Life Lessons from Waterfowl - Luke 13:31-35

In March of 2020, when the world as we knew it shut down, I realized very quickly that my dog, Abel, would not tolerate my working from home without a little extra attention and a substantial daily walk. I live in a neighborhood with several walking trails around a handful of man-made lakes, so Abel and I developed a walking routine that we still maintain in 2022. I can safely say that for both of us, the best part of our daily walks is checking in with our local waterfowl. A few of the birds we see regularly on our lakes are mallards, wood ducks, muscovy ducks, American Pekins, double-breasted cormorants, green herons, great blue herons, egrets, white geese, Canada geese, and black swans. 

Now, I don’t have the keen eye, finely-tuned ear, or years of birdwatching experience that Ragan has, so I have had to get creative in identifying and distinguishing my feathered friends. I’ve found that giving them names and stories is quite helpful. For instance, Susan is a smooth, white pekin duck who cannot be tied down even though she always has at least two drakes swimming after her, trying to get her attention. Karen is a white goose who wreaks havoc on roadways with her weekly protests about any number of social issues. Barbara is a stunning brown brindle Mallard with a perfectly precious brood to match. Appearances are very important in Barbara’s family. Her five ducklings always swim in a perfect “V” shape and never make too much noise. I’m sure they’re straight-A students. It’s a little intimidating.

Then there’s Deborah. Deb is a black duck hybrid and single mom who found homeschooling in the pandemic frankly exhausting. I rarely see her without at least a dozen ducklings flittering around. They are all different shapes and colors and make a lot of baby duck sounds. But the best thing about Deborah’s crew is that they love to sneak away from her line of sight. I’ve watched her struggle to scoot her ducklings towards the shoreline only to have one little guy lag behind just long enough to bolt in another direction - or so he thought. Before I can blink, Deborah has darted over to the truant, swept him up under her wing and swooped back over to the brood before anyone else can wander off. Twelve sneaky ducklings are a handful, but they are no match for their mama duck. 

In a world filled with every kind of predator from a snake to a teenage driver, the waterfowl in my neighborhood have to work so hard just to keep their young safe and healthy. I’ve learned that with birds, as with people, children sure do make that work difficult. In Luke’s Gospel this morning, Jesus laments how often he has desired to gather his children together in Jerusalem as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but they were not willing. How frustrating and exhausting it must have been for Jesus to have so much love and security and salvation to offer the people around him, only to have them ignore him, question him, and wish him harm.

On the other hand, I imagine that Jesus, like any caregiver, (human, bird, or otherwise) knew from the very beginning that his beloved children would challenge him, seek independence from him, and try to escape his love. While Jesus’ words in this passage are harsh, they are also spoken in love. I can almost hear him saying, “I love you and I want what’s best for you and man I wish you would act right!”

Like the little ducklings desperate for adventures across the lake, we too are often oblivious to the predators that surround us. We don’t always realize that self-deprecating language and low self-esteem are wriggling their way into our minds through the media we consume. We don’t notice we haven’t been taking care of our bodies until something serious happens. We let important relationships slip to the back burner and all of a sudden it’s been months since we checked in with those we love. These stumbling blocks prey on us in subtle but impactful ways. 

Also like the ducklings in my neighborhood, we have a tendency to resist what is in our own best interest. We rarely keep the Sabbath the way God intended and commanded us to. We seldom maintain a prayer life that keeps our souls truly fed. We certainly do not take care of the lost and the least to the fullest extent of our abilities. In short, we bolt out from under God’s loving wings whenever we can.

Thankfully, we are no match for our mama duck either. I know that at times, Lent can feel like an extended “time out,” in which we must go without chocolate or Instagram or altar flowers, and must spend time thinking about what we’ve done. But a God who eats dinner with law breakers and embraces lepers and provides healthcare on the Sabbath day is not a stern punisher who separates sinners from the fold. God does not abandon us to face our predators alone or stand silently by while we march headlong towards disaster, as we are wont to do. 

The penitential nature of Lent is less about punishment and retribution and more about changing our direction and heading back towards God, our source of love and security and salvation. These few weeks are not a time for us to beat ourselves up over our bad habits and broken promises. They’re not a time for us to berate ourselves over the state of the world and our inevitable contribution to it. They’re a time for us to pause and remember that we don’t have to live this way. We can get rid of what doesn’t serve us. We can engage with the world in healthier ways. We can turn away from the direction we’re headed and before we can blink, Jesus swoops in to open his wings and invite us back to safety.

As we continue to carry our chronic pandemic fatigue with us and begin to relearn how to interact in public in appropriate and sustainable ways, Lent is actually the perfect season. Instead of giving us more protocols and limitations, Lent is giving us hope. Lent is reminding us that, yes, of course, we’ve erred and strayed, but also that our brokenness is no match for the Cross. Like a mother duck who brings her brood under her protective wings, Jesus never stops offering us love and security and salvation, no matter how often we try to sneak away. This is the Gospel of Lent, and it is Good News, indeed. Amen.