Luke 13:31-35
31 At that very hour some
Pharisees came and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to
kill you." 32 He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen,
I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the
third day I finish my work. 33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be
on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of
Jerusalem.’ 34 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! 35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me
until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of
the Lord.' "
It was September 24 of last year. I
was doing what most of us do when we’re at work, sitting at a desk—I was on
Facebook. One of my former professors from Samford posted a link that appeared
on my newsfeed. I thought it was a bit unusual because it was a link to the webpage
of Liberty University (if you know anything about Liberty and the Samford
Religion department, then you know why I found it a bit unusual). Well, this
post struck my interest just enough for me to click on it and see where down
the perpetual rabbit hole of the internet it would take me. As it turned out,
the link connected me to the live streaming broadcast of Liberty University’s
convocation service. Now, I’m not one to give two cents about what’s going on
during a chapel service at Liberty University, but I began reading the
description there on that webpage. This particular convocation was likely going
to be the biggest in the history of the university, and I’ll go ahead and spoil
it for you and tell you it was. In fact, according to Liberty’s website, some
10,000 students attended the service on campus, with another 80,000 viewing
online through a special communications website, and there was a countless
number who (like me) stumbled on the website through the digital grapevine.[1]
Why was this the biggest convocation in the history of one of the largest,
Christian institutions in the world? Was Elvis scheduled to speak? Did someone
finally figure out the date and location of the Second Coming of Christ and it
just so happened to be on a Monday in September of 2012 on the campus of
Liberty University? What was going on that day in convocation that caused
someone I know to post a link in my newsfeed about a university in which I have
no interest?
I’m afraid the answer is two words:
Donald Trump. You heard me right, Donald Trump, and--just in case you’re
wondering—no, there isn’t some big time biblical scholar, preacher, or mega-church
pastor (un)fortunate enough to share the same name as “The Donald.” Donald
Trump was the reason this particular convocation at Liberty was the biggest in
the school’s history.
During his thirty minute speech, Trump pandered to the audience, even mentioning
that he “used to go to Sunday School” when he was a kid. In an embarrassingly
thin veneer of pseudo-Christianity, Trump talked about his rise to success in
real estate and media. During his speech (which I am ashamed to say I listened
to in its entirety) Trump said something that I (and many others) found
absolutely appalling, especially given the context of his speech. You see, Liberty is a Christian university;
they make no bones about it. In fact, the motto on their website says, “Liberty
University: Training Champions for Christ since 1971.”[2]
But Trump said something during his speech that caused an uproar of applause
from his audience and a violent reaction from my stomach. He said: “I always
say don’t let people take advantage…Get
even. And you know, if nothing else, others will see that and they’re going
to say, ‘You know…I’m going to let them alone because they’re tough customers.”[3]
“Get even.” The thousands who listened to Trump’s speech (most of them
likely identifying themselves as Christians) cheered those words. They cheered
those words on the campus of one of the largest institutions in the world
supposedly dedicated to “training champions for” the One who declares “If
anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who
takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt (Luke 6:29).” “Get even,” The Donald proclaimed
to thunderous applause on the campus of a Christian
University. All I could think to myself was, “boy, the fox is in the henhouse,
and he was offered a speaking fee and a standing ovation on the way in!”
It was sometime in the year 4 BCE. Herod the Great was dead and the
kingdom he was appointed to oversee by the Romans was divided between his sons.
One son, Herod Antipater, became the tetrarch (or a “quarter-king”) over the
regions of Galilee and Perea and served as a puppet ruler for the Roman Empire.[4]
It’s this Herod that we encounter on this second Sunday in Lent; it’s this
Herod (Antipas) that longs to keep peace in his little corner of the kingdom,
so he wants to silence this rabble rouser from Nazareth whose been going
around, gathering a following by speaking in parables, healing people, and
being called the king of the Jews. Herod wants peace in his kingdom, even if he
has to kill this so-called Messiah.[5]
Luke tells us so in verse 31 of our
text this morning: “At
that very hour some Pharisees came and said to [Jesus], ‘Get away from here,
for Herod wants to kill you.’" Pharisees, lay religious leaders of
the day, have been within earshot of Herod, the puppet king, and they hear that
Herod has it out for Jesus. Isn’t that strange?
We can gather from historians like Flavius Josephus that Herod wasn’t the
most convincing and faithful Jew of his day. In fact, the Herodians lived in
such luxury and in such contrary ways to the Law that many Jews in Judea
doubted the entire family’s faith.[6]
Pharisees were rigorously religious people who not only observed the written
Law, but also the oral traditions surrounding the Law as well, yet here we
witness a group of Pharisees relaying a message to Jesus from Herod. Pharisees
and Herodians don’t mix. Isn’t it strange how a common threat can cause strange
alliances? Jesus though, as he often does, gets right to the heart of what has
been playing out: he calls Herod out for what he really is—a fox: "Go
and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures
today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow,
and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to
be killed outside of Jerusalem.’” Then, I suspect with a slight lump in
his throat and moistened eyes, Jesus looks towards Jerusalem, the very place
where God’s great house stood: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills
the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!”
Jerusalem, the great epicenter of Judaism, the place where the very house
of God stood glistening on a hill in Zion, had become less a place for worship
and religious devotion and more a place of political dealings and wealth
chasing. Even the so-called faithful were in cahoots with the pagan rulers as offerings
were made on behalf of the pagan emperor in the Temple. The henhouse was
overrun with foxes! Jesus’ words at the end of verse 34 reveal a sad truth about the state of affairs there in
Jerusalem, for he says, “How often have I desired to gather your
children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not
willing!” The fox has invaded the henhouse, yet it seems the chicks are
too stubborn to care.
Just over a year ago, on January 29, 2012, the congregation of New Birth
Missionary Baptist Church in Lithonia, Georgia gathered for worship. They
gathered in the grand auditorium of the mega-church to hear a message from a Messianic
Jew called Rabbi Ralph Messer, but what happened during that service was
nothing less than strange. You’ve probably heard of New Birth Missionary
Baptist Church or at least heard the name of its pastor, “Bishop” Eddie Long.
Well, during this service, the visiting “rabbi” presented “the bishop” with a Torah
scroll (a large scroll of the Law often used in worship in Jewish synagogues),
had him draped in a ritual shawl, and then proceeded to have him lifted up in
his chair by several men on the platform, all the while proclaiming that the
pastor was now a king. The rabbi shouted as the men lifted their pastor in the
air, “He's a king. God’s blessed him. He’s a humble man, but in him is
kingship. In him is royalty.”[7]
The congregation exploded in applause, adoration, and praise as their pastor
was crowned a king before their very eyes—another fox, enjoying the praises of
the chicks in the henhouse.
Why does this happen? How do the little chicks of God stray so far from
the safety of the mother hen? How do we come to a place where selfish
billionaires garner our praise and adoration? How do we find ourselves in
worship services where God is pushed to the back corner of the room while we
praise people whose only message is “make God your choice and he’ll give you a
Rolls Royce”? How does a place of worship become overrun with political
corruption, idolatrous practices, and empty ritual? Why are the foxes taking
over the henhouse? Why?...Because we’re stubborn chicks.
We’re stubborn chicks. I know that’s not easy to hear. I know I don’t
particularly like to be called stubborn, but I am, especially when it comes to
listening to the Mother Hen, to God. I think of how many times I’ve heard these
words from Jesus, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take
up their cross daily and follow me…Whoever does not carry the cross and follow
me cannot be my disciple…Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the
poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."
I’ve heard those words from Jesus like a mother hen calling for her chicks, yet
I can only think of how difficult it all sounds, how uncomfortable it all is. I
don’t know if I want to take up a cross; crosses lead to pain and death—cruel
death. I don’t know about all this selling everything that I own and giving the
money to the poor; after all, I like my stuff, and I worked for what I have,
let others work for it too! I want to follow Jesus; I want all the benefits
that come with being one of his disciples, but I’m afraid I’m just too stubborn
sometimes to want to pick up a cross and drag it through this world in order to
be called by his name.
And that when the fox begins to tiptoe into the henhouse. When the people
of Israel wanted all the glory, the land, the national pride that came with
being called the people of God, but refused the duty and vocation of such a
calling, it was all too easy to let the politically powerful set up shop in the
heart of Jerusalem. When the people of God allow their faith to mingle with an
overgrown sense of entitlement, politics, and patriotism, it is all too easy
for the successful and powerful to become idols. When the people of God desire
wealth, health, and prosperity over faith, hope, and love, it is all too easy
for those preaching a message of mammon and money to be crowned king in the
sanctuary.
We are stubborn chicks when we forget the true message of Christ, the
message that God’s kingdom doesn’t come through the power of politics, that
God’s kingdom doesn’t come in the water-downed way of wealth, that God’s
kingdom doesn’t come through comfort and complacency, but God’s kingdom comes
through the hard, self-denying way of the cross! `
From time to time, we will be like stubborn chicks who refuse to gather
under the wings of our Mother Hen. From time to time, we will wander into the
den of the foxes, but let us remember, as we are traveling on this journey in
Lent, that our Mother Hen calls us to herself. Let us remember that as Christ
journeys towards Jerusalem, towards his death on a cross, that he calls us to
take up our own cross and follow him. He doesn’t desire for us to wander alone,
frightened and unprotected, but he desires for us to follow him. He goes before
us to the cross. That is what this season is about, that is what the cross is
about. It reminds us that the Mother Hen longs to gather us stubborn chicks
under her wings, despite even our sin and selfishness.
Let us pray…
