“If You Are Willing”

Luke 13:31-35
March 4, 2007 (2^nd in Lent)

St. Paul United Methodist Church

Rev. John A. Fleming

In one of her sermons, Barbara Brown Taylor tells that there is a church on the western edge of the Mount of Olives, just across the valley from Jerusalem. It is a small chapel, really. It gets its name from the two cries or the two laments of Jesus for the city of Jerusalem. If the tradition is accurate, the chapel is placed on the place where Jesus wept, not once, but twice over the city that refused His care.

The preacher turned author says that inside the chapel, there is an altar. Over the altar is an arched window that looks out over the city of Jerusalem. The window’s frame is made of iron. The grillwork of the window naturally divides the view into sections. On a sunny day, I read, the effect is that of a stained glass window. It would be hard for a designer of a window to propose a more beautiful picture of the city. The subject of this window is alive.

Down below, on the altar, is a picture of something that never happened in Jerusalem. Propped up, there is a medallion with a picture of a white hen on it. Above the hen is a halo. The red comb around the hen’s head looks like a crown. On this medallion, the hen’s wings are spread out as wide as they can be. She is sheltering pale yellow chicks that are crowded around her feet. There are seven of them. If you could see it, then you would know that this hen is ready for a fight. She will defend these until the bitter end.

But like I said, that never happened in Jerusalem and the picture on the medallion doesn’t pretend it does. Instead, at the bottom of it, are written the words that have become our scripture lesson for this morning, “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 then the last phrase, outside the circle, printed in red letters, almost like a pool of blood, underneath the chick’s feet, “But you were not willing.”

Jerusalem is important to Luke. His journey there in this gospel encompasses ten chapters. It begins when Luke tells us that Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem and it all comes to an end when he enters the holy city, on the back of a donkey. Luke mentions the name of the city ninety times in his gospel. The other gospel writers combine only mention in forty-nine times.

It is hard to avoid the conclusion that Luke loves Jerusalem. To him, the city is strong with heritage and history. It is also a place that is full of expectation and fear.

Jesus is not in Jerusalem when we catch up with Him in our gospel lesson. He is still six chapters out. Jesus is still in Galilee when a group of Pharisees arrive with a warning. Jesus is doing the things we love Him for when they arrive. He is casting out demons and healing people who have heard of him. That is when the contingency arrived with the warning. I love these words. The spokesman for the Pharisees comes forward and says, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” The threat isn’t an idle one. Herod has the power to do it. Herod had seen to the death of John the Baptist. Just when Herod thinks he has gotten rid of pesky prophets, Jesus shows up.

I would have liked to have been there when Jesus heard the threat. I would have liked to have seen Jesus, with what I am sure was anger in His eyes, turn to the contingency and say, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the next day I must be on my way because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’”

Even if you are not a careful reader of the gospel, you can hear the echoes that go forward to the resurrection. You will remember that Jesus was resurrected on the third day.

Just in case you are wondering, calling someone a fox was no compliment. Foxes in those days, just as they are in our day, were considered dangerous, sly, conniving and clever. Can you see the anger in Jesus’ eyes? Can you hear it in His voice?

I want you to see something else. As strong as it is, that anger quickly fades and sadness shows up. The tears of Jesus become words, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem…How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…” Barbara Brown Taylor puts it this way, “Jerusalem was full of pale little chicks, and at least one fox. In the absence of the hen, some of the chicks were starting to follow the fox around. The others are huddles where anything can get them. Across the valley is the hen who is calling out as loud as she can. Most of the chicks cannot hear her and the ones who can don’t do anything about her cry.”

Now you will know this. Foxes and hens are on the opposite side of the food chain. In fact, most farmers do everything in their power to keep foxes out of the hen house. To be honest with you, I do not know much about hens. There are some things I have learned by studying this week. I have learned that hens will do just about anything to protect her young. She will do it at all costs. I have learned will wrap her wings around her chicks to gather them up. I have learned that a hen has nothing on her to defend herself and her babies. She has no claws or fangs. She doesn’t have strong muscles to protect herself. But if a fox wants what belongs to her, he will have to go through her first.

There is a line in our lesson that haunts me. Maybe it will haunt you, too. It is this one, “And you were not willing.” If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of this lament, this cry of Jesus. Sometimes all you can do is to open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. While your arms are wide open, you should know this, that position is a very vulnerable one, maybe even the most vulnerable one. Your wings are spread out. Your body is exposed. But, if you mean what you say, what other position is there? How else could you stand?

It is Jesus’ open arms. It is Jesus’ cry over the city, still six chapters out that seems to say to us, “It is not too late. There is still time! What will you do? Will His tears change you? Will they help you head in the right direction? Will you go to the open arms of Jesus?” Ultimately we know that those in Jerusalem did not go towards Jesus. It is too late for them. It is not too late for us.

Let me close with this. It is a story that now Bishop Will Willimon tells. It is a story of a time when he was younger and when his children were small. Bishop Willimon says that even in his early years in the ministry, he often traveled to be the guest preacher or teacher in other places. When he could, he would take his children.

On one of those trips, Will returned to his hotel room. He was tired and weary. He and his family were about to turn in for the night when he noticed comic books, several of them, in his son’s suitcase. Will turned to him and asked where the comic books had come from. His son dutifully answered that they had come from the store down in the lobby. Will asked, “Where did you get the money to pay for these books?” His son’s head fell. It was then and there that Will knew that his son had stolen the books.

The two of them walked down to the lobby of the hotel where his son had gotten the books. He pulled the manager of the store aside and told her what had happened. He asked for grace and forgiveness. He also asked if she would be willing to talk to his son about the evils of stealing. He hoped she would scare him. She agreed. The stealing stopped, at least for a while.

A few months later, the now bishop came home with the news from his wife that she had just confiscated, seized several comic books from their son’s hiding place. Once again, he had stolen the books. He had already admitted to that. Will didn’t know what to do. His mother happened to be visiting them. He turned to her and asked if she would be willing, in a grand mother kind of way, talk to him, to put the fear of God inside of him, the way she had with him some years ago. She was willing. They had their talk. And the stealing stopped, at least for a while.

Not too long after that, the same scenario greeted the preacher when he arrived home. He knew he had to do something with his son. As he walked to his bedroom, he wondered, “How can I be a good pastor? How can I lead people? My own son doesn’t even follow my guidance!”

The preacher knew what he had to do. He walked into his son’s room. They talked for what seemed like forever. When the discussion was over, Will Willimon pulled out his belt. For the first time, he spanked his son. When it was over, he went to his own bedroom, fell into his bed, and cried for thirty minutes.

Many weeks later, the son was eating breakfast at the kitchen table with only his mother. He looked up at her and said, “Mom, you know I haven’t stolen comic books in a long time.” She looked up at him and said, “Yes, I know.” He asked, “Mom, do you know why I don’t steal comic books anymore?” She answered, “Yes, it is because your father spanked you.” He said, “No. That isn’t why I quit stealing.” She waited for him to continue. He said, “I don’t steal anymore because I saw daddy crying.”

Listen again to the cry of Jesus, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that stones the prophets and kills those who are sent to it. How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood, and you were not willing.”

Are you willing, church? Let us pray.

(Special thanks to the writings of Barbara Brown Taylor whose work I consulted and quoted in parts of this sermon. Special thanks to the ministry of Bishop Will Willimon. The story that ends this sermon comes from a sermon that I heard while visiting a church in Dallas, Texas. The story was told by Rev. John Thornburg).