Genesis
15:1-12, 17-18; Luke 13:31-35
What
do you think about this ritual Abraham performed? How would you like to go to a
house-closing where you use a ritual like this to finalize the agreement
instead of signing your name on about a hundred pieces of paper?
In
Abraham’s time, this was a common way to finalize a deal, to make a covenant
between two families. One or more animals are sacrificed and cut in half. The
two parties walk between the two halves, cook the meat, and share the meal. It
takes a long time to seal a deal this way. Today, we still sometimes hear the
phrase, “cut a covenant.” This is the source of the phrase.
Notice
that Abraham does nothing more – God is the one who moves between the carcasses
in the form of smoke and fire. It is God who makes the promises to Abraham: I
give you this land, all this land.
Abraham
was worried, because it didn’t look like the promises God had made a few years
ago were going to be fulfilled. God had promised to give Abraham and Sarah land,
and descendants, and fame. So, in this covenant-cutting ritual, God promises
again to give Abraham and his direct descendants the land. Implied in the
promise of land are children, and lots of grandchildren, and
great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren who will live on the land.
I
find it interesting that God begins this vision with a word of reassurance. “Do
not be afraid; I am your shield.” This shield does not prevent Abraham and
Sarah from having misadventures along the way to giving birth to a child.
Perhaps the shield is intended to simply be an image reminding Abraham that God
is always present and powerful, and does fulfill the promises, though it may
take a long time, God’s time.
Over
time, although God’s people remember God’s promises, they don’t always remember
the human part of the covenant – faithfulness to God, and care for the
neighbor. Protecting the temple traditions and leadership, maintaining the
status quo, with benefits especially for the one percent, or five percent (or
however many there were) is seen as the best way to please God.
At
this point in Luke’s story, Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem, and knows
what will happen there. He has raised the intensity of accusation about
injustice and self-centered leadership. What he is saying is getting a lot of
attention, not all of it good.
Some
Pharisees approach Jesus with a warning. “You’d better change your ways! Herod
wants to kill you.” It’s possible that these Pharisees agreed with Jesus; they wanted
to help keep him alive. It’s possible that they disagreed with Jesus but did not
want him dead. It’s possible that they wanted to keep the peace within the
Jewish community, so Rome would leave them alone. Jesus was getting too much
attention and was disturbing the peace. They could all suffer because of him.
Whatever
reason the Pharisees had for warning Jesus, he responds by calling Herod a
name: that fox. The name in Jesus’ time meant just what it means now: sly,
clever, cunning, tricky.
Jesus
responds by telling them that he will continue to do exactly what he has been
doing, just as he has planned. He is headed
toward Jerusalem, the city which kills prophets, and no one can stop him. Yet,
even though he knows this is what he has come to do, there is still great
sadness that such an extreme action – the crucifixion – is necessary.
In
this moment of lament, Jesus grieves over the history of the people and their
relationship with God. Jesus wants to be our mother hen who gathers us all
under her wings for safety when danger comes. He wants to shield us from those
who would lead us away from God.
When
I was a child, I went occasionally to the farm of some family friends, Hattie
and Gilman. They grew crops, but also had a variety of animals: pigs, milk
cows, and chickens. A couple of times, we arrived in time to go and help Hattie
gather eggs. Even though the hens were accustomed to people coming and taking
their babies every day, they still fought to prevent it. Those hens used their
wings and their beaks and their claws to keep me from taking their eggs. I was
afraid of them.
Some
eggs were allowed to grow into chicks, new hens for more eggs. The hen would
gather her chicks under her wings to keep them warm and safe until they were
old enough to take care of themselves. Then, the chicks would resist being
drawn under her wings. They thought they knew better than momma.
That’s
who we are – chicks who resist being drawn under the wings of our mother hen
because we think we know better than our momma what is best for us. We don’t
put God first in our lives unless it’s convenient for us to do so. Like the Pharisees, we make rules for everyone
to live by, even if it is not possible for some to uphold them. We do not love
our neighbors as ourselves. We determine who is in and who is out. We ignore
some injustices while challenging injustices that apply to us or to someone we
love.
Even
so, despite our rebellion, Jesus came to live and die for us. He allowed the
fox to get into the hen house; he was the hen who gave her life protecting her
chicks from those who would harm them.
Every day, we have the opportunity either to
be drawn under Jesus’ wings or to run away from him. We believe that we know
better than he does what our life, our world is like. We pretend that he cannot
hear us; that he cannot read our hearts; that he does not know what we are
doing; that he does not care what we are up to next. But, Jesus is our mother
hen, who does know where we are; who does know what we are doing; and who does
know what we are thinking about. Even so, our mother hen wants to draw us back,
into the safety of her wings, loved and forgiven despite our rebellion.
Let’s
allow ourselves to be drawn in, sheltered, cared for, loved, under Jesus’ wings.
Amen
