So, one day I was visiting my grandmother. She was on the decline, her mind sometimes here and sometimes somewhere else with her memories. I had stopped and gotten a couple Bojangles chicken biscuits, and we were sitting around talking. All of a sudden she busted out laughing. I asked why, and she said the chicken suddenly brought up a memory, and she told me a story.
When she was much younger, according to her, and my mother was just a baby, my Grandma and Grandaddy had moved off the farm, but still kept their farm ways. So they had a big back yard with a huge garden, a clothes line, and outside washer and dryer...and chickens. They lived in a neighborhood that had just begun to turn into a suburb, so when neighbors moved in, my Grandaddy thought it would only be the polite thing to build a privacy fence between the two, so that the neighbors didn't have to look at underwear drying on the line, and to keep the chickens from wandering all over the place.
It was a Saturday, and my grandma was going to have fried chicken for dinner when my granddaddy got home from whatever he was getting up to. So she put on her apron, got her hatchet, and went outside. She had noticed a lot of cars on the road and a lot of mothers and kids going into the neighbor's house, but she hadn't given it much thought as she had been deep into her Saturday chores.
So, she was in the zone when she grabbed a chicken and took it over to the chopping block. She never really liked this part of life in rural Tennessee, but she was stoic and was willing to do what needed to be done. So, she raised the hatchet, ready to do the deed.
And that's when she learned what all those cars were about. A kid's birthday party, taking place on the other side of the privacy fence. And as the hatchet came down, the kids all shouted, “Happy birthday!” And she was so startled that she missed her goal and only nicked the chicken, but it was a deep nick.
And the chicken got loose, head sort of dangling off to one side...and headed to the fence.
Now their old dog had done a good job digging around the fence, so there were some deep holes along the fence line that my grandaddy had been meaning to fill up, but had just never managed to get around to. And the chicken headed to one of those holes, blood going everywhere. And my grandma looked on in horror as the chicken....WHOOP! disappeared into the hole and came out the other side of the fence.
The kids started screaming and running around. Mothers were in a panic. It was all breaking loose.
So my grandma leapt into action, ran over to the fence, flung open the gate, and stood there trying to get a read on the situation. And it's like all movement slowed as the kids and their mothers turned to my grandma. .. . and started screaming louder than before.
Because she was standing there, in a bloody apron, hair all wild...and still holding the hatchet in her hand.
She spotted the played out chicken, so she smiled at everyone, went over and got it, screwed up what little dignity she had left, and said, “I so sorry to have disturbed you,” and went back through the gate.
When she finished telling that story, I was in tears. “What did you do then?” I asked. “What can you do?” she said. “You can't just stand there.”
Now, I'm not just standing up here, telling you this story because it's one of the most awesome memories I have of my Grandma. In fact I'm not particularly sure it's even true. But I thought of it when I read our Genesis reading today.
This is one of my favorite passages in Genesis. In some ways it's bright and clear: God states in clear terms that he loves Abram and will make him the father of nations. And in some ways, it's dark and eerie, with fire pots and flaming torches moving around on their own, moving among the sacrificed animals. It's just so powerful and majestic, filled with meaning and symbolism, something that will root all of our ancestry into one moment of time when God comes and speaks to one man about his role in the world.
Abram is all worried about his life and what's going to happen when he dies. And God appears and says, “Abram, it will work out fine. You are going to be remembered as the father of nations. Just bring me a heifer three years old, a female goat three years old, a ram three years old, a turtledove, and a young pigeon." This first covenant between God and the father of nations. And God's covenant is this: I will love you. That's it: I will love you. You can almost hear Abram say in his mind, “Aaaaaannnd? What's my side of all this.”
But God passes through the sacrifice alone, there is no meeting in the middle with Abram. The covenant is just this: “I will love you.” Nothing is required of Abram, not even, “I'll love you if you love me back.” Abram needs to do nothing at all. But here's the thing. Abram does.
It's the thing about love, I think. It really demands nothing, this love freely given. But because it is love and because it is freely given, you CAN'T just stand there. We can't just stand there. Abram can't just stand there. Abram faces many trials in the name of this new God that loves him. Abram endures much for this God. And Abram remains true to this God, following, living out a new way. And to the end of his life, Abram followed this new God. I imagine him, kinda like my grandmother, thinking, “Well, you can't just stand there.”
But sometimes, it's hard to act. It's easier to stand there, off to the side, and let things happen...over there somewhere.
Outside of Jerusalem, halfway down the Mount of Olives, there is a shrine called the Dominus Flevit. It means, “The Lord wept,” and is supposed to be built on the site where Jesus wept over Jerusalem. Inside, in front of the altar, is a mosaic of a hen sheltering her chicks under her wings.
The hen doesn't protect her chickens because she expects something from them. Hens expect nothing from chicks. She protects them simply because everything in her loves them. The chicks' job is just let go and let that wash over them and grow up to become good chickens in their own right.
But there's more to it, isn't there? Jesus' could have picked any image, but he chose the chicken. He could've picked a lion, guarding his pride. He could have picked a bull, watching over the herd. He could have been any sort of strong, brave animal, making sure those under his charge are safe.
But any fox can kill a chicken; chickens don't stand a chance. Yet even then the first instinct of the hen is to protect the brood, to defend those weaker than herself. The hen might eventually be killed by that fox, there's really no way for it to win over that kind of animal. But that's what it does. Spreads out it's wings, like arms on the cross, hiding the chicks, exposing its own neck to what's coming. Asking nothing of the chicks, just loving them.
As Christians we vow to love and protect those in trouble, those in need, those in fear of their lives from the high and mighty wanna-be kings, those foxes out there thinking of nothing but living off of others. And like chickens, our mission is to rush in and not stand to the side. To gather the chicks and stand between them and those foxes. Even if it means the foxes turn on you.
And for no other reason than because God loves us, so we love others. It's God's covenant from the beginning. As it was with Abram, as it was with Jesus, it is with us.
Look around you. This is a time in our world when it seems that people like us would be so much better off if we just stood off to the side, keeping our heads down, unobtrusive and overlooked. If the fox is hunting on someone else's land, at least he's not here. But foxes never seem to get full, and sooner or later...
Well, like my Grandma said, “You can't just stand there.”