08 - As A Beloved Brother

After he delivered the child into safekeeping, Antonius found himself incapable of returning to his master. The exaltation that had carried him started to ebb away, and he was once again seized with terror at the thought of what he’d done. In committing this first exercise of free will, he had dared to destroy the huge discipline that had governed him since the day he was born. His faith was too young to provide him with the confidence of experience. He’d broken with ancient custom and deep-seated habit, but he didn’t have a new custom and a new habit to replace them. He wandered through the streets and when evening came, he found himself in the Suburra.

The Suburra was a low lying area between two hills and was the refuge of Rome’s human debris, her poor and sick, criminals and escaped slaves. It lay near the Forum and the elegant Via Sacra, and was, in a sense, the human Cloaca Maxima, the drainage of Rome’s misery, crime, and disease. The streets were narrower here than in any other part of Rome. The tall houses shut out the sky and passages led from house to house, creating a vast, impenetrable labyrinth, with caves, niches and secret places. The lowest dregs of society swarmed like moles in the underground of the Suburra. The diseases they brought flourished in the dirt and stench of their refuge. Very rarely did a ray of sunlight penetrate to the narrow streets, and the earth underfoot was damp, for when rain fell it didn’t drain away but soaked into the soil and accumulated in the cellars.

At night the district was extremely perilous. Murder and robbery lurked in the darkness. The houses, built of cheap material, were dilapidated, and fragments of roofs and walls tumbled into the street. The lower floors were supported with flying buttresses, under which the “merchants” kept their stores. The top floors were often nothing but gaping ruins, where families lived like wild animals in the midst of exposed rafters and heaps of rubble and brick.

The police dared not venture into the Suburra at night, and an escaped slave found it easy to hide there indefinitely if he found the means of sustenance. And a Roman slave had learned to live on very little, on decaying vegetables and occasional crusts. Sometimes escaped slaves formed little bands. They would send out scouts to signal the approach of the carts rolling in from the countryside before dawn. A regular assault would take place and masses of provisions of grain, fruit, and even sides of beef, would be taken away.

Antonius knew of the Suburra and its hiding places, so that night he found a niche in a cellar where six other slaves also made their home. When Antonius entered, they neither welcomed him nor rejected him. They didn’t even interrupt their conversation, which consisted mostly of gross jests and insults.

After a while they turned their attention to the newcomer. They called him a few names, such as “Mercury’s messenger,” the good news bringer, the messenger of Fortuna, and carrier of the horn of plenty. They also addressed him as Nero’s cupbearer. Then they came up to him and searched his clothes to see if he had any money. But they found nothing on him but his robe of sackcloth, so they turned away and picked up their conversation.

“If the guards catch me,” said one, “I’ll say I’m a murderer. Then they’ll throw me to the beasts. That’s better than being a slave.”

“Me too. I know what’ll happen if I go back to my master. I’ll be killed and quartered and given to the fish in the pool. Why shouldn’t I amuse people in the arena, instead?”

“What do you care who eats you, fool, the fish or the beasts?”

“Maybe so. But I’ll tell you what. Whoever catches me won’t have it easy. A dozen lives for mine, I say.”

“The same for all of us. I keep my sesterce tied around my neck, for Charon.”

“You’d do better to spend it on wine as long as you can drink. Don’t you know the old boatman takes no slaves on his ferry? Slaves must stay on this side of the Styx, so they can be reborn as animals.”

A voice came from the corner. “Slaves have no gods.”

“True. In our domus the slaves are put out before the sacrifice. They say Apollo is offended when a slave is allowed in the temple.”

“I know a god who came down to earth and suffered the death of a slave to redeem all men from sin,” called out Antonius.

Amid laughter, several voices answered, “A god who died like a slave? What kind of god is that?”

“He’s the god of all men and knows no difference between slave and free. All who believe in him are brothers.”

“Slaves, too?”

“Slaves too. Those of us who believe in him sit at the same table in a common bond of love. We all become one in him.”

“Even slaves, you say?”

“Slaves and freedmen become brothers in him.”

“Then what are you doing here with us?” asked a mocking voice. “Why don’t you go to your brothers?”

Antonius thought about this. Why didn’t he go to his brothers, and hide among them?

“Well said,” he answered, at last. “Tomorrow I’ll go to my brothers. I know one who will receive me.”

“Tell us, who are these brothers, who will hide slaves from their masters?”

“My brothers are Christians. Each one who believes in this god calls himself a Christian.”

“Christian?” someone repeated. “What’s the name of the god who makes all men brothers?”

“Jesus Christ.”

One of the men came closer to Antonius.

“Did you say Jesus Christ?”

In the darkness Antonius could just make out a wild, hairy face and two swollen red eyes. A hand, heavy and shapeless, like the paw of some primitive beast, fell on his shoulder.

“I know that name.”

“Where did you hear it?”

“In the house of my master, Philemon, in Colossae.”

“Was your master a Christian?”

“Yes. A man came to our city and told my master of the new god, and my master was baptized.”

“And yet you ran away from him. Was he harsh?”

“No! I stole money from him and ran away to Rome. I always dreamed of being a freedman. Now I live in this hole, and I’m scared to death to leave. You know what they’ll do if they catch me.”

“Your master will forgive you.”

“What? A master forgive a slave for stealing? Never. He’ll cut my hand off.”

“But if your master is a Christian he’ll forgive you, I say. The God of the Christians says we must forgive each other just like He forgives us.”

“No!” said the other, obstinately. “A thieving slave is not forgiven.”

“Christ forgives all who pray to him. And your master will forgive you and take you back.”

“I’m not a Christian.”

“You will become one.”

“I can’t be a Christian. I’m a runaway slave and a thief.”

“Anyone can become a Christian. Christ accepts all who come to him.”

The man’s voice changed. “I know. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I would have gone out to find the Christians already if I wasn’t so afraid of being recognized.”

“Christ sent me to you. Tomorrow I’ll take you to Christ’s messenger.”

* * * * *

Before dawn the next morning, two slaves appeared before Paul’s house on the Aventine hill. One of them was ragged and filthy, his feet caked with mud, his hair falling wildly over his face, and his eyes timid. The other, younger, cleaner, and his sackcloth still whole, was surer of himself. Timothy hadn’t met Antonius, so when he came to the door and asked them who they were, they simply told him they were slaves who’d escaped from their masters. Antonius said he was a Christian and he told the story of why he escaped from his master. Onesimus, hearing Antonius’ confession, told the story of his crime and his escape from Colossae.

The soldier on guard that morning was a brother Christian, so Timothy brought Antonius and Onesimus in. Paul recognized the stable boy he’d brought into the faith, but then he amazed the other man by describing Philemon, the very master Onesimus had fled from. Paul asked Timothy to wash Onesimus, feed and clothe him, and take him to Priscilla.

Once that was done, Antonius told Paul of his “crime” of refusing to throw the infant into the Cloaca Maxima, his flight from his master, his meeting Onesimus, and his decision to seek the counsel and aid of the apostle.

Paul listened to the end, then kissed the young slave, and said, “My beloved son, Antonius, you’ve found favor in the eyes of Christ. He was the one who guided you from the beginning, so you might save the infant and thereby be led to save another soul, Onesimus. Your portion in Christ is great, and he has set a greater reward aside for you.”

“What is my reward?”

“To suffer for Christ.”

Antonius turned pale. But Paul held his hand and went on, “You will return to your master’s house and fall at his feet and beg forgiveness for having been gone this long.”

“And the child?” asked Antonius, trembling. “What should I say about the life I wouldn’t take?”

“You should say nothing. Your master wanted to kill the child, so it is no longer his. You adopted the child in Christ. Therefore, he’s yours, and is a child of Christ in the spirit.”

“They’ll cut my body to pieces with the whip,” said Antonius, and he shook with fear.

“The lord will be with you, and he will save you from their hands. And as for the lashes you’ll receive, that’s nothing in the service of Christ. When they scourge you, think of what Christ suffered for you and think of them as lashes shared with him. You will feel yourself bound to him forever. Go, my son, and endure your suffering like a freedman in Christ, a true Christian.”

His heart strengthened, but his flesh still shrinking, Antonius returned to the domus of Tegellinus and did as Paul asked. He appeared before his overseer, threw himself on his knees, and begged forgiveness for his absence of that night.

Even though he was only a stable boy, Antonius was a willing and useful slave. Therefore, he wasn’t condemned to the heavy lash, whose thongs were so loaded they broke bones. He was given the lighter lash, which cut flesh, but left no crippling effects. And he was only given thirty lashes. As the blood streamed from his naked back, Antonius thought of the suffering of Christ, and he felt the words of Paul come true. In his agony, he felt the union of his spirit with Christ, and not a moan or whimper escaped his lips.

That day Antonius the stable boy was the only free man in the princely establishment of Tigellinus.


Two weeks later, Onesimus again appeared before Paul, a new man inwardly and outwardly. His hair was cut and combed, his chin shaven, and his body decently covered. During the two weeks he was with Aquila and Priscilla he gave himself to Christ and was received into the brotherhood of believers.

Paul called for papyrus and writing implements, and with his free right hand, he wrote a letter to the master of Onesimus, Philemon of Colossae.

“I plead with you for my son Onesimus, who became a believer under my care. He was useless to you in the past, but now he is useful to both you and me. I would have kept him with me to serve me in my bonds in spreading the gospel, but I wouldn’t do this without talking with you first so that you wouldn’t feel you were being forced, but could do it of your own free will. And maybe it was necessary for him to leave you for awhile so that you might accept him forever, no longer as a servant, but as a beloved brother, especially to me, but how much more to you, in the flesh and in Christ. Therefore, if you count me as a partner, accept him as you would me, and if he has wronged you, or owes you anything, let it be written on my account. I, Paul, have written this myself. I will repay it. Prepare a lodging for me, also, for I trust that through your prayers I will be given to you.”

A slave had fled from Philemon. Paul returned him, a brother.