The Story of Onesimus II. Stirrings in Ephesus

One warm bright morning Philemon shook Onesimus awake. Get up, he ordered, “I need you to come to Ephesus with me today.”

Onesimus jumped up, wide awake now. Ephesus? He had heard about this city but had never been there. 

“I have some business to conduct there,” Onesimus’ master was saying, “and I need your company to help me carry some things.” 

Onesimus was young and string so this prospect did not concern him too much. He also knew his master did not as a rule ask him to do more than he knew he was capable of. What Onesimus did not know was that he was facing at least a four-day journey. 

The master’s wife brought out some food for Onesimus to eat. He quickly splashed some water over his face from the basin kept for washing and then ate his breakfast. Meanwhile, Aphia and Philemon were filling some bags with food and skins with water. 

It seemed Onesimus’ masters had already eaten for, as soon as he was done, Philemon motioned for him to come and then helped him fasten the bags of food and water around his neck and shoulders. Philemon also carried some provisions, although not as much as his slave. Philemon also took a solid walking stick from near the door and also gave one to Onesimus. 

“We might need these before our trip is over,” he said.” When Philemon sensed all was in order, he bade his wife farewell and they set out. 

When they reached the large temple at the centre of the city Philemon indicated they needed to stop. “Stay here and keep watch,” he said, “I will go and ask the gods to give us a safe trip.”

Onesimus watched as his master haggled with one of the hawkers of incense and such near the steps up to the temple. When he judged he had made a satisfactory deal, Philemon took some incense and some fruit and went to offer it at the altar in the temple. Soon he was back on the street and the pair continued on.

There was little spoken between the two as they hurried on, as was usual between slave and master. After they had left the city, Philemon did turn back to Onesimus and observe, “There might be robbers along the road so we need to keep a sharp eye out.” Tapping the ground with his walking stick, he added, “That’s where these might come in handy.”

When they came to the next town, Laodicea, they noticed a caravan of camels and donkeys loaded down, with their drivers. As they drew nearer, it was apparent the cavalcade was stopped near the town well to give their animals a break and some water.  Some of the men among the entourage were obviously the owners of the animals, others appeared to be traders. Onesimus noticed that some of the men seemed to have swords in the folds of their robes.

“Wait here a moment,” Philemon said, and moved forward to talk to these men. 

When he returned, Philemon said, “We are in luck. Thanks be to the gods. These men said we could travel with them. It will be safer.” It might have been safer but it did slow them down too, as the caravan had to stop for water and food for its animals more often than Philemon and Onesimus would have needed to stop.

Eventually though, they did reach Ephesus.  The cities of Laodicea and especially Hierapolis, near Colossae, had fascinated Onesimus whenever he had a chance to go there. However, he was not prepared for what he now saw.  In the first place, it took hours just to wend their way through the narrow streets to their destination. At times Onesimus could see massive temples with tall statues of their gods before them.  At one point he saw a huge, high curving wall with arched porticos around its circumference. “That,” pointed out Philemon, “is the amphitheatere where great sporting and political events are held.” Onesimus had never seen anything like all this. 

Philemon stopped some passersby and got instructions to a nearby inn. It was one recommended by the caravaneers, whom they had now parted company with. 

Philemon and Onesimus were both glad to get some water to wash their faces, hands and feet before digging into the repast the innkeeper provided. They were still at table with some other guests when in walked a sturdy, handsome young man Onesimus thought looked vaguely familiar. Philemon obviously knew more.

“Epaphras!” Philemon exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and moved to greet the newcomer. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Look at what a handsome young man you’ve become. What brings you here, if I may ask?”

“You may,” responded the guest, “I am actually working here, but maybe not for long.”

“Oh,” Philemon queried, his eyebrows raised. “Job not working out?”

“It’s not that,” Epaphras said as he moved in at the table next to Philemon. He reached in and took a piece of bread and scooped up some lentil broth from the centre.

“Mmm, not bad for an inn.” Turning to the owner who was busy in the background, Epaphras called out, “My compliments to the cook!”

“I’ll tell her,” the owner replied.

Epaphras sat up somewhat to be nearer Philemon. “I am probably going back to Colossae on a mission.”

“Mission?” asked Philemon. “You work for the government?”

“No, not that kind of mission. You see, while here, I have come to know a Jew from Palestine. He is a very intelligent and educated man but you would never know it from his behaviour. I have never met such a real man. He seems so genuine.”

“How so,” Philemon broke in.

“Well,” continued Epaphras, “he teaches about some real changes that seem to have taken place in the Jewish religion. At least the way he understands and talks about it.”

“Religion?” Philemon smiled, “Do I want to hear more?”

“That’s just the thing,” Epaphras said, and you could hear the earnest tone in his voice. “It’s not like he’s talking about a religion. He talks about a Jewish rabbi who was crucified by the Romans because the Jewish leaders thought he was causing trouble. They said he was breaking some of their sacred laws and deserved to die.”

“Ah, yes,” Philemon muse, “the Jews are very strict about their religious laws and practices, that much I know. But to kill someone?”  

“Well, apparently they did. But, and here’s where it gets really different – he came alive again and continued teaching his followers for forty days, and then disappeared.  His followers say he was God come to earth and that he then returned to heaven.”

“Now, I’ve heard everything,” Philemon said, leaning back on his elbow and taking another bit of bread and broth. “Well, Onesimus here and I are tired. We’ve just traveled from Colossae. But you know how that goes. Maybe we can talk more another time. We’re turning in. Good night Epaphras.”

The Story of Onesimus I. Changes

It was only the beginning of the second watch, but even now the oppressive heat was building. The sun was already moving higher into a cloudless sky. There was just enough of a breeze to feel its coolness on one’s perspiring skin. However, working in the confines of the courtyard scarcely allowed for even that little reprieve. 

Onesimus was preparing a shipment of wool to be transported to the neighbouring city of Laodicea. His master, Philemon, was a shrewd buyer of some of the best wool in the region. In sheep-shearing season wool Philemon had purchased from the area would arrive in piles on the backs of donkeys and be unloaded under the shelter of a roof projecting out from the side of his house. It was Onesimus’ job to take these piles of wool and try and sort them out into bales of similar quality. Once that was done to Philemon’s satisfaction, they would be tied up and transported to Laodicea. There, they were made into clothing by the many slaves who dyed and wove the wool. 

By the time the wool got to Onesimus it had become quite dusty from the roads over which it had traveled. Handling it with its itchiness was bad enough; the dust only added to the discomfort.

Onesimus really did not remember any other life than being in the service of Philemon. As a long-time slave, he and his master had reached a mutually beneficial understanding of their roles, their places in society. Onesimus knew when his services did not reach his master’s expectations that the consequences could be severe, but her had leaned to take that. It was the lot of a slave, and that’s what he was. He knew too though, from his limited contact with other slaves, that there were far worse masters than Philemon. 

Just the same, Onesimus sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a freedman. He knew he was not stupid. He watched how things were done. In fact, it was that trait that had led Onesimus to try and be helpful as a young child, before he was really expected to do slave duty. That was how he had been given the name Onesimus, meaning ‘helpful one.’ 

Some of his cuurent thinking now might have been the over confidence of youth, but sometimes he thought he could make a go of his own business. However, he knew those were futile thoughts. Unless one came to an understanding with one’s master, one would never become a freedman. Even then, the master would expect a considerable payment from the would-be freedman, something he could use to replace him by purchasing another slave. From what Onesimus had seen, that rarely happened, and when it did, the slave had usually outlived his usefulness to the master. It was more like the master no longer wanted to be responsible for the slave than that he gave him freedman status out of goodwill. Besides, with the situation Onesimsus found himself in, he was a long way from having any money to buy his freedom. The other option? Running away? That was pretty much a death sentence.

Still, it irked him sometimes in particular when he compared himself to Archippus, Onesimus’ only son. They were very much the same age, had grown up together, but the obvious privileges of the one set him in quite a different world than the one in which Onesimus was destined to live. 

But what was really bothering Onesimus now were the changes he was observing in both Philemon and Apphia. He thought he knew them well, could practically read their minds. That way, he could avoid some of the mistakes and punishing consequences that would ensue. But now, he was increasingly finding that he no longer knew what to expect of his masters. Even Apphia, his mistress, was not as harsh as she had once been. 

Of course, it would never have crossed Onesimus’ mind to try and find out what was going on. There was a certain familiarity in his relationship with his long-time masters, but that only went so far. You could never let your guard down and be lulled into thinking you had everything figured out. He could only observe and listen to try and make sense of what seemed to be a developing new order. Where did it come from and what did it mean? Onesimus was not really concerned for his position; he was sure that was a given. However, if one did not know how to relate to one’s master, well, there was increased risk in that. Onesimus had suffered enough beating in his life not to really want more.

The strangest thing was that, from what he heard, and from some of the new practices Philemon and his family seemed to be carrying out, was that these changes seemed to have something to do with religion. Now, in some ways, religion was everywhere in the life in which Onesimus had grown up. There were shrines and statues of the gods everywhere. There were rituals that had to be performed to appease the gods, to keep them on your good side as much as possible. Sometimes, there might even be an occasion to give an offering of thanksgiving to a god if, for example, you really got a good batch of wool that fetched a high price in the markets in Laodicea and Hierapolis. These practices never really demanded that much from one though. There was really no sacrifice involved. One did or gave just enough. There was certainly no impact of these traditions on one’s daily life. By and large, Onesimus knew, it all just made more intelligent people somewhat cynical about the whole affair, and he was quite satisfied with that.

Onesimus had picked up though that there was a new twist to this worship. The Emperor in that faraway city of Rome was now demanding worship. It was not enough that everyone was taxed to the limit. Now people were expected to worship the Emperor as a god. As a rule, none of this had any effect on Onesimus. The master’s trips to the temples were not usually excursions that included his slaves. However, he had heard Philemon complain about this added layer of expectation. It just took more time out of his day and money out of his pocket. Of course, Philemon had to be careful where he expressed these sentiments, lest he be suspected of treason. However, Onesimus had heard of others who felt the same way.

Begrudgingly, it seemed the master’s family had come to terms with this new reality. Sometimes Onesimus had accompanied his master to the temples of they were together delivering wool or on some other business errand that took them past these centres. For him, it just meant a few more stops on the route. That was not so bad though, as it gave him more time away from the labour back home. His lot was just to wait on the street with the cargo and animals, not to join in on what went on in the temple. It gave him more time to rest and sometimes to chat with other slaves whose masters were in the temple. 

All of this had not really made that much difference in the life Onesimus knew otherwise. It really had not taken much effort on his part to accommodate this, and, as he saw it, there had been certain advantages for him socially at times. However, he had not been long getting used to these changes when something altogether different and more demanding seemed to be occurring.