Lent II, Cycle C

"Are You Willing?"

February 28, 2010

The Rev. Dr. David M. Wendel

Saint Luke's Lutheran Church, Colorado Springs

Lessons: Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Philippians 3:17-4:1; St. Luke 13:31-35

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Jesus said, "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!"

My guess is the image most of us have of the hen gathering her chicks under her wings is that of a passive, weak mother chicken, sheltering her brood, but defenseless—vulnerable, waiting simply for the fox to strike, first her, and then her chicks. Many Christians like that image for Jesus—because it presents him as the willing sacrifice for the sake of his children. And while that's a fitting understanding of Jesus, who willingly dies for His children, still that's not my experience of mother hens. I have never, ever seen a mother hen squatting vulnerable and weak, waiting passively for the fox to attack and eat her, and then her chicks. My Grandma and Grandpa Barker, my mother's parents had a rather large hen house on their farm, with lots and lots of chickens that provided both eggs, and many tasty fried chicken dinners. And my brother, sister and I were often tasked with going out and collecting eggs—which was usually lots of fun, except when there were mother hens with baby chicks around. And being such a short, pudgy child, my brother and sister could outrun me, and usually did, so that I received the wrath of the mother hen who, in protecting her chicks, would peck my legs bloody, up one side and down the other, until grandma would come rescue me with a pitch-fork or grain shovel, shooing the mother hen away so that I could make my escape—and spend the next hour having my legs cleaned and bandaged. In all my years of growing up, it happened several times—because there is nothing so fierce, so dangerous, as a mother hen protecting her chicks. And I have no doubt a mother hen would've attacked a fox in just the same way—shielding her brood with her own body, but using beak and talons to fight off the predator.

And that's why I almost titled this sermon, "Jesus, the Ferocious Attack Chicken", because having experienced the wrath of a mother hen protecting her babies, I hear Jesus' description of himself as a mother hen gathering her brood not as a promise that while He would die first, ultimately, the fox would get us all—but rather as a promise that He would take us under his wings, where He would fight, even to the death, to protect and defend us, against sin, death and the devil. And isn't that a more comforting image than only imagining Jesus as a vulnerable, defenseless mother hen who just sits there, cuddling us in her wings, until we all end up as the fox's dinner?

I wonder how the people of Jerusalem would've heard Jesus' analogy, as he sought to comfort them and to offer them his protection. As the Pharisees had warned Jesus that King Herod was out to kill Him, Jesus responds that He's not afraid of that fox, and that He will go on about His ministry of healing and casting out demons, finishing His work—all of His work, until after His death, He would be raised on the third day. Yet, He was on His way to Jerusalem, the very fox's den, the seat of King Herod, knowing that there, He would be killed, as the prophets before Him had been killed. And what would happen to the people of Jerusalem then? Would they also be killed, as Herod had killed so many of his own family members? Would they face divine judgment, because again and again, they had rejected God's prophets, and now, would reject God's own Son? The truth is, Jesus expresses love for Jerusalem and says He has often desired to gather the people of Jerusalem together under His wings, as a mother hen gathers her chicks—but they were not willing! Jesus desired to welcome, and to protect and defend the children of Israel in Jerusalem, from Herod, and false teachers and untrustworthy religious leaders—and would they let Him? No, they rejected His love and care—they were not willing to allow themselves to be placed under His protection. Rather than be drawn into the shelter of His wings, they ran off, they ran away from Him—and Jesus says, "See, your house is left to you." The Revised Standard Version has it, "Your house is forsaken"—forsaken because they rejected Him. In other words, because they had denied Jesus, they and their household of faith would face the consequences.

They denied and rejected Jesus. And isn't that how it is in real life? Think about the image Jesus uses of a loving, caring mother. There is nothing stronger than the love of a faithful mother who wishes to draw her children to her, and protect and defend them against all danger, threat, and misfortune. And yet, at some point, her children, as with most children, reject her and run the other way, often straight into the mouth of the fox. And now, her children must face the consequences of their actions. It's a tale as old as life itself, and it's a tale played out again, as Jesus wished to gather the people of Jerusalem to Himself, but they rejected His love, they had no use for His care. And we see the rejection of Jesus played out in every age, as St. Paul described it in his day, saying, "For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; their end is destruction, their god is the belly, and their glory is in their shame—for their minds are set on earthly things." The fact is, in every time, there are those who will not be gathered under the shadow of Jesus' wings, will not place their faith and trust in Him, preferring instead, their own wishes, wants and desires, as they set their minds on earthly things. Hard to imagine, isn't it, that there are those in our world who choose to be enemies of Christ Jesus and His cross, that there are those who are not willing to be gathered under His wings. But there they are. Unwilling to be gathered together under the arms of Jesus, outstretched on the cross, in the form of an embrace. Not willing to believe that in Jesus, there is life—true life, real life, abundant life.

Reading our first lesson from Genesis, we are reminded that on several occasions, Abraham didn't believe either, so that rather than wait for God's promise to come true, Abram sought to provide an heir for himself. First, as we read today, Abram considered having Eliezar as his heir, but then, he chose to have a child by the servant, Hagar, rather than as promised, by his wife, Sarah. We read in Genesis of the consequences of Abraham's lack of belief, and unwillingness to trust in God's love and care. As we read, "the Lord said to Abram, 'Know of a surety that your descendents will be sojourners in a land that is not theirs, and will be slaves there, and they will be oppressed for four hundred years." You see, the Lord God had promised to care and provide for Abram and Sarai, but Abram chose his own path, rather than staying on the straight and narrow course that God had laid out for him. And the result was four hundred years of judgment and wrath. And so, finally, Abram returned to the Lord God, and returned to belief and trust in the Lord God, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.

And the question, the challenge posed to us, then, by our lessons today is: given that God is faithful; given that God has a plan for us and for our lives; given that Jesus desires more than anything to gather us to Himself as a mother hen gathers Her chicks under her wing—are we willing? Will we believe and trust the Lord—or ourselves? Are we, as St. Paul lays out, enemies of the cross of Christ, whose end is destruction and our god is our bellies? Are our minds set on earthly things? Or are we citizens of heaven? Are we children of God, whose Savior is the Lord Jesus Christ, who transforms the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of His glory? Will we stand firm in the Lord, under the shelter of His wings? Or will we go our own way, choosing our own path in life, even though that path may lead us straight to the fox's den?

The theme of Lent is, as St. Paul wrote in our epistle lesson on the First Sunday in Lent, "Now is the acceptable time; now is the day of salvation!" Paul means that now is the acceptable time to choose—are we children of God, with our minds set on heavenly things, or children of the world, with our minds set on the things of this world? Now is the time to choose, anew—now is the time to reorient our lives, now is the time to return to the Lord our God, now is the time to receive salvation, as Jesus desires to gather us to Himself. But, are we willing? Are you willing? Will you receive the love and care, offered by Jesus who gave His life for you? Will you yield to Christ Jesus, allowing Him to stand in your place on judgment day? Will you open yourself to Jesus Christ, as Savior of the world, and your Savior—or are you looking elsewhere for life and salvation? That's the question the season of Lent is asking us today—as we see Jesus' arms, stretched out on the cross, reaching to embrace us. Are you willing—or are you not? Will you allow yourself to be gathered to Jesus, or, will you run the other way? Now is the acceptable time. Now is the day of salvation. Are you—willing?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.