When all was said and done – when the ink was dry, when the food had settled, when they'd sung a hymn – Paul handed the letter to Epaphroditus. It was time to say goodbye – at least for now. A few had volunteered to see him on his way. But he had to go now, while he could still fall in with a traveling group. And by the close of the meeting, Epaphroditus' arms were wrapped around Paul in a bear-hug; tears streamed down their faces. And with a kiss on the cheek, and Paul's prayer for Epaphroditus' safety, Epaphroditus set on his way. It would take time to reach Philippi – a long time, months of travel – but when he arrived, he'd pass along the message.
We've come to the end of Paul's letter to the Philippians. If you've been here consistently since July 12, you've heard the whole thing. Hopefully, you've at least read the entire letter – preferably, you've tried it straight through in one sitting, to hear what the Philippians heard. But as we come to these last three verses, it might seem like we've already picked the meat clean, that we're left with just bones, and that there's no point trying to get any more out of it. We're past the meat now, we think. But let's simmer these verses in the pot and see what sort of wholesome broth Paul has left us with for these chilly autumn days.
The way Paul closes out this letter is, so far as he can be truly sure, possibly the very last thing the Philippians will ever hear from him. And whereas most people in his world ended their letters with words like 'good luck' or 'farewell,' you won't hear such a thing from Paul. No, Paul leaves them on a note of grace. He leaves them on a note of blessing. He leaves them by pointing them, one last time, to Jesus: “May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit” (Philippians 4:23). And it's fitting he does that, because he also started this letter with Jesus – calling himself a “servant of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:1) and wishing “grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:2). In the beginning and the end, Jesus is there – he is the Anointed One, he is the Lord, and Paul hopes to find the Philippians standing in this Lord's good graces, as recipients of his favorable outlook and generous love. And from that beginning until that end, this letter is filled with Jesus – Jesus Christ the Lord.
In this letter, Paul tells us how Jesus existed before time began – that he was there before the mountains, he was there before the oceans, he was there before the earth, he was there before the stars. And in the timelessness of eternity when there was no creation, Jesus was already existing “in the very form of God” (Philippians 2:6). He fit the Father like a glove; he was everything it means to be God, and to look at him would have been to see it and know it plainly. When tyrannosaurs and triceratops roamed the plains, Jesus existed in the very form of God. On the day Rome was founded, Jesus existed in the very form of God. But then, one day during the reign of the Emperor Augustus, Jesus' eternal decision came into action. He voluntarily “emptied himself,” Paul says, stripping off the outward appearance of Godhood, the radiance and the glory; and, divesting himself of that immense privilege, he joined the fullness of God to a human cell in the uterus of a wonderful girl of Nazareth named Mary – and nine months later, in Bethlehem, he'd be “born in human likeness” (Philippians 2:7). In so doing, Jesus committed himself to a life of humble servitude – to all appearances, he took “the form of a slave” (Philippians 2:7) and displayed perfect humble human obedience to his Father, God. But by being obedient, he suffered the punishment Romans preferred to inflict on rebellious slaves – “the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:8). And so Jesus died – and the cross seemed to prove his emptiness, powerlessness, uselessness.
But the tale was not yet all told. On the third day, with power death could not contain, Christ broke those chains and rose from the dead by “the power of his resurrection” (Philippians 3:10). Being raised anew from death, he was “highly exalted” by God's decree and received “the name that is above every name” (Philippians 2:9), the declaration of his true identity, when he ascended into heaven. And where the Romans used the word 'gospel' to mean the announcement that a new emperor had come to power in Rome, bringing the possibility of restoring the golden age, this Lord Jesus is the subject of better news, a greater “gospel of Christ” (Philippians 1:27).
His reign from heaven is good news, he hints to the Philippians, because Christ the King remains very active in this world below, this province of his empire – so active that he's taken firm possession of Paul's life: “Christ Jesus has taken possession of me,” Paul rejoices (Philippians 3:12). And Paul has learned that Jesus Christ is everything – that knowing him is more precious and more valuable than anything Paul could inherit or achieve in his wildest dreams: this is “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8). Jesus Christ's faithful life, and our faithful response to it, is the source of righteousness and justice in our lives, in our souls, and in our world (Philippians 3:9), and our “fruit of righteousness” only grows “through Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:11). Jesus Christ is the defining sphere of all Christian living (e.g., Philippians 4:7), and our lives should be marked by rejoicing in him (Philippians 3:1) and glorying in him (Philippians 1:26; 3:3).
When Paul dies, he tells the Philippians, he expects to enter the personal presence of Christ the King – to step into his throne room, to be greeted by him, to be with him (Philippians 1:23). But then, one day after that, will come the close of history as we've always known it. All the plot threads of human existence, Paul says, will be tied off and reach their purpose on “the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6). That's the time when the Lord Jesus will return to earth as a Savior-King coming to relieve a besieged colony of his citizens: “from [heaven] we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20). And the Lord Jesus will save the world by “subject[ing] all things to himself,” pacifying all rebellion against his reign (Philippians 3:21). On that day, the dead will be raised – and Paul looks forward, he says, to attaining “the resurrection from the dead” (Philippians 3:11) – and the bodies of the righteous will not merely be raised but will be glorified with the image of the Lord Jesus Christ's own glorious resurrected body (Philippians 3:21). All who've ever lived will be gathered together, and when the name of the Lord Jesus Christ is announced as King, every knee will bend and every tongue admit his rightful claim to rule (Philippians 2:10-11). And this rightful King will judge everything ever done. And Paul hopes, on that “day of Christ,” to be proud for how he served and lived (Philippians 2:16), and he hopes that we also will be “kept pure and blameless” to withstand the scrutiny of Jesus' judgment (Philippians 1:10).
In the meantime, here we are, as part of the church – the nation-among-all-nations that's pledged our faithful devotion and love toward Christ the King. And though we are scattered and separated throughout many lands and many cities, we have to remember that we form a single body, and that a body needs to communicate. So on the day Paul finished this letter, he no doubt was surrounded by other Christians living in Rome. By this time in history, Rome probably had a couple dozen churches throughout its districts. And although we know from earlier in the letter that some Roman Christians were against Paul and wanted to make things worse for him (Philippians 1:15-17), many other Roman Christians and their churches were supportive. And so Paul can pass along to the Philippians a greeting from “the brothers who are with me” (Philippians 4:21b) – that is, the Roman Christians who met with Paul, probably representatives from a number of Rome's varied churches – as well as “all the saints” (Philippians 4:22a), the main body of the Roman churches as a whole. They all want their voices to be added to the chorus for the Philippian Christians to hear – there's a connection there.
But, Paul adds, the greetings come “especially from those of the household of Caesar” (Philippians 4:22b) – a pretty interesting thing for him to say! The 'household of Caesar,' or the familia Caesaris – that didn't mean the emperor and his relatives. The emperor's household was considered to be extended throughout the empire by a network of slaves and ex-slaves who worked for him, who answered to him. This network was inherited by one emperor after another, and while there were members of this household spread throughout the empire (and we have record of a few in Philippi), they were, of course, heavily concentrated in Rome. Some of them were domestic workers. There were some who'd carry the platform the emperor sat on, and some who'd tend to his gardens, and some who'd serve his meals or taste his food. Others worked in skilled trades on government projects, however the emperor directed for their talents to be put into use. And still others were administrative workers: they might serve as aides to an official, they might work as government accountants or record-keepers, they might carry official correspondence around the city or the empire as the emperor's mailmen, they might act as receptionists or keep track of people's names or even mediate access to the emperor himself. While they were slaves or freed slaves, a large chunk of the empire was made up of slaves and freed slaves, and by those standards, it didn't get more prestigious than being part of the familia Caesaris. At higher levels, some of the ex-slaves who belonged to this 'household of Caesar' could get wealthy enough to invest significant sums in the society around them, and wield significant influence. The 'household of Caesar' was big, and it was no joke.
And by mentioning greetings from “those of the household of Caesar,” Paul is shining a spotlight on how the brilliant gospel of Christ has spread where we might expect Caesar's pale gospel to abound. Early in the letter, Paul had mentioned how the gospel was spreading into the elite Praetorian Guard; now he stresses that the same gospel has already reached the civilian ranks of the Roman governmental apparatus. Within the proclamation of Jesus Christ as Lord, these act like supporting bookends to the letter. Think about the possibilities here! Think that the waiter who brings Nero his food might be a Christian, able to give thanks to God for that food. Think that some Roman taxes were being kept track of by Christian accountants, who could watch to see how the funds of the empire were being stewarded. Think that some official government documents were now being delivered from place to place by Christian mailmen. Think that perhaps, eventually, the gateway to gaining the emperor's ear might be through someone who holds Jesus as a more important Lord.
Now, in practice, this wasn't all smooth. About two years after Paul sends this letter, there will be a fire, and the Emperor Nero will be hunting for a scapegoat. And he'll notice how many Christians there are around, and how they seem marginal enough and disliked enough to blame for the flames. So he'll arrest many of these Roman Christians and sic dogs on them, light them ablaze as human torches, crucify them, use their deaths as grotesque amusement in his gardens (Tacitus, Annals 15.44). When Paul writes, “All the saints greet you, especially those of Caesar's household” (Philippians 4:22), understand that some of the people whose voices you hear there are going to die as martyrs in just two years' time. Mauled, crucified, burned – but their blood will be seed to grow the church, which will surge back stronger than before. Even through the flame and the cross, Christians will manage to survive in Rome's ghettos and in Rome's barracks and in the household of Caesar. And through the coming centuries, as the gospel continues to spread in those very circles, watered by the blood of these martyrs who here speak their voice, it will change the empire until it at last becomes possible for even a Roman emperor to bend the knee at Jesus' name and confess Christ as true Lord.
Paul is telling the Philippians about the first steps toward that future. But he mentions it in this context because he knows it will thrill and excite them, and not just in the abstract. Listen to this from where the Philippians are standing. Remember, when Paul and Silas were first evangelizing Philippi, it ended with a mob of outraged Philippians beating them up and suing them in court, on accusations of “advocating for customs that are not lawful for us Romans to accept or practice” (Acts 16:21). Any Christians in Philippi are believing things and doing things that, in the opinion of most of their neighbors, are anti-Roman and illegal. Philippian Christians hail Jesus as their Lord, they say that the real gospel isn't Caesar's accession but Christ's resurrection, they spurn the worship of the Roman gods who held up the Roman civic order. So the Philippian Christians are routinely accused of being unpatriotic and subversive. And those are not just words. Philippi can react violently to things that sound insufficiently Roman. The Philippian Christians are being treated as anti-Roman – which offends them deeply, because they've always prided themselves on their link to Rome. It's why, when Paul writes the word 'Philippians,' even though he's writing in Greek, he uses the Latin form of the word – to honor their Romanness (Philippians 4:15). They still value their Romanness even though Rome's gods are lies and even though Caesar can't be their highest lord and even though the world can no longer be defined by Rome's gospel.
Compare it to what it was like here in Lancaster County during World War I, when two Mennonite pastors near Manheim were threatened with violence, and a Reformed pastor had his home vandalized, and a Lutheran pastor had five months' salary confiscated and was forced to kiss an American flag and then was ordered by police to leave the county – all because they were judged as insufficiently patriotic. The truth is, following Jesus can cause tension. Most of us here no doubt value our American identity as much as we can, and we see ourselves as patriotic, though we profess to be citizens of a better country above. But if we are serious about Jesus, there are values that mainstream American society worships that we cannot worship – commercialism, libertinism, expressive individualism, and more. Nor can we treat governments or corporations as our highest Lords. Nor can we view the world as defined by American lenses and American assumptions and American messaging – that is no gospel. Where worldly powers politicize everything, we theologize it back, pronouncing over all the name of Christ the King. The Christians in Philippi had to do much the same.
And now Paul is telling them about fellow Jesus-followers embedded in the Roman government. These are real Romans who carry Roman mail, mop up Roman palaces, do Roman work – and they've heard about the Philippians, and they want them to know: “We're on your side!” And that has got to be massively encouraging to the Philippians – a confirmation that there's hope for what it means to be Roman, that Romanness itself might eventually be transformed by Jesus, and that, even now, they are seen, they are loved, they are cherished by those whose Romanness is unimpeachable in the Lord Jesus Christ.
What does Paul want the Philippians to do, then? His words are simple and clear and rich: “Greet every saint in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:21). Those words sound so plain, I know; but there are three great things about them. First, that word: “Greet.” The word doesn't just have the connotation of a casual hello. It can mean a salute. It can also express a deep affection. The action Paul has in mind would probably be best pictured with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. This word is expressive, this word is emotional, this word is an embrace. It calls on the Christians of Philippi to pass along Paul's warmth to each other in deeply tangible ways.
And that's a challenge for us to hear right now. Because this is not a year like other years. We now live in the era of so-called 'physical distancing,' as a protective measure – but in practice, we often let the effect be social distancing. As a result, the risk we run is that our interactions with each other become increasingly distant, increasingly aloof, increasingly impersonal – that they will be cold. And that has an impact, too. This year, many of us have been feeling isolated, disconnected, lonely. We feel socially cold.
The truth is, while humans have many physical needs (and chief among them is maintaining our health and our lives), we likewise have social and emotional needs – to say nothing of our spiritual needs, which cannot truly be met outside the church assembled. Because of the social and emotional needs humans have, cultures around the world have long been built on handshakes and hugs and kisses to convey affection and welcome. And yet, this year, those practices have fallen by the wayside. This past June, the director of the Touch Research Institute made the sad prediction, “I don't think we're going to have hugs and handshakes for a long time.”
Brothers and sisters, it would be a grave mistake to disregard the physical needs of our neighbors and our loved ones – to disregard their health and imperil their lives – by being imprudent and foolish in the face of the rising wave of coronavirus cases in our community, adding hundreds daily in this county alone. We must be wise with the wisdom of Christ. But neither would it be wise to disregard social needs, emotional needs, or spiritual needs for the sake of the physical. And so we have to find a way to continue greeting, and to greet warmly – to make people feel hugged, even apart from physical contact and proximity; to make people feel the affection and the welcome. Some body language experts have this year started talking about how to compensate for reduced physical touch by greatly increasing our emotional openness and expressiveness. Something like that will be needed if we're to carry out Paul's command – the word of God he speaks – here and now. We are to creatively supply the needs of the whole person, by showing warmth however we feasibly can, and giving thanks together.
Second, this warm greeting is particular. Paul could have said, “Greet all the saints,” just like he said, “All the saints greet you.” And if he'd said that, then the command could have been fulfilled by an announcement from the pulpit in Philippi. The whole mass could have gotten the greeting in a general way. But Paul didn't write it that way. What he actually says is, “Greet [each and] every saint.” A general greeting won't do. It has to be particular. It has to hit each individual in the church. This is person-to-person. And if even one person is left out, then Paul's words have not been truly fulfilled – not as they ought to be.
This year especially, it seems easy to pass certain people over. “Oh, they haven't shown up to this, or haven't been heard from in that.” Paul wants each person to feel seen, acknowledged, heard, and loved – to know that they truly are all those things. Paul is telling us to make sure we greet that person who's struggling with sin and wavering with doubt – the person who feels like no one's been tempted like he's been tempted, or no one is as much a mess as she. Paul is telling us to make sure we greet that person who's perennially busy – the one who's distracted by the cares of the world and the pressures of the day, speeding past his need for disruption, bound to starve herself of human connection and peace without an intervention. Paul tells us here to greet that person who's hunkered down at home, avoiding social situations so as to minimize risk of catching the virus – yes, he or she matters, he or she mustn't be forgotten, he or she needs to get our personal greeting. Paul tells us, too, that this must extend to those who are sick, those who are secluded not to avoid catching but to avoid spreading the disease – like the lepers in Jesus' day who kept their distance, but whom Jesus touched to share the warmth of his love and his welcome (cf. Luke 5:12-13). And Paul would tell us to greet the nursing-home residents – the ones languishing away, sealed up in a locked vault. And this word includes the rest of us too – each person here, each one absent, each and every one of us must receive this greeting and give this greeting.
And third, this greeting is Christ-centered. It is, specifically, for “every saint in Christ Jesus” – each person who belongs to Jesus Christ by the faith he or she confessed at baptism, each person who feeds on Christ Jesus when he offers us his death and his life, each person who walks with him in the quest to be conformed to his holiness, each person who belongs to the church. And the greeting itself is “in Christ Jesus.” This greeting is to meet our social needs, but not only our social needs. Too often, in the American church, we've traded in our Christian fellowship for mere socializing as friends. Socializing as friends is good – it meets our social needs – but fellowship is something more. Real fellowship is sharing – sharing a link that runs directly and explicitly through Jesus Christ. It's marked by his nature and character. It helps us to consciously interact as Christians, and not merely as friends. For Christ is King, and we lift high our hands of thanksgiving – together. We are his household, the household of Christ, the household of a Lord higher than Caesar. All our lives are his business. He is on his throne. And it's in the name of the Lord Jesus that we love, in the name of the Lord Jesus that we hope and pray, in the name of the Lord Jesus that we greet warmly each of those who belong to the King's service and the King's family, with whom we walk in one Holy Spirit and find our spirits linked as one. Now may “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen” (Philippians 4:23).
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