The Holy Hen

sermon by Torin Eikler
Lent 2
Psalm 27 Luke 4:1-13

As you all have probably figured out over the past – is it almost three years now, Carrie and I like to play around with different images of the divine. We use names like Teacher, Brother, and Friend to reveal the different ways in which we experience our Creator. We address our God with titles like Lord, Shepherd, Heart of Compassion, Author of Life, and Savior in order to call forward different characteristics or roles that are part of God’s nature. There are times when metaphors like rock or well or the “stronghold” used by the Psalmist in today’s text seem to be the most helpful as we seek to understand the Holy One we worship and rely on and serve. We even break with tradition from time to time and speak or sing of God as mother or lover.

When we do that, we aren’t really “playing” as such. The traditional title of Father and the image that comes to mind when we use it can be quite comforting. It’s familiar and many of us associate it with the feeling of a wise, benevolent, guiding presence watching over us. But it is limited by our relationships with our own fathers or, for some of us, the experience of being a father. For some of us, it is a difficult – even threatening – image because of bad experiences with father figures in the past. And, of course, a strictly male figure does not reflect the reality that men and women are made in the image of God. Other images not only help us explore the depth and breadth of God’s nature, they can open the door for many of us to relate to God in more profound ways.

All that being said, I have to admit that I was caught off guard by the way Jesus speaks of God as a chicken in his lament for Jerusalem. As much as I appreciate broadening my understanding of God’s nature, I have never once summoned that image as I close my eyes in prayer. A mother … yes, fine. There are many times that I have felt comforted as I imagined her cradling me in warm arms. But a mother hen just doesn’t sit well with me. Somehow it seems a little … undignified to picture the author of all creation as a dirt-pecking egg-layer that might well be on the table for dinner tonight.

Disrespectful might be a better word. All the other images I use for God have a touch of awe in them. Eagles and fortresses, defenders and mighty rivers, even fires and floods all have their own sense of beauty or power … or both, and that feels more appropriate when addressing the One who is at the center of all life. Relational metaphors, too, imply respect … and love. And I can connect to God in these ways much more easily. Honestly, there just isn’t much that I find to respect and love in a chicken – be it a hen or a rooster … not much that brings me inspiration or a sense of comfort and security.


I think that’s what really at the heart of things for me. Whatever else God is to me in my life – guide, teacher, whatever – I want God to be a place of refuge. I need to have that “stronghold” to turn to when things get shaky – those mighty arms and boundless heart to welcome and protect me. And, if I’m honest, there is a part of me that really connects with the Psalms where one’s enemies are dashed to smithereens.

Most of me doesn’t like that image, and theologically I don’t think it fits with Jesus teachings about the love of God. But, some of me definitely wants those people to get “smited” with divine retribution for what they’ve done to me and to those I care about. In that sense, I would really rather have a fox God full of cunning, craftiness, and even betrayal than the bird that I grew up associating with cowardliness and shame. Even that treacherous God would feel safer - more secure since the wily one would, of course, be on my side.

Jesus didn’t give us that, though. He didn’t give a mighty warrior to defend us or an impenetrable stone retreat to run to. He gave us mother hen to gather us under her wings, and in doing so, he once again challenged our assumptions and our perception of the world as was his wont.


Modern thought teaches us that there are three ways that we reflexively respond to the threat of danger. You are undoubtedly familiar with two of them – fight or flight. The third one, the one that didn’t make it into our cultural shorthand, is freeze. These responses are hard-wired into the most primitive part of our brain stem, and we have all experienced the way they can take over when we are under stress. Faced with overwhelming force – physical or emotional, we turn and run for safety whether that be a room with a locked door or the embrace of friends and family. Backed into a corner, we fight back with every adrenaline-laced ounce of strength we’ve got. Surprised by an emotional outburst or an unexpected intruder who hasn’t seen us, we freeze up and pray that the moment will pass, the danger pass us by. And instinct gets even more powerful when our children are involved.

A hen responds in a different way. Fight, flight, and freeze are certainly a part of their vocabulary. Just take a few quick steps toward one and you’re certain to see her flee, wings flapping crazily in an attempt to take to the air. But, when she has her chicks with her and she senses danger close at hand, she doesn’t run. She doesn’t become unpredictable and dangerous like wolves or bears, attacking with tooth and claw – or beak in this case. She doesn’t freeze either.

Instead, she spreads her wings and clucks a warning to the chicks who immediately run to her side. Then, she covers them with her wings and waits for what’s coming, turning to keep the threat in sight. If an attack does comes, she will use her beak to its full potential, but she will not, under any circumstances, leave or even uncover the chicks clustered around her. She holds her ground - even when it means her own death - in order to protect her children.


Jesus didn’t leave us defenseless. He just challenged us to think of our protector in a different way. In a way, he challenged us to think about safety and security in a different way. It is not about building defenses or locking doors against the dangers that might be – probably are – lurking out there somewhere. It’s not about stockpiling weapons or wealth or prestige against the day when they might help you fend off the danger of an intruder or unemployment or slander.

It is about love.


Power, wealth, status … all those things that we have learned to pursue do bring a measure of security. But that safety is a fleeting thing, slippery and treacherous as a fox, and it comes with a quite a big price. We spend our life energy piling it up, passing by some of the most wonderful opportunities … some of the most fulfilling moments that come our way just in case. In the process, we step on the dreams, hopes, and lives of others, alienating them and digging chasms of separation that keep us alone even more effectively than they keep others away. Often, the very same things we count on for our security make us a target for others and, ultimately, there is no hidey-hole or weapon than can guarantee our safety.

Love, though … love is a different creature all together – especially the sacrificial love of the hen. Love finds and fulfills all those moments that make our lives rich. It reaches out to others and builds them up, making their lives richer as well. Love worms its way through the walls, bringing them down and filling in the chasms between us with the rubble. When we “arm” ourselves with love … let love be our arms, we never find ourselves alone because we are surrounded by a community that offers us the same caring and support that we have given.

When we look at life through love, “safety” and “security” take on a different tone. Our assumptions and priorities change, and we realize that even though we may feel vulnerable and overwhelmed, we face our challenges with more strength and endurance. When we fall or we are knocked down, there is a safety net to catch us. When that overwhelming force comes against us, we are supported by others who rise to stand with us.


Jesus, with his eyes of love, knew this to be the truth – the key to life in the Kingdom and the true life of the soul. He tried again and again to explain it:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your strength, [and] love your neighbor as yourself.”

“If you love only those who love you, what credit is it to you?”

“Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, [and] you will be children of the Most High.”

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often I have desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.”

And, of course, that is what Jesus did. He gathered us all together under those great downy wings, showing us with his life the truth that we couldn’t understand in words … giving us life even as he let go of his own … raising up a community built on the foundation of sacrificial love so that all who came after him would find a safe haven in its breast and a peace and security that the world does not have to offer.



I invite you now to close your eyes and your hands. Put all your assumptions and your false perception inside those fists. Add all those things that you hold onto for dear life: your need for money in the bank, your wily and clever plans for defense, your Mountaineer spirit, your locked doors, your weapons, and the anger, despair, and hardness of heart that buttress the walls of your fortress. Squeeze in the domineering images of a mighty, muscled, warrior God between the fingers and tuck in the stragglers and loose ends.

It’s quite a handful isn’t it? Squeeze it a little.

Feel the strength of the fear and the worry that keep you clinging to them.


As we sit together in silent communion, try to let them all go. Free your heart of the burden they have become. Spread open your hands to receive the power of the love that is poured out on you – the love that lives within you. Feel the support of the community of faith here and beyond these walls, a community that holds you up and gives you power and strength. Let your spirit out from behind the walls your have built so that it can soar under the Eternal Hen’s outstretched wings.

(waiting worship)