February 28, 2010 - Lent 2

Jesus Opens His Arms to Embrace All
Luke 13:31-35
Lent 2C – February 28, 2010

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem... How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

Jesus speaks these words as he looks ahead to the day when he will come to Jerusalem. The Pharisees in this tale are trying to get him to leave Galilee, Herod's territory, telling him to get outta town while the getting's good. Jesus won't be rushed by Herod's threats though. He'll leave Galilee soon enough, but it won't be because of Herod. He has more work to do, God's work that will lead him from this place. At this point, Luke tells us that Jesus had already set his face to go to Jerusalem, where his work will be completed. Jesus knows what lies in wait for him there, knows that he will be rejected by the people and killed by the powers that be.

And as he looks ahead, he can't help but mourn. He can't help but cry out in lament. “How often I have desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.” Over and over throughout their history together, God has reached out to the people of Israel. Over and over, God has longed to draw them close, to have them nestle under God's protective arms, longed for them to realize and acknowledge their utter and complete dependence on God for their very life – and over and over, the people of Israel were not willing. They resist God's invitations, they rebel against God's care. It starts with Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, when God sets them up with everything they could ever need – a place to live, food to eat, a loving relationship, meaningful work, a God who walks among them – and they turn away in favor of rebellion, of the illusion of independence.

It continues from them through the stories of all the people in the Bible, who time & time again turn away from the love and protection and closeness that God offers – and even now to us. What Jesus says about Jerusalem, he is saying about any place in the world. “Lynbrook, Lynbrook – how often I have desired to gather your children close, and you were not willing.” Jesus longs for us to stay close to him, to be near his side, to run to him when danger threatens, to look to him for life and love and contentment, and so often, we are not willing. God wants us to trust God to protect and provide for us, to acknowledge our utter dependence on God for our very lives, to let God gather us close – not like an over-protective parent who can't let their kids out of their sight, but one who has our best interest at heart.

But we are like teenagers who hit that phase where they can't bear to let the world know that they still need their parents – who want to be dropped off at school 2 or 3 blocks from the front door, lest anyone see mom or dad bringing us, who squirm out of their parents' attempts to hug or kiss us, because we're too big for that now. With kids, it's a normal & healthy part of growing up, of declaring independence even though we're not quite there yet.

But in our relationship with God, it's not just a normal stage of development. We were never meant to be independent from God. We were created to be in relationship with God, to live in love and trust and reliance – but we don't want to rely on anyone; we can take care of ourselves – that's what we want the world to believe, what we want to believe - so we push back against God's attempts to draw us close. We push God away. Jesus mourns that we would have it this way, he laments the loss of that closeness, that trust, that willingness to depend on the One who made us and gives us life.

But even though Jesus knows that that's the way it's gonna be, even though he knows that people will welcome him to Jerusalem, shouting, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” and then shout for his crucifixion just as loudly mere days after that, even though he knows his offer of love and life will be resisted and rejected – even though he knows all this, Jesus goes to Jerusalem anyway. He goes as a mother hen, longing to draw her chicks close, prepared to defend them at any cost.

You know, I never really thought it about it much until this week – what it means for a hen to gather her brood close under her wings for protection. A hen is not a fearsome or ferocious animal. She has no strong line of defense, no teeth, no claws. She doesn't even have an easy way to escape – chickens aren't much for flying very far. All she has is her determination to save her chicks from whatever threatens them, her willingness to do whatever it takes to save them, even if it means using her own body for a shield, even if it means that she must die herself to take their place. When it comes to the mother hen, if the fox wants her chicks, it's gonna have to be over her dead body.

This is the image Jesus uses to describe what he's about to do for the people of Jerusalem and for all people of every time and place. He goes to Jerusalem to face the foxes of the world, the powers of sin and of death and of fear – all of the things that threaten to pull us from God and the life God longs for us to have, the things that threaten to kill us, spiritually, emotionally, physically. Jesus goes as a mother hen – with no weapons for defense, with no plan for a quick and easy escape. He does not fight death in order to hold on to his own life – but instead stands between death and us – his children – staring it down, and telling death that if it wants us, it's gonna have to go through him first. Like a mother hen, extending her wings so that her chicks may come to her for life, Jesus spreads out his arms on the cross, defenseless, vulnerable – self-sacrifice instead of self-protection.

And from that cross, he calls us to gather there, he reaches out to embrace all – even those who would resist and reject him. That's how much he loved Jerusalem. It's how much he loves each and every one of us. It's a love so deep that it's willing to sacrifice itself that we might have new life. This is the love that saves the world, and Jesus gives it, gives himself as a gift. He longs to gather us close – oh, today, let us be willing to let him.

Amen.