The Faces of the Roman Church: Romans 16:1-16

I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church in Cenchreae.

She carried the letter.

Phoebe stood at the harbor in Cenchreae, the eastern port of Corinth. The scroll was secured in her traveling bag—the most important document she would ever carry. Paul had entrusted it to her, this letter to the Romans.

She was a deacon—diakonos, the same word Paul used for himself. She served the church. And she was a benefactor—prostatis—a patron who used her wealth to support the community. Now she would deliver the letter and, likely, read it aloud to the scattered house churches of Rome.

The journey would take weeks. By ship to Puteoli, then overland to Rome. A woman traveling alone on imperial business—the business of the gospel.

Greet Priscilla and Aquila, my co-workers in Christ Jesus. They risked their lives for me.

Priscilla and Aquila would welcome her. Everyone knew them.

They had been in Rome originally—Jewish tentmakers expelled under Claudius's edict. They had landed in Corinth, where a tentmaker named Paul joined their workshop. For eighteen months they had worked leather and preached Christ side by side.

Then they moved to Ephesus. They taught Apollos. They hosted a church. And somewhere along the way—the details lost to history—they risked their necks for Paul. Literally. Some threat, some danger, some moment when they chose his life over their own.

Now they were back in Rome. Claudius was dead. Jews could return. And their house was again a church.

Greet also the church that meets at their house.

The Roman church didn't have a building. It had houses. Priscilla and Aquila's house was one gathering point. The believers met around tables, in courtyards, in the homes of those wealthy enough to host.

Greet my dear friend Epenetus, who was the first convert to Christ in the province of Asia.

Epenetus—the firstfruits of Asia. The first person in an entire province to believe. He had made his way to Rome somehow, carrying the faith that began in him to the capital of the world.

Greet Mary, who worked very hard for you.

Mary. A common name—we don't know which Mary. But we know she worked hard. The verb suggests exhausting labor. For the Roman believers. Paul noticed. Paul remembered.

Greet Andronicus and Junia, my fellow Jews who have been in prison with me. They are outstanding among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was.

Andronicus and Junia—relatives of Paul, fellow prisoners at some point, believers before Paul's own conversion. Outstanding among the apostles. Some translate this as "well known to the apostles." Others as "prominent among the apostles"—apostles themselves, in the broader sense of sent-ones.

Junia. A woman's name. For centuries, translators made it masculine—Junias. But the ancient church knew: Junia was a woman, and she was outstanding.

Greet Ampliatus, my dear friend in the Lord.

Ampliatus. A common slave name. Paul called him "beloved." In Christ, slave names became dear names.

Greet Urbanus, our co-worker in Christ, and my dear friend Stachys.

Urbanus—co-worker, partner in the mission. Stachys—beloved, the same word used for Ampliatus. Paul's affection was lavish.

Greet Apelles, whose fidelity to Christ has stood the test.

Apelles. Tested and proven. Whatever trials he had faced, his faith had held. Paul knew his story, commended his perseverance.

Greet those who belong to the household of Aristobulus.

Aristobulus. Possibly the grandson of Herod the Great, possibly a different man entirely. His household—slaves, freedmen, family members—included believers. They met together, within the household structure.

Greet Herodion, my fellow Jew.

Herodion. The name suggests connection to Herod's household. A Jewish believer in an unlikely place.

Greet those in the household of Narcissus who are in the Lord.

Narcissus. Possibly the famous freedman of Emperor Claudius. When Claudius died, Narcissus was executed, but his household—now imperial property—would have continued. "Those in the Lord" among them—Christians in Caesar's extended household.

Greet Tryphena and Tryphosa, those women who work hard in the Lord.

Tryphena and Tryphosa. Sisters, probably—the names suggest twins. "Dainty" and "Delicate," their names meant. But they worked hard—the same word used for Mary. Their delicate names belied their robust labor.

Greet my dear friend Persis, another woman who has worked very hard in the Lord.

Persis. "Persian woman." Beloved. Hard-working. Another woman laboring in the Lord's service. Paul noticed the women who worked. Paul named them.

Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord, and his mother, who has been a mother to me, too.

Rufus. Possibly the son of Simon of Cyrene—Mark's Gospel mentions "Simon the father of Alexander and Rufus," as if the readers would know. If so, the man who carried Jesus' cross had fathered a son now serving in Rome.

Rufus's mother had mothered Paul too. Somewhere, somehow, she had cared for the apostle. Fed him, perhaps. Nursed him through illness. Shown maternal kindness that Paul never forgot.

Greet Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas and the other brothers and sisters with them.

Five more names. Possibly another house church. The other brothers and sisters with them—the community was larger than the list.

Greet Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas and all the Lord's people who are with them.

Philologus and Julia—perhaps a married couple. Nereus and his sister. Olympas. All the Lord's people with them—another cluster, another house church.

Greet one another with a holy kiss.

The letter would be read aloud. At this point, they would turn to each other—slave and free, Jew and Gentile, man and woman—and kiss. Holy kiss. Family greeting. The Roman church was a family.

All the churches of Christ send greetings.

All the churches. The whole network. The family scattered across the empire, connected by letters and travelers and prayers.

Twenty-seven names in sixteen verses. Slaves and patrons. Jews and Gentiles. Men and women. Prisoners and householders. The Roman church was not a monolith—it was a mosaic.

And Phoebe carried this letter to them. Read these words to them. Heard their responses—gasps of recognition, tears at remembered kindnesses, laughter at inside references.

The letter to the Romans was theology. But it ended with faces. Names. People Paul loved. People he longed to see.

The church has always been this: not institution only, but family. Not doctrine only, but community. Not ideas only, but Phoebe and Priscilla and Junia and Rufus's mother.

Names. Faces. The body of Christ.