Fellowship, foxes, and the henhouse
Lent 2 readings:
Today’s gospel reading sounds like we’re on a farm. Jesus refers to Herod as a fox, and then uses the
metaphor of a hen gathering her chicks under her. There could be joke in there somewhere about the fox
watching the henhouse, except that in this case, this henhouse turned tables on that fox. Being a city boy,
I have never been around chickens, or a barnyard, or chicken in a barnyard so I had to go to Youtube to
see what hens gathering their brood looks like. So, for a few minutes, I could live vicariously on a farm
and understand what Jesus was referring to in his metaphor. And yes, hens do gather their adorable
chicks under them in a tight group. It reminded me of going to Nashville on Thanksgiving Day, and sitting
at a large table with all of my cousins, all of us crammed together, laughing, eating, enjoying being a
family. We were gathered under the wings of my Aunt Su, the matriarch of her family, and of mine during
the many Thanksgivings we shared together. I have had the same experience at the agapé meals we’ve
had at church on Maundy Thursday; a special meal during a special time when we renew and create new
bonds of love and fellowship. That special feeling of being one with the community also occurs when we
receive the bread and wine at the Eucharist.
One of the baptismal vows that we take is “Will you continue in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship,
in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers?” It seems easy enough to do, but this vow in the context
of baptism and Gospel is intentional and ongoing, not just something we find ourselves doing at specific
times of the year. Jesus uses the metaphor to show how he would protect the people in Jerusalem from
themselves and from those who persecute them. It is a nurturing, motherly, feminine vision of Jesus as a
safe haven from the foxes in our lives. We would never think of inviting the fox into the henhouse, yet that
is part of the loving fellowship this baptismal vow calls us to do.
Just two days ago, a young man from Australia shot up two mosques in New Zealand, killing 49
people. He had written a manifesto uplifting whites like himself, and expressed a consuming hatred for
Muslims, who were the antithesis of who he was. Just hours after the shooting, Mosques in Louisville had
members standing vigil outside as Friday prayers started and imams delivered sermons from the minbar,
the equivalent of the Christian pulpit. Those mosques were also gathering their brood under their
protection, praying to the God of Abraham, the God of Moses, the God of Christians, the God of
Mohammed for protection and peace. The foxes among us would look at this as an opportunity to strike,
yet what would happen if they were invited in, with open arms, to join in simple fellowship? This is what
this baptismal vow calls us to do, in the name of Christ: to invite the marginalized, the fearful, the angry
people into our brood and show them love.This is what happened to Megan Phelps-Roper, a grand-
daughter of Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist church infamy. She was raised to hate anyone not like
her and her family, and took an active part of publicly expressing that hate into her adult years. But, as
she tells her story in TED talks, she was confronted with her hateful, prideful attitudes in a loving spirit
through social media. Slowly but surely, she began to see the world through the eyes of love, rather than
hate. She left the confines of the family church compound and entered the world she had been told was
evil, only to be loved and supported by people she didn’t know, among them people she had once verbally
attacked. She was the fox, surrounded by loving fellowship, and laid down and was embraced by the
brood, all under the loving wings of Christ.
We can talk easily about these public figures because they are removed from us, but there are
those who we don’t get along with, individuals who just don’t like us, or who we demonize politically and
philosophically. Inviting them into fellowship with us, breaking bread with them, and praying with them
is hard, because too often we hold them up as examples of who we are not. We define ourselves by
who we are not, rather than defining ourselves by who we are: children of God, brothers and sisters of
Jesus. We get a hint of this in Paul’s letter to the Philippians, where he says “Brothers and sisters, join
in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us.” It is an invitation
to be who we truly are as professed followers of Christ, responding in our lives to the faith he had in us.
In our current social and political climate, it is a bold action to not condemn, to not accuse, to not strike
out at, to not hate those who look, think, believe, or speak differently from us. This baptismal vow of
fellowship, of breaking bread, of prayers, and hearing the Apostle Paul’s teaching is what follows those
bold actions. We respond with love to those who hate us, do us wrong, or want to destroy us, because
that is what we promised to God when we were baptised.
The fox lies down with the brood, and suddenly there is no fox to be afraid of, no brood to be
protected because they have come together in the common baptismal vow of fellowship. They can
break bread together at the table and at the altar, not afraid of who the other is because they have
invited each other. They can live peacefully together because they see each other as parts of God’s
Creation. Repentance offered, forgiveness given, and commitment to our baptismal vows during this
time of Lent can make this fellowship happen.
Think about how this would change your life, if you could do this with just one person you don’t
get along with. Think about how not making that snide or disparaging comment on Facebook would
take you one step closer to fellowship in God. Think about how putting the past behind you could
liberate you to break bread with someone who is remorseful about their actions in the past. Think about
who you are and who you want to be, and not being afraid to be that person, crammed around the
Thanksgiving table, or walking up to receive the host during the Eucharist, or finding refuge under the
loving care of Christ. Think about how you can extend fellowship to someone who needs it but can’t
show it, someone who you would never think felt excluded or angry at “them.” This is what the
baptismal vow of fellowship, prayer, and breaking bread can lead us to. It is one that we can use to
name our fear of the fox, and then invite it in. It is a vow to show the fox what God’s peace and love
are. It is a vow to respond to that love by gathering the chicks and foxes together under God’s
unlimited love.
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