Peace be with you

My favorite seminary professor

was a brilliant scholar, a half-

Mexican missionary to Mexico

who read ten books a week

and said of Jonah and the Worm,

a book written for children:

 

“It’s got some of the best theology I’ve read.”

 

One morning, pointing to a Matthean passage,

he said: “Jesus was a chicken, here, see?”

then laughed his deep-throated laugh,

not caring no one had the courage

to laugh with him.

 

Jesus, a chicken?

 

How that moniker fit Jesus perfectly:

Jesus, a mother hen,

not the proud strutting rooster,

not the American church on Fox News

but the rejected hen who clucks and coos,

longing to gather her chicks under her soft wing,

but they’ve scattered and run off

like baby chicks do.

The Chicken