Who's Your Father?

Who’s Your Father?

John 8:31-47

March 29, 2020 • Mount Pleasant UMC

It is one of the most famous scenes in cinematic history, and I was going to show it to you, but since we’re streaming and I’m not sure of all the legalities of that, I’m just going to describe it to you. Chances are you’ve seen it unless you’re Pastor Rick (but in case you haven’t I’ll put a link to it in the notes - http://bit.ly/mtpvader). It’s from the 1980 film, The Empire Strikes Back—yes, Star Wars—and it’s the climactic scene, the lightsaber battle between fledgling Jedi Luke Skywalker and the most evil man in the galaxy, Darth Vader. Luke, if you remember, is an orphan, having been raised by his uncle. His father, he has been told, was killed during the Clone Wars. But a twist was coming that no one expected, not even the actor who portrayed Darth Vader. He was actually given other lines to say and then James Earl Jones’ voice was dubbed over his with the real lines because they wanted to keep the secret until the movie’s release. While Luke tries to escape out on a narrow ledge, Vader says to him, “Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.” Luke screams back, “He told me enough. He told me you killed him.” To which Vader calmly replies, “No, I am your father.” That news is enough to make Luke jump off the narrow ledge and…you’ll have to go watch the movie to find out what happens next.

The point is this (and yes, Pastor Rick, Star Wars does make a point): knowing who your father is makes a real difference in who you are and in who you become. This whole section of John’s Gospel is about a controversy between Jesus and his own people about who he is and whether or not he should be granted any kind of authority among their people. It ends up in an ugly argument worthy of a 21st century political debate as the religious leaders accuse Jesus of being illegitimate and then Jesus tells them they are children of the devil. Yeah, that goes over well. “Jesus Behaving Badly,” indeed. Call this, “Divine Mudslinging.” Some have even seen in this passage a Jesus who hates the Jews. That’s kind of ridiculous because—well, Jesus was Jewish. He was a Jew, born into a Jewish family, dedicated to God and circumcised on the eighth day according to the Law (cf. Luke 2:21), and all of his original followers were Jewish as well (cf. Strauss, Jesus Behaving Badly, pg. 155). So the conflicts Jesus finds himself in, including the one we read this morning, are really “family squabbles.” They are not “Christian vs. Jew;” there were no “Christians” in Jesus’ day. Actually, there weren’t until several years after his death and resurrection. These are internal arguments happening within the Jewish family. “Jesus was launching a reform movement within Judaism,” not attacking a different religion from the outside (Strauss 155). And that’s at the heart of this story we read today as Jesus and the religious leaders argue about who they belong to and who their father is.

First of all, it’s not clear at all where and when this story takes place. John doesn’t really tell us, and the last location explicitly mentioned in the text is “the temple courts near the place where the offerings were put” (8:20). We’re certainly in Jerusalem, which changes the religious landscape quite a bit. In Galilee, where Jesus spends most of his time in ministry, he’s speaking to the “people of the land,” ordinary, “salt of the earth,” hard-working folks who are overtaxed and underpaid. But in Jerusalem, he’s talking to a different crowd: religious leaders, priests, Sadducees and wealthier people who are comfortable with the Roman authorities. Some would say they’ve “sold out” to or compromised with Rome. He’s speaking to the religious elite, the self-proclaimed “important people.” Pastors, authors, and theologians. Think of this as Annual Conference, or a leadership conference at a church. And, as religious leaders still do today when someone new comes on the scene, they want to know who he is. They want to see his credentials. They want to make sure he’s legit. What seminary did he go to? Where and when was he ordained? Who gave you your authority, Jesus? And, maybe more to the point: who are you (cf. 8:25)? Are you legitimately Jewish, or something else?

Some of the people there already believe in Jesus; John says Jesus is talking to them in particular—the ones who believe, the ones who “hold to his teaching” (8:31). But even they have issues with what Jesus is teaching about the so-called truth, particularly about how “the truth” will set them free. When Jesus tells them they need to be “set free,” there’s an immediate reaction from his listeners. Free? We’re not slaves! In fact, they say, we’ve never been slaves of anyone! “We are Abraham’s descendants” (8:33). And that’s where the trouble starts. This is revisionist history at its best, because “Abraham’s descendants” had been slaves over and over again throughout their people’s history. They were slaves in Egypt, slaves to Babylon and then to Persia. And in Jesus’ day, they are basically slaves to Rome. Oh, Rome wouldn’t call it that, but the Jews certainly were not free. Their status was “less than” as compared to a Roman citizen. So the reality is they had rarely been truly free, and yet still their whole identity hangs on being Abraham’s children. And that’s what Jesus questions.

“If you were Abraham’s children, then you would do what Abraham did…[but] You are doing the works of your own father” (8:39, 41). Then he calls them children of the devil. Now, that’s still a good way to make people angry. After this service is over, get on social media and calls someone a child of the devil, a spawn of Satan, and see what happens. Well, you’ll probably get a verbal punch back, maybe similar to what these religious leaders throw back at Jesus: “We are not illegitimate children” (8:41). Wow! Ouch! They are obviously referencing a rumor that was common in the first century, that Jesus had no Daddy. Apparently it got out somehow that Mary claimed his was a virginal conception, and that Joseph was just his foster father. And in that culture, especially for someone claiming authority from God himself, this would have been a damaging reputation to overcome. Lineage, especially for someone who claimed to be a rabbi, a teacher, was so very important; that’s why you have all those “begats” or genealogies in the Bible (you know, the parts you skip over). It’s so they would know who their father is. But Jesus doesn't have a father, at least that’s the rumor and that rumor becomes their accusation. So, here’s the argument so far: You’re children of the devil. Well, at least we have a father! Yeah, this is not going well, and it all started with a discussion about the nature of truth—specifically, the truth Jesus came to bring, the truth Jesus says that will set them free.

And he desperately wants them to embrace this truth, because these are his people. These are his brothers and sisters. “Salvation is from the Jews,” Jesus told the woman at the well (John 4:22). These are the people God chose to work through way back in Genesis, and yet, as John has already told us in his prologue, they are rejecting the work God wants to do through Jesus: “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:11). Now, we need to have a brief discussion about terminology—specifically about the way John uses the term “the Jews.” That phrase shows up in John seventy-one times (Strauss 156), and in some places, we hear about people doing or not doing something “because of fear of the Jews.” Do a surface reading of the text, out of context, and it sounds like the Jews are afraid of the Jews! They’re afraid of themselves. But John has a more specific meaning in mind with that phrase. By the time John writes, in the late first century, the church has separated from the synagogue, and there is a greater division between Christian and Jew than there was in the earliest days. I tell you this often: it’s all about the context. Sometimes John is referring to the Jewish people as a whole, but very often, most often, especially when the action is taking place in Jerusalem, John is referring instead to the Jewish leaders—the religious authorities, most likely the priests and Sadducees. Those are the ones people were afraid of because they had power, and they were in league with Rome and the Roman authorities. Those are the ones with whom Jesus most often argues and disagrees. And those are the ones for whom establishing their lineage was very important. They are children of Abraham—true enough, biologically. But Jesus has a better lineage in mind for them. In fact, these religious leaders “are confusing two sorts of family membership: being children of Abraham and being children of God” (Wright, John for Everyone, Part One, pg. 123).

This passage, and really the whole story of Jesus, sets up two families for us to choose from, and who we choose as our father will determine which family we are part of because, as Jesus says “the truth will set you free” and the reverse is true also: the lack of truth will enslave you (cf. 8:32). There is the family that Jesus’ opponents belong to—the family of the devil, the murderer, the spirit of the age. What he brings, according to Jesus, is destruction and death (cf. 8:44). It’s what he’s always done, and you only need to look around to see that he still does. He is the “ruler of this earth” (cf. John 12:31), and his handiwork is seen in every division, every fight, every broken relationship, every addiction and every act of abuse. Every act that springs out of racism, sexism, ageism and all the other “isms” that plague our world, are the work of the devil, and if we participate in such things, he is our father. That’s what Jesus is saying here, and so it’s amazing to me that anyone could try to use this passage to tie Jesus to such things. He’s pointing out that all of those things are a lie, coming from the father of lies.

But he’s also pointing to another way, to a different family we can and should be a part of. “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (8:31-32). This is not a family we are born into. Jesus says to be part of this family, we have to “hold to his teaching.” That doesn’t mean remembering it in your head, agreeing with it intellectually. Certainly it includes that, but holding to his teaching means living it out. I can say I love others, but until I actually love them—or act in a loving way toward them—it’s an empty belief. I can say I care about someone, but if I gossip about them behind their backs, or work against something that they care about, it’s a false belief. It’s a lie. It’s not the truth, and Jesus says holding to his teaching leads us to the truth. Not just something that is true, not just an idea, but The Truth. Capital T. Or a capital J, because Jesus defines himself as The Truth. In another part of John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). And of course John told us in the very beginning of his Gospel that Jesus is “full of grace and truth” (1:14). We remember that at least every Christmas Eve. When we live out the way of life Jesus described, we become a follower of his and we know The Truth. We know him. We are part of his family, and God is our father (cf. Card, John: The Gospel of Wisdom, pg. 112).

There are a couple of things, then, I want to say that are implications of being part of this family, at least one of which might be a bit confusing so let’s start with that one. I’m going to make a statement and then ask you to let me explain it before you turn off the livestream! Deal? Here’s the statement: if we are part of this family, then the current coronavirus situation isn’t a threat. Now here’s the explanation: I’m not talking about God somehow miraculously keeping you from the virus. That’s not promised, that’s not guaranteed, no matter how much some folks twist the Scripture to make it seem to say that. You might get sick. I might get sick. So “being wise,” as I’ve challenged you to do during these weeks, includes doing what we’re doing today and following the guidelines of the health care professionals. Romans 13:1 says, “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities…the authorities that exist have been established by God,” and Paul wrote that when the Roman emperors were going crazy—literally. They were mentally unstable and he still said God had put them in charge for a reason. So being part of the family doesn’t mean you won’t get sick and you won’t have to self-isolate and all of that. No, what I mean is that being part of the family means we live as people of hope. A couple of weeks ago, when the toilet paper started disappearing off the shelves faster than it could be stocked, I said to Cathy that I think the panic really speaks to our fear of death. How is toilet paper related to death? Well, here’s my thinking: as a culture, we have so little assurance or hope of anything other than this life, and when that is threatened by something invisible and, honestly, something deadly, we panic. We don’t know what else to do, so we stock up on toilet paper, as ridiculous as that sounds when we say it out loud. But as people who belong to this family, we have hope—in this life and in the next. No matter what happens, no matter how long we are asked and expected to self-isolate, we know we have a father who walks with us, who is “Emmanuel” God with us, who will see us through. So coronavirus isn’t a threat and neither is the next thing that comes down the pike or the one after that because we know who holds the future. God is in control and he is our father.

The other implication of being part of this family has to do with the way we treat others. If we are part of this family, then we love everyone like Jesus did. If you read the Gospels carefully, you’ll notice that the only people Jesus really got angry with are the self-righteous religious people. The people he argued with the most were not the “sinners” or the “outsiders.” Those people he loved and welcomed in over and over again. No, the people who made Jesus most angry were the religious professionals and the people who thought they were “in” just because of their birthright, because of their heritage. Everyone else he loved and welcomed into his family if they would come. And they usually did, because of that love! The only time I can think of when the one Jesus loved turned away is the young man who has come to be known as “the rich young ruler.” He comes up to Jesus and wants to know what he has to do in order to receive eternal life, and when Jesus repeats to him some of the Ten Commandments, he says he has done all that. But he knew there was still some sort of emptiness within him, and that’s when Mark says Jesus “looked at him and loved him” (10:21). Want to guess what the word there is that is translated “love”? It’s agape, the boundless, no-strings-attached love that God has for us. Of course it is, because what other kind of love would Jesus have for someone who is trying to find their way into the family? Jesus looked at him, and with no strings attached, with a love that is deeper than the young man could imagine, Jesus loved him. And he loved him by asking him to live out Jesus’ teachings, to remove whatever stood between him and God. The young man had a huge burden, all of his possessions and “stuff,” weighing him down. But Jesus still loved him and wanted him in the family. Unfortunately, the “stuff” was too much. The young man turns away in one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the Gospels. But Jesus still loved him. And he still loves you and me and the person sitting next to you and that person who shoved you out of the way at Walmart to get the last gallon of milk and that person who cut you off on the road and that person who is from another country and the person who is of a different ethnic heritage than you are and—well, I imagine you get the idea now. If your Father is God, then you are called to love everyone and invite them to come with you into the family.

Part of the argument between Jesus and “the Jews” here has to do with who is a slave and who is a child. It’s not hard to figure out why. A slave can be put out of the household at any time, dismissed, sold to someone else. A child lives easily and comfortably in the Father’s house (cf. Fredrikson, Communicator’s Commentary: John, pg. 161). A child always belongs. Jesus wants us to be children of the Father, but a lot of us live like we are slaves. Rather than resting in the relationship we have with the Father, we run from here to there and “do good things,” thinking that somehow that will make God look favorably on us. I hear some people saying things like, “I hope I am good enough or have done enough good things for God to let me into heaven.” Well, let me burst your bubble: you’re not good enough. Neither am I. None of us are. We can do all the “good” in the world and that doesn’t get us into the family. It’s only through a relationship with Jesus that we can become a child of the Father. The good that we do is because of who we are, not to become who we think God wants us to be. It’s a tricky balance, I get that, but here’s the thing: Jesus would not have argued with these Jewish leaders if following the Law and doing the “right” thing was enough. They had done that, in spades. All that had gotten them was membership in the family of the devil. Jesus wanted them to come into his family, be his disciples, live the way he wants them to and receive the assurance that they were children of the Father. He wants that for you, too. So maybe this morning there are some listening who have never taken up residence in God’s family home. I’m going to pray in just a few moments, and invite you to make that move from being a slave to being a child. And if you do that this morning, send me a message. I want to follow up with you and get you connected to some folks who can help you and move you closer to him. And if you’re already a child, part of the family, pray for those who haven’t yet made that move. Because it matters who your Father is. Let’s pray.