If you remember the movie THE RED VIOLIN you will undoubtedly remember the haunting sound of its music by John Corigliono The music was performed by the wonderful violinist, Joshua Bell. Now, you may also know that Bell owns the a famous Stradivarius violin, known as the Gibson Stradivarius. It has a pretty interesting history. Made in 1713 inn Cremona, Italy. It had been owned by Bronislaw Huberman, a remarkable old school violinist of the first half of the last century. Huberman was performing a concert at Carnegie Hall. He was using a Guinarius violin and had left the Stradivarius in his dressing room. . . . when it disappeared . . . for 50 years. After a few years Huberman gave up hope of finding the instrument and accepted a check for $30,000 from Lloyds of London. Then, nearly 50 years later, in 1985 an old man, Julian Altman, was dying and on his death bed told his wife he had a terrible secret to confess. That violin he had been playing for their entire marriage. He had stolen it half a century before from Carnegie Hall and had been playing it in cafes for all those 50 years. Playing it for people having anniversary suppers and birthdays and romantic rendezvous. In that time it had built up so much grime it was nearly black, but the man could not take it anywhere to be properly cleaned knowing that any violin maker would recognize it as a “Strad” immediately and would wonder why some one with his miniscule talent could own such an instrument.

What a fascinating and awful secret to have. What a relief it must have been to finally tell somebody. For fifty years Julian Altman was a stranger in a strange land.

The tiny letter that is our text this morning tells the story of another man who is on the lamb. A runaway slave named, Onesimus. You have to read between the lines to understand his story but its pretty plain. Onesimus has been away from home for a long time. He’s run away. He has, in fact, run to someone. He has run to the famous man who once planted a Christian Church in his home town.

Why he has run away is a secret. Perhaps he has been treated harshly? More likely, from what we can pick up in the letter, he has stolen something. We don’t know. What we do know is that while he is a guest of the famous apostle of Jesus he converts the faith. In time Paul also convinces him to return home again to face the music, so to speak.

And so he comes home to his slave master, Philemon, clutching a piece of paper, the very letter we read this morning from Paul, the apostle. And now its something we have given the distinctive name, scripture.

Now slavery was widespread in the ancient world. At the Roman port of Delos 10,000 slaves were sometimes bought and sold in a single day. It’s also important for us to note that slavery in 1st Century was not like what we know of it in the American South of the 19th century. Slaves were not always drudges. Many slaves in Paul’s day were physicians, teachers, scribes, poets, musicians, civil servants. These were key people in important households.

Now, punishment for running away could be extreme. They could be sold to the slave galleys, severely whipped, even executed which underscores the critical importance of the letter from Paul

Paul calls the slave, Onesimus, "a faithful beloved brother." "Restore him," he urges Philemon.

You need also to know that the letter is not a private letter. It is meant to be shared among the Christian community that meets in Philemon's house. There were, in fact, no churches as we know them until the 4th century.

Why an open letter? Well, of course, it is meant to pressure Philemon Paul is not above that.

Paul believes that the issue at hand is more than merely something between a slave master and a slave. Onesimus as a Christian, is now answerable to the entire Christian community.

According to Paul, opportunities are presented by this situation: first, here is an opportunity for the community to show itself to be a community of Jesus Christ. And, in that case it is a community just as different from the world community as it can be.

Secondly, here is an opportunity for the community to show such love and mercy to Onesimus so as to ground this new Christian in the faith. Onesimus is not on trial because he has come home. No, according to Paul, it is the Christians in Philemon's house church there in the town of Colossae that are the ones on trial.

The fate of Onesimus and his brothers and sisters in Christ is linked irrefutably for Paul who says, "If one member suffers, all suffer together, if one member is honored all rejoice together.

Finally, here is an opportunity for Philemon himself as leader of this community of Christians, to show what he is made of.

I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love . . . I prefer to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced.
Paul shows that he is pretty hopeful that Philemon will do “the right thing.”

I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

“Refreshed.” This is an interesting word. It means literally, given shelter.

It’s very akin to the wonderful invitation Jesus gives in Matthew 11:28, Come unto me, all you that are weary and are heavily laden, and I will give you rest.

So, the question hanging in the air in this community is, will Onesimus be given shelter? How merciful are you really, Philemon, when push comes to shove? Can you be as gracious to your own runaway slave as to other “important” people who have come to Colossae? Or does your love have boundaries. This is the acid test.

Paul is asking Philemon to do some stretching. Paul himself had done some stretching. A lot in fact. Remember he was once a Pharisee, someone with massive institutional blinders on. But he has given up that way of looking at the world. He has changed. He has not just exchanged one set of religious blinder for another. He has thrown them off completely. As he says in another of his letters, this one to he church in Galatia --

There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus (Gal. 3:28).

You just can’t underestimate the radicalness of that statement coming as it does in the time and place it comes. There is something deeply refreshing about it.

We live in a world that too often fulfills our lowest expectations, a world that continually underwhelmes us, a world where too often the worst seems to happen. The news from Russia this week was the most appalling since 9/11.

But from time to time, if you are looking, if your eyes are open you run across evidence that prove that humans are capable of remarkable acts of moral courage.

Many of you know Heidi, Margaret and I spent nearly a month this summer in England. Near the end of our trip we went to the tower of London. I had been there exactly 30 years before. The place is timeless. In the Beauchamp tower, where the most common of the uncommon prisoners were held (you had to be somebody to be held in the tower) we came across graffiti put there by its occupants.

The name, Jane, for instance, appears several times referring to Queen Jane who was Queen only for nine days and never crowned. She was one of only six “honored” to be beheaded within the walls and not publicly on Tower Hill. Another occupant was Charles Bailly who survived his days in the tower.

Bailly had been a messenger for Queen Elizabeth’s adversary Mary Queen of Scots. He was arrested by Elizabeth’s secret service and even under torture would not reveal the message he carried. Some time later he switched his allegiance to Elizabeth. During an audience with her majesty the queen he was asked by her what the message for Mary was. He refused to answer saying,” I took a vow and though I am pledged, now, to support you, I am still bound by that prior vow.” Amazing.

In 1965 the World Series was a contest between the Minnesota Twins and the Los Angeles Dodgers. It was set to begin on October 6, Yom Kippur. Sandy Koufax, maybe the best pitcher who ever lived and also an observant Jew, announced he would not pitch the first game. He did not make a big deal of it He didn’t use it as a platform to say anything or convert anyone. When asked by reporters about it he simply said, “I’m praying for rain.” And when the day came, a beautiful October day, “he fasted, he went to worship” like he always did on the day of Jewish atonement, but he did not pitch.

What can be better than that? Something rare and beautiful. Something infinitely refreshing. The world is dying for just that kind of moral example. The kind of thing you and I are capable of and which comes our way from time to time.

“Refresh my heart too,” says Paul to Philemon. The world is dying for examples of genuine transforming love

Lynda Barry grew up on the wrong side of the tracks next to the city dump. Her parents communicated to her that she was really an impediment to them, and to each other as well Her sense of the value of family was very undeveloped . . . until she got to know the Taylors. The new neighbors on her street.

Mrs. Taylor she was different from any other adults Lynda knew. She paid attention to children. She made eye contact with them. She seemed to enjoy having Lynda play with her kids, and sometimes go to church with them.

We invented a game called church in Mrs. Taylor’s front room. We dragged out her huge Bible and took turns playing the preacher, the lead singer and the lady whose wig was on crooked by the end of the song. And the greatest part was Mrs. Taylor leaning out of the kitchen to tell us that our sins had been washed off us and they were laying all over the floor so wouldn’t one of us please vacuum. I loved going to her house so much that one day I sneaked over at dawn. I stood on her porch knocking and knocking and knocking, weighing how much of a bother I was becoming against how badly I needed to see her. Finally the door opened. Mr. Taylor [a huge black man] in his bathrobe looked down at me and said, “Now girl, what are you doing here?” ’Who is it John?” Mrs. Taylor stepped out from behind him with her robe on and for the first time ever I saw her hair down. The whole picture of it made me unable to speak. Mr. Taylor was getting up for work and Mrs. Taylor was making him breakfast. When I told her my mom said I could eat with them she laughed and pushed open the screen door. I’ll never forget that morning, sitting at their table eating eggs and toast, watching them talk to each other and smile. How Mr. Taylor made a joke and Mrs. Taylor laughed. How she put her hand on his shoulder as she poured coffee and how he leaned his face down to kiss it. And that was all I needed to see. I only needed to see it once to be able to believe for the rest of my life that happiness between two people can exist.

And I remember Sammy walking in and crawling up into his father’s lap, leaning his head into his dad’s green coveralls, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Even if it wasn’t happening in my house, I knew that just being near it counted for something. When I got back home my mother told me she was ready to wring my neck. She couldn’t figure out why in the world I kept going over there to bother those people.

We don't know if Philemon took the hint and re-instated Onesimus; we don't know if he might even have freed him and sent him back to Paul But there is at least one good reason for thinking so

Years later when Paul was long since dead another saint was in jail, Ignatius the bishop of Ephesus, had sent some friends to visit him and Ignatius had written to ask him if those friends could possibly stay with him

Curiously, Ignatius, in his letter, uses some of the same language Paul uses in his letter to Philemon, almost as if he were trying to remind him of something.

I say that because the name of the bishop he was writing to was Onesimus. There is no proof of course that he was the slave boy grown up to wear a bishop's miter on his head, but it is deliciously tempting to think so.

But that is the way with acts of love that are rare and beautiful. The refreshment they offer goes on and on and on.