Luke 13:31-35
31At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to Jesus,
"Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you."
32Jesus 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.
33Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way,
because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside
of Jerusalem.'
34Jerusalem, 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!
35See, 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.'"
Which would you rather following a fox, or sitting with a
hen?
In this passage Jesus laments that Jerusalem has chosen to follow Herod the fox,
instead
of Jesus the mother hen. The Pharisees have come to warn
Jesus that Herod wants to kill him. It seems a concerned gesture, and maybe it
is, but Jesus knows that their alliances are still to Herod, for he says to the
Pharisees, “Go and tell that fox for me.” He knows that the Pharisees, and Jerusalem with them, are
unable to give up their allegiance to Herod the fox. Perhaps they are scared of
disobeying Herod, they have seen him jail and kill John the Baptist. Perhaps
they are in awe of his power, Son of Herod the Great crowned by Cesar Augustus.
Perhaps they are jealous of Herod’s wealth, of his cunning, with his massive
building projects, creating capitals and naming cities. It would be hard not to
want to follow Herod the fox. It is so much more enticing to follow the fox,
than to sit under a mother hen.
Which would you rather following a fox, or sitting with a
hen? The fox is alluring and
adventurous. I imagine it quietly, carefully, quickly
crossing the snowy landscape undetected. In a fortuitous glimpse power exudes
from its primal nature as a hunter, and beauty befalls its graceful shape and
covetous fur coat. Oh to follow a fox.
Do you know a fox? I know a few. They are the friends whom I
am fascinated to watch,
charmed just to be around. The friend who travels the world
like a drug, and upon return gives me my fix by regaling me with stories I long
to have lived. The friend whose beauty enchants a room as if her life was lived
in candlelight, yet even in the dim dark I can see the burns caused by her
uncautious flame. The friend whose mastery of language delivers her everyday
words with the power of a great speech, yet leave me wondering about the
vulnerability it hides. The foreign friend whose hands alone emanate sexuality,
yet unaware of her nature she pursues each person in the room. The nomad I know
whose life seems vacation after vacation, utterly fantastic, but for
friendships and a sense of home. The high-school friends whose Facebook pages I
browse to get a glimpse of wealth, fame, and power, all the while imaging
myself in the picture. I know foxes. I used to love foxes. I used to live by
the Jack Kerouac quote,
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are
mad
to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything
at the
same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace
thing,
but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles
exploding
like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the
blue
center-light pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
I used to love the foxes, the ones with power of one kind or
another, the ones whose lives
seemed an adventure, a secret show, the ones who let me tag
along, and bask in their glorious light. Its hard not to want to follow the
foxes. Its hard not to want to be a fox. Its hard to even blame the foxes, for
their cunning, clever, and sly ways seem to be their created nature. It would be
hard not to want to follow Herod. Herod with the power over Jerusalem. Herod who held the fate of the
prophets in his control. It would be hard not to want to follow Herod the fox.
The people in Jerusalem had
chosen to follow the fox, and Jesus laments, 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!”
“Jerusalem,
And I think we can relate because which would you rather follow, a fox, or a
hen? The hen is ugly and boring. In plain tan feathers it simply sits covering
its chicks. Vulnerable it watches the world with its beady eyes, helpless to a
predator’s attack, but for savage squawks of no avail, the hen focused only on
the survival and care of its children. Jesus, likewise, unglamorously dressed
in plain tan clothing the little he owned, walking from town to town, clucking
at anyone who would listen, even the downtrodden and the outcasts. Jesus
spending his life casting out demons and performing cures. Jesus living a life
of rejection. Jesus helpless to a predator’s attack, but for savage squawks of
no avail having been forsaken on the cross. Jesus the hen focused only on the
survival and care of her children. It is not hard to choose the fox.
I myself used to love the foxes. But these days there’s
something appealing about a
mother hen. There’s something appealing about the friend who
gathers you in and wraps you in down. Do you know any mother hens? I’ve been
noticing the mother hens more lately. The once divorced woman in her fifties
who made a point to pull me away from my friends as we were packing for an
adventure, and in a short five minutes named the biggest pains of divorce and
also gave me hope. My little sister who has always sent homemade cards to
express her love. The local pastor’s group who has welcomed, encouraged and
valued me, even though our theology is vastly different. The new friend who in
a sentence taught me something about my life I didn’t know. The old friend who
calls every couple months to check in and remind me I am a precious chick.
These days I long to sit under the mother hens. I long to be with the ones who
offer care, and love, and shelter. I long not for a happy, adventurous life, I
long for a life of peace and comfort. Its a hard switch to go from following
the fox to sitting with the hen. But these days I
long to sit under the mother hens and I long to be a hen for
other chicks.
I long to be the friend who is plain, and stable, and says
commonplace things, is desirous
of nothing, but helps others to shine, shine, shine, like
fabulous yellow candles bringing light to darkness, and in the middle you see
the center flame burning for Christ and in its bright witness everybody is
draws nearer to the sacred, the scared that is found in a mother hen gathering
her brood under her wings.
Are you willing to give up following the fox, to sit with
the hen? The people of Jerusalem
were unwilling and Jesus left them to their houses, saying,
“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.'" And then all they will know
of Jesus is his march toward death, and their palms will wave, and they will recognize
him as king, but they will have lost the chance to sit with hen in the peace
that lies under her wings. Which will you choose this Lent? Are you willing to
give up following the fox, to sit with the hen? Or will you not see Jesus again
until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of
the Lord.'"
