“All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I
said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:15)
Holy
Trinity is a pain. Yeah, I know it’s one of the six major festivals of the
Christian liturgical calendar, but it’s a feast which celebrates a doctrine and
not an event. There’s no story line here, so it’s hard to make Holy Trinity
dramatic—or even interesting. It’s just this confusing teaching about the way
we understand God—and that’s assuming we actually understand God at all!
Trinity sermons are the benzodiazepines of homiletics. Nothing can put a
congregation to sleep faster.
Fortunately,
this year Holy Trinity falls on the American secular holiday of Father’s Day.
The Father is the first person of the Trinity, so if I preach about fathers I
won’t be straying too far from the appointed readings and I won’t get in
trouble in case there’s a liturgy Gestapo.
As
you can imagine in heavily Roman Catholic Northeast Philly, I often find myself
being addressed by the neighbors as “Father.” I don’t mind. Even though I have
no biological children of my own, I feel great kinship with dads everywhere. A
parent and a parish pastor share one important attribute: we are both completely
responsible for something over which we ultimately have no control.
It’s
not easy to be a dad. I think my own father did the best he could, given that
his dad died just two months after my father was born. My father didn’t have
much in the way of guidance. Many people, boys and girls, grow up with absent
fathers or fathers who are shining examples of how not to parent.
I
hate to say it, but the Bible isn’t much help. The Scriptures are crawling with
examples of inept fatherhood and dysfunctional families. Look at Adam. His son
Cain was a murderer. I guess if your dad has sinned against God, been put out
of Paradise, and blames it all on your mom you might grow up with some issues.
Then
there’s Noah. He saves his family in the ark, but (in a story we don’t tell in
Sunday School) he later drinks himself into a stupor, passes out buck naked,
and then curses his son Ham for discovering him sleeping it off in the nude.
Fast
forward to the Patriarchs of Israel. Abraham banishes his oldest son Ishmael because
Ishmael is illegitimate. Abraham also attempts to cut his legitimate son
Isaac’s throat and offer him as a human sacrifice. Neither of these acts speak
very well for Abraham as a dad. Isaac and Rebecca split their sons apart with
favoritism, and Jacob isn’t any better. Eli, the prophet and judge of Israel in
1 Samuel, is an overly permissive father whose two sons, although priests of
the tabernacle, couldn’t seem to keep their hands off the serving girls or out
of the collection plate. God smites both sons for their wickedness and also knocks
off Eli for being a bad parent.
Perhaps
the most egregious example of lousy fatherhood is King David himself. David
committed adultery and lost all moral authority over his sons. His oldest,
Amnon, was guilty of sexual violence against his half-sister, Tamar. David
couldn’t bring himself to punish his crown prince, a fact which angered David’s
other son Absalom, Tamar’s full brother. Absalom subsequently murdered Amnon
and led an armed rebellion to overthrow his father. The rebellion failed and
Absalom was killed, proving that dads who set bad examples and/or fail to teach
their sons right from wrong stand a pretty low chance of seeing their boys grow
up to be men they can be proud of.
It's
not until we get to the New Testament that we see a dad we can admire. You have
to love Joseph. He’s not actually Jesus’ father, but he’s a righteous man and
he really loves Mary and is willing to be dad to the Son of God. Luke actually
has Mary refer to him as “your father[i]” when she’s talking to
Jesus. Sometimes being a dad has nothing to do with biology. It has to do with
being present. We know Joseph was a great dad. After all, Jesus turned
out alright.
But
Jesus gives us an even better example of fatherhood. In the famous parable of
the “Prodigal Son[ii],”
Jesus draws a picture of a father who is generous, understanding, forgiving,
and loving. No matter what kind of bozo sired us, in our hearts we all long for
a relationship with a father like the one in Jesus’ parable—a father who
inspires our love, admiration, and trust. This is a concept of fatherhood
which, even if we haven’t experienced it, we can imagine and desire. It’s the
fatherhood we believe in when we call God our father. Martin Luther wrote of
“pure, fatherly, and divine goodness and mercy” as the attributes of
God. He encouraged us to pray Our Father, which art in heaven “boldly and with
complete confidence, just as loving children ask their loving father.[iii]”
No
earthly dad is ever perfect or completely lives up to the ideal which we yearn
for in our hearts, but many try to be the best they can. Our heavenly Father
knows this, forgives them their shortcomings, and inspires them to do better.
God also provides us with substitute fathers—stepdads, coaches, teachers,
bosses, and other men who see both our needs and our potential and can speak to
places in us our own biological fathers can’t always reach.
As I said above, being a father isn’t easy. Dads are called to be protectors and providers and instructors in the way of the world. They can never be sure of the fruits of their labor, and even the best dad is willing to have his heart broken by a wayward child. If you’re a dad or stepdad, I honor you. If you had a great dad, be grateful to God for that relationship and for the patience, love and sacrifices that man made for you.
As the hymn says, “Thank you, O my Father, for giving us your son and sending your Spirit ‘til the work on earth is done.[iv]”
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