Archive for hen

Willing Brood

Posted in Homilies with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 17, 2019 by timtrue

Luke 13:31-35

1.

Today, Jesus calls Herod a fox. I wonder what picture Jesus had in mind.

Aesop tells of a fox wandering through a vineyard on a hot day. This fox looked up and, lo, just there, he spied a voluptuous bunch of delicious-looking, juicy, perfectly ripe grapes.

So he took a running leap, but they were just out of reach. He tried again—and failed again. And again. And again! Until, finally, he gave up the idea altogether, saying, “Ah, well, they’re sure to be sour anyway.”

Another time, Mr. Fox was just sauntering along when he saw a crow swoop down and grab something out of a kitchen window. Acting nonchalant, as foxes do, but nonetheless deeply curious, he sidled up close to the crow’s perch and discovered that what Miss Crow had grabbed was a beautiful and good-smelling chunk of cheese.

So he shouted up to the crow, “Ahoy there, beautiful Miss Crow, is it true what I hear: that you have the most melodious voice of all the birds in the aviary kingdom? Why, just yesterday my neighbor Pig went on and on about the glories of your euphonious and lyrical abilities. Can’t I hear just one little smidgen? Maybe a few bars of Adele?”

And with such fine and flattering words the crow became more and more puffed up, stood taller and taller, until finally she opened her mouth to answer Fox’s request.

But she didn’t even finish singing out one word before Mr. Fox interrupted her saying, with a mouth full of delicious cheese, “I’ve heard quite enough, thank you”; and was on his way.

And yet another time Mr. Fox accidentally fell into a well.

But Mr. Fox is wily. He’s clever. He’s cunning.

So, along comes Old Man Billy Goat. Mr. Fox puts on his game face and calls up out of the well, “Billy, Billy, is that you I hear?”

And a moment later, yes, Old Billy peers into the well and says, “Why, Fox, whatever are you doing in that well?”

“Oh,” Fox replies, “this well is known far and wide as having the best, wettest, and most thirst-quenching water in all of the known world. Don’t you know? In fact, why don’t you come down and join me for a drink?”

“I should like that very much, thank you,” Goat answers. And lickety-split he jumps in to join Fox.

A few minutes later Fox looks at Old Billy and says, with his most nonplussed expression, “Um, I just thought of something. How are we supposed to get out of here?”

And just as Goat processes their dilemma but not a moment longer, Fox suggests, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you stand with your front legs against the wall and I’ll climb up your back. Then, once, I’ve reached the top, I’ll reach in and pull you out by the horns.”

“Um, yeah,” Billy agrees.

And just like that, Fox is out and free. But before he leaves he looks back in the well at Old Billy and says, “Come to think of it, I’m not really strong enough to pull you up and out. Guess you should have looked before you leapt!”

So, I wonder: is this the picture Jesus has in mind today when he calls Herod a fox? Wily? Cunning? Shrewd? And also untrustworthy? Duplicitous? To use a modern buzzword, Narcissistic?

2.

But then Jesus likens himself to a mother hen.

Which leads me to enlarge my image; for what happens when a fox breaks into a henhouse?

Isn’t it mayhem? A sudden explosion of fowl fear! Of avian anxiety! Of poultry panic!

But, now, enlarging still, what if a mother hen is hovering over her brood when that fox breaks into the henhouse?

There’s still mayhem all right! A cackling cacophony! But the difference here is that the mother hen is making none of it.

She’s not in it for the moment. Unlike the fox, she’s not concerned only for herself, shrewdly strategizing what she can get out of the deal for herself. Rather, her concern is for her children.

If the fox wanted to, he could simply step in and make a kill without resistance. She’s resolute. She’s calm, quiet, unflinching in the face of fear, for the sake of her children . . . kind of like Jesus during his trial, sentencing, and execution: Resolute; Calm; Quiet; Unflinching; For our sakes.

But here’s the part I find most incredible. When a fox breaks into a henhouse, it’s most often not the quiet, resolute mother hen that the fox kills. The fox instinctively pursues movement and noise.

Was Herod really after Jesus? Surely there were other, noisier hens in the henhouse!

You know, I don’t think this image is about Jesus’ trial, sentencing, and execution. After all, Herod, that fox, was not the one who tried Jesus. That was Pilate.

3.

So just what do we make of today’s Gospel?

Some Pharisees come to Jesus, saying, “You better get away from here. Herod wants to kill you.”

Really? Throughout the Gospels, Pharisees are mentioned as Jesus’ opponents. Does Herod really want to kill Jesus? And if so, would Jesus’ opponents really suddenly care for him enough to warn him of this? Or, maybe, are they just making it up, colluding, to scare Jesus away?

On the other hand, Jesus is in fact a political threat to Herod.

This isn’t Herod the Great we’re talking about, the one the Wise Men from the East visited on their way to the Christ child. No, this is Herod Antipas, Herod the Great’s son, called the Tetrarch because he was granted Roman authority to rule over just one-fourth of his father’s domain—a puppet of Rome.

He was a ruler of sorts, but weak, something like a County Supervisor of a county bordering Washington, D. C.—and what is a County Supervisor compared to someone with federal jurisdiction?

And now people are talking a lot about this man Jesus. In fact, Jesus has gained quite a following throughout Galilee, Herod’s domain.

Roman appointment is one thing; popular acclamation is quite another!

So, yes, the political threat is real. Maybe Herod, that fox, was after Jesus’ life.

Or maybe at least he wants to push Jesus out of his domain and into Jerusalem, the federal domain, Pilate’s jurisdiction. Yeah, let Pilate deal with him!

Whatever the case, this is a politically charged passage!

And it’s kind of playful—something I tried to communicate above through fables and henhouses.

And best of all, Jesus calls a leading politician a name: Fox! So this gives us the green light to call politicians we don’t like names, right?

4.

But so far we still haven’t arrived at the main point.

What is today’s Gospel all about? Jesus’ crucifixion? His ministry? God’s care for us, his disciples? Our political liberties? What’s the main point?

Well, let’s step back and look at all the pieces.

It’s a politically charged passage. Herod is a fox. Jesus is a mother hen. Opponents threaten Jesus. And Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem—outside of Herod’s jurisdiction—where he knows already that he will be killed.

And in this context Jesus launches into a lament about Jerusalem. He, the mother hen, longs to gather his chicks under his protection and care; but he cannot because they are unwilling!

Just who, then, are these unwilling chicks?

This is the key that opens the main-point door!

Jesus does not say they are the children of Israel. Jesus does not say the Gentiles. Jesus does not say the Romans. Jesus does not say the Samaritans.

Neither does Jesus say the patrons, clients, tax gatherers, prostitutes, cynics, stoics, wealthy, poor, sick, or healthy.

He says, simply, the children of Jerusalem.

This includes the children of Israel, the Gentiles, the Romans, and the Samaritans; the rich, poor, sick, and healthy; the Pharisees, Herodians, Pontius Pilate, and everyone in between. This includes his friends, yes; but much more importantly, his political enemies! This includes everyone who lived in this politically charged, federal city in 30 CE.

“O, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often I have longed to gather your children together . . . and you were unwilling!”

What’s the main point of today’s Gospel? Today we call it inclusivity.

The way of the world is domination, like a fox breaking into a henhouse.

The way of Jesus, by contrast, is love for the whole brood of humanity. Every one of us, no matter who we are!

Jesus’ love—which is self-sacrificing and other-serving;

Jesus’ love—which was enacted ultimately on the cross in Jerusalem;

Jesus’ loves—which extends to all races, creeds, genders, sexualities, political party affiliations, factions;

Jesus’ love—which beckons us continually, though we remain unwilling;

This is the love we are called to live; the love we are called to receive!

Run to it. Flock to it. Gather under it.

Be willing.