Every March 25, the Daughters of Charity renew their “yes” to the Lord for the service of the poor through the renewal of their vows. Fr. Hugo R. Sosa offers us a reflection based on the shortest letter in the New Testament, the Letter to Philemon, and on some passages from the letter written to the Daughters of Charity on February 2, 2026, by Mother Françoise Petit, H.C., Superior General of the Daughters of Charity of Saint Vincent de Paul, drawing on the Constitutions, the Inter-Assembly Document of the Sisters, and the rich sources of Vincentian writings.
The Letter to Philemon is a veritable theological bomb placed with extreme care at the heart of the rock-solid social structures of the Roman Empire. Addressed to Philemon, his sister Apphia and Archippus (probably linked to the Colossian community, cf. Col 4:17), it reaches a vibrant ‘house church’. Paul writes from prison, using the framework of a letter of recommendation, a genre well known in imperial epistolary practice. But beneath this formal guise, apostolic rhetoric bursts forth from within.
The drama revolves around Onesimus, a runaway slave whom Paul has literally “brought to faith” in prison. The academic depth of Paul’s text is revealed in rich linguistic detail: Paul plays ruthlessly with words, noting that Onesimus, once “useless” (achreston), has now become “useful” (euchreston), in a clear and deliberate assonance with the very name of Christos. In the ancient world, slavery was the backbone of the system; the punishment for fugitives or rebels (as the Spartacus revolts teach us) was the atrocious crucifixion. Yet Paul’s persuasive strategy does not bow to civil laws and stands in stark contrast to that of Pliny the Younger, who implored clemency for a slave by appealing to the mere emotional indulgence of his master Sabinianus (Epistles 9,21,3). Paul, on the contrary, constructs an ironclad syllogism, rooted in the ‘bowels’ (splanchna), in the most heart-rending intimacy: if Philemon refreshes the bowels of the saints, and Onesimus is now identified with Paul’s own bowels, then Philemon must welcome him to refresh the apostle.
Here a radical ontological leap is consummated through the masterful use of the passivum divinum in the verb echoristhē (which translates as ‘was separated’, found in Philemon 15). The social rift and the legal offence generated by Onesimus’s departure are absorbed and transfigured into an event in which God himself orchestrated and permitted that temporary separation (‘for a moment’). The ultimate purpose of this rupture lies not in punishment, but in the total overturning of the paradigms of ownership of the imperial era. The divine passive indicates that the flight had an underlying and providential purpose: to ensure that Philemon would welcome back the one who had departed, no longer as depreciable property or a mere domestic instrument devoid of rights, but for eternity, under the indissoluble and agapic bond of ‘beloved brother’ (v. 16). The transition is absolute, and the story is turned on its head from the slavery of the flesh to equality in the Spirit, moving from servile utility to koinonia. In this dense hermeneutical tapestry, Onesimus ceases to be a faceless outcast on the margins of the empire. On the contrary, the very man who was once a runaway slave and who—according to the later testimony of Ignatius of Antioch (Ephesians 1:3)—would go on to assume the episcopal office, comes to embody in his own redeemed flesh the subversive triumph of this silent yet unstoppable Christological revolution.
It is at this crucial juncture that the concept of koinonía, communion, emerges with force, constituting the true theological backbone of the entire argument. Koinonía is not an abstract idea or a pious sentiment; it is total mutual participation, it is the sharing of grace. Before the cross, the ground suddenly becomes level. There are no hierarchical or al differences; everyone needs forgiveness in equal measure. Paul himself embodies this koinonía by becoming a mediator, offering to pay Onesimus’s debts out of his own pocket, acting exactly as Christ did to reconcile all humanity with God.
What do the Letter to Philemon and the Letter of the Mother invite us to do?
Break, Welcome, Anoint
This dense exegetical outline powerfully prepares the ground for addressing the core of the Inter-Assembly Document (DIA 2.1): the challenge of moving “from a life in common to a life in communion”. Until the day of the escape, Philemon and Onesimus undoubtedly shared a “life in common”. They shared the domestic space, lived in the same rooms, exchanged glances, but were separated by an insurmountable social chasm. It was a mere coexistence of physical proximity, yet of an immense existential distance, in which one was the end and the other the means.
The apostolic call, which foreshadows the call of DIA 2.1, demands the salvific irruption of koinonia. Living in communion means breaking down the framework that leads us to perceive others in terms of utility, role or subordination. It means moving from formal observance to an agapic and visceral commitment where I literally become a guarantor for my brother. Just as the letter compelled believers not to side with the status quo of the masters, the invitation to live authentic ‘communion’ compels us to strip ourselves of our petty structural superiority. If we are rigid people, we will not be able to live in communion; we will not be able to enter into the dynamic of koinonia of which Paul speaks. Breaking down the scaffolding is the fundamental antidote to combating rigidity.
Only by welcoming the other not as someone who must perform a task, but as a bearer of the very same dignity and grace, can we experience the transformative Christian koinonía, where life shifts from being a space occupied together to a shared destiny.
A section of Mother’s letter is entitled: The vows coloured by the virtues of humility, simplicity and charity. And she quotes the Constitutions: ‘The evangelical virtues of humility, simplicity and charity are the path by which the Daughters of Charity allow themselves to be led by the Holy Spirit. The Sisters contemplate in Christ these dispositions that draw them close to the most destitute and seek to embody them in their own lives’ (C. 13).
In the face of fundamentalism — which I believe is a strong expression of pride, the absolute conviction that what I say and think is the only truth — we need to remember what Paul observes of Philemon: he refreshes the innermost being (splanchna) of the saints, and since Onesimus is now identified with Paul’s very innermost being, then Philemon must welcome him to refresh the apostle. The act of welcoming deconstructs any fundamentalist stance.
The Mother sets us a beautiful challenge: to let the Spirit touch every aspect of our lives so as to avoid closing ourselves off. She writes: “The Spirit at work can then touch every aspect of our lives, including our vows. Living chastity, poverty and obedience humbly, simply and always in charity is a sign of our unity of life, which is built up little by little. These are also the indispensable conditions for avoiding the rigidity, sectarianism or fundamentalism present in so many parts of the world, sometimes even within our own Church”.
If we harbour a sectarian spirit within us—which often manifests itself in the belief that everything else is wrong and that I must therefore associate only with those who think as I do—then, as the Letter to Philemon says, we will be “useless” (achreston). Only if we overcome sectarianism and become “useful” (euchreston) will we belong to Christ. For, like Christ, we have all been anointed on the day of our baptism; for this reason, we are the anointed ones called to anoint the wounds of humanity.
I also thought that this Letter to Philemon — in fact a letter of recommendation — brings to mind the many reports, which are essentially just like letters of recommendation, from our various stages of formation. Those entrusted with our care, so that we might take the right steps in our vocation, have in some way placed their trust in us, writing on our behalf, highlighting the essential: that we are people who, having come to know Christ, have been able to be of service to others.
Conclusion
In this journey that drives us to shatter our structures of superiority, to welcome the other into the very depths of our being, and to anoint the wounds of humanity whilst avoiding all forms of sectarianism, the vows cease to be a barrier of rigidity. On the contrary, they become the most embodied expression of koinonia. Living humility, simplicity and charity through the vows truly makes us euchreston, useful to Christ and to our brothers and sisters, rooting us in the identity of those capable of making that ontological leap from a sterile physical coexistence to a radical communion.
It is the total surrender of one’s being to make room for the other, recognising that without the action of the Holy Spirit every effort would fall back into that isolating fundamentalism of which Mother spoke. To seal this profound dynamic of transformation and trusting surrender, let us raise up and make our own the prayer of St Vincent de Paul, recognising that this life in communion is, ultimately, a horizon of grace to be implored tirelessly:
‘O my God, we all give ourselves to you! Grant us the grace to live and die in the perfect observance of true poverty… Grant us also, O Lord, the grace to live and die chastely… and that of living in the perfect observance of holy obedience’
(SV, Conference of 19 July 1640, Italian ed., IX, p. 27).
P. Hugo R. Sosa, CM
Bibliography
Pita, A., The Gospel of Paul: An Introduction to the Pauline Epistles, Elledici, Turin 2013, 301–315.
Powell, M. A., Introduction to the New Testament: A Historical, Literary and Theological Study, Barker Academic, Grand Rapids (MI) 2018, 516–530.
