Jesus' voice, the bridegroom's voice John the Baptist was satisfied to merely hear, had no complaint twinge, no animosity sting, no worry wing heard within it, when he said, "The foxes have dens..." to retire to with their prey of the day, to share with their baby foxes, to curl up with their lady foxes, and to sleep, restfully tucked in the warmth of their fox fur. Jesus might have had an edge of lament on his voice, detectable by only his closest confidants, when he followed up by saying, "But I have none."

The few he trusted may not have known what he meant. Like him, they too were couch-surfing, camping in the parks, rolling up their tunics for pillows at night. They might have heard it as Jesus joking with them: "Hey, the foxes have it better than we do, better than the Messiah."

Yet, that particular comment gets remembered, recorded, reconstituted into a Bible verse. From out of the thousands of side comments Jesus must have made, before iPhones could record them all for recall, this one gets remembered.

This one states a deeper anguish than the words immediately reveal. Jesus had no home; no home he could call his own; no, not his mom's home, his home.

A home is where a couple of foxes can snuggle their noses. A home is where two birds can rest on their eggs. A home starts from a couple; and not just a couple, a couple in love; and not just a couple in love, a wed couple. Wed. Committed in the journey of building a home together, for as long as it takes.

Jesus was saying he hadn't yet started that journey of building a home, God's home on earth. That was the journey he really sought, deeply sought. The disciples didn't hear that crinkle in his voice. They probably just laughed at the joke, knowing they, too, were in it, as they continued to poke at their campfire.


September 7, 2026, 12:13 PM Monday AKDT