Philippians 3. 17—4. 1

Luke 13. 31 – 35

With Holy Baptism

Fr Alex

 

I wonder, if you were going to choose an animal to fight for you, what kind of animal you would choose?  Something dangerous, like a lion, perhaps?  Or something strong and immovable, like an ox.

I don’t think many of us would choose a chicken – especially if we were going up against a fox.  But that’s exactly what Jesus does in that little Gospel reading today.

Faced with “that fox,” Herod, Jesus describes himself in terms of a fox’s favourite prey: a hen.

I remember when I was young reading Roald Dahl’s book, ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’, and those Quentin Blake illustrations of Mr Fox salivating over the thought of all the chickens he can eat.  The story plays off the clever fox against the dim-witted farmers, and we’re supposed to cheer for Mr Fox when he manages to outwit their traps, and steal their chickens.

Someone has counted that at least 39 chickens are killed and eaten over the course of the 96 pages (that’s about one chicken every two or three pages).  They aren’t given a voice in the story; they simply represent food for the fox, or profit for the farmers.

So what is Jesus talking about in this passage today?  Well despite all the portrayals of chickens as weak and defenceless—and we even use the word ‘chicken’ to mean a coward, don’t we—they are surprisingly tough little creatures.

It’s well documented that often, after a farmyard fire, the farmer will come across the remains of a burnt and blackened hen sitting upright in the ashes; and wonder why, when she could have easily run and flapped away from danger.

But the farmer will find that underneath this hen, miraculously, are her chicks: alive, and safe.  Rather than flee and save her own life, the hen has gathered her brood beneath her wings, and allowed the flames to take her, that they might live.

“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…”

This is what Jesus wants to do for his lost and scattered people.  He sees them, like so many heedless chicks, running off in the opposite direction, taking no notice of the smoke and flames that will engulf them as they turn away from God – as indeed they did as the city and temple were destroyed just a few decades later.

But just like the mother hen, he will not turn and leave them to their fate; he will continue his journey to Jerusalem, into the heart of the danger, despite the threats of foxes like Herod that seek to kill him; and he will continue to call his people to take shelter under his wings.

Many will celebrate his arrival on Palm Sunday: “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Most of them will scatter again as it becomes clear what awaits him.  But he will stay there; he will face and take upon himself the full force of the fire of human anger and hate, all the worst that can be done—the finality of death itself—and “on the third day,” he will finish his work, as he triumphs over that death.

And by giving his life for his chicks, Jesus, our mother hen, enables us to share in that triumph, and achieve that same victory over death; the new resurrection life of that “third day,” when he rises again.

As St Paul says, by taking on our human frailty, our fear, our pain, our suffering, “he will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory.”  And we will be given the same power to endure, earning for us a “citizenship… in heaven.”

This is the great gift that we are preparing to celebrate at Easter, by our prayerful attention and devotion through this holy season of Lent.

And this is the great gift that Oliver is preparing to receive today, as he takes his place under the loving wings of his Saviour, and is given the same strength to overcome.

As a pledge of this the paschal candle, the Easter candle, shines again merrily today even in Lent.  It will lead us to the font, the symbol of Christ’s tomb, and lead us back to the Eucharist, the life-giving sacrament of Christ’s eternal presence with us.

And we are reminded by this bright flame that despite the darkness of Lent—despite the darkness of our experience of the challenges of life—we face it all in the light of Easter Day.  We face our trials knowing that the one who shelters and protects us has already faced them for us, and faces them again with us—and will enable us to overcome.

So I invite Oliver to come forward now, as we bring him for his baptism.  Amen.