As a Hen Gathers her Brood 
 

The Second Sunday in Lent       February 28, 2010

Text: Luke 4:31-35      The Rev. Dr. Ross M. Wright  
 
 

      Just outside of Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives, there is a chapel called Dominus Flevit, Latin for “The Lord wept.”1  The name comes from this morning’s Gospel, which describes Jesus’ grief over the city of Jerusalem.  According to tradition, the chapel is located on the site where Jesus looked across the Kidron Valley at the city he was about to enter, and wept, knowing that the city would spurn his love.   
 

      Inside the chapel, there is an altar, and behind it, a high, arched window that looks out on the city, offering a panoramic view.  The effect is like looking at a stained glass window – only in this case, the subject matter seen in the window is alive.  Your eye is drawn immediately to the site of the former Jerusalem temple, now occupied by the Dome of the Rock, one of Islam’s sacred shrines.  In the foreground, you see the famous wall of Jerusalem.  In the background, the skyline, dominated by several high-rise hotels, a reminder that Jerusalem is a bustling modern city.  If you know where to look, you can make out the approximate route that Jesus took from Caiaphas’ house to Herod’s fortress on Maundy Thursday.   
 

      Jesus must have looked at the city from this vantage point many times before he uttered what are, to my mind, among the most poignant of his recorded words:  
 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to it! How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!  
 

      Jesus’ lament comes after a confrontation with the Jerusalem religious leadership.  They threaten him, saying: “You need to get out of here, because Herod wants to kill you.”  This is said ostensibly as a word to the wise, i.e., We are telling you this for your own safety.  But really, it is not Herod but the antagonists themselves who want Jesus to get out of town.  They want him dead.  So, they do what people who abuse power frequently do to those who get in their way: they seek to intimidate by innuendo and veiled threats.     
 

      But clearly, Jesus is not intimidated.  He replies: 
 

You go and tell that fox for me: “Look – I am casting out demons and performing healings today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.  Therefore I must go today and tomorrow and the next day, because it is impossible for a prophet to perish anywhere except in Jerusalem.”2   
 

The term, “fox” is a derisive term on Jesus’ lips – “weasel” is probably our closest equivalent.  Jesus is saying: You can go and tell that old weasel that I am not about to be deterred by any third-rate government bureaucrat.  I will continue my ministry.  I will go to die in Jerusalem, but it won’t be at Herod’s hand.  I to go to be enthroned as Messiah. This explains Jesus’ last words for Jerusalem “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”  Jesus quotes here from, the 118th psalm, which may have been composed for King David’s coronation, and according to rabbinic tradition, will be read when Messiah comes.   
 
 

      I hear in Jesus’ voice not so much condemnation as deep sadness.  Jerusalem, he says, is being true to its history of killing the prophets and stoning those who bring God’s word.  The tragedy here is that the one who loves the city the most must pronounce its doom.  He utters a chilling word of judgment: “Look – your house is left to you desolate.  And I tell you, you will not see me until [the time comes when] you say: ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord’.”  
 

      What is striking here is how Jesus expresses his maternal care for the city that will reject him. This image of Jesus as the hen gathering her brood is particularly striking in light of the current protest against biblical language for God on the grounds that it is male, hierarchal, and oppressive to women.  Elizabeth Schlüssler Fiorenza, for example, wants to replace language about God the Father with “Sophia,” the feminine personification of Wisdom in the Old Testament.   
 

The Sophia-God of Jesus does not need atonement or sacrifices . . . in order to atone for the sins of the people in the face of an absolute God . . . [these are rather] the result of violence against the envoys of Sophia who proclaim God’s unlimited goodness and the equality and election of all her children in Israel.”3 
 

      The danger of abandoning biblical language for God, however, is that we end up recreating God in our own image and to our own liking.  This danger is evident in Fiorenza’s rejection of classical atonement theology: she asserts that there is no need for Jesus’ sacrificial death to atone for our sins.    
 

      Is it possible to recover the maternal side of God without abandoning biblical language for God?  Notice how Jesus turns upside down our stereotypes of maternal and paternal, of female and male.  He reveals a God who loves maternally, holding us in his bosom.  Listen to how John Calvin explores the maternal imagery in our passage: “Whenever the Word of God is exhibited to us, he opens his bosom to us with maternal kindness . . . like a hen watching over chickens.”4  
 

      And here, I return to the Chapel, Dominus Flevit.  On the floor of the church, in front of the altar, there is a mosaic of a hen with her chicks under her wings.  Your eye is drawn immediately to the large, white breast, with wings outstretched, spread wide to cover the pale yellow chicks beneath her.  Above her head is a golden halo, and her red comb resembles a crown. You look closer, and you see the chicks –“seven of them, with black dots for eyes and orange dots for beaks.  They look happy to be there.  The hen looks ready to spit fire if anyone comes near her babies.”5  This is a Jesus who loves maternally, a hen who loves fiercely.    
 

      I end with a prayer based on this text by the 11th century theologian Anselm of Canterbury, who rings the changes of the maternal images in our text:  
 
 
 

      Christ, my mother,

            you take your chickens under your wings;

      this dead chicken of yours puts himself under

            those wings.

      For by your gentleness the badly frightened are

            comforted,

            by your sweet smell the despairing are revived,

            your warmth gives life to the dead,

      your touch justifies sinners.

            Mother, know again your dead son,

      both by the sign of your cross and the voice of

            his confession.

            Warm your chicken, give life to your dead

               man,

              justify your sinner.

      Let your terrified one be consoled by you;

      despairing of himself, let him be comforted

            by you;

      and in your whole and unceasing grace

      let him be refashioned by you.

      For from you flows consolation of sinners;

            to you be blessings for ages and ages.  Amen.6