In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

December 4, my brothers and sisters, is the feast day of a high concentration of people in the Orthodox Church. It’s the feast of St. Peter Chrysologus, the Archbishop of Ravenna; the feast of St. Clement of Alexandria, the theologian philosopher; it’s the feast of the great doctor of the Church, Father of the Church, teacher of the nations, St. John of Damascus. But you see, martyrs take precedence over everybody else, so it’s especially the feast of St. Barbara, and that’s why, when we chanted the hymns this morning, we chanted to Barbara even before St. John of Damascus.

And the epistle this morning is chosen, not because this is Advent, but because this is the feast of St. Barbara, but it’s entirely appropriate to Advent, and I’m going to preach on the epistle, and I hope you’ll understand why it is appropriate to Advent. The epistle mentioned—it did more than mention; it’s a pretty big theme—Abraham. “If you belong to Christ Jesus, you are children of Abraham.” In this morning’s gospel, this woman in the Gospel of Luke, who’s all bent over for 18 years, Jesus refers to her as “a daughter of Abraham.” It seems a bit obvious this morning that our Lord wants us to think about Abraham, so we’ll talk about Abraham.

“If you belong to Christ,” says this morning’s epistle, “then you are Abraham’s seed.” The new translations put in “descendants” because they don’t like the word “seed,” because it’s too physical. The word is “seed” in the Greek: sperma. “...and heirs according to the promise.” It’s entirely appropriate. We think about Abraham: this text this morning appears right in the middle of a big section, chapters three and four in the epistle to the Galatians, which is all about promises made to Abraham. In a few weeks, we’re going to be hearing about Abraham again in the gospel, but we’ll talk about Abraham.

There are three things I want to say about Abraham. The first has to do with historical fact; the second, theological truth; and the third, moral responsibility. Let us first consider a very curious historical fact. Abraham seized the imagination of the early Christians. That’s fact. I want to deal with that fact. Why is it that Abraham so grabbed the imagination of the early Christians? And following the rabbinic and Irish method, I want to address that question with another question. [Laughter] If, as the early Christians believed, Jesus was the fulfillment of a promise, to whom was the promise made? because that’s the major theme of at least the early sections of interpreting Jesus. He’s the fulfillment of a promise—well, to whom was the promise made?

The early Christians answered that question chiefly with two names: David and Abraham. Fulfillment of the promise to David and a fulfillment of the promise to Abraham. Unlike the covenant with Moses, God’s covenants with Abraham and David were chiefly covenants of promise, and this is why Matthew begins his gospel—as we’ll be seeing very soon; very soon we’ll be having his gospel—with the words, “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham…” those two. That we will get in the Sunday of the Forefathers. This introductory line is key to the understanding of the Gospel of Matthew. “Son of David, Son of Abraham.”

Now, God’s promises to Abraham and David differ in several respects, but one of those differences is especially significant, and we want to consider it this morning. God’s promise to David had about it the quality of singularity. It involved only one person. It was the promise that a king—one king—a son of David, would forever sit on the Davidic throne, in a direct line of kings. That was the promise. That is to say, the promise to David was specifically messianic, that there would always be an anointed one on this throne. We would call that promise christological, which is the Greek form of the Hebrew word “messianic.” The promise was fulfilled, we believe and the early Christians believed, in the single person of Jesus Christ, David’s Son, enthroned forever at God’s right hand, and this is the promise of which the Psalmist speaks: “The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand, till your enemies are made your footstool.”

Now, if Jesus was the fulfillment of the promise made to David, the early Christians reasoned, he must also be the fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham. God’s promise to Abraham was the same and yet it was different. Here’s the difference: this promise to Abraham involved more than one person. It involved all the children of Abraham. It was the promise of a large multitude. What does Genesis say? The first account, chapter 15 of Genesis, first account of the covenant with Abraham. It says that he brought him outside and said, “Look now toward heaven and count the stars if you are able to number them,” and he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” That is to say, God’s promise to Abraham was not only christological; it was ecclesiological. It involved not only a Messiah, but a Church. It was the promise of a universal, international community. It was the promise of a truly catholic assembly of every tribe and tongue, a Church that included all the families of the earth. God had earlier said to Abraham, “In you all the families of the world will be blessed,” and that is quoted, word for word, in Galatians 3 right before the text we had this morning.

Now this was the question put to the early Christians: If Jesus is David’s true Son and the fulfillment of the promise made to David, then who are the true children of Abraham and the fulfillment of the promise that God made to Abraham? Who are they? That brings us to point two.

Let us consider the theological question. Who are the true children of Abraham? Were they they Jews? The apostles, and chiefly St. Paul, saw no reason to think so. First, the Jews—the bulk of the Jews and certainly their major religious leaders—actually rejected the claims of Jesus. That needs historically to be borne in mind. They really did reject him. I know it’s not politically correct to say that, but they really did reject their Messiah.

If they rejected the fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham, the apostles reasoned, how could they any longer be called the true children of Abraham? And that is the big fight going on in the New Testament: two groups claiming to be the legitimate children of Abraham. They were not very ecumenical about this. Nowadays everybody says, “Oh, I guess we all are. In fact, the Hindus are, too, and the Buddhists, and a whole bunch of people who’ve never heard of Abraham.” But that was the fight of the early Christians: who are the true children of Abraham?

Second, since the possession of eternal life came not from physical descent but from union with Jesus and faith, why should only Jews be called the children of Abraham? Had not John the Baptist affirmed that God was able, even of these stones, to raise up children to Abraham? You see, my brothers and sisters, the apostles took seriously one very important fact of biblical history, and this is why they identify with Abraham. Abraham was justified by faith long before the Law was given on Mt. Sinai.

Why then should the true children of Abraham, who live by the faith of Abraham, be obliged to keep the law of Moses? Abraham had never kept that law, and he was justified. It was a very practical question: Do we need to be circumcised? Do we need to keep the sabbath? Do we have to observe these dietary rules and so forth? That was the real question the early Christians were dealing with, not: Are we justified by works? That was not the question. The works, in the New Testament, when they’re talking about this, they’re always the works of the Mosaic law. The notion that you could be justified without any works at all is just… That’s a very bizarre notion that only recently appeared in Christian history. In the New Testament it was, “Must we observe the Law?” That was the question.

This was a very important insight of Christian revelation which settled a thorny question posed to the apostles. Were the Gentiles obliged to keep the law of Moses? And their answer was a resounding NO. The principle of justification by faith settled that question once and for all. As you read today: “For as many of you as are baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek.” See here, that’s a theological question. It bears on a whole bunch of other questions, even political questions in the Middle East. “There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; there is neither male nor female. You are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise.”

And third, my beloved in Christ, let us consider the moral question. What are we to do about this historical fact and this theological truth? Please understand: we are justified. We are justified; that’s a principle in the New Testament, all of us who belong to Christ. Justification is not an act that takes place in God. It is not simply a declaration, a forensic declaration, of the will of God. That notion could never have arisen in Christian history without certain philosophical movements that required it, particularly Nominalism—especially Nominalism, but prior to that Voluntarism. Without those developments, that notion could never have appeared in Christian history, and it appears for the first time [in the] 16th century: the notion that justification is an act of God in himself. The entire Tradition of the Church is that justification takes place in us by an act that God does inside us: in our hearts and minds and wills.

When we are justified, it is we who change, not God. If we are to be children of Abraham, there’s something we must do—and what is it? Well, Jesus told his enemies: If you were the children of Abraham, you would do the works of Abraham. Now what are these works of Abraham? They may be summed up, I think, in one expression: walking in faith. And the second account of the covenant with Abraham, in chapter 17 of Genesis, that’s how it begins. God says to Abraham, “Walk before me and be perfect.” This means in faith, committing our entire destiny, all our hope in life and in death, into the hands of God, our Maker and Redeemer.

I am struck, I am overwhelmed by how… to what lengths we will go to live by some other norm besides that of faith. We seek a security in life and in death, somewhere else besides the living God. We seek it in the gross national product, or we seek it in an insurance policy, or we seek it someplace else. Anything to keep from placing our entire destiny in the life of God. Like Abraham, we are to walk before God and be perfect, and that means walking out into a future we do not know. Boy, we’re terrified to do this. We make all these plans. I can’t think of—can you think of any plans we’ve made over the last 30-some years that ever, ever worked out? [Laughter] We should start to learn this early in our married life, especially, but we don’t. You get people who’ve been married for decades. God’s been taking care of them all along, but they’re still terrified as they face old age.

What does the text say? This is Hebrew 11 if you remember it:

“By faith, Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place which he would receive as an inheritance; and he went out not knowing where he was going. By faith he dwelt in the land of promise as in a foreign country, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise. For he waited for a city which had foundations, [whose] Maker and Builder is God.

You see, my brothers and sisters in Christ, like Abraham, we do not know where God will take us. There’s a certain amount of planning we’re supposed to do in our lives, but that makes common sense, doesn’t it? And yet, we may be certain that God will take us in places where we never intended to go. He will give us children we never intended to have. He will fire us from jobs that we planned on keeping the rest of our lives. He will move us around as he wants. We may resist him, but that’s not called walking in faith. You see, in this sense we can no more plan our lives than we can plan our parenthood. It’s arrogant to try to do that. We can no [more] plan our lives than we can plan our deaths, although nowadays they want to do that, too. You have a right to take your life when you want and in what manner you want and so forth. That’s not living by faith. To live by faith, my brothers and sisters, means to leave to God the disposition of our destiny, as we await the city who has foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God.

It seems to me important to think about that as we come close to the closing of the year, the beginning of a new year. I was talking to someone the other day whose wife was dying. He simply said, “As far as I can tell, this is her last Christmas.” It may be the last Christmas of any one of us here, and since I’m the oldest person here, the odds are much better in my favor. [Laughter] What do we do? We wait for that city which has foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God. Each day of our lives, as we rise, we commit the day to God. When we lie down at night, we commit our souls to God, and all things we rest in God’s hands. In this way we become the children of Abraham.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.