Mother Hen Messiah

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 13:31-35                                                               

March 13, 2022

Lent 2C                                

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          When Pharisees start doing favors for Jesus you know something’s up.  The Pharisees were the religious superstars of Jesus’ day; but, once again, they’re up to no good.  This time it appears as though they were looking out for Jesus.  Jesus was in Herod’s territory, and the Pharisees came to Jesus with an insider tip:  Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.  Of course, the funny thing was, the Pharisees wanted to kill Jesus too.  They’d been plotting His demise for over a year, but couldn’t quite figure out when or where or how.  The über-religious Pharisees and the über-politician Herod—they hated each other with a passion.  But they were united in their hatred for Jesus.  Both saw Jesus as a threat.  Both wanted Jesus out of the way.

          Jesus doesn’t seem very concerned about it.  What’s the worst that could happen to Him?  He dies?  That’s the reason He came—to die for the sin of the world—to lay down His life and to take it up again.  Jesus is unthreatened by death threats.  He said:  Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course.  The third day?  Do you think Jesus had in mind how He would rise from the dead on the third day when He said this?  It’s hard not to think so.  He knew that the politicians and the religious elite were eventually going to catch up with Him and deliver Him over to death.  But it would all happen on Jesus’ timetable, and not on theirs.

          Jesus was on His way to Jerusalem—the seat of all political and religious power in Israel.  The temple was there.  The king’s palace was there.  Kings and priests called all the shots in Jerusalem.  Jesus made no secret of His travels plans, but announced His itinerary plainly:  I must go on my way . . . for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.  Are you sensing a little sarcasm from the Savior?  Jerusalem had a reputation, it seems.  Jerusalem was where the Lord’s prophets had a way of being put to death.

          Most cities have reputations—even today.  Chicago is known for its corruption, Nashville for country music, Kansas City for barbecue.  And what about Milwaukee?  In Milwaukee it’s all about the beverages.  But Jerusalem in Jesus’ day was the place where prophets went to die.  Jerusalem, like no other place on earth, wanted to silence the Word of God by killing those who dared to speak it in its truth and purity.  Jesus wasn’t the first victim, and He wouldn’t be the last.

          Now, you might expect that Jerusalem’s bloody behavior would cause Jesus to be angry.  It makes me angry when Christians who ought to know better ignore the Word of God to pursue their own personal pleasure.  It’s maddening when Christians who ought to know better desire entertainment more than forgiveness.  It’s frustrating when sports and school and drama (and sleep!) become more important to families than receiving the gifts of God together in worship.  The blood pressure of every prophet and every pastor ticks ever upward at such things. 

          But it’s not just pastors and prophets.  You also know how it is when your love is rejected, when your kindness is rebuffed, when you extend a helping hand only to take a slap in the face.  We get angry.  One of the hardest sayings of Jesus is that one about loving your enemies and doing good to those who hate you.  You know as well as I how downright impossible that seems.  Our motto is get angry and get even.

          But not Jesus.  He truly loves His enemies:  the Pharisees and Herod  . . . and us.  Rejection doesn’t make Him mad, but sad.  To Jesus, it’s a crying shame.  It makes His heart ache:  O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city the kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!  How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not.

          With those words Jesus gives us a glimpse into the merciful heart of God.  Jesus spreads out His arms like a mother hen gathering up her wandering, wayward chicks.  Jesus wants them all—the religious and the non-religious, the powerful and the powerless.  He came to save them all, even if they don’t want His salvation.  He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world; and if the world doesn’t want its sin taken away, Jesus does it anyway.

          You and I have to face the facts—and Lent is a good time to do it:  We aren’t much different than the citizens of Jerusalem who had a habit of skewering the prophets of God.  For inside each of us is a self-righteous Pharisee and a Herod-like dictator.  We are so proud of ourselves and so critical of others.  We are constantly trying to orchestrate things our way—to take control of every situation rather than pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  We use our religion as a bargaining chip with God, or just to feel good about ourselves.  We do our best to control Jesus, and to manage Jesus—to make sure He’s there when we need Him, but to keep Him at arm’s length when our pursuit of pleasure conflicts with His commandments.  Herod and the Pharisee are alive and well in each of us.

          And for Jesus, this is a crying shame.  And He explains His pain in a way that few people these days can picture.  He speaks of a mother hen and her chicks.  It used to be that nearly everyone owned hens and chicks.  And I’ve heard that chicken coops are making a comeback in these parts.  I hope that’s the case.  Because Jesus describes Himself as the Christ of the chicken coop. 

          Jesus is a mother hen clucking after her little ones, trying to gather them

under her protective wings, out of harm’s way.  She’s even willing to sacrifice herself to save them.  It’s a wonderful, maternal view of our Savior.  This is His love for Jerusalem, for the church, for you.  The desire of His heart is to hold you close beneath His wings.  He wants to extend His arms over you to shelter you beneath His protection and grace, guiding you to walk in His ways.  He was willing to go to Jerusalem and die for you—for all—even for those who hated Him and wanted Him dead.

          Why does Jesus do it?  Why does He perpetually send His pesky prophets and pastors into our lives?  Because He loves you.  He doesn’t want you to go it alone.  In the kingdom of God there are no rugged individualists, no independent Christians.  Hens and chicks that wander off alone are destined to become fox food.  Far better for us to take Jesus at His Word—to accept the reality of what we are:  just a brood of helpless hatchlings—cheeping chicks hidden safely under the Savior’s protective wing.  In every sermon you hear—in the words of His prophets and apostles—Jesus calls you to safety, to shelter and mercy beneath His outstretched arms.

          Those same arms were also stretched out on the cross, to bear your sin.  Those were the arms that reached out to welcome you in the waters of your baptism.  Those are the arms that comfort and console you when your life is touched by death, reminding you that your citizenship is in heaven—that the Savior will one day transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body.  The arms of Jesus invite you to His Supper to be fed with the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood—for the forgiveness of every sin.  It’s a wonderful place to be—nestled in the warmth and protection and love of Jesus.  There you are safe.  There you are forgiven.  There you have life that lasts forever.

                    As for the city of Jerusalem, lamented by Jesus—Jerusalem has a future.  For when Jerusalem next appears in the Bible, in Revelation, she comes down from heaven, as a beautiful bride dressed for her wedding—radiant, spotless, and glorious.  Her murders have been atoned for in the death of God’s Son.  The innocent blood shed in her streets has been washed away by the blood of the Lamb.  Her streets once littered with stones hurled in hatred—those streets are now paved with pure gold.  The prophets and apostles she killed are now Jerusalem’s firm foundation.  And Christ the Lamb, who died at her gates, is now enthroned—alive forevermore.  That’s your city—your Jerusalem—your happy home forever and ever.    

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