It’s Time for Lament—Lectionary Reflection for Lent 2C (Luke 13:31-35)

Luke 13:31-35 New Revised Standard Version UpdatedEdition

³¹ At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” ³² 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. ³³ Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ ³⁴ 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! ³⁵ See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

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                Is it time for the people of God to engage in a bit of lament? Might this Lenten season provide us an opportunity to weep about what is happening in our world? As I ponder our current political situation, I confess that I am worried about the future. It feels as if I and many like me have entered a time of exile. Things I never imagined taking place in the United States are happening. There is little end in sight. So, what do we do? While weeping might not change the trajectory of the current situation, it can help us reorient our lives so that we align ourselves with the path God has set before us.

                The Lenten season takes us on a journey toward the cross. Before we began this specific Lenten journey, we went with Jesus and three of his disciples up to a mountaintop. While there, we witnessed Jesus’ transfiguration (Luke 9:28-36). It was a glorious moment, but it only lasted a moment. Before long, Jesus and his companions returned to the valley. That’s where we find ourselves in this moment. We face the realities of life in the real world, and they’re not always pretty. Jesus let his disciples know, once again, after the mountaintop experience, that he had to go to Jerusalem, where he would face his death (Luke 9:43-45).

                On this Second Sunday of Lent, we hear about a group of Pharisees who come to Jesus and warn him that Herod (Antipas) is set to kill him. This is the same Herod who had John the Baptist killed, so Jesus had reason to be concerned. Nevertheless, Jesus told the group that brought the warning to take a message back to Herod, whom he calls a fox, what he was up to. Let Herod know that he was casting out demons, curing folks, and on the third day he would finish his work. The reference to the third day is a cryptic reference to the resurrection. Jesus knew that his journey to Jerusalem would lead to his death. He was on a collision course with the powers and principalities, and there was no way around it. Herod might seek his head, but that was the price he would have to pay. Of course, Herod didn’t have jurisdiction in Jerusalem, which was under direct Roman governance. Nevertheless, Jesus was from Galilee. So, Herod might have a role of some sort in ending Jesus’ life. He took this path out of concern for his people even if they were not ready to embrace his message.

                  After dealing with the Pharisees and their warning, Jesus turns his face once again toward Jerusalem. As he ponders what will soon take place in this holy city, he offers a lament for the city. Shively T. J. Smith offers this helpful description of what happens in ancient Jewish laments: “Laments, regardless of type, include statements that reaffirm trust in God’s actions, confessions of violations against God, or assertions of innocence (Ps. 51). So lament is a liturgical and communal means of coming to terms with grief, disappointment, and need through expressions of complaint and petition” [Connections: A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship: 2 (p. 52). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition]. We see these elements of biblical laments present in Jesus’ response to the city of Jerusalem.

While Luke doesn’t mention tears, I can’t imagine Jesus not weeping over Jerusalem. You feel the tears in his words, which are dramatic and passionate. His opening words reveal this passion: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” Jesus recognized that he would soon be numbered among those prophets sent to Jerusalem who were killed because their message did not sit well with those in power.  

                After lamenting the tendency of those in power in Jerusalem (might we add other capitals?) to kill the prophets sent to them by God, Jesus describes his mission to Jerusalem in interesting terms. He speaks of desiring to gather the children of Jerusalem together “as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” This is a most intriguing description of divine compassion for the children of Jerusalem and every child. Jesus uses feminine imagery to speak of his own compassion and that of God for Jerusalem. That Jerusalem did not wish to respond positively does not take away from the intent of this statement. Anyone who has watched a nature program can imagine what this looks like. So, Jesus invites them to imagine him as that mother hen calling out to her chicks, but in this case, they ignore her call. That results in disaster for the chicks and ultimately for Jerusalem.

                As we ponder this imagery of Jesus being a mother hen, it’s worth connecting this image to the image Jesus used for Herod. Jesus refers to Herod as a fox. Thus, in his attempt to kill Jesus, is he not like that proverbial fox in the hen house? Just something to think about.

              This maternal imagery is important because too often the language we use to speak of God is masculine. This passage is a good reminder that Scripture speaks of God using both male and female imagery, giving us permission and even encouragement to do the same. This is also a good reminder that God transcends our language. God is not male, even if the dominant imagery is masculine. It is appropriate to speak of God as father, but also as mother as represented here by Jesus’ self-description as a mother hen.

                As we read this passage at this moment in history, might we consider how Jesus sees what is happening in our midst? Can we not envision him weeping for us, even as he calls out to us as a mother hen calling out to her chicks, whom she wishes to gather under her wings? There are wars in Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan, Syria, and many other places. People are hurting, and we wonder who will answer the cries. As we ponder these realities, including the retreat from democracy here in the United States, we hear this word that Jesus desires to gather us under his wings, as if a mother hen, but we seem unwilling to heed this call. Perhaps this Lenten season will offer us an opportunity to listen closely for Jesus’ voice crying out to us, inviting us to take shelter under his motherly wings.

                As we hear this lament on the part of Jesus, we also recognize that this Gospel story is moving toward Good Friday. Yes, there is the resurrection that will take place at a point after the cross, which is good news, but first, he must face death on the cross. Preceding that moment, the people call out to him “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord,” a declaration that has its roots in Psalm 118:26, and which will be shouted out to him on Palm Sunday. As we journey with Jesus during this Lenten season might we heed the call of the mother hen who seeks to offer us refuge by gathering us up under her wings.    

Image Attribution: Koenig, Peter. Hen and Fox, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58501 [retrieved March 10, 2025]. Original source: Peter Winfried (Canisius) Koenig, https://www.pwkoenig.co.uk/.