Christ Our Mother Hen

Lent 2C

February 24, 2013

Luke 13:31-35

At the end of the movie Gran Torino, Clint Eastwood’s character confronts a group of gang members who had been involved with the assault of the young woman who lived next door to him.  After an exchange of some obscenities between Eastwood and the gang members, he reaches into his pocket and grabs a cigarette, then he asks if anyone has a light.  After receiving no response, he responds that he has a light and then reaches into his coat pocket while quietly reciting a Hail Mary, knowing what is going to happen next.  Bullets fly from the guns of the gang members, killing Eastwood, who falls backwards and lands on his back, with his arms open and a lighter in his right hand.  But in this act of giving his life, he saved the lives of his next door neighbors, whom he originally despised but had later come to see as his family.

Clint Eastwood would probably not be thrilled with me for this, but in this scene, he acts as sort of a mother hen.  He knew when he pulled up to the house of the gang members that he would not return home, but his sense as a protector of his neighbors overrode any sense of self preservation.  And that’s what a mother hen does.  When confronted with a dangerous opponent, such as a fox, a mother hen’s first instinct is to protect her chicks.  She knows that against the fox, she will not be victorious, but she gathers her chicks under her wings, puffs out her chest and spreads her wings, and fights until the death to save her children.  It’s a natural instinct that she doesn’t have to think about, she just does it with no thought of saving herself. 

It’s a valiant trait.  And yet, in a society that has become so masculinized with the Clint Eastwoods, and the Bruce Willises, and in a church where the “good ol’ boys club” still reigns in some places, to hear a man, particularly a divine man like Jesus, refer to himself as a mother hen, or any other feminine image, seems off.  But it shouldn’t be that way, God should not be kept inside of a box of masculinity.  For many times in scripture, God is referred to in the feminine sense, as a mother comforting her child (Isa 66:13), as a mother bear (Hosea 13:8), as the one in whose image woman was made alongside man (Gen 1:27).   So it shouldn’t cause a double take when we hear Jesus’ words in this Gospel text: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” 

How often have I desired to protect you from each other and from yourselves…and yet you ran away.  

In these words I see the face of a parent whose child has just uttered the words “I hate you” after the parent has made a decision or issued a consequence that is in the best interest of the child, but in that moment the only child sees a parent out to get them and keep them from having fun.

Now imagine that on a divine scale.  Instead of just one child uttering the words “I hate you” or “I’m not listening” or “I’m never trusting you again,” imagine thousands upon thousands saying that simultaneously.  Meanwhile, other children pretend to listen, but are acting out in unimaginable ways, doing unthinkable things, things that are the exact opposite of what they should be doing.  And all of them live in one city.  Now, to be fair, there are the good and faithful ones…there always are.  But quite often these are the ones who have been bullied and beaten, some even killed.  “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, Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem was a chosen city, one that God promised to the ancestors.  But it was also a broken city.  It had suffered great hardship, been the place where prophets had been killed for bringing the word of God to a people that didn’t want to hear it.  It was a place where many evil things happened, where people turned away from God and towards idols that they thought could do a better job than God was doing.   

And with Herod as a puppet ruler stationed there by Rome, and known for his fox-like slyness and cunning…as well as his cruelty, life on the whole wasn’t going to get any easier. 

But, you know, as often as the people of Jerusalem threw out God’s expectations in exchange for their own…as often as they kicked God to the curb…God never abandoned Jerusalem.  When the people killed the prophets, God sent more, when the city was sacked and destroyed, God sent folks to rebuild and bring the people back together.  And though the people continued to stray and turn their backs on God, God herself went into that city, knowing exactly what happened to prophets and others sent to it, determined as ever to meet the sinfulness of that city with the fullness of God’s grace.  God knew and knows that the most genuine form of love cannot force anyone to love you back, but God kept on and keeps on loving, knowing that not all of the chicks are gonna come running to the warmth and security of mother hen’s nest.  Some are going to prefer the false security of the fox.

When the Pharisees warned Jesus that Herod desired to kill him, it became pretty clear that things were not going to end well for Jesus.  They never seemed to for prophets going into Jerusalem on a mission from God.  The only way it could have ended well would have been if Jesus had fallen prey to the Pharisee’s test and walked away, leaving it all behind and saying good riddance. 

But he didn’t.

Jesus knew what God knew and his face had already been set towards Jerusalem.  There was no turning back.  Jesus was determined to be the vehicle through which, once again, God’s faithfulness and grace would meet the people’s sinfulness square in the face and overcome it.  And though he laments over Jerusalem, he does so with the determination of a parent who will stop at nothing to protect his children…fighting to the death so that the children could have a fighting chance at life.  There was no sense of self-preservation, just an instinct to protect as a mother hen protects her chicks…knowing that that kind of love means coming to terms with acknowledging that you can’t force the chicks into the nest no matter how hard you try. 

In just less than 5 weeks, we will become witness to the full extent of the mother hen for her children as we will bear witness to a crucifixion.  And we will see as the mother hen spreads her arms and exposes her chest, inviting her chicks to come and seek protection in the nest.  And we will watch as many of them run away, preferring the perceived safety of the fox to the actual security and life found in the mother hens nest. 

But this mother hen isn’t defeated, not even by death itself.  And she will keep loving and keep the invitation open to all the chicks, even and especially the ones that have fled, until each and every one are safe in the nest, away from the foxes and wolves, clothed in the warmth of the mother hen’s embrace.

  

Slowing down as a lenten discipline

People who know me really well know that I have a hard time taking time to slow down. I like to have things planned and having a schedule.  My husband has complained on occasion that I don't know how to really take a day off because I'm always finding something to do that keeps me from slowing down and taking Sabbath.  I've been this way for a while. If I have a lot scheduled, it keeps my head in the game and helps me to focus on what my next task is.  So seasons like Lent are seasons that I love because there is plenty on my schedule to keep me busy and keep my mind focused on what is next on the to do list. 

But it's not as easy to keep up at 33 weeks and 5 days pregnant.  My growing belly and baby have forced me out of the rushing around and into taking time to get where I am going.  I also am taking extra care so I don't get too worn out. So I've decided to make my lenten discipline giving up some of the busyness and taking time to slow down and appreciate sabbath time.  Some of the busyness is essential and life giving, there's worship and sermons and Wednesday evening activities, there are hospital calls and pastoral visits, there's final preparation of the nursery and washing of baby items and house cleaning to do.  But there's some of the busyness that I've brought on myself, busyness that is not essential to my ministry, my marriage, or getting ready for my child.  So I've decided to let some of that slide and to push away any guilt that hits as a result.  Because this time it's not just self care that is involved, but also care of the little one growing away inside of me and of the most important human relationship in my life.

Late winter and early spring have a tendency to be very busy times of the year.  Between school and work and sports and band and other extra curricular activities, it can be hard to get some time in edgewise to slow down and take sabbath time.  But sabbath time is essential. 

Think about flying: during the pre-flight instructions, the steward/ess always says that if there is a drop in cabin pressure and there is someone who needs assistance with their air mask sitting next to you, you need to put on your mask first...otherwise you're going to be rendered useless.  The same can be said for the rest of life. If we don't slow down to take care of our selves and the most important relationships in our lives, we're going to wear down and become of little use to those who depend on us.

Jesus knew this, we hear many times in the Gospels that he went away from the people so he could pray.  When he did this, Jesus took the time to tend to his own well being as well as the most important relationship in his life, his relationship with God.  It's not selfish, it's following the example of both Jesus, and of God, who rested on the 7th day after spending 6 days creating a world that was and is Very Good.  And it's obeying the commandment to honor the sabbath day and keep it holy.  As one of my seminary professors said quite frequently, God created us to pray and to play...to recreate and re-create.

So, to be honest, I carry no guilt for having a new friday afternoon routine that includes a nap and some time relaxing on the couch catching up on a favorite tv show or movie series.  I don't feel bad for taking some time during a day to lay low so that I can be on my game the rest of the day. What needs to be done will get done, but for a little while it's good to have a time out to relax and to thank God for sabbath.

What is your lenten discipline?      

A Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday 2013

I had my first experience with the imposition of ashes ten years ago.  I was a sophomore in college and attended Ash Wednesday worship with some classmates at the Roman Catholic church which also served as campus ministry for Kalamazoo College and Western Michigan University.  I remember feeling nervous, I remember the ashes feeling gritty on my forehead as a stranger reminded me that I was dust and to dust I would return.  I remember not really knowing what to do with myself after worship that night, if I should run back to my dorm and wash the ashes off, or go straight to meet up with my friends at the snack shop back on campus.  But I also remember those concerns being wiped away as I was welcomed at the table of a congregation where I was not a member.  No questions asked. 

In 2006, I experienced Ash Wednesday for the first time at seminary.  It was the second time in my life I had ashes placed on my forehead…and it was different.  I had struggled with God and God had won, I had surrendered to a plan that was totally different from my own and in the three years since the first time I had been told I was dust and to dust I would return, my heart had changed. 

I now treasure this day.  It is one of my favorite days of the year.  It’s a day on the church calendar where it is socially acceptable to be sad, to lament, and to cry out to God from the depths of our sin and despair and really claim who we are as broken children of God.  We don’t have to put on false pretenses with hosannas and alleluias if we’re feeling the weighed down by our shortcomings or the general weight of the world around us. 

And it has a different meaning this year.  There’s something that feels heavier this year than in the past.  Last night we heard news that an ex-police officer’s rampage through California had most likely come to an end.  We still hear echoes of the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut and Aurora, Colorado, the bombing in Benghazi, the numbers listed of people murdered in 2012 and the first weeks of this year. 

It seems that death is surrounding us and demanding that we pay attention to it, and then we hear those words as ash is placed on our foreheads “you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Somber words for the beginning of our Lenten journey.  Naming the reality of death and our own mortality, forcing us to remove those masks that we so often use to hide our true feelings from the world and get back to what it simple, what is basic…life and death. 

The practice of the imposition of ashes is not a new practice…in fact it is quite old.  In the bible, people put on ashes as a sign of repentance or mourning.  In the book of Esther, the Jews put on sackcloth and ashes when they learn that their lives are in jeopardy.  Job sits in a pile of ashes after his children had been killed and Job had been afflicted with painful sores.  In the writings of the prophets, the people are told to put on sackcloth and roll in ashes. Daniel pleads to God for the sake of Jerusalem with prayer and fasting, dressed in sackcloth and ashes. And although the church did not begin the practice of Ash Wednesday until over 900 years after Christ’s death and resurrection, even in the earliest days of the church, the beginning of Lent marked a period of intense preparation for baptism which included fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. 

For those in the midst of preparation for baptism at the Great Vigil of Easter, these words from Matthew spoke to them in a way that is different from how they speak to us now.  It’s not about the question “what” but rather about the “why.”  Why the fasting, why the almsgiving, why the prayer?  Is it so that people will see you and praise you for what you are doing?  Or is it so that your heart is opened and prepared to cast aside the things that got in the way of your relationship with God so that God can enter your heart and fill it?   

Today, as we join the mourners and repentant of all times and places as we too put on ashes and hear the words, “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” there lingers that question “why?”  Why participate in an act that visibly marks us as we go out into the world?

Isn’t this something that Jesus warned about?

But again, it’s about the why, not the what.

Are we allowing ashes to be placed upon our foreheads simply so that people will know that we identify as Christians and will praise us for our piety?  Or are we allowing ashes to be placed upon our foreheads as a visible reminder to ourselves of what Lent is about?

Ashes are a reminder that life is fleeting and that no matter what we do our how hard we try, our bodies will get used up, burnt out and they will become lifeless.  It is also a reminder of our sinful nature.  Adam and Eve were not the only two that have strayed from God. We all have, at one time or another turned our backs from the one who created us from the dust and breathed the breath of life into our nostrils.  Finally, these ashes and the words “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return” is a reminder that we are fallen and broken and it is only by the grace and love of God that we are picked up, dusted off and sent back down the path that God has laid out for us.

Being reminded that we are dust, we are sinful and we are fallen and broken is not the happiest of reminders.   But then again, we are beginning a journey that will transform us into witnesses of a crucifixion.  It is a reminder that we need, however, because it brings us back to center and reminds us that no matter who we are or how hard we try, in the end we are all the same.  And it is a reminder that this is all we would be if not for the death and resurrection of Christ.   

And so we embark on this journey of forty days, this journey of lent.  We do so carrying a mark on our foreheads, a mark that we are sinners, a mark that we are fallen, a mark that we are dust.  But the shape of that mark is reminiscent of a mark we received at our baptism when we were addressed with other words: “child of God, you have been sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”  It is a mark that we wear everyday and though it is not a visible mark, it is one that reminds us of who we are, whose we are, and why we are on this journey.  It is a mark that gives us the boldness to put on ashes and go out into the world to serve God and others not only in this journey of lent, but the journey of life.

Today we set out on our Lenten journey.  We start here by removing our masks and getting back to what’s basic.  We hear words of reminder that we are dust, which are also words that remind us that we dust people have been given life through the breath of God and the water of baptism.  We are invited to the table to receive bread and wine, without price, without condition, no questions asked, so that we may receive nourishment for the journey.  And then we are sent out on the journey, bearing the sign of the cross on our foreheads, proclaiming to the world who we are and whose we are.