Each week Pastor Keith’s Sunday sermon is posted on this site. Several other recent sermons are also available here. You can go back over it to review what he said — or if you cannot come to church, you can still enjoy his sermons.

God Laughs
April 3, 2016

Psalm 2 seems like a good Psalm to read today, Holy Humor Sunday. It is the day we celebrate the greatest joke ever. The joke of It is better than any April fool's joke that you concocted this week. This psalm was sung whenever a new king of Israel was crowned. It is a song praising God, praising God’s king — the anointed one — and celebrating God’s power over the enemies of the kingdom. But the first Christians read this psalm as being about the Messiah.

Let’s re-read Psalm 2 from a Jesus perspective.
Why do the Romans conspire
and the religious folks plot in vain?
Pilate and Herod rise up
and the Pharisees band together
against the LORD and against his anointed, saying,
“Let us break Jesus’ spell on the people
and throw off his message of love and forgiveness.”
The One enthroned in heaven laughs.

During the children's time one Easter Sunday the leader talked about the resurrection of Jesus. One child asked, “What did Jesus say right after He came out of the grave?” The leader explained that the Bible does not tell us what He said. One little girl shouted out, “I know what He said: He said, ‘Tah-dah!’ ”

God laughs at the idea that Jesus can be held in the grave. Some people call it the Easter laugh. We often don’t think of God laughing. We think God is all serious and stuffy and if we were at a dinner table with him we’d be bored to death with the conversation. But God laughs. God laughs at the thought that someone other than He, the God of all creation, is sovereign. God laughs when we think we could do away with the Messiah. God laughs at the very idea that we can manage just fine without him. The greatest joke in history was pulled on the political and religious leaders who thought that killing Jesus would be the end of the story.

Here are Caiaphas and all his crowd, Pilate and Herod and all theirs, sitting complacently in a state of grave and dignified self-congratulation. “Better that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.” (John 11:50) they say not realizing the irony. They have done their duty. They have seriously studied the surroundings. They have justified the authority vested in them. And they efficiently disposed once and for all of a dangerous fool. He is safely dead. And with solemn calm again restored they can concentrate once more on the really serious matters to which their lives are dedicated.

But behind their backs, in the twilight of Sunday morning, without them having the slightest inkling of what is going on, the fool popped up like a Jack-in-the-box and shouted “Tah-dah!” He is alive and dancing about even more vigorously than before and even more compellingly than before. Surprise! the joke’s on you. Christ is alive. Christ is risen! Christ reigns! As the song “Lord of the Dance” (which we will sing later), says, “They buried my body, they thought I was gone But (the joke’s on them) I am the dance, and the dance goes on.”

How should you celebrate after Easter? With a good laugh, of course. Better yet, with a party, a really fun party. Far from being a strange, new idea, this is actually a long-standing tradition rooted in good Christian theology. It began hundreds of years ago. A monk, whose name has been lost in history, was pondering the meaning of the events of holy week with its solemn observances of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the astonishing, earth-shaking events of Easter. “What a surprise ending,” he thought. Then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, he had a new insight. His hearty laugh startled his fellow monks, breaking the silence of their contemplation.

“Don’t you see,” he cried, “It was a joke! A great joke! The best joke in all history! On Good Friday, when Jesus was crucified, the devil thought he had won. But God had the last laugh on Easter when he raised Jesus from the dead.” The monks called it “the Easter laugh.” Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/

The grave could not hold the Christ. Death was defeated. And God laughed.

Called by Name; Sent to Proclaim
March 27, 2016
John 20:1-18

Mary goes to the cemetery while it’s still dark. Darkness obviously means before the sun comes up. But darkness also means she comes in despair, sorrow, and grief. Many of you have lived in that darkness. In addition, darkness means that she comes without understanding. She’s in the dark as to what’s going on. She hasn’t been let in on the joke pulled on the evil one.

So Mary comes in the dark to the cemetery where Jesus was put to rest on Friday. Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus in darkness, had wrapped the body with spices, as was the burial custom of the Jews, and buried Jesus in a new tomb in a nearby garden. Other gospels mention more women, women coming to wrap the body in spices, but in John’s telling the story, Mary comes alone and empty-handed.

So Mary comes to the tomb in the dark of early morning. She sees the stone rolled away. In her darkness she thinks the body has been removed, stolen, desecrated. Stumbling her way through the darkness of her grief and now her horror, she runs to the disciples. Maybe they know something she doesn’t. Maybe they’ve devised some plan they didn’t tell her about. Maybe they know where the body is.

But the disciples are also in the dark. They don’t know anything either. But two of them, Peter and the other disciple (we think John), run to the tomb. John gets there first but stops at the entrance to the cave. Peter rushes straight in and sees funeral wrapping piled up. Odd, the head covering is rolled up in a separate place. Why would grave robbers take the time to undress a corpse? Why would they neatly care for the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head? We’re not told. The Bible simply says, the two disciples saw all of this then returned home. They came in the darkness of the night and left with their minds in darkness at to what happened.

Mary stayed. Perhaps, you understand. In the darkness of her grief she doesn’t want to leave. She can’t leave. Maybe she’ll put a bench here and stay. Or at least come every day when the dew is still on the roses and the garden is so quiet — the birds aren’t even singing. Come and sit and cry. Sit and grieve lost in the darkness of despair and uncertainty.

What follows is the now-famous scene of Mary Magdalene crying her eyes out when a stranger (we are told this is Jesus incognito) asks Mary why she is weeping. Mary is crying because death had done to her beloved Jesus what death does to everybody.

And then it happens. Jesus calls her by name. His voice penetrates the darkness of her grief. Hearing her name called dispels the darkness. It’s hard to imagine all the emotions that must have coursed through Mary in that moment; and yet, while the text doesn’t give us many clues, I suspect that after just a heartbeat she responded at first with a big grin, wiping away the tears that soak her cheeks, and then she grabs him and hugs him tightly and doesn’t want to let him go.
But it doesn’t end here. After a brief moment to savor this encounter, to feel his heart beat as she’s pressed against him, Mary is addressed once again by her Lord. “Go to the others and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” Having been called by name, Mary is now sent to proclaim the wonder of what she has witnessed. And she does. Racing back to the city in broad daylight to announce to the other disciples and the world, “I have seen the Lord.” And in so doing, Mary becomes the first Christian preacher, the first herald of the resurrection, the first apostle and we are all her heirs.

Mary was in darkness. It was darkness of night. It was darkness despair. It was darkness of confusion. Why are we in the dark? What despair or grief or uncertainty? What has you paralyzed or traumatized, confused or bewildered? Maybe it’s war, raging now in so many parts of the world, or terrorism, having afflicted the people in Brussels so recently? Maybe it’s grief over the death, or pending death, of a loved one? Or the crumbling of an important relationship? Maybe it’s an uncertain future or a painful past. Maybe it’s any one of a host of things that plagues us on any given day of the year, weakening our lives and paralyzing us where we stand. Is it your arriving at the end of another long Lenten journey only to discover you’re not sure about it all?

Whatever it is, hear once again the good news that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. Jesus Christ is calling you by name. If you have faith, then you have been called by name. That’s good news! And yet it doesn’t end here. The Lord has something more to say. Now that you have been called by name, you are now sent to proclaim what you have seen and heard. Sent to his other disciples and sent to all the world. And this world lives in darkness and is ready for such good news!

Called by name, sent to proclaim. That’s the Easter word to you. God is calling you by name. God is reconnecting you to Jesus. God is inviting you into a whole new world — a new world filled with the possibility of resurrection and the promise that nothing — not even death itself — can separate us from the love of God.

What Would Stones Say if They Cried Out?
March 20, 2016
Luke 19:28-40

I wanted to find out what crying stones say so I did some research. It all comes out of our reading for this morning. The scene is the “Triumphal Entry.” Jesus is on a donkey colt entering Jerusalem as people spread their cloaks on the road in front of him. The people joyfully shout praises to God and say, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” We are told that some of the Pharisees [religious leaders] in the crowd told Jesus to tell the disciples to stop shouting praises!” To which Jesus replies, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

So I wanted to find out about stones crying out. What do they sound like? What do they say? So I Googled crying stones. There is a crying stone in Kenya. It’s a big rock that resembles a gowned figure, perpetually in tears flowing from ‘head to toe.’ I’m not sure that’s relevant. I searched and learned The Talking Stone is a book by Issac Asimov about a talking silicon-based life form. Then there is the Talking Rocks Cavern outside Branson, Missouri. I watched a video but they didn’t say anything. Not even an echo. I learned the name comes from the fact that the physical evidence in the cave will tell you a story about how it formed.

No crying stones. No talking stones or talking rocks. So, in my quest to learn about crying stones, I turned to the Bible. Imagine that. Here’s what I found. Let me remind you, our reading says that if the disciples don’t joyfully shout praises — “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” — if the disciples are shut up the stones will cry out.

Now, the Pharisees knew that phrase. It is in the words of a minor prophet, Habakkuk. In Chapter 2, the prophet condemns those who gather power and wealth to themselves by evil ways and at the expense of others. Habakkuk says that judgment will come, even from their homes, “The stones of the wall will cry out.” (Hab. 2:11) The stones hear and then testify against those who did wrong in their presence. Of course, this all seems to be a figurative way of saying, “You will be brought to account for what you have done ... and will not be able to deny it. These stones will serve as witnesses against you.” The stones will cry out against injustice.

In another OT story Joshua reminds the people of Israel of the requirements for serving the Lord. He also warns them of the consequences of turning away from the Lord. Joshua set up a stone under an oak tree. The stone was present when all the warnings were issued by Joshua; the stone heard the people’s commitment to serve the Lord. In the event that the people failed to keep the covenant they couldn't deny that they had made the commitment for the stone was present. “This stone will be a witness against us. It has heard all the words the LORD has said to us. It will be a witness against you if you are untrue to your God.” (Joshua 24:27) The stone could serve as a witness in a court case against the people if they failed to keep the covenant.

So, we get to the gate of Jerusalem. The disciples are shouting; the cloaks are being thrown on the ground; and according to other accounts, palms are waving. Jesus rides on a donkey colt. They are confronted by the Pharisees who tell them to shut up. Stop with the noise, stop with the songs of messiah.

Then Jesus says, “If the people stop shouting the stones will cry out.” We think here of rocks crying out shouts of “hosanna.” But when read in light of the OT, I'm not sure the stones are singing. With the OT in view, I’m thinking the stones would cry out in witness against those who demand silence — the Pharisees, against their injustice. But I also think the stone would cry out against those followers who become silent.

The stones have witnessed this conversation. Stones will cry out against us. Stones will bear witness against us our silence. I'm not so sure our common thinking is right — that if we stop praising God, the rocks and stones themselves will start to sing. The stones won’t sing in our place. The stones will condemn us, the stones will call us to repentance. The stones will cry out for us to shout, and proclaim and confess.

Followers of Jesus Christ cannot be silent.

We are to offer the hope of transformation through Jesus Christ.

We cannot be silent. We are to witness our faith to others.

We cannot be silent. We are to tell the story of Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection for all people.

In the face of the injustices of racism, sexism and prejudice we cannot be silent.

When people are forgotten or dehumanized because of their ethnicity, age or economic status we cannot be silent.

When we encounter those in need of comfort and companionship, we cannot remain silent or distant. We shout with our lives and our hands and our feet that we serve a risen savior.

There is a book titled Our Guilty Silence. Its focus is the church withholds the gospel from the world. The author gives four basic reasons why we don’t proclaim the great, marvelous, delivering, liberating truth inherent in the good news of Jesus Christ. The stones cry out — not in praise, but in condemnation — because we have failed to evangelize. Our silence condemns folks to death and misery and darkness. And the stones cry out against us, denounce us, chastise us.

This is God’s desire for his people today — for us — to proclaim, in the midst of life, the mighty works of God so that the world might understand who Jesus is.

So shout, sing, celebrate, and wave your palms. But know the stones are witnesses. Tell the story of Jesus. Tell the story of his betrayal, of people abandoning him, of denial, of a cruel death on a cross. Shout with joy the raising of Jesus on Resurrection Day and new life we have in Jesus Christ. The stones are listening and are witnesses. Don’t make the stones cry out.

The Foolish Follower
March 13, 2016
John 12:1-8

We reach into our bag of goodies for another visual of our journey to Easter. Today is lotion. Not expensive, not very fragrant but nonetheless, a reminder of this day and this remembrance of Mary. A similar story is found in each gospel. This is John’s recounting. Not an anonymous woman. Not a sinner. Mary — faithful, foolish Mary.

Jesus and the disciples are in Bethany. Bethany, where Lazarus was raised from the dead. Bethany where Simon the healed leper lives. Bethany the place where later Jesus ascends into heaven. They’ve slowly been making the journey to Jerusalem. Now they are in the suburbs — about 2 miles from Jerusalem and a day from beginning of Holy Week. It is six days before Passover, a Saturday, THE Saturday before Palm Sunday.

Lazarus is there. Not long ago he was dead, buried and stinking. Now he’s reclining at the dinner table with the men. Mary is — well, Mary is being Mary. Once before she sat at Jesus’ feet listening to what he was saying instead of helping Martha in the kitchen.

Today is no different. Martha is in the kitchen whipping up lunch for 20, Mary is missing. Well, she was missing. She comes out of the bedroom with a jar. She goes, as she has done before, and sits at Jesus' feet. This time, this time, instead of listening to Jesus talk Mary breaks the seal on the jar. Immediately, the room is filled with the semi-sweet, musky odor of nard. Now, it’s not like the nard plant grows in the yard. There are no nard factories in Bethany, nor Jerusalem, nor Judea. Nard is an expensive fragrance extracted from a plant in Nepal, 3,000 miles away. Somehow it has traveled from the Nepalese mountains across the desert to Mary’s hands and now Jesus’ feet.

Now, why does Mary have a jar of nard, an imported oil from 3,000 miles away that cost a year’s wage? Did she purchase it for her brother Lazarus’ funeral and this is what’s left over? Was Mary paying attention to Jesus when he spoke of pending death so she bought this lavish gift for when that day came? We don’t know. By whatever means Mary comes into possession of this precious ointment, she pours it on Jesus’ feet.

Last week we looked at the foolish father. Extravagant and foolish love. Mary is a foolish follower. She is unrestrained in her love for Jesus. And is a model for us.

She’s foolish in the cost of the perfume. Judas is right. That’s a lot of money that could have been used to help the poor. Now, we’re told Judas didn’t really want to give money to the poor, he wanted to steal it but the truth is the truth. There are a number of scholars who believe Bethany was the site of an alms house for the poor and a place of care for the sick. What better setting for a scene like this? Expensive imported nard in a town filled with indigent people. Sell it and help the community. Sell it and support the food bank. Sell it and walk in the streets of Bethany and give the money away. It’s valued at 300 days’ labor. Today’s dollars about $18,000. Imagine how many people who could legitimately be helped with $60 a day. Groceries, utilities, medical care, clothing. Mary was foolish to buy it in the first place. A cheap motel sample lotion would have worked just as well. Why be so wasteful? Because she loves the Lord, extravagantly loves the Lord. She’s not going to pinch pennies in expressing to him her passion for him, her love for him, her commitment to him.

Foolish in cost. now foolish in action. People generally washed and anointed their own feet. Foot washing was a routine matter of cleanliness, and the use of oil or ointment on one’s feet was soothing after wearing sandals all day. When guests arrived at someone’s home, especially after a journey, the host usually provided a basin and water for the guests to wash their own feet before sharing the meal.

She’s foolish in buying such an extravagant perfume. She’s foolish in how she uses it. She “pours it on Jesus’ feet.” No spritzer here. No drop or two. Lavishly, extravagantly, she pours the whole container on Jesus’ feet. Such is her love for him. This is no measured response. She holds nothing back.

Not a sound is heard in the room as they all watch this act of pure devotion to the Lord. Mary’s heart is full of love and thankfulness to the Lord for what he has done, not only for Lazarus, but for the time Christ has given to the three of them, gently teaching them all about the love of the Father. He is the messiah. He is going to die. Love and thankfulness wells up with a desire to do something in return — to love in return, to give him something in response to his love. She wants to thank him, honor him, love him with all she has. And foolishly, Mary acts like a servant and washes his feet and caresses them with her hair.

Foolish cost. Foolish action. Foolish faith. 

A slave was virtually the only one who could be expected to wash and anoint the feet of another person. Because of these connotations, those who voluntarily washed someone else’s feet showed they were devoted enough to act as that person’s slave. Foolish Mary, acting like a slave, a servant girl, instead of a friend, a disciple. But she’s even more foolish than that. Mary does something that no self-respecting Jewish woman ever did — she unclips her hair from being tied up and allows it all to hang loose. No respectable woman lets her hair down in public. She is touching the feet of the honored guest at this meal, and not only that, she’s wiping his feet with her hair, the crown and glory of a woman — throwing all public dignity aside. Such is her commitment to him. Her best. Her all for Jesus.

The Foolish Father
March 6, 2016
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

As we rummage though the Lent in a Bag we have sand representing 40 days in the wilderness. We have a mother hen with out-spread wings to color. We have a Fig Newton. Today we have a ring. The father welcomes the wayward son home and puts a ring on the young son’s finger. It has nothing to do with the worthiness of the son but everything to do with the love of the father.

Today we will focus on the father in this parable of Jesus. The central feature in this story is the absolute foolish love of the father.

1) The son asks for his inheritance. That is an amazingly offensive request. In that culture asking for an inheritance ahead of time is akin to wishing your parents dead. Yet, the absolute foolish father goes ahead and gives it to him. Now this is not a simple as going to the bank to cashing in a CD. It’s not as simple as divvying up the family silver. It’s not that simple. In those days wealth was tied up in land. This is about selling off tracts of real estate, herds, and more. Land that’s been in the family, perhaps for centuries. Land that’s always been cared for, fed, watered, cultivated passed down from one generation to the next. Did you know olive trees are slow-growing and take 65 to 80 years to reach stable yields? Yet the son is asking for those trees just now reaching maturity to be sold so he can get away. Yet, foolishly, the father does just that.

2) But that’s not all. When his son has wasted all this away, the father foolishly runs RUNS! to receive the son. The father is a wealthy man and therefore lives toward the center of town. Such a man would have had much dignity and respect. The father in the center of the village looks diligently into the distance, anticipating the return of his son. (It is entirely possible that if the son reaches the village and is recognized, the townspeople may assault him because of the way he has treated his father.)

When the father sees him way down the road he runs to greet the son. He gathers up his robe, exposing his legs and runs. The image is of the father humiliating himself before the village as he runs out to greet the long lost son whom he loves and protects that son as they walk back together through town.

3) On the walk back, the father cuts off the boy’s apology, and restores him to his place in the family. Foolishly he doesn’t demand an explanation. Foolishly he doesn’t demand proof of repentance. Foolishly, abba, father, kills a calf, gets a robe and puts a ring on the young son’s finger. Putting a ring on someone is a sign of great affection and also a symbol of authority — even dignity and wealth. This instance reveals the foolish father’s great love for the son.

All of this is being played out in front of the whole village who by now as gathered to see what happens. The father gave the son his inheritance. The father scraped all dignity and ran through town to meet his son. The father welcomed the son back into full family relationship with a party and a ring. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

But wait, that’s not all. As the older son approaches the village, having been working in the fields all day, he hears a party. What’s supposed to happen is this: when he gets home he would be greeted by cheers of welcome and would be told of the good news. He would change clothes and then mingle among the guests and make everyone feel at home. Instead, this is what happens: he asks a kid playing in the yard what's going on. The boy said, your brother is home and there’s a big party. The oldest son is furious and refuses to go to the party; refuses to play the proper role in the family hierarchy.

Kenneth Bailey, who spent a lifetime in the Middle East and has studied the Bible through Middle Eastern eyes, points out that it is hard for us to imagine how insulting this behavior was. He suggests that we imagine a wealthy man having a black tie, candle-lit dinner for prestigious guests, only to have his son show up at the door drunk, unshaven, without shirt and shoes, and begin to verbally attack the father. But even that’s too mild an image to convey the revolting nature of the older son’s behavior!

Bailey even says this behavior is more damaging than the behavior of the youngest son. At least the disrespect was done in private. The oldest son embarrassed his father in front of the whole community. A traditional father would call his servants to subdue his son and lock in a room. How does the foolish father respond?

4) His father came out and began to plead with him. Rather than retaliate, the father loves. Rather than put the son in his place, the father humiliates himself and implores his son to come in and join the celebration. The older son refuses to even address his father as “father.” The word “son,” is used eight times in the parable. But here Jesus uses the word meaning “beloved son.” After being humiliated in front of the entire community, the father calls him beloved! How foolish.

Finally, imagine the absolute foolish love of the father “He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 4:9–10)

As Paul wrote, the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing — but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18)

God Spreads the Manure

February 28, 2016
Luke 13:1-9

“This sticker is dangerous and inconvenient, but I do love Fig Newtons.”

That line from Talladega Nights brings us to our Lent in a Bag item of the week. I love fig Newtons also. And fig preserves. My dad used to can the best fig preserves ever. My grandparents had one fig tree that grew next to their home. It was tall and seemed every year to be loaded with figs. I can remember one year as a youngster being given the job of climbing the ladder to the top of the house and picking the figs from the very top of the fig tree. Then dad would cook them just right and seal them in a glass jar.

The Fig Newton in your sack reminds us of a parable Jesus shares on his way to Jerusalem. A fellow has a fig tree. For three years he’s looked but there's never been any figs. What use is a fig tree that doesn’t make figs? All it’s doing is taking up space that could be used by a fig tree that would make figs. He wants to cut it down so he brings out the ax to have it chopped down. The caretaker convinces the owner to let it live another year. With pruning and fertilizer and water and care, maybe, just maybe, it would bear some fruit. But if it does not respond, the gardener agrees, then, yes, cut it down.

“Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” Jesus then adds his own story of recent calamity — eighteen people died when a tower fell. Do you think they were worse than all the others in Jerusalem? Jesus asked. Jesus does not accuse the victims of doing anything wrong, anything that causes or warrants their deaths. We must not equate tragedy with divine punishment.

“But unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” We don’t know, for sure, what precisely Jesus means by “as they did.” What Jesus wants us to see in these events is how precarious our existence is. Life is uncertain. Life is fragile. Therefore there is an urgency to life. Jesus turns attention away from disasters, victims, and “why?” questions to address those of us who thus far have survived the perils of life and human society. We should not mistake our good fortune as evidence of God’s special blessing. They didnt die because of something they did wrong. We don't live because of something we've done right.

When we read the parable of the fig tree, it’s common to assume that the landowner is God, the gardener Jesus and we are the fig tree. But think of that image. God in his anger wants to kill us but Jesus intervenes. The problem with that is that the Father and Son are One. They are not opposite sides. They are on the same side. Our lives are not dependent on a divine wrestling match between God and Jesus. Can Jesus take the ax away from God? Will God cut us down before Jesus can talk him out of it?

Think of how in the Gospel of Luke Jesus portrays God. God is a father who scans the horizon day in and day out waiting for his wayward son to come home. God is a woman who sweeps her house all night looking for a lost coin, then throws a party costing even more to celebrate that she found it. Opposite the idea that God is an ax-welding tyrant seeking whom he can cut off at the knees.

Suppose we look at it this way. What if we see God as the gardener. God is the one partial to fruitless fig trees. God is the one who vows to loosen the soil around us. God is the one willing to spread manure in the hope that we may bear fruit. God is digging around our roots, spreading manure in the hope that we’ll blossom and bear fruit. God loves us — loves us that much. That image of God better fits a God who searches for us. Who hunts us when we're lost. That is the image of a God loves us and wants the best for us.

The parable reinforces ideas from the first half of this passage. A cultivated yet unproductive tree may continue to live even without bearing fruit, only because it has been granted additional time to do what it is supposed to do. Like Jesus’ earlier words in response to the recent tragedies, the parable warns against false reassurance. Just because you have not been cut down, do not presume that you are bearing fruit.

Patience and mercy temporarily keep judgment at bay. The tree has not been left to its own devices. Everything possible is being done to get the tree to act as it should. In the same way, God doesn’t leave us to our own resources but encourages our repentance.

So why do bad things happen to good, and sometimes not-so-good, people? Jesus doesn’t say and neither can we. Sometimes misfortune is of our own making and sometimes it is tragically unlucky. But Jesus, son of the all-loving God, uses those occasions to invite us to wake up — or in this case, turn around — so that we might look differently at our life and world. The question Jesus asks is not “Life is short; if you die tonight, will your soul go to heaven? The question is this: “Life is unpredictable; if you live today, will you bear fruit for Christ?”

Charlie Brown and Snoopy are sitting on the dock, looking out onto the water. Charlie Brown says, “Some day, we will all die.” Snoopy responds, “True, but on all the other days we will not.”

There is so much good we can do with the time we are given. We do not know how long that time is or how it will come to a close, but we do know it is a gift. A gift that is not to be squandered. Be fruitful in the pursuit of good things for God’s people.

In the 15th century during a war between England and France there came to prominence a young woman, Joan, who went into battle for the French. She was ultimately captured and put on trial. When Joan of Arc knew that her time was short she prayed, “I shall only last a year; use me as you can.”

February 21, 2016
Luke 13:31-35

I know firsthand what it’s like for a varmint to get into the henhouse. Years ago, while a seminary student, I pastored two small congregations in southern Indiana. I wanted to get a feel for living in the church community, so the family moved into an old farmhouse just down the road from one of the churches. I drove the 60 miles to seminary twice a week for classes. Anyway, on the property of the old farmhouse was a chicken coop. I asked around and managed to get about 20 old laying hens. All was well for a while. Then one winter day I was driving home and noticed the neighbor’s dog running through the corn stubble with something in his mouth. I thought perhaps he had caught a pheasant or something. But when I turned into the drive I saw the reality. Dead chickens scattered all over the yard. Feathers everywhere. The neighbor’s dog had gotten into the henhouse, killed most of them and took one home for dinner.

Some Pharisees come to Jesus and warn him that King Herod wants to kill him. Now this is not the same brutal King Herod who wanted to kill baby Jesus. This is the son, Herod Antipas, but he’s as ruthless as his father. This Herod has already taken a machete to the head of John the Baptist. Now some Pharisees warn Jesus that the same fate awaits him.

Jesus tells the Pharisees that he is not going to alter his plans on account of Herod. Go tell that fox, “I will keep on doing what I’ve been doing. I’ll drive out demons. I’ll heal people. Today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal.” He is on his way out of Galilee and toward Jerusalem, but he will not hurry his timetable or change his local mission just because of Herod’s threats.

Jesus calls Herod “that fox.” He isn’t referring to the cunning qualities of the animal. No doubt he is referring to the ruthless or even the vicious acts foxes are capable of committing. But Jesus doesn’t seem disturbed by the message or the King. It is on God’s schedule not Herod’s that Jesus’ time will come. Perhaps that’s a reference to his resurrection in three days. Jesus goes on to say that no prophet can die outside Jerusalem. Jerusalem has a bad reputation for killing prophets. The list is long and bloody. Jesus will continue his journey to Jerusalem and then they will meet.

So, what is Jesus’ plan against “that fox,” Herod? What does he become? If you were going to be an animal to go up against a fox, what would it be? To go up against a fox you’d want to be something stronger, more aggressive, dangerous? right? “You tell that fox, the bear will meet him in Jerusalem.” Wolf, coyote, badger? What about the mighty eagle of Exodus (19:4), or Hosea’s stealthy leopard (13:7)? What about the proud lion of Judah (Rev 5:5), mowing down his enemies with a roar?

Of all the wild beasts in the animal kingdom, Jesus calls himself a hen. Jesus chooses to put a mother hen up against a fox. What a dumb idea! Doesn’t have a chance. That rallying call doesn’t inspire much confidence. No wonder some of the chicks decide to run away and side with the fox. (Can you imagine Mel Gibson’s Braveheart character, shouting to his Scottish followers, “I’m the mother hen, follow me!”)

Many of us probably aren’t used to female images for God. Most of our images and ideas about God are very male-oriented. But we forget that the Bible does show feminine images for God also. Here Jesus compares himself to a mother hen gathering her children under her wings. He calls Herod a fox; a conniving, selfish, untrustworthy beast. Now he compares himself to a nurturing mother hen.

If you go to Israel, there’s small chapel situated on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. This is supposed to be the place where Jesus wept over Jerusalem. On the altar is a mosaic that is said to date from the 7th century, a mosaic of a hen and her chicks. The words from Luke 13 are around the perimeter. In the mosaic, the hen has its wings spread wide to protect its chicks. Spreading wings wide puffs the chest out, making the hen appear so vulnerable.

And that is the way of Jesus. Turning every single one of our ideas and conceptions about him upside down. Which will he choose? Lion or hen? First or last? Vulnerable or victorious? Throne or cross? He speaks not from power but from his heart. Jesus makes his way to Jerusalem, not waving flags of defiance, but with a heart full of love. The kind of love that makes him lament as he sees this city’s inability to love and listen.

Jesus is not and won’t be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first. And on the cross Jesus spreads his wings wide, puffs the chest out making him appear so vulnerable, and dies. (Barbara Brown Taylor sermon)