If you can't see the buttons above to play the sermon, chances are you don't have Macromedia Flash installed. To download the components you need,
please visit: www.macromedia.com/downloads.
Luke 13:31-35
It is early in the morning, and I quickly leave my home for a doctor’s appointment. After arriving, I join a group of well-groomed individuals for a
ride in the elevator. I notice a woman staring at me, and I become self-conscious—is it my wrinkled clothing, messy hair? Then I remember the book
in my hand. The bright purple words of the title seem to shout: Jesus the Savior! As our eyes meet, I suddenly feel like Tammy Faye Baker.
It is true; the book is mine. But I do not read it out of certainty. I read it because of struggle. I grasp Jesus the Teacher, Jesus the Shepherd,
even Jesus the Healer. I struggle with Jesus the Savior. Through Sermon Seminar, LCF and other conversations, I know I am not alone when I ask--what
does this mean? Many of us ask the question, especially in this season of Lent: Why is Jesus a Savior?
In today’s Gospel reading, the writer of Luke feeds our curiosity, revealing another pathway into the mystery of Jesus. The text is full of emotion.
First, expressing fierce anger, even including a cut-down for Herod that is reminiscent of middle school... Jesus says, “Go tell that Fox for me...”
Then the mood turns from anger to sorrow as Jesus laments: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to
it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” This is very
intriguing language. Jesus the Savior, as a mother hen! Can this image give new insight into our quest?
When I was a child I felt very close to Jesus. I loved to sing songs about him and say prayers just like I was having a conversation with a friend.
Images of a soft, friendly young man, with his arms opened wide and a few lambs in the background were comforting to me. I don’t belittle the depth
of this connection—my spirituality was very real. But as an adult I can’t go back to that place. Suspicion, pride, and painful experiences get in
the way. Traditional church teachings of atonement involving blood sacrifice and debt payment become barriers. The gentle Jesus can seem weak, a
passive victim—demanding that I be weak and passive, also. The majestic Jesus can seem militant, a fearsome ruler—demanding that I be militant
and fearsome also. And what do these teachings and images say about God... In my quest to understand Jesus as a Savior, I desire a new image. One
that leads me into a personal connection, but doesn’t depend on sentimentality. An image that conveys the expanse of divine power, but doesn’t
promote violence or exclusion. The mother hen pulls me in closer. She is passionate and protective. Strong and loving. Alive and all encompassing.
Throughout history, people have explored the concept of Jesus as Savior. Julian of Norwich, a medieval English mystic, has become a popular and respected
guide for such exploration. Her writings are based upon insights and images that she received in a series of visions involving the crucified Christ--a
popular subject in medieval piety. In her writing, Julian dismisses any notion of salvation as protection from God’s wrath.[1]
For me, this a powerful shift. Maybe divine anger is not your foremost concern, usually, it is not mine. But I’ll admit, when fierce tornadoes strike
and kill, 20 miles north of my hometown in Alabama, I find myself questioning—questioning God’s goodness and loving care in the face of such devastation.
Julian writes:
I saw truly that God was never angry, and never will be. Because he is God, he is good, he is truth, he is love, he is peace; and his power, his
wisdom, his charity and his unity do not allow him to be angry. For I saw truly that it is against the property of his power to be angry, and against
the property of his wisdom and against the property of his goodness.[2]
Julian never backs down from her experience of God as unfailing love. Yet she confronts the problems of the world—head on. Julian teaches that all
wrath is within us--our own manifestations of sin. That which separates us from God. And sin is our blinding—sin blinds us from the sight of our
true identity as God’s beloved creatures.
Returning to our image of Jesus as a Mother Hen we can also find similar imagery in Julian’s writings. Julian calls Christ “our Mother of Mercy.” In
the incarnation she sees the divine joining creation—a joining that is both temporal and eternal-- taking place in our time and beyond our time. Jesus
“falls” into humanity with us.[3] And yet, he is not blinded by sin. Jesus is tempted and suffers—yet he never turns
away from God’s unfailing love. Jesus remains faithful even unto death. And as our mother, Jesus’ death births all of humanity into new life.
Through the incarnation, we are covered with the full embrace of Christ. We are all covered with the embrace of God. Julian writes:
Just as our flesh is covered by our clothing, so are we, soul and body, covered and enclosed by the goodness of God. Yet, the clothing and the flesh
will pass away, but the goodness of God will always remain and will remain closer to us than our own flesh.[4]
Julian describes Jesus covering us in the same way the Mother Hen embraces her chicks.
This language might seem extremely personal and intimate. And yet, when life drives us to our knees, and our heads don’t provide the answers, we are
moved to a deep place of need. We are moved to reach out in our blindness and seek a saving touch. Jesus the Savior gathers us as a mother hen.
Through this image we see how God longs to hold us close with great power and mercy. In the ancient season of Lent, as we are bombarded by images of
the cross—of blood sacrifice and debt repayment—the image of the mother hen also gives a vision of atonement—AT ONE MENT. And in the power
of Jesus’ loving embrace, we, at St. Mark’s embrace one another and the larger world.
[1] Palliser, Margaret Ann, O.P. Christ, Our Mother of Mercy. (New York: Walter de Gruyter and Co., 1992) 33.
[2]Julian of Norwich: Showings. Edited by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A, and Fr. James Walsh, S. J., (New York: Paulist Press, 1978). Pg. 259 (long text, Revelation 14, ch. 46)
