The Word of God has a way of weaving together patterns that stretch across time, patterns that at first glance seem hidden but are always right there in the text. One of the most fascinating of these threads concerns the identity of the B’nei Elohim (בְּנֵי הָאֱלֹהִים, “sons of God”) and their striking contrast with the true Son of God. In Genesis we meet heavenly beings who rebelled and corrupted humanity. Centuries later, in the Gospels, we encounter a hauntingly similar moment of decision when the people are given a choice between two figures—Barabbas, whose very name in Aramaic means “son of the father” (בַּר־אַבָּא), and Yeshua, the true Ben ha’Elohim (בֵּן הָאֱלֹהִים), the eternal Son of the Father.
When we place these stories side by side, a pattern emerges: mankind again and again embraces the counterfeit “sons” while rejecting the authentic Son. Yet, and here is the mystery of divine providence, that very rejection becomes the means of redemption. Dr Michael Heiser, in addressing the issues of understanding when it comes to the Unseen Realm (title of his most popular book) says this, “The term divine council is used by Hebrew and Semitics scholars to refer to the heavenly host, the pantheon of divine beings who administer the affairs of the cosmos. All ancient Mediterranean cultures had some conception of a divine council. The divine council of Israelite religion, known primarily through the psalms, was distinct in important ways.”
Genesis 6 introduces the problem with a passage that has puzzled and fascinated readers for millennia: “The sons of God (בְּנֵי־הָאֱלֹהִים) saw that the daughters of man were beautiful, and they took (וַיִּקְחוּ) them as wives whomever they chose. The LORD said, ‘My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.’ The Nephilim (נְפִילִים, ‘fallen ones’) were on the earth in those days… These were the gibborim (גִּבֹּרִים, ‘mighty men’), men of renown” (Genesis 6:1–4).
Here the idiom “sons of God” is not describing covenantal descendants of Adam or Seth, but heavenly beings who transgressed their appointed boundaries. This reading fits with Job 1:6, where the B’nei Elohim present themselves before Yahweh’s throne, and Job 38:7, which remembers how they “shouted for joy” at creation. Psalm 29:1 calls them to ascribe glory to the LORD: “Ascribe to the LORD, O sons of God” (בְּנֵי אֵלִים). In their proper place, they were members of the divine council. But in Genesis 6, they fell into rebellion. The result was moral and physical corruption, violence, and what the Hebrew text calls ḥāmās (חָמָס)—a word that carries the sense of lawless violence, oppression, and bloodshed (Genesis 6:11). Humanity aligned itself with their corruption, and the flood judgment came.
The Jewish imagination of the Second Temple era filled in this narrative with great detail. In 1 Enoch 6–7, the heavenly Watchers (ʿîrîn, עִירִין) are described as descending to earth, motivated by lust. “The angels, the children of heaven, saw them and desired them. They took wives for themselves… and they bore great giants.” These offspring, according to 1 Enoch 7:4–5, consumed the produce of mankind until men could no longer sustain them, and then turned to devouring flesh and blood. Not only that, but the Watchers also imparted forbidden knowledge: sorcery, astrology, the making of weapons, cosmetics, and enchantments (1 Enoch 8:1–2). The world was thoroughly corrupted. Later, in 1 Enoch 10:4–12, God commands that Azazel and the others be bound and cast into darkness, anticipating Jude 6 and 2 Peter 2:4, where angels who abandoned their “proper dwelling” are now chained until judgment. The “sons of God” who should have reflected His character became the very symbols of rebellion, corruption, and counterfeit sonship. Dr. Michael Heiser on B’nei Elohim – “Deuteronomy 32:9 should read ‘sons of God,’ not ‘sons of Israel.’… The concept of the divine council, common to ancient Semitic religion, is contained in the Hebrew Bible and constitutes the theological backdrop for Deuteronomy 32:8–9.”
This is why the Hebrew idiom “son of…” matters so much. The word ben (בֵּן) in Scripture does not only mean biological offspring. It is used to describe identity, character, and destiny. To be called a “son of” means to reflect the nature of what you belong to. Scripture speaks of “sons of Belial” (בְּנֵי בְלִיַּעַל), men of worthlessness and rebellion (Deuteronomy 13:13). It speaks of “sons of the prophets” (2 Kings 2:3), meaning disciples who carried on the prophetic call. Jesus Himself nicknamed James and John the “sons of thunder” (Mark 3:17) because of their fiery disposition. To be a “son of God” should mean to embody His holiness and justice. The tragedy of Genesis 6 is that those called B’nei Elohim bore the title but not the substance. They were “sons” in name, but not in likeness. They became, in truth, sons of corruption.
When we move forward into the Gospels, a startling parallel appears at Jesus’ trial. Pilate presents the people with two figures. One is Jesus called Barabbas, and interestingly, some manuscripts of Matthew preserve his full name as “Jesus Barabbas.” The other is Jesus called Christ, Yeshua ha’Mashiach, the true Son of God. The name Barabbas means “son of the father”—bar meaning son, abba meaning father. Yet Barabbas was guilty of insurrection and murder (Mark 15:7; Luke 23:19). He carried the name of sonship, but his life displayed rebellion and violence. When the crowd cried out, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” (John 18:40), they were, in effect, choosing the counterfeit “son of the father” over the true Ben ha’Elohim.
Do you see the typology? In Genesis, mankind aligned with the rebellious B’nei Elohim, preferring their corruption. At Golgotha, mankind once again aligned with a counterfeit “son of the father,” choosing Barabbas instead of the Holy One. Isaiah had warned, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20). The pattern repeated itself. The irony of sonship is staggering. The B’nei Elohim carried the divine title but betrayed their calling. Barabbas carried the father’s name but lived as a murderer. And Yeshua, the eternal Son of the Father (John 1:18; Hebrews 1:3), full of grace and truth, was the one rejected.
This raises a natural question: did Christ die for the rebellious angels? The New Testament is clear on this point. Hebrews 2:16 tells us, “For surely it is not angels He helps, but the descendants of Abraham.” Jesus’ incarnation was human, not angelic; His redemption was directed to humanity, not to the fallen host. But typologically, the lesson stands. 
And yet, God’s providence worked even through this rejection. Peter declared on the day of Pentecost, “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. But God raised Him up” (Acts 2:23–24). By choosing Barabbas, the crowd set into motion the crucifixion, which became the very act of salvation. The rejection of the true Son of the Father opened the door for rebellious sons of Adam to be adopted into God’s family. John 1:12 announces, “To all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.” And 1 John 3:1 marvels, “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called the sons of God.”
The Gospel, then, is a reversal of sonship. Those who were once aligned with false “sons of God” are now made true sons through faith. Those who followed the counterfeit Bar-Abba can now cry out to the true Father. Romans 8:15 reminds us that through the Spirit of adoption we cry, “Abba, Father.” Galatians 4:6 echoes the same. Where the B’nei Elohim corrupted, the true Son restores. Where Barabbas was guilty, Christ bore the guilt.
From Genesis to Golgotha, humanity has faced this recurring choice: will we prefer the counterfeit sons—rebellious, violent, destructive—or the true Son of God, holy, righteous, and life-giving? At the flood, the world embraced corruption. At the cross, the crowd cried out for Barabbas. But in both cases, God’s grace turned tragedy into salvation. The rejection of the Son became the very doorway for us to be welcomed as sons and daughters of the living God.
That same choice remains in front of us today. Every generation must hear again Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I am?” And with Simon Peter we must answer, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:15–16). To confess Him as the true Son is to step out of the pattern of Genesis 6 and John 18 and into the reality of adoption, where we bear not just the name of sonship, but the likeness of the Father, Himself.
