In sum, the “father’s house” is more than a husband and a wife and 2-3 children (and perhaps a dog) and the stick figure family you might see on the back of an SUV. The father is not the male half of a couple who have fallen in love, got hitched and then decided to have kids once they’d got their forever home in the ‘burbs. It’s a family and small business combined and meant certain assurances. This is a system in which the father is the head of the household with unique social and legal responsibilities that includes more than just a nuclear family unit.
Your Questions: Why do we call God Father?
August 2, 2023
An exploration in the scope and limits of why we call God "our Father"
Recently there was a bit of a furore over something the Archbishop of York said about "Our Father" in the Lord's Prayer. I wasn't there. I don't know the context of what he was saying and I don't know to what extent news coverage and social media posts are click-bait, reactionary or reflective of genuine issues. Some have said he was just acknowledging that for some people "Our Father" are tough words to pray. Others have said the Archbishop was saying we need to get rid of language that calls God "Father". I don't know which it is, but it brings up a good question: why do we call God "Father"?
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Calling God "Father" is something that is found throughout Christian faith and belief. Not only is it the opening words to the Lord’s Prayer, it’s in the Creeds (“I believe in God the Father”), in our worship songs (“How deep the Father’s love for us”), in liturgy (if we we’re from a liturgical tradition) not to mention frequently found throughout the New Testament. As Christians we believe in the Trinity and the chief term we use to describe one person of the Trinity is “Father.” Books are written and many a sermon preached on the “father heart of God.”
So, if it’s important, it’s probably also important for us to think about what we actually mean by it?! In addition, it would be wise to consider what we don’t mean when we describe God as this paternal figure: what are the limits of this metaphor? In general conversation (and on social media) over the years, I’ve heard people say God is “our Father” because he’s more a father than a mother. This approach defines a father in essence as a not-mother. Think of it this way: if father and mother roles are laid over each other like a venn diagram, why we call God father is because He is not the unique qualities of the mother that don’t overlap. Some try to explain this as innate or essential qualities of a father over a mother. Examples include that the father is the strong and rational parent where the mother is nurturing and tender. Or the father is the disciplinarian where the mother is the one who consoles. One I heard recently is that a father makes a choice to love their child in a way that comes naturally to the mother who has (usually) carried the child to term. But for all these stereotypes there are so many exceptions. The underlying issue is that they’re all based on experience, they’re highly subjective. This creates the inevitable problem that if my understanding of the role of a father is different from yours, we’re probably never going to agree on how to understand God as father! Not only is this a nightmare for consensus, but it’s also an example of eisegesis – reading into biblical texts ideas and concepts that aren’t native to it. And I’ve yet to find evidence that supports this sort of psychology-lite interpretation of why God is “our Father”.
A much better source of understanding for what it means seems to me to be what we actually find from the biblical world and biblical texts. Father, in a biblical context was the senior figure in the patriarchal family system (and please note I’m using patriarchal here to describe an ancient social system not a byword for the systematic oppression of women). In the Bible this set-up is often indicated by the description of “my father’s house” (e.g. Gen 12:1, 31:30, Judges 11:2, 1 Sam 22:15, 1 Macc 16:2 and 4 Macc 18:7). The key then is what was the role of the father within this system? Rather than try and fit modern ideas about family or parental roles onto ancient texts, it’s much better to try and understand the metaphors on their own terms. Once we’ve established what they mean in an ancient context, then we can think about what the implications are for today.
Let’s start by sketching out a little more of the biblical patriarchal social system. While it changed in how it looked over time from the time of the Patriarchs to the monarchic period and then after the exile, the fundamental ideas are still the same.[1] In the earlier times, the father was head of the household over his wife (and possibly wives), children, other brothers and unwed sisters, servants & slaves (male and female). The father was the one who owned the property and wielded power and authority.[2] He was the one to provide for those within the household—hence why the OT commands extra care and attention for the widow, orphan and foreigner. These were the folk that didn’t have the protection or provision of a patriarch, a dangerous reality the book of Ruth illustrates well.
By the time of the New Testament, the father was still head of the household but the size was scaled back significantly—as more mouths meant more expenditure. More than one wife wasn’t just a recipe for familial strife: it was expensive! Yet even though the households were smaller, the loyalty to the father is still assumed. There’s the disciple who wanted to go and “bury his father” first before following Jesus (Matt 8:21). His loyalty is to his kinship group and his father. James and John are working for their father Zebedee when they are called. In John 4:53 the father comes to believe which results in the whole household also believing. The responsibilities of levirate marriage are still present, whether or not it was regular practice (Mark 12:18-23). And consider the household of the father of the prodigal son: it consisted not only of the father and two brothers but also servants and slaves (Luke 15:19, 26).
So where does God as “Father” come in?
Interestingly, in the Old Testament, God is rarely described as Father. It happens just a handful of times (cf, Isaiah 63:16, 64:8, Deut 32:6, Psa 103:13, Prov 3:12) and is tied to God as the one through whom his people have life, have been redeemed and are shown compassion. But for the most part the description of God as father is absent in the Old Testament.[3] In contrast to the Old Testament, the New frequently uses the title “Father” for God. What’s interesting is where it particularly crops up:
(1) The Father as One who Provides
If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children,
how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matt 7:11)
One of the most common contexts in which we find God described as Father is in connection with His role as one who provides for our needs. In Matthew 7 and Luke 11 there are the passages about God providing good gifts to His children. Likewise in James 1:13 God is the “Father of lights” and is the one from whom every good and perfect gift comes. In James, this characteristic of God as Father is set in contrast with exhortation elsewhere not to trust in other benefactors. It’s interesting to note that the famous “true religion” verse in James 1:27 (that to care for widows and orphans is true religion) is tied to religion before “God, the Father”. To care for the widow and orphan is to care for those who do not have the protection and safety of the patriarchal family unit, but because of “God, the Father” we offer exactly that because we are the adopted children of the ultimate spiritual Patriarch![4]
God as the Father who provides is also the found in the Lord’s Prayer: we address God as Father and then He is the one we ask to “give us our daily bread.” In the feeding miracle in John 6, the Father is the one who provides true bread (John 6:32). Elsewhere the Father also is the one who prepares for our future (John 14) and the one who provides consolation in our affliction (2 Cor 1:3). God as Father provides for the needs of his household both material and spiritual. Most significantly, God as Father has provided for our eternal safety – through the Cross of Jesus Christ and the death of His only Son.
(2) The Father as a Figure of Authority
In accompaniment with the Father as one who provides, in the NT God as Father is also shown as an authority figure and the one we are to trust by following His instruction and showing loyalty. Jesus is clear in Matthew 12:50 that if we are to be part of Jesus’ family, namely his mother, sister or brother, we are to do the will of the Father—it’s not about biology. In the passage about secret prayer and almsgiving in Matthew 6, it is the Father who sees our faithfulness and will reward. In Gethsemane in Luke 22:42, Jesus addresses the Father when in conflict about surrendering to God’s will. Indeed Jesus’ own authority as Son is derived from that of the Father (John 5:43) – a point of great indignation for the Jewish leaders (John 5:18).
Fathers as authority figures to whom obedience is due is well-reflected in John 8:41-44 in which Jesus has a discussion with some Jews. Jesus tells those he’s talking to that Abraham is not really their father because if he were they “would be doing as Abraham did” (v.39). Instead they are harboring violence against Jesus. The men respond by appealing that God is their father (v.40), but Jesus is clear if that was the case, they would love Jesus (v.42). Jesus’ conclusion is that their disobedience means that their father is really the devil (v.44): one who is a murderer and liar. Fathers are an authority figure who children honor through obedience and acting in line with their desires.
Call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. (Matt 23:9)
What is interesting about this authority is that in this passage it is not found in contrast to mothers but in contrast to other fathers. Elsewhere, in Mark 3:35, the parallel (and probable original) to Matthew 12:50, Jesus simply says we are to do the will of “God” to be part of Jesus’ family. No familial reference with respect to God himself. Yet the only roles there are to take within Jesus’ family are mother, sister and brother. Why? Because the role of father is already taken. We have only one authority figure: God himself. Matthew 23:9 puts it plainly: “call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven.” It would be ridiculous for Matthew to mean that we aren’t to have biological fathers: the point here is about having loyalties that compete with God as our authority figure over all. Who do we trust for provision or safety instead of God? Where are our loyalties greater to a person or an institution than to God?
The inevitable issue with trusting in God over competing authorities is that it is costly. Our allegiance with our heavenly Father will lead to rejection and hostility. It will get us in trouble. It may even cost us our human families (Luke 12:52-53). Yet the assurance is clear: whoever makes such costly sacrifices of “brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields…” will receive “brothers and sisters, mothers and children” in the age to come (Mark 10:30). But notice “father” only appears in what we lose—we won’t gain new fathers in the age to come (like we will siblings or mothers) because in the spiritual, eschatological family, we only have God as our Father.
(3) The Father’s Ethic of Love
Lastly, the ethic of God’s household is what marks it out as distinctive and different. In John 8, the devil as father is murderous and hides the truth. But if God is your Father, the ethic is love. Love is the ethic of all parties God’s house. It is found between the Father and the Son (John 3:35, 5:20, 10:17, 14:31). And our obedience to God is to come from love and our love is shown through our obedience (cf. John 14, esp v. 21 & 23 and 15:9-16). The Father showed the nature of His love for us through the sacrifice of his Son (3:16) and our adoption as his children (1 John 3:1). The Son shows us his love through his willingness to die for us (John 13:1) and we are called to show this sacrificial love (15:12-13). The Father’s love is what we are to remain in and live from (15:9)—it is clear that love is something revealed by Godself and not a general unique quality. How do we know this? Because our allegiance to the Father’s love results in rejection (and not love) from the world (15:18-25). This love ethic is not general but rooted in the Father's revealed love and therefore our love in return is shown in loyalty to His.
See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. (1 John 3:1)
In Conclusion
Why do we address God as Father? It is not because He is not maternal or exhibits stereotypically characteristics of motherhood (e.g. nurturing or tender). God is not our “Father” as opposed to mother. He is “our Father” because (in part) he is the chief of the clan. He is head honcho. To a first century audience to describe God as “mother” excludes the reality of God’s power and authority. God as “mother” leaves one to wonder whose household God resides in? Whose authority is He under—and how can God be God if He is under another authority? Or we might end up concerned for God’s safety(!)—if God as mother is a widow like Naomi and has no one to protect him. God is now vulnerable along with the orphan and the foreigner. Yes, these questions might seem a bit silly, but this is why context matters!
God as the “Patriarch” is also one who provides for us and keeps safe and the one into whose family we have been adopted as “sons” (and I use “son” as in this system the inheritance rights belonged to Jewish sons). Through the Cross we have been adopted into God’s family as children (not slaves) and we get to address this loving authority figure as our Father, Abba. We do so as “sons” – those who are entitled to inherit. But God is not male or more male than female. God is no more male as “our Father” than I am male as a “son” of God. Yet there is a pretty clear and consistent connection between God as Father and our obedience and willingness to follow His will. He is the one to whom everything belongs (indeed He made it…) and those in His house are to do His will and show Him our loyalty. Our kinship is now to be to God over and above all other ties–our relationships with our human fathers and non-paternal authority figures of any kind. This can be costly. It can also be healing.
Jesus invited his followers to call God “our Father” as a representation of what it means to come near to God and be in relationship with Him. For some of us that can take a minute to work out—many of us have been burned and hurt by authority figures in the past (male and female), so why would we trust God in this way? Well, this is the work of the Spirit through the Cross which begins with the tiniest bit of faith or willingness. It is possible to discover that “our Father” is not like authority figures of our past. What makes Him worthy and safe to trust as this authority figure—is that the chief characteristic and ethic of His household is love.
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[1] For a look at how it functioned by the time of the NT, see Samuel Adams’ book Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea (WJK Books, 2014).
[2] E.g. When Abraham was circumcised it was not just him—or him and his son Ishmael—but Abraham and all the men in his household (Gen 17:23-27). Isaac’s house was becoming too prosperous, so King Abimelech sends him away (Gen 26).
[3] As a side note, it would be interesting to look at God as father in relationship to divine kingship ideology in the Old Testament, but that’s more than I’m able to cover in an already longer than planned blog post
[4] Romans 8 and Galatians 3-4.
****** “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, is credited as popularizing a big change in film production: not having opening credits. Instead of old Westerns and black and white films that began by naming the director, producer, key stars and so on, Lucas began the Star Wars films with the very famous line: “ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away .” And then came the opening “crawl” that sets up the viewer for the story to come: "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire..." And so it sets up the story of Luke, Leia and Han Solo. Well, I want to suggest this morning that here in Acts 1 we have the opening words and “crawl” to the Book as a whole. And what sets the scene? Jesus’ ascension. *** In Acts 1, Luke recaps from where his gospel left off in Luke 24, with similar talk of the spread of gospel to the ends of the earth, that his disciples will be his witnesses, and his instruction to wait for the promise of God to come that is His Spirit, as well as, of course, Jesus’ ascent into heaven. But the Acts version has a specific focus: repeatedly mention the watching and looking of the disciples, the taking and lifting up of Jesus and the repeated mention of his destination: heaven. So why this attention in Acts' “opening crawl”? How does this set the scene for the story of the church that is told in Acts and continues today? Well, in contrast to the first victory in the opening of Star Wars, perhaps preparing for more victories to come, the Ascension grounds us in the defining, cosmic-shaping victory of Jesus that began with his resurrection and conlcudes with his exaltation in the spiritual world. Echoing Daniel 7, Jesus is taken up on a cloud, the chariot of the warrior-God, and is now enthroned to rule in heaven. The work of the church is done in light of this all-encompassing victory that has already been won. Christ is already King. But it’s not only that. Often we talk about Jesus’ ascension from a human perspective: his physical departure from earth. Here the disciples see for themselves Jesus’ exaltation and the opening of heaven: they are gripped by it. Through Christ’s entrance into and rule in heaven, he is made more readily available to us on earth. T he work of the church is done by living in a new space that recognises this opening of heaven: consider God’s promised Holy Spirit who comes in Acts 2, how angels appear here and throughout Acts, as well as people being healed, delivered from evil spirits, miracles taking place and people coming to faith . The spiritual realm is breaking in. So, this Thursday of 5th week, with deadlines, looming exams and soon-to-come ordinations: where will we look? Will we stare upwards and wonder where Jesus went? Or will we look outwards, and live in the light of the one who rules the heavens and has opened heaven to us, and for whom we wait to rule the earth as well? ******
*** True Colours I was in a situation a few years ago where someone I trusted and expected to act in a certain way didn’t do so. In fact, they did they did the opposite. It hurt. It hurt because there were consequences that affected me, but it also hurt because I thought I knew the person, that I knew how’d they’d respond to pressure. When the rubber hits the road and things get real. Instead, their true colours emerged, and I was wrong. Who I thought this person was, and who they told me they were, was in reality quite different from who they actually proved themselves to be . The specifics aren’t for posting online, but I’m sure you can relate. Most of us can recall some kind of experience of someone we love, someone whose character we trust, letting us down. Someone who you might have believed in—maybe even defended to other people—choosing to do something that shows they weren’t worthy of that trust. Showing that your assessment of them was, essentially, quite different from the reality of who they are. They lacked integrity. Esther’s Example This term at Wycliffe, my colleague John is teaching his way through the book of Esther for the Bible expositions in chapel. Now the book of Esther famously doesn’t even mention God: so what is its purpose? Well, in part (as my colleague has been discussing), it’s a book about wisdom. Will we learn from the wise in the story: Esther (and Mordecai)? Will learn from the foolish: King Ahasuerus? The wicked: Haman? At the start of the book, Esther is a young, timid woman, who’d been through a lot. She was orphan and had been raised by her uncle. But she shows willingness and some social savviness and does what Mordecai tells her to do. By the end of the book she’s bold and courageous. Yes, she knows how to play the political game, but she does so in order to stand up for her people who are being persecuted by Persian imperial policy. She exposes Haman’s duplicitousness. Esther has a remarkable integrity and commitment to who she is and what she values. She is willing to risk her life to stand up for what is right, even knowing the cost. She has integrity. Her insides match her outsides as her character develops through the book. When We Fail Stephen and I go to a large Anglican church in the centre of Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, we had a visiting preacher (who is also a poet and philosopher) preaching about baptism. In the course of his sermon, he reminded us that who we really are is who we are when no-one is watching. And that Jesus died for us, knowing exactly what we do when the curtains are closed and no-one can see us. Again, it speaks to integrity—and that Jesus has come to deal with it. If everyone else thinks I’m a model Christian, but at home, by myself, I’m angry, compulsive, critical, selfish or greedy, the latter is a far more honest assessment of who I am and needs some spiritual help. It exposes a lack of integrity: I have an exterior self who looks one way, but an interior self (that I hide away) that looks quite another. What will happen when the pressure is on? That interior self will come out, one way or another. The good news is Jesus went to the Cross, even for that interior self. And with his help I can be forgiven, heal and become whole. That’s in part what baptism symbolises: me dying to all that ugliness and ungodliness. Naming it, owing it and leaving it with Jesus at the Cross, and then rising to a new life that where my insides match my outsides. A person of integrity. Learn from the Wise: Daniel 11-12 But what of the original situation: when others we trusted in and believed in have let us down? I’ve been teaching my way through the book of Daniel and its been fascinating to muse on this topic. Daniel 7-12 describe a series of visionary experiences that give God’s perspective on the political problems and extreme religious oppression that led to the Maccabean revolt in the 160s BC. These were largely due to the decisions of the Antiochus IV who was on the throne of the Hellenistic empire, a Greek of Seleucid descent. You can read about Antiochus IV in 1 and 2 Maccabees, but the snapshot version is that he installed puppet high priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, looted it for money to fuel his military campaigns, outlawed the Torah (including Sabbath observance and circumcision) and, most egregiously, desecrated the Temple with pig sacrifices and an altar to Zeus. These orders resulted in many faithful Jews having to try and keep Torah secretly. When discovered, those who had done so were public shamed and then executed (e.g. 2 Macc 6:10). It was miserable existence (2 Macc 6:9). Antiochus IV’s diabolical political rule was one thing, but the book of Daniel also wrestles with this: what do we do when our religious leaders let us down? When their outsides don’t match their insides? When we discover they are white-washed tombs (Matt 23:27)? The high priest and many other religious establishment figures were swayed by Antiochus IV at the expense of their loyalty to the Lord Most High. Daniel 11 and 12 in particular speak to this situation. Daniel 11:32 says that Antiochus will “seduce with intrigue those who violate the covenant” in contrast to “the people who are loyal to their God.” A few verses later we learn why: “Those who acknowledge him [Antiochus] he shall make more wealthy, and shall appoint them as rulers over many, and shall distribute the land for a price” (v.39). Antiochus used his power and means to get what he wanted, and those who showed more fidelity to him than to the God of Israel, got to share in that wealth themselves. So, what is Daniel’s answer to when the stewards of God’s covenant and teachers of God’s law reveal their true colours? When their words and who they’ve said they are don’t match up with who they have shown themselves to be? When those around us lack integrity, what are we to do? Well, it’s not to keep hanging on and believing in religious leaders who have proven themselves to be corrupted by political power (they are destined for shame and contempt, Dan 12:2). Daniel’s suggestion is to fix our eyes elsewhere instead: “ The wise among the people shall give understanding to many; for some days, however, they shall fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder. ” (Daniel 11:33) Look to the wise. Look to those with understanding. Come to understand for yourselves. But this is not an easy answer. For these are the folk that get into trouble. Who perish by the sword. They don’t look like winners. This is perhaps why Daniel’s own response to the visions is one of weakness, fear and trembling. To understand and see reality for what it is can be deeply disturbing. In Daniel, understanding revolves around knowing God is God of all and all kings should have limits to their power. Even when kings like Antiochus IV trample on what is sacred, and transgress into the holy of holies—divine space—God through his angels is contending with powers beyond human ones and will bring all to judgement. But the waiting in the meantime will not be easy or pain-free. That’s why the promise of resurrection is so important in Daniel 12: it’s reassurance for the faithful—for the wise—to keep going. It is they who will be raised and will be like angels: "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Dan. 12:3) When those we’ve trusted and believed in fail us, God is at work. There may not be easy answers, and sitting with the reality of betrayal is painful, but God is not done yet. Sometimes what is happening is part of a much bigger, cosmic picture and God will intervene. Others’ words and actions may not line up, but ours can. Our insides can match our outsides and our words match our actions. With God’s help we too can become “ people who are loyal to their God ,” those who “ shall stand firm and take action. ” (Dan. 11:32) ****** Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection
