I think most of you know that before I came to First Churches I was the pastor of the First Congregational Church across the river in Hadley. That congregation is full of farming families and one night, while meeting with some church folks, talk turned to chickens as it was wont to do.

Shari was upset because a fisher cat had gotten into her chicken coop and run off with two of her hens. In response, she had the rest of the brood sleeping up on her porch to keep them safe at night.

Martha then told us about the time she was having so much trouble with nocturnal predators that she actually brought her chickens right into her house. “You should have seen them in here,” she said. “Boy were they confused.” 

Which led to even more talk about fisher cats - how incredibly evolved they are as predators - and a little more talk about the funny things chickens do - especially when they get upset. And I admit that by that point in the conversation I was thinking that chickens were kind of silly.

Tasty -I mean I love a good roast chicken as much as the next person - but silly, you know: bird brained, chicken livered, overly domesticated helpless birds who couldn’t survive out in the real world anymore even if they wanted to.

And then Shari, circling back to the beginning of our conversation, lamented the fact that the fisher cat had made off with her two sentinels - the chickens who she could count on to make enough noise to warn her and the others if there was trouble.  At which point Glen piped up and said something I will never forget.

“That’s not a warning when they do that, “ he said, “it’s altruism.”

We all looked at Glen kind of funny, but he went on. “Those chickens weren’t warning the others, they were making a racket to draw the predator away from the others so it would attack them instead. They weren’t giving up the fisher with all their noise, they were giving up themselves.”

At which point I thought: Chickens….maybe not so silly after all…who knew?

And then I thought about this passage in Luke and realized, maybe Jesus…maybe Jesus knew.

Now please understand that 9 years pastoring in Hadley notwithstanding, I still know next to nothing about chickens. I don’t know how to verify what Glen said or how anyone knows what’s really going on in the mind of a bird when danger is near. But I do know a little something about foxes and other small predators. Just a little, mind you, but for our purposes today it may be enough.

I know foxes go after easy prey. I know they’re not spoiling for a real fight and only attack when they know they can win.  A fox can take down a chicken, but won’t even tangle with your average house cat because they don’t want to get scratched.

Foxes are opportunistic hunters, always on the lookout for an easy meal. And predator or not, foxes are still prey to the appetites of larger animals like bears, wolves, and big cats.

So when Jesus called Herod a fox, he was on to something. Now, just to be clear, the Herod Jesus is talking about here is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great. Herod the Great was as dangerous and sly a politician as ever there was and he didn’t blink when it came to preying on the weak and defenseless. In fact, though he presided over some of the most spectacular building projects in history, including the expansion of the second temple in Jerusalem, he is best known for what?

(I’ll give you a hint: it happened right after Jesus was born.)

The slaughter of the innocents. That’s right. When the magi told Herod that the messiah had been born, he ordered his guard to kill every male baby under the age of 2 in Bethlehem. He may have been the most powerful man in Israel, but he was not above killing babies just to be safe! This is what caused Joseph and Mary to flee to Egypt as refugees.

Well Herod’s son, Herod Antipas, was less disciplined but, in his own way, just as dangerous. And just like his father, he had no compunction about punching down in order to prop himself up. You may remember that it was Antipas’ incestuous marriage, careless use of power, and lamentable cowardice that led to the beheading of John the Baptist.

Like any small predator Herod occupied a very precarious position, holding absolute sway over his subjects while being at the absolute mercy of Rome. And, like most bullies, his fear of being hurt or belittled by those over him made him very dangerous to anyone beneath him.

Having already lost his cousin, Jesus knew Herod Antipas would not hesitate to take him out if it meant saving his own skin or elevating his own interests in the eyes of Rome.

And yet, like a lamb to slaughter or, in this case, a hen walking into the den of a fox, Jesus refused to compromise his mission by hiding from Herod or playing it safe. Indeed, in an effort to draw Herod’s attention in his direction, Jesus crows:

“Go and tell that fox … ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. 33Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, …O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.

Jesus is spot on, comparing Herod to a fox. But referring to himself as a hen! Oh, man. It’s just painful. It’s such a disturbing image, especially when the stakes are so high. I would be so much more comfortable with Jesus comparing himself to … a whole host of other animals. I would feel so much safer if Jesus had gone up against this dangerous, thin skinned, bully as the “Lion of Judah” or the “Wolf of the Wilderness.”

I wish he has made it clear with his analogy that he was coming for Herod and his minions; coming to taken them down and punish them for all the ways they had abused their power. But no. Jesus compares himself to a mother hen who can’t even get her own chicks to come under her wings. And just so you know, this isn’t one of those cases where the meaning of a word has changed over the last 2000 years. It hasn’t.

A hen has nothing on a fox. Never has. Never will. Though I will say this. She may be just a hen, but you put any mamma in that kind of danger and you’ll see immediately that she’s no chicken. You throw a hen and her brood to the fox and she will in fact display a most peculiar kind of courage.

She will still do all she can to protect her little ones in the face of danger. She will gather them under the shadow of her wings, knowing full well that once they are sheltered there she will have nothing left with which to protect them but her own body, nothing but the sheer force of her love and her will.  And what that means, realistically, is that she will lose. She will die with dignity, but she and her brood will still die.

In choosing this analogy, Jesus signals that he already knows he is going to lose. He already knows that he cannot protect himself or his people. And yet, he is still willing to make himself vulnerable for the sake of his people. He is still willing to place himself between them and Herod, regardless of the consequences.

Because ultimately - and here is the crux of the sermon, so pay attention, because ultimately the real danger Jesus was trying to protect them from was not actually Herod or the even greater danger of Rome, but the danger that lies within us all.

If Herod or Rome was the real problem, the only problem, then Jesus could have brought them down with force, raised up an army, rained down fire from heaven or commanded host upon hosts of angels to come and bring the death dealing powers of this world to heel.

But that would not have brought an end to the violence and oppression, because violence and oppression never brings an end to violence and oppression. If they did, we would all be safe by now. But we’re not.

The only thing that will ever bring an end to violence and oppression is the courageous decision to be done with violence and oppression, once and for all; which means facing those who mean you harm with the resolve not to harm them back.

Jesus shows us what that looks like.

Jesus shows us what that costs.

And, I’m sorry to say, Jesus show us that most Christians have a lot more in common with the chicks in Jerusalem then the mother hen who longs to gather us in and teach us the things that make for peace.

I mean, imagine a world where everyone who identified as Christian understood a passage like this one and took it to heart. Imagine a world where Christians eschewed violence and showed only love toward their neighbors and their enemies. Imagine the wars that wouldn’t have been waged, the pogroms that wouldn’t have started, the harassment and abuse that would never have been perpetrated: no crusades, no witch trials, no slave trade or trail of tears, no colonialism or holocaust, no Hiroshima or Vietnam war, no segregation or Desert Storm, no homophobia, Islamophobia, or antisemitism, and - Lord have mercy - absolutely no Christian nationalism.

Not all Christians…but more than not.

Actually, one of the greatest ironies and tragedies of our faith is that you often find Christians on both sides of these conflicts. Christians harming and Christians being harmed.  There were Christians on both sides of the Edmund Pettus bridge, Christians on both sides of the 30 years war, Christians on both sides of the troubles in Ireland and abolition and the civil war.

But Christian or not, in any conflict it is only the ones willing suffer for a better world, not the ones willing to inflict suffering, who reflect the mind of Christ. I could pull any number of examples from history and call to mind leaders from MLK to Gandhi, but we are in a time now when we need to be the change because things are ugly out there right now and the world needs Christ like people to stand up and step out.

So I want to lift up Representative Sarah McBride, the first openly transgender lawmaker in congress, and a Presbyterian. Where are my Presbyterians at this morning? You should be proud of your sister in the faith. I want to lift her up and acknowledge how gracious she has been toward her Republican colleagues even as some have persisted in misgendering and mocking her.

It happened again this week, and it was so egregious that a congressional hearing was adjourned. But rather than retaliate in kind, McBride, who has from day one gone out of her way to highlight the fact that most of her Republican colleagues have actually been “warm and welcoming,” insisted that “No matter how I’m treated by some colleagues, nothing diminishes my awe and gratitude at getting to represent Delaware in Congress….I simply want to serve and to try to make this world a better place” (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/03/11/us/politics/sarah-mcbride-keith-self-transgender.html).

That is a Christ like response to very un-christlike behavior. Like Jesus, Rep. Sarah McBride has her work to do today and tomorrow and she’s not giving up even in the face of derision and danger.

Not only that, in drawing so much attention to herself by simply being a first, Sarah is drawing hate away from trans people in general toward herself in particular. Every time she is attacked and chooses to respond with kindness and courage rather than sink to the level of those who disparage her, she forces them to see the beauty and dignity of her humanity. That’s what it looks like to follow in the way of Jesus. Pray for her.

I want to lift up all the money we raised for Ronaldo’s family this week. We are resisting the heartless and xenophobic actions of this administration, but we are resisting with generosity and joyful hearts. That’s what it looks like to follow in the way of Jesus.

I want to lift up how we responded as a church on Inauguration Day. No one stormed the capitol in anger or disappointment. Instead, we organized non-violent resistance training. We hosted a community meal so that people could share their concerns and build affinity groups for support.

And then we sang songs about love and faith and our belief that we can build a better world together. There was no energy wasted on hate that day. There was simply a commitment to lean into what we love and value and build one another up. There was no intent to hurt anyone but every hope that if stick together we can be of help to everyone.

That’s what it looks like to follow in the way of Jesus. And it may not be enough. At least not in the short term. On some days it may even look like we are losing because - well - often we are.  It will most certainly make us vulnerable to the foxes in our midst and I am sorry for that.

Opening our arms to love our neighbors and our enemies, spreading our wings to gather in the lost, standing between the vulnerable and those who mean them harm, resisting hate with nothing but love; there is no posture more vulnerable, more dignified, or more Christlike than this.

But, my God, I still believe it is worth it, for I know of no other posture with any real power to save the world. Amen.