Lent 2C- March 13, 2022
Lent 2C- 2022
A friend of mine got her PhD in Environmental Biology and because of this, she got to do some pretty amazing field research around the world so she’s always good for a story. One day the topic came up of the most dangerous animal she’d encountered and you know what her answer was: a mother. Yes, plenty of animals might fight each other for dominance or mating rights and there are times when predators will eat humans but often that’s a mistake because we’re not very tasty. But across so many species, coming between a mother and her young offspring incurs a wrath unlike anything else. (For the sake of gender equality, it’s worth noting that in the few species where the father sticks around to know the young, his instincts are often just as strong.)
So it’s particularly interesting that in this morning’s Gospel, as Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and he is warned by the pharisees about what awaits him there-- very real threats and he knows he must continue on to there and he marches onward, the image he uses to describe his mission, to describe the mission of God-- “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, city that kills prophets and stones those who are sent to them. How often have I desired to gather together your children as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you are not willing.”
His image is that of a mother hen gathering her chicks under her wings. In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that this is one of my favorite images of God in the entire Bible. It’s distinctly feminine, but there’s nothing dainty or domestic about it. A mother hen is not something you want to mess with. A mother hen might only have a beak and claws, but if you’re coming between her and her chicks, that beak and claw can become a lot.
This is opposed to that image of Herod. Jesus refers to him to say he’s not afraid of “that fox”- an animal that might be sly and deceitful, but ultimately, as long as his own belly is full and his own den is safe, he couldn’t care less about any injustice out in the world. A fox meeting any regular old chicken might not be a fair match, but a fox meeting a mother hen with chicks to protect, that fox has a different fight on his hand.
Of all the animals out there that are fierce and dominant kings-of-the-jungle, Jesus opts to liken himself to a mother hen protecting her helpless chicks. What are chicks but nature’s fluffy little snacks? To be honest, a mother hen doesn’t always win her fight. But that never dampens her tenacity.
But here’s the thing about chicks: they can only be protected as much as they come to their mother hen and stay close. Jesus talks about how often he’s desired to gather children and they were not willing- there’s a longing and a grief to his tone, like maybe the Pharisees telling him to avoid Jerusalem are trying to get between Jesus and his mission of love . A hen can stand with her arms wide open, offering welcome, belonging and shelter but if none of her chicks seek her, she is a mother bereft.
This image of longing is captured so well in a writing by Barbara Brown Taylor. She writes: “If the city were filled with hardy souls, this would not be a dangerous situation. Unfortunately, it is filled with pale yellow chicks and at least one fox. In the absence of a mother hen, some of the chicks have taken to following the fox around. Others are huddled out in the open where anything with claws can get to them. Across the valley, a white hen with a gold halo around her head is clucking for all she is worth. Most of the chicks cannot hear her, and the ones that do make no response. They no longer recognize her voice. They have forgotten who they are.
If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world –wings spread, breast exposed — but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand.”(citation)
And remember this is a moment on Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and to the cross. As he’s walking towards his own suffering and humiliation and crucifixion, his heart isn’t breaking for himself but for his brood. Maybe other prophets would see Jerusalem as a place to conquer, to take and consolidate their power. Jerusalem might be a prize. But for Jesus, it’s a place to love, it’s a people to love, even in their rejection of him.
As Debie Thomas writes about this: “What would it take for us to embrace Jesus’s vulnerability as our strength? To trade in our images of a conquering, triumphant God for the mother hen God of this lectionary passage? Maybe what we need most this Lent is not a fox-like divinity who wields power with sly intelligence and sharp teeth, but a mother hen who calls to us with longing and desperation, her wings held patiently and bravely open. A mother hen who plants herself in the hot center of danger, and offers refuge there. There at ground zero, where the feathers fly and the blood is shed.” (citation)
Lent is a season of repentance and repentance is one of those words that has been horribly misconstrued over the years. Repentance doesn’t require shame or self-hatred or living up to certain mouthy preacher’s ideas of righteousness. to repent is to return. It’s a chance to return to the embrace and shelter offered by the wide stretched arms of Jesus on a cross. It’s a chance to return to gathering and return to each other. Return to a God who loves us enough to become vulnerable with us.
