Bad Father’s Day
Sermon — June 21, 2026
The Rev. Greg Johnston
Lectionary Readings
“For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother…
and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.” (Matthew 10:35-36)
I generally avoid making a big deal out of certain days that are widely celebrated in the world around us but aren’t Christian “holy days.” I don’t give a “Mother’s Day sermon.” There are no special prayers for Father’s Day. And that’s really because, while there are many people celebrating these days, many people find them hard; I’ve known more than a few people who avoid going to church on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day entirely: because they never wanted to be parents, and don’t want a whole morning about how great parents are; or because they do want to be parents, but aren’t; because their own parents were not loving figures in their lives; or because they were, and they wish they were still here. Ordinarily, I’d say a quiet “Happy Father’s Day” to a few of the dads after church, and that would be all.
Unfortunately, our readings today are a little on the nose. So we will be talking about parents and their children. And so I’d like to begin with a greeting that’s appropriate to the spirit of our religious observances today, and wish a Happy Bad Father’s Day to you all.
A part of me hears these readings, from Genesis and from Matthew, and thinks: Wow. What a fascinating opportunity to dig into “theodicy,” which is the technical term for the question of suffering and divine justice. How does God respond to evil in this world? Our readings offer provocative ideas. “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” Jesus says to his disciples, seeming to say that he’s there stirring the pot. (Matt. 10:34) God tells Abraham: do whatever Sarah says to you, but don’t worry; I’ve got other plans for Ishmael. (Gen. 21:12) This is real grist for the theological mill.
And another part of me hears these stories and thinks: What on earth? How do we even begin to make sense of these words, when they appear in our sacred text?
(And then a third part thinks that our sense of timing is impeccable. Today, while Jesus is telling his disciples that “whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” the children of St. John’s are out there making brunch for a special Parents’ Day. Cover your ears, kids!)
I want to look seriously, this morning, at this complicated story in Genesis. I want to think together about how God responds when people do cruel things in this world; and about how we respond, as well.
For context, we’re in the middle of a series of stories of the life of Abraham. Abraham had been visited by God at the age of 75 and told that his offspring would become a great nation. But Abraham and Sarah had no children at the time, and years passed with no offspring in sight. Sarah suggested that Abraham have a son with their enslaved servant Hagar instead; and that produced a son, Ishmael (and the inspiration for Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale). Later, Sarah herself finally gave birth to a son, Isaac. Now Isaac has reached his toddler years, and Abraham and Sarah have a party to celebrate.
Sarah sees her son playing with Ishmael, and she becomes jealous. Ishmael was the spare; Isaac is the heir. Hagar and Ishmael had been useful, for a time, to ensure that Abraham’s line continued. But now they are rivals, not only for Isaac’s inheritance but for Abraham’s love. So Sarah tells Abraham to send them away. And Abraham is sad. Ishmael is his son too. But Abraham, in general, is not a strong person. He avoids conflict at all costs. And God reassures him. “Don’t be distressed.” Do what Sarah says.
And so Abraham, although he loves Ishmael his son, gives Hagar and Ishmael some bread and water, and sends them out into the desert. (Happy Bad Father’s Day.) When their water runs out, Hagar gives in to despair. But God intervenes. God opens her eyes, and she sees a well.
So, one way to understand this story would be to say that God doesn’t plan suffering for us; we inflict it on one another. And although God doesn’t intervene to prevent that suffering from happening, God is there to help those who suffer in the aftermath. This isn’t the only answer to this question of suffering and divine justice, but it is an answer. You might summarize the tale with the famous Fred Rogers quote that when you’re asking “where is God?” amid disaster, you should “look for the helpers.” (I apologize to those who will now have the song from Daniel Tiger stuck in their heads for the rest of the service.)
So, what’s the point? Should people just keep doing evil, and let God will take care of the victims? “Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound?” It’s an ancient question, and we can answer it exactly as Paul does: “By no means!” (Romans 6:1-2) To think so would be to miss the point completely. This story isn’t meant as an excuse for people who act like Sarah and Abraham, for those in power who mistreat others. It’s meant as comfort for people like Hagar and Ishmael, who have suffered unjustly and are crying out to God in their distress.
That’s what life was like for many of the early Christians, in fact. In our Gospel today, Jesus describes a future in which their faith would lead to persecution and conflict. And the history of the early church is full of stories like this: of women who want to dedicate their lives to prayer rather than accepting an arranged marriage to a pagan aristocrat, and who are disowned by their families as a result; of people who refuse to worship the Roman emperors as gods and are accused of atheism and sedition by the state. The “sword” that Jesus brings is not the one that brings violence to the world; it’s the one that cuts families apart, when parents (to take an example both ancient and modern) refuse to accept their children for who they are because of their traditional religious beliefs. This sword is the sword that pierces your heart when “members of your own household” become your worst foes.
Jesus doesn’t come to bring division because division is good. Jesus comes to bring division between there is such a thing as good; and in a world where there is evil, sometimes choosing good means taking a stand. We disciples should, Jesus says, be “like” our teacher. In the face of evil, we should be like the one who followed his convictions all the way to the cross. “Those who find their life will lose it,” Jesus says,” and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matt. 10:39) And that, to be honest, is an overwhelming idea.
But in the face of evil, we are stronger than we look.
Here’s my favorite detail of this story from Genesis: when Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael out into the wilderness to die, Ishmael is about sixteen years old.
Did you catch that? Maybe not. The story’s told as if he’s a little kid. But if you don’t believe me, you can do the math: in Genesis 16, when Ishmael is born, the narrator tells us that Abraham was 86 years old. (Gen. 16:16) When Isaac is born, Abraham is 100 years old. (Gen. 21:5) Now we’re at a party for Isaac’s weaning, and in the premodern world, we can guess that he’s a year or two old.
Historical scholars will look at this and suggest that the discrepancy occurs because the Book of Genesis is weaving together multiple different sources, with different styles and different timelines, and that’s all good scholarly work. But in its context, in the sacred text as we have it, this story is not about a mother and her infant; it’s about a mother and her adolescent son. We hear from all the adults’ points of view. But what does the story say? Hagar “lifted up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the boy.” (Gen. 21:16-17) We hear the voices of Sarah, and Abraham, and Hagar. But God hears Ishmael.
And that’s a second kind of answer to the question, “Where is God in all of this?” God is not just with Hagar and Ishmael in the wilderness, miraculously showing them a well. God’s been with them for sixteen years, longer in Hagar’s case. God’s stayed with them through the awful things that they’ve endured. God’s given them the strength to persevere. For sixteen years, God’s been with Ishmael, and he has a relationship with God that his parents can’t even imagine, such that, when the crisis comes, God is there to hear his voice. His earthly father throws him out of the house, but his heavenly Father has counted every hair of his head. And though great evil has been done to him, he will continue to grow and to become the person he was meant to be; for after his father Abraham threw him out, “God was with the boy, and he grew up.” (Gen. 21:20) May the God who strengthens every one of us so that we can endure hard things in this world, be with us likewise, as we grow up into the people God intends for us to be.
