Foxes and Hens

^{Philippians 3: 18-19}For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly...

 Luke 3:31-32 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, ‘Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.’ He said to them, ‘Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work". 

Sermon for Second Sunday in Lent: Foxes and Hens.

I wonder if you are familiar with the fable often read in childhood: The Sly Fox and the Little Red Hen?

It was a well-loved Ladybird book and today will set you back nearly £10 on eBay.

It told the story of how the sly fox coaxed the little red hen out of her hidey-hole in the woods and caught her in a bag from where he planned to take her home and cook her for supper.

But on the way he fell asleep and she hopped out, filled the bag instead with stones and toddled off home.

The fox woke up, picked up the heavy bag and proceeded to his house where he stoked up a big fire, above which boiled a large pot of water.

As the stones, and not the hen, fell into the pot, boiling water splashed out over the fox and killed him outright.

Today’s gospel is about a sly fox and a hen – the sly fox is Herod Antipas, he who had John the Baptist killed and who ‘desired to see Jesus’ in Luke 9:9.

The hen, you might be surprised to learn, is Christ.

However people might try to picture God, whether as a bright light, or a kindly old man, or as glorious King, perhaps not many will come up with the image of a hen.

A hen is not memorable, just ordinary, small; trying to keep her chicks safe, waddling after them when they go astray and squawking at predators.

Christ the mother hen, who wants only to round up her children and hide them under her maternal wing, especially after they’ve wandered off…

Page One. Trouble in the text.

Jesus is tempted to avoid the cross.

Today on this second Sunday in Lent, we see Jesus being tempted to avoid the cross.

We were told at the end of last Sunday’s gospel that the Devil left him ‘till an opportune time’ (Luke 4:13).

Here, it seems, is just that time.

His temptation comes in the form of what initially seems like a sympathetic warning from the Pharisees, of all people.

‘At that very hour, some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you”.’

Jesus’ reply is curt – even rude.

‘”That fox!”’

The advice of the Pharisees is merely a temptation to avoid the cross.

Go away and hide somewhere, is what they are really saying.

They cannot understand that Jesus deliberately chooses the way of the cross.

He says ‘today, tomorrow and the next day I must be on my way’, and immediately mentions his destination – Jerusalem.

In other words, his destination is the cross and his way is the way of the cross.

It was the most difficult thing to choose the cross – everyone was counseling against it.

The disciples didn’t understand; the Pharisees said flee; Herod is simply a voyeur, and a violent man.

Yet though Jesus is clear about his mission, his rejection by Israel pains him.

He laments over Jerusalem, capital city of the chosen nation that is about to crucify its long awaited Messiah…

‘”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, and you were not willing.”’

Jesus’ path is the hardest one, filled with deep frustration, sadness and a sense of missed opportunity.

Yet he cannot force a following – this is the theological conundrum of free will.

We feel his loneliness, his humanity, his struggle, as he is tempted to avoid the cross.

Page Two. Trouble for us.

We are tempted to avoid the cross.

Are we, too, tempted to avoid the cross?

If we are tempted to avoid the cross, how does this play out?

Let’s look at Paul, because he has a lament too, in our reading from Philippians.

He laments those who live as enemies of the cross of Christ.

‘I have often told you of them’, he says; ‘and now I tell you even with tears’ (Phil. 3:18).

Who are these people who live as enemies of the cross?

It’s tempting (excuse the pun) to see them as unbelievers – we live the way of the cross, and those outside the church do not.

But the temptation to avoid the cross is maybe a bit more insidious than that for us believers.

Because the way of the cross is not particularly attractive.

The way of the cross involves my dying to self, and that’s never comfortable.

The way of the cross is deeply contrary to much of what passes for modern life today.

The ways we’re conditioned to think and behave in society reveal a deep propensity in us to avoid the way of the cross.

Take an average Saturday Colour Supplement – such as the one we bought over half term – I think it was the Guardian – but the Times or Telegraph would be no different.

What are the themes?

Just at a glance, looking at the 13^th February edition, we have an article about finding romance on specialist dating sites; an article about living with the guilt of having been the mother of a mass murderer; an article about the latest adaptation of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, which doesn’t refer once to any of the spiritual themes; a piece from a stay at home mother who feels trapped and one form a woman who went on a trip to visit all her old boyfriends; 4 pages on property, 6 on travel and ten devoted to food.

‘Their god is their belly’, says Paul.

Nothing, in short, on the spiritual life; nothing about the inner life or how to develop it in humility, truth or self sacrificing love.

We cannot be unaffected by this complete emphasis on what Paul calls ‘earthly things’.

Of course we need to eat, we sometimes travel, we all look for love, but we have neglected the spiritual, even though ‘our citizenship is in heaven’ (Phil. 3:20) from where we expect a Saviour.

If we truly expected a Saviour to show up this morning, in the midst of our worship, would we be half attentive, would we have a hand casually in the pocket as we stood to sing…?

We have neglected the spiritual; we have been tempted to avoid the cross.

Page 3. Grace in the text.

The way of the cross is the only way.

So we return to Jesus – walking that literal and figurative path that we also share at Lent.

He has set his mind towards Jerusalem, and he keeps faithful to it.

He is the mother hen who, even when her chicks stray, goes after them and brings them back.

In a hot Middle Eastern culture, fires were commonplace.

It sometimes happened that in the fire ripping through the buildings, a mother hen would hide her chicks under the protection of their wings, and in the resulting smoke, she would die, but her chicks would survive.

It is not for nothing that Christ compares himself to a hen

The abiding image of these verses in Luke is of Jesus moving forward towards Jerusalem, towards the cross.

He knows that the way of the cross is the only way.

He hears from either side the voices of those who think they know a better way: avoid the pain; go into hiding; turn these stones into bread; impress us with a miracle.

But the way of the cross is the only way.

It’s the way God redeems us, and redeems everything that’s gone wrong for us.

Jesus holds fast to it and blazes a trail, as it were.

The long days of fasting in the wilderness have developed in him a quick ear for God’s voice, and the habits needed to obey that voice.

He doesn’t put a foot wrong along that dusty, bumpy, hot and crowded road to Jerusalem.

In fact four chapters back, in Luke 9:51 we already have a very revealing verse for Jesus’ frame of mind here.

It says, he set his face towards Jerusalem – the verb is to resolutely decide on something and not be dissuaded from one’s end.

We might say he steeled himself for the journey (the Message) or that his face was set like flint (cf. Isaiah 50:7).

Flint is a hard material, so hard that other things, when hitting into it, are set on fire.

Jesus journey to the cross is tough, and in it he shows us his tough love.

And he never loses hope.

His last words over Jerusalem hint at hope.

Yes, they have missed their Messiah, but there will come a day when they will say, miraculously, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord (verse 35).

Salvation history is in his hands, and is achieved through the way of the cross.

Page 4. Grace for us.

We can continue on the Way because of Jesus.

As we look around the world this Lent, God reminds us that salvation history is in his hands.

We keep on going on the way whenever we come to church together to share, to pray, to sing, to gather around the Word and around the Lord’s Table.

God keeps us going because God has provided the way by reconciling the world to himself on the cross.

Even when we look at the news and wonder what will come of war and displacements of peoples, referenda on the EU and the various scandals that plague our public life, especially those involving vulnerable children and those whom society has forgotten.

The way of the cross gives us hope.

Jesus did not give up – he kept going so that we could keep going.

Thanks be to God who keeps us on the way – the way of the cross.

And to return to the Ladybird tale where we began…

Avoid the crafty foxes and snuggle up under the mother hen.

Amen.

(Initial idea from The Word is very near you, John Pridmore.

Structure from The Four Pages of the Sermon, Paul Scott Wilson). 

TEACH US TO PRAY 4: PERSEVERANCE

This week our Lent group was, ironically, about what happens when nothing happens when you pray. We've all been there. The somewhat extravagant claims made by Jesus about 'asking anything in my name' were felt by some to be unfortunate, to say the least. Clearly we sometimes ask for things which don't appear to happen, and, in extreme cases, it can make us feel abandoned.

A common one for me was praying the baby would sleep. Or stop coughing. Or not get another cold. Please can we get a parking space at the Dr's. No. Please can I get at least 3 hours sleep before I have to get up and go to the supermarket. No. Please don't let it be chicken pox. It's chicken pox.

Interestingly, depending on your background, it would seem that some people, when things go wrong in life, and prayer doesn't seem to 'work', just think 'this is normal', and carry on with their Christian faith regardless, while others say things like 'what is happening...I don't understand... where is God?' It must just depend on your point of view I suppose.

Problematically, Jesus did go around saying 'whatever you ask for, in prayer with faith, you will receive' (e.g. Matthew 21:22; Mark 11:24 and John 14:13) sometimes adding the handy caveat 'in my name', which does somewhat narrow it down. So what are we to conclude when prayer remains unanswered?

One thing is simply to persevere - it might be a question of timing. Here's a notable difference in how prayer is seen by different people: if you take a 'slot machine' view of prayer, it won't come as a surprise that often the machine won't work and your result will fail to pop out when you want it. However, when the disciples asked 'Lord, teach us to pray', Jesus began by saying 'when you pray, say 'Our Father'. Prayer is a relationship with a loving parent who wants to give us good things. When we persevere in prayer, sometimes over years, we are changed and we grow closer to God. Someone has described it as a father trying to teach his child to ride a bike. The best way is not to hold onto the child as tightly as possible, but hold the saddle instead, sometimes taking your hand off when they're not looking. This way the rider grows in confidence; the child grows up; the believer learns to stand on their own two feet.

It used to bother me that I couldn't honestly say 'I heard God tell me so-and-so' but I've come to realise that divine guidance is more subtle than that. When I look back at so many moments in ministry, to where God's hand seemed very present, I can see I just followed the faintest of hunches, but they for the most part turned out to be serendipitous. 

And where there appeared to be silence, it didn't necessarily mean absence. 

A final thought we took away from the group this week was that perseverance, when you keep going in the face of (as yet) unanswered prayer, develops in us something even more precious than faith. And that's faithfulness. This quality shines in so many persevering Old and New Testament characters, who themselves lived with unanswered prayer (including Jesus) but continued to cleave to God anyway. Much more than singling you out as the lucky one who always hits the jackpot in prayer, faithfulness shows what kind of person you are. Faithfulness is a quality worth waiting for.

TEACH US TO PRAY 3: INTERCESSION

We had our 3rd Lent Course session in the week, and thought about Intercession, aka praying for others. It is perhaps the type of prayer most commonly held to be 'proper' prayer - if people know you are a praying person, they might ask for prayer in the knowledge that praying for other people is very likely exactly the thing prayer is for.

In the Old Testament the word 'paga' is used to describe intercession, and means 'a meeting with an outcome'. It is also used to describe a boundary, a violent meeting and begging. The boundary idea suggests that in intercession we go as far as we can with God and leave the results in his hands. In Genesis 32 Jacob's wrestling in prayer was something of a violent meeting and cost him a dislocated hip. Similarly we do not wrestle in prayer for something and remain unchanged. Finally the Old Testament heroine, Ruth, asked her mother in law not to beg ('paga') her to turn back from going with her into the new life of faith in God. Begging suggests the strongest desire being employed in prayer.

In the clip we watched from The Prayer Course*, a helpful sentence from Pascale's Pensees was quoted: 'God has instituted prayer to bestow upon his creatures the dignity of causality'. In other words, we're not entirely at sea in our requests - what we pray can actually make a difference in what happens or doesn't happen, though we can't always see the immediate temporal connection between our prayers and their outcomes, and shouldn't expect God to dance to our tune. 

Someone from our group spoke of 'getting indignant' with God - of speaking loudly to God in prayer, over and over, until something changes. Getting indignant is a great phrase with which the psalmist would have a lot of sympathy. Some things we want so much we find ourselves saying 'come on God, what are you doing about this?' Ironically, the passion we have for this thing we're begging for is almost certainly put there by God in the first place. Which only goes to show that prayer is a God/human relationship which is, for want of a better term, almost symbiotic. God prays in and through us. We're in on the game. 

There's a delicate balance between having the faith to believe God will act, and the humility to wait on his timing, though. We don't see the big picture sometimes. In the early days of ordained ministry, I had one prayer for the church here, which was really a thinly veiled panic, as I looked out on the largely empty pews and wondered where we were going. It was 'Lord, we need more people'. For a while absolutely nothing happened. Over time the prayer became modified to something a bit more faith filled: 'Lord, send us the people we need' - more specific, and acknowledging that  it's not primarily about numbers, but about the vocations of the people of God. Quite soon after this a small number of new people began coming to the church. It's made a big difference. At the moment, the prayer is morphing into something further: 'Lord, send us the people we need, and those who need us.' With God's guidance and the Spirit's movement, it seems God is graciously answering this prayer too.


*From the Prayer 24/7 movement

TEACH US TO PRAY 2: PRAYER AS WORK

Strange, the things you remember from theological college (probably all the things you weren't supposed to, while other vital things went in one ear and out the other). But a random abiding memory is of the inscription on the door separating the library from the Chapel. It said 'Orare est laborare. Laborare est orare' (prayer is work, work is prayer). I would stare up at it while rummaging in the shelves for another book, for another essay...

It was the Benedictines who emphasised that prayer and work are intimately connected. Originally the emphasis was on work as prayer; that is, while you're in the vegetable garden pulling up leaks in your brown habit, you're to remember that this is holy work, no different from the work of prayer you would achieve in the Chapel after you've eaten the leaks for supper. The earth and the sanctuary are both God's arena.

But I've been thinking about it the other way round this Lent - prayer as work. Because one thing we've been learning in the Lent Group together is that prayer needs perseverance. Without being negative, it would seem that prayer for others especially (intercession) is often like a slow chipping away at a rock face bit by bit, or like dominoes - they're all stacked up and as you persevere, keeping on asking and keeping on seeking, suddenly one of them goes, and then the whole line falls and you have an answered prayer. But it can take a while.

Like most other work, prayer has tools. To get down to real practicalities, you need a place, a time, and anything else physical that might assist. For one member of our Lent Group, a daily prayer book, a rosary, candles and the psalms had all been helpful. I also have a 'box of tricks' - aide memoires that spur me on - a card that says sorry, a picture of a dove, a wooden cross, a reproduction of an icon.

I've also experimented with an egg timer, to make sure I spend at least ten minutes talking to God rather than getting lost in my own thoughts (subtle difference).

Do you need a system for prayer, or rely on the natural flow? 'Natural flow' sounds great, but sooner or later I find it dries up. In so many ways, praying doesn't come naturally. Some people find a system helps. I used to have a days of the week system - Mondays were family; Tuesday, church life; Wednesday, things in public life; Thursday Godchildren, etc. but it got so dry I gave up. For many years I haven't had a system as such, imagining I'm just listening to the Spirit...(or opting out of the hard work?)

This Lent I'm experimenting with prayer cards, an idea from Paul Miller's A Praying Life. Individuals I'm praying for each have a small postcard on which are written some spiritual and physical needs (as far as my limited perception is able to discern) so that prayer for them can be specific and direct. Time Pain writes 'one of our major objectives in intercession is the consecration of the saints' (Ashburnham Insights, Intercession, 1986) and it seems logical. When the saints are all fired up, exercising spiritual gifts and overflowing with the love of God, evangelism and social action tend to flow abundantly. People tend to be 'added daily'. We might not need any new church based programmes for getting people in the building. Sweet thoughts...

As the postcards mount up I can see I'll end up with another box to carry around...but hopefully it will be a step up from a vague 'Lord, bless so-and-so...'

So, prayer as work. Anything that's of value needs work (relationships, learning a trade, mastering golf) so it's no surprise that prayer's the same. If it's also true that work is prayer, I also get the encouragement of realising I might be spending quite a bit more time in prayer each week than I previously thought...(20+ hours, to be precise).

TEACH US TO PRAY 1: A PRAYING LIFE.

This Lent I've been reading A Praying Life, by Paul E. Miller, written in 2009.

There haven't been many books on prayer that've really affected me - School for Prayer (Anthony Bloom - helplessness is your starting point) and the chapter on prayer in Celebration of Discipline (Richard Foster - if you care for something/someone, that's a sure sign you should take up the prayer baton), but apart from that, I find books telling you how to pray don't help much. Because prayer is difficult, and eventually you just have to find ways of doing it that fit you and are sustainable, and enjoyable. I don't really want dry theology, I want to know how to do it. And keep doing it. And I want to know how those rare people whom you know to be really prayerful people, get to be like that.

The first thing Paul Miller says is become like a child. He asks the question: can you pray for parking spaces? I gave this one up ages ago - of course not - it's selfish. Or is it? He simply points out that small children don't double think. They don't weigh up 'shall I ask for this, or not?' they just ask. They chatter away to their carer all day long, because they're open and innocent.

Jesus told us to ask for things, often without caveat, so why don't we? Why do the really important things that get us down, remain untouched by deliberate, change-announcing prayer? Miller suggests three areas where we don't ask. We don't ask for change in others (too difficult); we don't ask for change in ourselves (too scary) and we don't ask for real change in our culture (too overwhelming). Instead we limit our requests to narrow religious themes and forget that God is concerned with the whole arena of life.

He writes, 'most of us isolate prayer from the rest of what God is doing in our lives, but God doesn't work that way. Prayer doesn't exist in some rarified spiritual world; it is part of the warp and woof of our lives. Praying itself becomes a story' (p. 168).

He constantly talks about where real prayer meets your real life. I often hear people say 'I don't pray for myself', but what if that is precisely what God is longing for? True and real admissions of weakness, boredom, longing and anger would be a breath of fresh air in corporate prayer life. I'd much rather someone say 'I'm absolutely fed up with God', than 'I think we should pray for my neighbour's friend's daughter's mother in law, who lives in Glasgow'. Maybe that good lady does indeed need prayer, but what about you? If the Psalmist hadn't prayed for himself, we wouldn't have any psalms, basically. 

But we are people of experience too. And we know that things don't always happen the way we want. Things go wrong - often the very things we hope and pray won't happen. We get ill, our jobs and relationships fail; we get disappointed; our dreams remain unfulfilled. 

So what's going on when we ask and 'nothing happens'? 

Miller's book is really good on this. Firstly he talks about the desert, that metaphorical place where you're forced to go when things are really tough - it can be scary, lonely and painful. But it's here you learn what your real desires are. So not hearing the answers you want straight away ends up serving an important purpose. 

A good Lenten theme, the desert. Miller goes as far as to say 'God customises deserts for each of us' (p. 184), a statement I found initially hard to digest. Is God some sadist constantly wanting to test me out? It all comes down to your view of God, I suppose. If you trust God more than anything else in the world, you'll come through the desert. Jesus did. As Miller puts it, 'the desert is God's best hope for the creation of an authentic self...desert life sanctifies you. You have no idea you are changing...After a while you notice your real thirsts. The best gift of the desert is God's presence' (p. 184-5).

Secondly (and the best bit of the book for me) he talks about the bigger stories we're living in. When your prayer isn't answered you need to look at the bigger picture, not give up (maybe God isn't interested; or he doesn't care; or my problem isn't prayer-worthy). What is the larger story weaving through your life, that this particular prayer not being answered is part of? He writes, 'often when you think everything has gone wrong, it's just that you're in the middle of a story. If you watch the stories God is weaving in your life, you, like Joseph, will begin to see the patterns. You'll become a poet sensitive to your father's voice' (p. 203). 

It does rather throw into relief all those prayers you wing upwards a bit desperately, only to see them come crashing down again seemingly unanswered. We're all in a hurry to see stuff sorted. We want God to dance to our tune. But something else, something long term, something better is happening. 

Having been off with a health issue all week, I've had plenty of time to ponder, to be with a body that's being weird. What is God doing longterm with me, with you? Miller describes what prayer was like as he and his wife battled longterm to pray for their severely autistic daughter: 'it was work, prayer, mistakes, frustration, more work, more prayer, breakthrough, work, prayer and so on' (p. 199). It hints at the relationship between human effort and God's sovereign action, another prayer-related conundrum that has kept theologians busy for centuries. 

All in the book manages to combine a childlike approach with wisdom and authenticity, not an easy balance. I'm all for childlikeness, but I also know that in life, 'stuff happens' (polite version). Cynicism is deeply unattractive, particularly in clergy, but naivety does not cut it either. Things are often not simple and God is not a benign slot machine. There is a real mystery to prayer, but that doesn't mean we understand zero: 'something mysterious happens in the hidden contours of life when we pray. If we try to figure out the mystery, it will elude us. The mystery is real' (p. 126).

When you meet a rare soul who combines real child like closeness to God and deep wisdom, it is compelling. How do they do that? I can't think of many people, but there are one or two. One of them, via social media, inspired me to read this book, though they may never know it. Thank you.