The Second Sunday In Lent - March 16, 2025

Summary

In this homily, Grace Community Missioner Ed Carrette explores Jesus' metaphor of God as a mother hen gathering her brood under her wings, contrasting this image of vulnerable protection with the predatory "fox" of Herod. Through examining the difference between contracts and covenants, Ed reminds us that our relationship with God is not merely legal but all-encompassing, calling us to embrace vulnerability and sacrificial love as we follow Christ's example during this Lenten season.

THE GOSPEL                                                                                                                                              Luke 13:31-35

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "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 outside of 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.'"

Artwork: Jesus Reproves Herod, an etching by Jan Luyken (16 April 1649 – 5 April 1712) 

Transcript

Grace Community Missioner Ed Carrette:

When the sun had gone down and it was dark, a smoking fire pit and a flaming torch passed between these pieces. On that day, the Lord made a covenant with Abram saying to your descendants, I give this land from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates. Amen. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. One moonlit night a fox was prowling about the farmer's chicken coop and saw a hen roosting high up beyond his reach. Good news, good news. He cried. Why? What is that said? The hen king Lion has declared a universal truce. No beast may hurt a bird, hence forth, but shall but all shall dwell together in brotherly love.

Why that is good news said the hen. And there I see someone coming with whom we can share the good tidings and so saying she craned her neck forward and looked far off. What is it you see? He said, the fox. It is only my master's dog that is coming towards us. What going so soon she continued as the fox began to turn away. Will you not stop and congratulate the dog on the reign of universal peace? I would gladly do so said the fox, but I fear he may not have heard of King Lyon's decree.

Well, what do you think is the moral of Aesop's fable? The answer is cunning often outwits itself. There are parallels between this fable and our gospel story today. Herod is the fox. Jesus is hen perhaps John the Baptist, the dog, and King Lyon is God. Of course, although the fox lied to the hen about King Lyon's decree of universal peace, we know a different story from God. The truth is that the kingdom of God is at hand and it is present in deep and surprising ways. How often do we use the term mother hen when we refer to a person who is especially nurturing to and protective of those they love?

What an interesting metaphor Jesus uses in the gospel. Reading God, trying to gather God's children together just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings. A hen is probably not the first thing that comes to mind when we think of a protective animal. We would sooner imagine a lion or a fierce bird of prey, something with fangs or talons. Yet the lowly chicken is the image Jesus chooses to demonstrate this relationship between God and us. God, the mother hen calls us to the safety of the nest underneath those downy wings behind the heart that beats beneath her vulnerable breast.

There is power in this image. Power tied to Abram's covenant with God power tied with strength in vulnerability and with relationship. Today, fear is our fuel, all fear of those who are different, fear of death, fear of our own shortcomings and fear that things we value will be taken away from us. In response, we write contracts, contracts for services, contracts for jobs, prenuptial contracts, and as wonderful and helpful as wills can be. They too are contracts to make sure the people and things we value will be cared for in the way we want them to be when we are gone.

Contracts are about legal protection within relationships. This is where they differ from a covenant, especially a covenant with God. When Abram creates the covenant with God in our reading today, he is executing an ancient practice. A covenant ratified in blood is all encompassing. If you were to make a covenant with your best friend today, it would mean that everything that belonged to them also belongs to you and vice versa. If your best friend happened to have a mansion and a heap of creditors hounding them, guess what? You've got that too. A contract would protect you from the bad, but a covenant guarantees that you are in a relationship and if one goes down, you both go down. On the flip side, it also means if one succeeds, so does the other.

God has established covenants with a variety of people and under a variety of circumstances with Noah, a rainbow promising that God would never again destroy the earth with a flood, with Abra through animal sacrifice and later as Abraham through circumcision with Mary, through the blood that came with birthing Jesus and Jesus himself, who sets his face to Jerusalem so that his blood can become another tie that binds zest. Jesus knew his identity as a prophet and the son of God. He tells the Pharisees, go and tell that fox Herod for me. Listen, I'm 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 outside of Jerusalem.

Jesus knows the stakes of being what he is, and yet he follows God's call to him. He sees the role of God as one of a mother hen gathering her brood under her protective wings, safe from the ravages of the foxes of life. In Luke's time that meant not just Jerusalem or Israel, but the Gentiles as well, like the Pharisees and Sadducees that Jesus encounters. We are often not willing to be gathered in with people that are not like us. Instead taking our chances elsewhere. We think we are truly free, but instead are even more at risk and vulnerable to the sly seductions of the foxes among us.

If you are familiar with what happens when a fox gets into a hen house, then you know that most times the mother hen herds her chicks under her wings for protection and bears her breath so that the fox must kill her first before it can get to her chicks. It is the only defense she has. Later there will be a flutter of feathers and motherless chicks running around, but at least they are alive. Though their mother may be dead, they are given the chance to live. This is the image that Jesus chose to bring to us. Our covenant with God means that everything of God's is also ours, even Jesus God's own son.

The season of Lent is a time of repentance and a time to consider what it means to be in covenant with a vulnerable God. We learn that faith grows through use. The more we encounter our vulnerable God, the more we understand the strength of our own vulnerability. We must choose to live this type of faith each day. When we received the cross of ashes on our forehead on Ash Wednesday, it reminded us exactly how vulnerable and human we are in the world. We are called to something more than living for ourselves and satisfying our contracts. Our God is not the belly. As it says in Philippians, we are called to be the chicks that lead the way to our mother. Hen our God in our baptism, we are marked by the cross of Christ and sealed by the Holy Spirit to be Christ's own forever.

We are charged with an imperative call to love like a mother hen who opens her wings wide and exposes her heart to the foxes of the world in the hope that our loved ones may live in the light of our vulnerability called to love like someone who is in covenant with God, a fierce and trusting love that encompasses all that which God possesses. When we live this way, we will know the reign of universal peace described in this Franciscan blessing. May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths and superficial relationships that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace. May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, and starvation, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. May the peace of God and the God of peace be with us forevermore. Amen.