Sunday, March 4, 2007

THE LOVE OF THE COSMIC MOTHER HEN

A Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent
March 4, 2007
by Pastor Laura Gentry

Luke 13.31-35
At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, ‘Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.’ He said to them, ‘Go and tell that fox for me, "Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem." Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord."’ (New Revised Standard Version)

Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

In this morning’s gospel text, we have one of the strangest juxtapositions of animal imagery. That’s right: we have talk of a fox and a hen within two verses of one another. You remember the old children’s story of the crafty sly fox and the little red hen? These two opposites have often been put together in stories because they are natural foes in the animal kingdom, kind of like cats and dogs.

But why would Luke, our storyteller here, put these images together? What is he trying to teach us?

Well, it begins when the Pharisees come and offer a friendly word of warning that Herod is plotting to kill Jesus. He reponds by saying: “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem.’” Yes, Herod is a sly fox. He is the predator who sees Jesus as a threat and wants to get rid of him. He’s just as we would expect a fox to be. There’s nothing out of the ordinary with this image.

But then, Jesus bursts into a surprising public lament. He bemoans the state of the city, crying “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

This is rather shocking on a number of levels. First of all, Jesus is very demonstrative of his emotions. For those who are used to keeping a stiff upper lip, it is a bit disarming that Jesus, our role model, would let his feelings show with such abandon. Perhaps he is even weeping as he utters these words. He is clearly shaken by the disobedience to God and the cruelty of the people of Jerusalem.

To know Jesus is to know God. So this is telling us how much God hurts for the world, how much God’s heart aches when we turn away and follow other things, when we choose self-centeredness and injustice. It tells us how much God longs for us to return. It is shocking that God is so passionate about us.

The second thing that surprises that he likens himself to a mother hen. Did we hear that right? He compares himself to a female chicken? What in the world are we supposed to do with this bizzare image? Chickens, as you know, just aren’t that glamorous and for those who are fixed on the maleness of Jesus, this feminine metaphor can be a stumbling block. But for now, let’s try to look past these barriers to our understand and open our minds to what Jesus is saying to us.

First, let’s deal with the hen thing. When we know that Herod—the fox—is out to get Jesus, we would rather Jesus be a wolf or some other powerful predator who can take care of that nasty fox. Instead, he calls himself a hen. We all know what short work foxes make of hens. In so doing, he shows his vulnerability.

But it is this very vulnerability that makes Jesus so spectacular. He says, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” Have you ever seen a mother hen do this? Apparently, the mother has a wonderful ability to scoop up her little chicks and tuck them right under her wings where they will be safe. When the wee ones peep out and try to make a run for it, she simply scoops them back in where they can nestle securely, unaware of the dangers of the outside world.

What an amazing tenderness this show us! Jesus longs to gather us under the loving wings of the eternal God. Isn’t there something incredibly moving about this idea? Isn’t there something deep within us that yearns to be gathered in by the cosmic mother hen? Don’t we hunger for this kind of incorruptible love?

But Jesus goes on to say to the people of Jerusalem, “but you were not willing!” It reminds us that our hearts are divided. Even though a part of us may long to run to the wings of our Savior, another part of us is stubborn and completely unwilling. We’d rather go anywhere but God. Martin Luther described this as being saint and sinner at the same time.

We, like Jersusalem, are not willing. Yet, Jesus goes to the cross for us anyway. He becomes the vulnerable lamb of God for our sake. He subjects himself to the wicked fox. And in emptying himself in this way, he is glorified. Jesus triumphs over sin and death and with this victory in hand, he continues to long for us. He desperately wants to gather us under his wings, despite our unwillingness.

There is a song by singer-songwriter Celia Whitler called “Love Will Find You.” The chorus goes like this:

Love will find you when you think you’ve lost your way
Love will speak to you when there are no words to say
Love will reach your heart when you’re lost in this world of doubt
Love will find you somehow

In this song, Celia is talking about the ever-present, ever-searching love of God that is eager to find us, to speak to us, to reach our hearts no matter how much we turn away from God.

In this season of Lent, we are invited to tune our hearts to that love, to listen for the voice of God amid the babble of our daily lives. We are beckoned to nestle into those feathery wings, to be willing to receive the love which God offers us in Jesus. Let us allow ourselves to be drawn in by the tender, vulnerable heart of God and find peace. Amen.

Now may the peace of God which passes all understanding keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

© Laura E. Gentry 2007

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Congratulations on being selected for the blog of the month. I will read your sermons with care. I formerly lived in Des Moines but I don't know where Lansing might be located. My blog is Norman's Demesne. I am meditating on the Johannes Passion of J.S. Bach.

Cheers,

Norman Teigen (I don't know how to sign in, but I am not Anonymous) Norman61@mac.com

Unknown said...

Thanks, Norman! Lansing is in the Northeast corner of Iowa. Stay tuned--more paintings and sermons to come! :)