When we first moved to Rhode Island we had a fox in our yard. We caught an occasional glimpse as it slid purposely and quickly among the rhododendrons. In winter we saw its tracks in the snow. But the most frequent evidence of the fox was the early morning panicked squawks from the neighbor’s chicken coop, followed by sudden silence. And then, on our dog walk, finding a pile of white feathers in the grass. 

 

On the one hand it can be said that nature does what nature does and that is the way of things. On the other hand the tendency to anthropomorphize is hard-wired into us, and Jesus was no exception.

 

So make no mistake; when Jesus taunted Herod Antipas, he was thinking of every negative stereotype of a fox—conniving, sly, merciless, and predatory. It was Herod’s hubris that was responsible for the death of John the Baptizer. And remember his father, Herod the Great, pretending to ingratiate himself with the Wise Ones searching for Jesus—hear him saying as he rubs his hands together, “Go and search diligently for the child, so that I too may pay him homage”. Remember the slaughter of the innocent children that followed when the Magi didn’t follow his directions. Foxiness apparently ran in the family.

 

Jesus’ entire life was entwined with the Herod family. He did not taunt them lightly.

 

“…that fox…”

 

Herod Antipas was a mere tetrarch who ruled just one fourth of the territory of his late father. Herod Junior answered to Rome, and his responsibility was to keep the peace in occupied Israel, no matter what it took. If the people of Israel were stirred up, as Jesus and his followers were doing, then Rome wouldn’t be happy. And if Rome wasn’t happy, Herod wasn’t happy. And if Herod wasn’t happy, he expected Pilate to fix things. Pilate relied on collaborators in the Jewish community—in this case the priestly sect of the Sadducees.

 

Biblical storyteller Richard Swanson writes: “[Pilate] had suborned the Sadducees and the whole priestly system, forcing it to function as his organ of liaison with the Jewish population. Pilate put the priests in charge of keeping [the] peace. If they heard of a possible troublemaker among the people, they were to turn him over to Pilate. If they did not, Pilate simply started killing Jews at random. He didn’t stop killing Jews until he got tired of it, which he never did… 

 

But the Jewish community and the Jewish authorities were not a monolith; witness the fact that many were drawn to Jesus and his message. Further, the Pharisees, unlike the Sadducees, were not supporters of Rome or of Herod’s murderous methods. 

 

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” 

 

Wait, Pharisees? Yes, Jesus and the Pharisees often sparred on issues of theology and practice, but they shared a deep faith as well as a rejection of Roman power and influence. So when some Pharisees—they were not a monolith either– came to warn Jesus of Herod’s intentions, Jesus may not have been as surprised as we expect.

 

He tells “that fox” that he is casting out demons and curing people of disease. In Kingdom language, he is restoring people to relationship and community; actively unfolding the Dream of God before people’s very eyes. But it’s more than that. 

 

Jesus says, “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.’” 

 

He is doing his work while on his way to Jerusalem, knowing that he is headed for a showdown with Herod, one that will in all likelihood result in his death.

 

Jerusalem. The destination toward which Jesus’ face has been set since coming down the mountain after his Transfiguration. It is the end of his journey. 

 

Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem is rooted in a couple of things. As a faithful Jew from a faithful Jewish family, Jesus knows Jerusalem the way you might know your own hometown. It is a place of memory and rootedness, to which he has come for religious observances, festivals, and life transitions since he was first brought to the Temple as a baby. Jesus knows and loves Jerusalem. 

 

And he knows it well enough to know her history–of kings who “did evil in the sight of the Lord”, who did not heed the call of the prophets to return to the God who created, liberated, and, in spite of their fickleness, never ceased yearning for them. Jesus knew the history of destruction and captivity and occupation, of injustice and unfaithfulness and idolatry. Jesus knew it all; and chiefly that all of it was tied together with a single thread—abuse of power and disregard of the most vulnerable—of those whom God loves most tenderly and calls God’s children—that’s us– to care for and protect.

 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem… ”How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” 

 

Of course it isn’t a coincidence that Jesus connects fox and hens in his response to the Pharisees. Fox and hens, predator and prey. Jesus compares himself with the prey, which may confound his listeners…but not if they’ve been paying attention. The image of a hen with her wings outspread, with tiny chicks peeking out between her feathers—please note that Jesus is applying a feminine image to himself—is more than just a generic metaphor for shelter and protection. It is meant to convey a stance of standing-between. Standing between the vulnerable creatures and the fox. Standing between; protective, yes, but also completely vulnerable herself. Knowing that her death is likely, she faces the fox, and death, because that is her very nature.

 

It is Jesus’ very nature, then, to stand with the suffering and the vulnerable; to stand between them and the principalities and powers that would devour them. Even, or perhaps because, it will mean his death.

 

Three years ago, I preached on this same story. As I was looking back over the sermon, I found this: 

 

“I think of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy saying, “I am not hiding. I am not afraid of anyone.” … Zelenskyy shows us the stubborn perseverance—and courage—of one who is fighting for his people.… I think of the welders and teachers and pizza bakers and housewives all gearing up to fight, and the Ukrainian expatriates returning home to take up arms, all of them spreading their wings like a mother hen with her brood, to protect their country, their future, their children.”

 

This breaks my heart today. To know that the leaders of our country have morphed from hen to fox. To know that those in power no longer know the meaning of mercy, or courage. To know that so many vulnerable children of God, in this country, Ukraine, and around the globe, wonder who is standing between them and the foxes of cruelty, callousness, and greed.

 

Where is the hope?

 

“Hope is what you do with what you believe.” 

 

This is what K said in her sermon last week when calling us to the work that is ours to do in a time of chaos. 

 

So, what do we believe? We believe in a God of mercy, justice, and lovingkindness who entered Creation to be in solidarity with us; to stand with the vulnerable and the suffering; and to stand between them and the devouring power of death. Jesus’ compassionate and forgiving self-offering flies in the face of the Herods of this world who only think they are winning, when in fact (spoiler alert) it will be Life that has the last word.

 

So, in these days, Jesus calls us to practice hope; to do what we believe and stand between the foxes and their prey. The Church is called, collectively and individually, to spread our wings –called to acts of Christian resistance and courage—to acts of generosity, simplicity and sustainability; of curiosity, creativity, vulnerability; of truth-telling, gathering in community, caring for the stranger—the list grows longer the more you open your heart to it—and the thread that draws it all together is love. Because Jesus showed us, as he opened his wings upon the cross, that it is in love for one another that we are most in the image of God.