Luke 13:31-35
31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to [Jesus], “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.’ ”
Reflection
Earlier this week I was asked to give a talk on compassion. Strangely enough, the image that Jesus gives us in our gospel reading for today, where he describes himself as a mother hen, actually came up during the discussion of compassion. And, I think it is important enough to share it with you.
But, before we can get into what compassion has to do with Jesus’ description of mother hens, I think that it is important that we look into what compassion actually means. I am willing to bet that most of us think we know what it means. We typically think that it has a mix of concern, love, care, and forgiveness. That might be exactly what it means in the end, but I like to know for certain. And, what I like to do when asked what something means biblically is to do a word study.
I know. You all came today just hoping that you would get a chance to experience a word study! But truly, I like to look at the Hebrew and Greek meanings of these common words in order to understand what the Bible might be trying to talking about when using them.
So, when I look at the Greek word for compassion (splagchnizomai), I see that it means “a twisting of the intestines.” That makes sense, because when you are moved with a strong sense of compassion, indeed, your stomach feels twisted.
That is interesting, but, the more fascinating meaning comes when we look at the Hebrew word for having compassion. The Hebrew word for having compassion is “rakhum” (others spell it “racham” in English).
The fascinating thing to me is that Rakhum is very closely related to the Hebrew word for “womb,” which is “rekhem.” And, because it is so closely related, compassion has to do with both a feeling in the area of the womb (similar to the twisting in the Greek), but it means more than that because half of the world has no womb. So, compassion in the Hebrew also has to do with caring for the baby that comes from that womb. In other words, the word Rakhum pictures a mother caring for her vulnerable baby.
Compassion conveys this intense emotion of motherly love and is sometimes translated as “deeply moved” in a motherly way.
And that motherly image makes me think of a mother that theologian Paul Tillich saw while running through the war torn streets of World War II.
And as he ran, seeking safety from bullets fired from as unknown source, he glanced into a foxhole, into a trench used by soldiers. There he saw a mother. She was hunkered down in a protective stance over her baby, nursing the precious child. His glance at the mother was momentary, but it became a picture that was forever burned into his mind. It was a picture of rakhum. It was a picture of a mother caring for her vulnerable baby. It was a picture of compassion.
Rakhum. Compassion. A deep, motherly love.
I thought a lot about this sort of compassion while snuggling our little ones, just a handful of years back. As their warm little bodies soaked into my own skin, I thought about how I would do anything to keep them safe as I raised them up. Rakham. Compassion.
This image of deep, motherly love has also transformed the image of God that I have whenever reading Exodus 34:6. It reads: “The Lord…a God merciful (rakhum) and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.”
With rakham on the brain, my image of God in this scripture is transformed into the image of a heavenly mother who is forever patient with her children’s eccentricities, forgiving of their mistakes, and devoted to their wellbeing; snuggling them close when the world gets to be too much.
One day, while I was talking to my mom about this sort of close snuggling, my mom mentioned that I did not like to be snuggled as a child. “You were never a snuggler,” she said. “In fact, even as an infant, when I held you close, you tried to wiggle and push away. But, don’t feel bad about that. Just because you pushed away didn’t mean that you didn’t need to be loved and cared for.”
It struck me that I was kind of like that throughout my childhood, and even into young adulthood. There was this time that I was following my mom as we both drove on the interstate in order to visit my grandmother. The whole way my mother was going 55mph on a 65mph interstate highway. Sometimes, we dipped as far down as 45 mph. It drove me insane. The trip was taking so much longer. When we arrived, I confronted my mom, and asked, “Why were you going so slow?”
She responded to my frustration with words that stopped me in my tracks. “As I looked in the rearview mirror, it looked to me like you needed me to go slower. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t get lost.” A mother’s love. Compassion. Rakhum.
We see this image of God as a mother who cares deeply for vulnerable children in the teachings of Jesus.
“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!” (Luke 13:34).
Jesus says that he wants nothing more than to hold his people close, like a mother hen. Yet his people push away just as I did as a child.
However, that pushing away does not change the rakhum (the deep, motherly love) that Jesus has for his people. Jesus is explicitly pictured as a mother hen, stretching her wings over her chicks, willing to put her body on the line as the fox comes to snatch, steal, and tear apart. That is what foxes do by the way. They come to snatch and eat the eggs and the chicks. That is how Herod is pictured as he terrorizes his own people (Luke 13:32).
And, even though the children are “not willing,” even though they push away from Jesus, he still casts out their demons and heals their sick. And, Jesus still goes to the cross, dying for them. He dies in the same way that a mother hen, covering her chicks with her wings, dies. The mother hen is the one snatched away, and Jesus is the one who is snatched and taken to the cross. That is rakhum. That is compassion.
Oh, how he wishes that why might follow in the same footsteps.
It should be no surprise that Jesus wants us, his own hands and feet in the world, to show that sort of compassion to everyone Jesus calls his children. Jesus tells us that we should even show compassion to our enemies!
He says, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27-28).
Never forget, the very people who you consider your enemies are God’s children as well. Even though they push away from Jesus, push away from love, God still cares for them also. Jesus died for them too. Jesus shows them rakhum, compassion, a deep motherly love that does not give up or let go. Jesus wants to hold them close under the shadow of his wings. To that end, when one of our enemies does evil to us, rather than retaliating back with evil, Jesus suggests:
“From anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.” (Luke 6:29).
What Jesus is suggesting is that if someone does evil to us, we do not retaliate with evil, after-all they too are a child, cared for by God. At least this is what the Apostle Paul thought that Jesus was saying. He teaches, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all” (Romans 12:17).
Rather than pay them back with evil, and rather than laying down and submitting to their evil, Jesus suggests that we do something that makes them stop in their tracks and think about what they are doing.
For example, when someone takes away your coat, give them your tunic as well. In our world that mean when someone takes your pants, give your underwear as well! When you allow them to do more harm than was first intended; when they see you completely naked, it might shock them into showing compassion.
I have never felt the power of this sort of compassionate resistance more than when a classmate in seminary who was from Africa told us her story. Her nation had recently split into two warring factions, and these warring factions even split small villages into enemies. In her small village, a murderous rampage from one of the factions swept from door to door. When a man with a gun burst through her door and pointed the gun at the children in the house, this woman stood right in front of the gun, barrel to her head, and said, “My brother in Christ, why would you do this? We played together as children. I took care of your children. You are not this person. You cannot do this.”
He could not do it, and it was all because of her rakhum. It was a rakhum that not only extended to her
children, which caused her to step in front of the gun. It was a compassion that extended to her
enemy, her brother in Christ, as she invited him to turn around and show
compassion. Life continued for everyone
that day. And, it was all because of rakhum; compassion; a
deep, motherly love. The same compassion
as Jesus Christ our Lord.