is not happening in a cruciform social body. Let’s take, for example, the case of the ataktoi (idle) in 1-2 Thessalonians (1 Thess 5.14; 2 Thess 3.6-13). Certain members of the community were leeching off of others. One scenario might be that some were taking advantage of the generosity of well-to-do patrons in the church. Paul was, then, calling the whole church to warn and admonish anyone not willing to labor and work who could do so. A system ought to exist to safeguard the the community from exploitation. It is easier to be cruciform if you know someone has your back.

We might say the same for Onesimus’s community, the church that meets in Philemon’s house. Perhaps Apphia and Archippus are mentioned in Paul’s letter address, not because they are Philemon’s wife and son (none of that is made explicit in the text), but because they were meant to be special witnesses to ensure steps of reconciliation are fair and generous for both parties. Put another way, cruciform Onesimus was not alone. Ideally, Onesimus had a cruciform community who could see that he was supported and given a fair context to say his peace, and the same for Philemon. Cruciformity is an absolute calling for each believer as they conform to the image and way of Christ. But it ought not to be lived in isolation, bereft of support and care.

The Cruciformity ‘Prism’

Second century Greek critic of Christianity Celsus accused Christians of showing ‘that they want and are able to convince only the foolish, dishonorable, and stupid, only slaves, women, and little children’ (Cels. 3.44). This is an exaggeration, of course. Free men were also sometimes attracted to this strange faith as well. But we have other pieces of the puzzle of early Christianity that support the image of slaves finding acceptance or validation amongst the Jesus people. One thinks of Pliny the Younger’s interrogation of two Christian ministrae who were domestic slaves (ancillae; Letters 10.96). At the same time, we know that Christians were not directly or explicitly opposed to the institution of slavery (Did. 4.11; Barn. 19.7). ³⁰ But it appears slaves, masters, freedmen, and free people lived together in Christian community as a general practice (see, e.g., Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas). All were called to the same one Lord Jesus Christ, all were expected to imitate Christ himself. It is not far fetched, then, to try to imagine how someone like Onesimus might walk back into the house of Philemon with hope of reconciliation and Christian brotherhood. Philemon would have his part to play, no doubt, hearing the words of his friend in chains, the apostle Paul. The point we have tried to make here is that ‘cruciformity’ is a calling for all believers, regardless of status, resources, and power—but, what behaviors, virtues, and dispositions are ‘activated’ by a cruciform spirit will look different from person to person and from one context to another. Cruciformity, then, is less like a one-size-fits-all cap, and more like a many-faced prism. Those with position and station are invited to ‘although [power] not [exploitation] but [self-abnegation]’. For those pushed to the margins, they might be invited into ‘although deserving justice, not driven to malice, but love’ (while still pursuing restitution). Or, ‘although afraid of a master’s punishment, not shrinking back, but acting with boldness’, crucifying fear itself. For Onesimus, he was heeding the call to a new relationship with Philemon guided by faith, hope, and love, conforming to the cross-shaped life of Jesus Christ.