Anyone reading this old enough to remember that golden oldie by the Beatles? With Love Me Do, it was their first chart-topper in the US, back in 1962. Or should I be asking whether you know who the Beatles are? Even several years ago, I learned not to take that for granted. I was responsible for a mixer at a social gathering for our students. I put them into teams for a game. Each team had the same list of partial lyrics from a well-known song; their job was to remember the next line, singing it to each other.

Afterward, a student asked me about one of the lyrics. “That’s a Beatles song,” I said, thinking that she simply didn’t recognize that specific song. But she wrinkled her brow in puzzlement and asked, “Who are the Beatles?”

It took me a second to recover.

The Beatles are gone, though their music survives (as do Paul and Ringo, as of this writing). And with them, it seems, has also gone the art of letter-writing. That’s what the song is about: a boy mooning over his girl, writing her a love letter, and signing off with a postscript (that’s the “PS”) saying he loves her. But we live now in an age of electronic communication. Instead of putting pen to paper, instead of waiting days for letters to reach their destination, we dash off messages that fly instantaneously through cyberspace to their intended recipients. What we gain in speed, we often lose in artfulness; we are less careful in our reading and writing.

The beginning of chapter 4 in Paul’s letter to the Philippians reads a bit like a postscript, even though the letter isn’t done. But he’s been making a long appeal to the community that goes all the way back to chapter 1, and it’s only here that he wraps up:

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. (Phil 4:1, NRSVUE)

That’s about as mushy as Paul gets. Again, he addresses them as his brothers and sisters, reminding them of their close relationship. He calls them “beloved” twice (“whom I love” and “beloved” above are the same word in the Greek), and tells them that he yearns for their company.

And he calls them his “joy and crown.” This is probably another place where Paul is thinking eschatologically, thinking in terms of the day in which he and the Philippians together will all stand before Jesus. There’s no question that he takes joy in their friendship now, but that joy points forward to an even greater one.

In chapter 3, after all, Paul has talking about “straining forward” and “pressing on,” remembering that our citizenship is in heaven. His language, as we’ve seen, suggests a runner straining toward the finish line. The Philippians, in that sense, are Paul’s victor’s crown; he not only enjoys their friendship, but anticipates the joy of standing before Jesus with the Philippians beside him as evidence of his faithful devotion to God and the gospel.

All of this, then, including the deeply intimate language of his love for them, is in service of his urgent plea that they maintain their unity. “Stand firm in the Lord,” he tells them, echoing what he’s already said in 1:27. Moreover, they are to stand firm “in this way,” the way he’s been describing since 1:27. Have the same mind. Be humble like Jesus. Look for people who live that way, including Paul and his companions, and imitate them.

These are not the words of a preacher thundering from a pulpit, standing at a distance, looking down on a congregation. These are the words of a friend who is deeply concerned for the Philippians’ well-being and faithfulness in the midst of a difficult situation. It’s fitting that he conclude his appeal with a reminder of their friendship.

And having addressed the whole congregation thus, it’s time to get down to cases. Is there anyone in particular he’s thinking about as he writes? Let’s take a look in the next post.