“God sent forth his Son,
born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so
that we might receive adoption as sons.”
Galatians 4:4-5
We do not
know the name of Saint Paul’s father.
This may strike you as trivial, a trick question for the daily double on
Bible Jeopardy, but I think there’s deep theological significance in this
important omission.
We know a
great deal about Saint Paul, because he intertwines bits of his biography into
his teaching. Scholars can date his
missionary journeys down to the month, and he names dozens of his friends and
associates scattered around the Mediterranean world. He tells us that he came from the city of
Tarsus, that before he met Jesus he was a member of the Pharisee sect within
Judaism. We know that Saint Paul’s
father came from the ancient tribe of Benjamin, and that he was a Roman
citizen, a fairly unusual fact for Jew of this time, and a fact on which the
drama of his son’s later life turned.
But Saint
Paul never names him. In that respect he
is unlike almost every major figure in the Old Testament.
Leaf through the books of the prophets. There it will stand in the first verse or
two: “The vision of Isaiah, the son of Amoz;[1]”
“the words of Jeremiah, the son of Hilkiah;[2]”
“The word of the lord came to Ezekiel, the priest, the son of Buzi.[3]” The Old Testament is crammed with genealogies
and census rolls, miraculous births that salvaged the family lines by filling
old wombs with new life.
That’s
because in the Old Covenant, the people of God are a single race, an extended
family bound together by common blood.
The most important religious credential a Jew could present is a lineage
table, and the most important religious duty was to perpetuate the line. God
had revealed his will to his people, giving a law to their ancestors at Mount
Sinai. He had called them to serve Him
together, and preserved them through many hardships. Saint Paul understood the weight of this
heritage, and at several points in his writings, he expresses deep gratitude
for it.[4]
But
something had happened in his life, something that drastically reordered his
priorities. Saint Paul met Jesus in a blaze of glory on the road to
Damascus. He met One who was a fellow
Jew, a faithful servant who kept the law.
But Jesus was also the only Son of the Father, the eternal Word, the one
in whom God had made all things and filled them with light. In Jesus, St. Paul beheld a human being who
shared completely in God’s love, who knew the Father’s mind and fulfilled the
desires of His heart.
And then
Jesus extended that same intimate knowledge of the Father to him. When Saint Paul heard the Gospel, and
responded in faith; when he was baptized and received into the body of the
Church, he found a relationship with God unlike anything he had ever known
before. God was close at hand. He understood God’s will and had a new
strength to do it. The Holy Spirit was
within him, drawing from him a love that answered that shown to him by
God. “Abba,” it led him to cry, “my
father.”
Jews did
not call God “my father.” He was the
“Blessed One,” “The Almighty and Everlasting One,” above all, “The Lord.” To call God “my father,” sounded
disrespectful, too assertive. The prophets might speak metaphorically of God as
a parent of the nation because he guided and disciplined them. But “my father” seemed to shatter the
distance that seemed necessary for authentic religion. That is, unless God himself had shattered
that distance, and remade authentic religion in sending His Son to take on our
flesh.
St. Paul
needed a new word to describe this new, intimate, transformative relationship
he had with God. He found it in an
unlikely source, in Roman law, in a social practice scorned by his fellow
Jews. God had adopted him.
If you do
a word search of the Old Testament, you won’t find the word adoption, just like
you won’t find anyone calling God “my father.”
But adoption was common among the Romans, and both adults and children
were adopted. The first emperor,
Augustus, had been adopted by Julius Caesar, and Augustus, in turn, adopted his
successor, Tiberius, and it happened six more times afterwards. Adoption transferred an individual
irrevocably from one family into another.
It brought an entirely new beginning to one’s life. A person’s old debts were cancelled, and a
new name was given. The adopted child was elevated to the new family’s social
class and assured of a share in the father’s inheritance. [5]
This Roman
concept seemed designed to fit what Saint Paul had experienced when He came
into a new relationship with God through Jesus.
His sin had been forgiven and his life begun anew. The Holy Spirit, that bond of love which
united Father and Son now bound Him into the same fellowship. It was like receiving that new name, and it
brought the full privileges that belonged to the life of this family. This new position also assured him of the
inheritance, a share in the joyful life with God in the kingdom that awaited at
Christ’s glorious return.
By the
grace God extended to Him through Christ, St. Paul had been brought into God’s
own family. He was a son of God, a
brother to Christ himself. None of us
knows what kind of relationship St. Paul had with his natural father. I don’t think there’s any reason to assume it
was a difficult or strained one. But in
light of this new relationship, within this new family, it lost its former
religious significance. The credentials
of his lineage could make St. Paul an honorable and faithful servant. But God had made him a son, an heir of the
kingdom.
That same
kind of relationship, with all its privileges and benefits, is extended to each
of us who belong to Christ by faith and baptism. The Prayer Book’s Christmas Collect prays, “Grant that we, being regenerate and made
thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by thy Holy
Spirit.[6]” Whatever debts you contracted in your life
before Christ have been forgiven. The
same Spirit that binds together the Father and Son is present in your heart,
drawing you into a deeper fellowship with God.
You too can pray to Abba, “Our Father, who art in heaven.” You are assured of a place in God’s eternal
kingdom as you continue to grow in Him, being “daily renewed by the Holy
Spirit.”
You have
been adopted. That means your past does
not define you. You may come from a
wonderful family or one you barely escaped with your sanity intact. You may remember your father’s name with
gratitude every day or hope to never hear it spoken again. Your life before Christ may have been marked
by earnest devotion or careless hedonism.
You may have known great privilege or severe hardship. But the life you enjoy with God now and will,
by his grace, enjoy forever is not controlled by any of that.
Your
Father has spoken for you. You belong to
Him. All He has is yours.
In the
Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.
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