Faith of Our Fathers

Joshua J Sander
6/20/10
Father's Day
“Faith of Our Fathers”

Galatians 3:23-29

It is a tradition in many local churches, including this one, to sing the hymn “Faith of Our Fathers” on Father’s Day, but have you ever given much thought to what that really means? What does it mean to have the same faith as our fathers? The hymn paints a picture of something rock-solid—a faith that lives on even when the faithful are thrown into dungeons, put to the sword, or burned at the stake. According to the hymn, this is the faith of martyrs—a faith one holds until death comes!

That’s pretty heavy stuff, isn’t it? Especially on a day like Father’s Day. You see, we should never forget that Father’s Day is an awfully emotionally charged holiday to begin with. For some of us, it is a reminder that we’re blessed and lucky to have the fathers we have; strong men who love and support us and impart valuable lessons in life. The kinds of men who take us fishing, force us to mow the lawn, and teach us how to change a flat tire. For others, however, Father’s Day is a reminder of death. For still others it is a reminder of abandonment. And for some it is a reminder of pain and abuse and neglect. I find it difficult to sing “Faith of our fathers… how our hearts beat high with joy…” when I know full well that for some of us our fathers cause our heart to beat high with adrenaline…

…and yet—I find myself not wanting to completely toss out the phrase “Faith of our Fathers.” Something deeply resonates when you can say, “…like my father before me.” If you’re a science fiction geek—like me—you may be remembering the way it felt in Return of the Jedi when Luke Skywalker turns away from his hatred, throws down his weapon and says “Never. I’ll never turn to the dark side. I am a Jedi… like my father before me…”

Or if you’re a Bible geek—again, like me—you may be remembering when Moses asked God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, "The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, "What is his name?' what shall I say to them?" And God responded, "I am who I am. Thus you shall say to the Israelites, "I am has sent me to you. The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you': This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.”

God’s name is “I am who I am.” And God’s title is “the God of your father, and your father’s father, and your father’s father’s father…” And there’s something to that. For example, one study shows that if a child is dropped off at church by their parents—but their parents themselves do not attend—they are not likely to grown into church-going people. The likelihood increases if one parent or the other attended church. And, of course, the children of parents who both go to church are much more likely to become church-going adults. Children are really bad at “Do as I say, not as I do.” They just are. They’re really, really good at doing what you do, though. So we really do have the faith—or lack of faith—of our fathers.

Some of you may be curious about why I would choose for the title of the hymn “Faith of Our Fathers” for the sermon title and then pick “The God of Abraham Praise” for the hymn that follows. Ah, but there is method in my madness. God’s name is “I am who I am.” And God’s title is “the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob!” “The God of Abraham praise. All praised be the Name, who was, and is, and is to be, is still the same…” We worship the same God as the ancient Hebrew people, the same God as all Christians from every time and place, the same God as the Muslims came to worship. And despite the great variation within Judaism, despite the great variation within Christianity, despite the great variation within Islam, and despite the great variation between the three Abrahamic faiths—we still worship the God of our father, and our father’s father, and our father’s father’s father. The same God through all generations.

Sometimes, in all our human brokenness, we confuse the fact that our God is the same God as our fathers’ with the idea that nothing should ever change. I do not find the virtue of unchanging rigidness in the Biblical witness, however. If you’re a Bible geek like me you can probably think of a bunch of places where God changes course. Moses convinced God not to destroy all the tribes of Israel when they worshiped the Golden Calf. Abraham argued God down from “I’m gonna destroy Sodom entirely,” to “If there are 10 righteous people in Sodom, I won’t destroy it.” And then there was the Incarnation. That was rather new.

And so much of the Hebrew scriptures are about making the Jewish people holy, set aside, different than others. All those laws about who not to worship, what not to eat, what not to wear—they’re all about making sure that God’s people are different from everyone else. That’s why we end up with only two categories of people—Jew and Gentile; God’s chosen and everyone else. But then Jesus is convinced by the argument of a Canaanite woman that she, too, deserved His help.

Then there’s the vision that Peter has, where God shows him a plethora of un-kosher foods and tells Peter to eat. And when Peter politely declines—citing God’s own law—a voice replies, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” It is immediately after that when Peter sits down and eats in the house of a Gentile, witnesses the movement of the Holy Spirit there, and Baptizes them.

And then there’s Paul. Paul is probably the most well known Jewish Christian missionary to the Gentile world. And as such he was right in the middle of a lot of interesting arguments around whether or not the new Greek Christians—who were considered Gentiles, remember—needed to observe Judaism in order to be considered good Christians. Talk about a Faith of Our Fathers conversation, right?
Paul’s answer to that question is to claim that faith in Jesus is an ultimate trump card:

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise.

Paul’s theology is not only arguing that God did something brand new in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. This theology is precisely why White Anglo-Saxon Protestants can claim “I am who I am, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” as the God of our ancestors—as the God of our Fathers. Paul’s theology was a very new thing—and so you can see why I don’t equate the Faith of Our Fathers with something unchanging and rigid. But as in everything, there’s a balance to be had. We walk together in the traditions of our ancestors—including the one where we listen when God comes to us and says, “I am asking you to do a new thing.”

And so I want to leave you with two challenges today. Continue coming to church, bring a friend, bring your kids, walk in the tradition—in the Faith—of Our Fathers. Worship the God of Abraham and converse with “I am who I am.” Which brings me to the second challenge: don’t fall into the trap of thinking that the Faith of Our Fathers is rigid. Don’t confuse undying with unchanging. When you converse the God of Our Fathers, be sure to listen—God really is still speaking. And sometimes the Word is, “I’m asking you to do a new thing.”

Let us pray. Oh Great I Am, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, You who were, and are, and are to be, we pray that you instill in us a thankful heart for our good fathers. Bring comfort to those who mourn, and help us to remember that for some people, Father's and Mother's Day are sad times not because they miss their parents, but because they do not—that not everyone gets the father they deserve in this life. For those people, Holy Father, we pray that you be the Father and Mother they deserve. Oh Eternal and Infinite God, help your Children when we become confused and mistake the infinite for the ultimate, when we confuse your unending presence with a need for status quo, when we ask for restoration so loudly that we do not hear your still speaking voice.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.