Birdsongs

Scripture Reading: Matthew 10:24-36

Contemporary Reading: Listening Below the Noise by Anne D LeClaire (excerpt from “Birdsong” chapter)

Beelzebul – what a way to start a scripture lesson for the week!  “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!”  Of course, the master of the house is God, but Beelzebul? He is an epithet for Satan, the prince of demons, the Devil writ large. Baal-ze-bub was an ancient pagan Philistine god whose name signifies “the lord of the flies. He was worshipped in hopes of gaining deliverance from the maladies and plagues caused by flies.  The slight change of the ending to Beelzebul shifts the meaning slightly to “lord of the dung.”  Not a pleasant image.  

This passage is in the context of Jesus sending out his disciples throughout the region to begin sharing the message of the Living God as Jesus has shared it with them.  He instructs them to be courteous, generous, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers and cast out demons – all without any payment. Who could object to that?

However if they reject you, shrug it off and just move on. But he adds this warning about how vile that rejection might become – that they may even say that God is actually Beelzebul - the lord of the dung.  If they would say that about the Living God, then what might they call my followers? Be prepared but carry on.  It feels familiar to some of our politics these days.

Which leads me to a question … what is the name for the devil in much of the South?  Beelze-bubba. ☺  This is one of the few jokes I know and can remember, and I’m from the South, so I just couldn’t pass up sharing this with you all this morning.  After all, how many times do I get the opportunity to get an assigned liturgical scripture that actually references Beelzebul and I can use my joke!

But I digress.  The scripture passage moves on, “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known..”  (Matt 10: 26, 28) Eugene Peterson’s more modern rendition in The Message sums it up this way, “Don’t be bluffed into silence by the threats of bullies.”   Still feels familiar to some of our politics these days.

The RSVP passages continue … “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father…So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31)  This is a favorite verse for many and has been well-loved over the years.  

The gospel song “His Eye is on the Sparrow” was written by an educator and preacher’s wife Civilla Durfee Martin in 1905. Reece played it for us earlier and it is based partly on this scripture passage. It became well loved, and despite its being written by a white woman, its universally compelling message became central to the Civil Rights Movement and to Martin Luther King, Jr. as an anthem of hope.  

A professor of sacred music at Perkins School of Theology writes, “the themes of solace in spite of sorrow, and a profound sense of being under the watch-care of Jesus, who is a ‘constant friend,’ offered the African-American community comfort during the Civil Rights movement. … ‘I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free’ – are words that speak to everyone, but especially African Americans.”

As I showed you earlier, my Mother’s Day gift this year was a bird-cam birdfeeder.  So all the videos are from just the past six weeks. I have been amazed at how many birds come through our yard despite our being in a populated urban area, and with a high school next door!  

Some of the birds I would never have seen had it not been for the bird-cam proving the one-time visit, or the just-passing-through visits. I have definitely seen the Blue Jays and the Magpies before and they often live in our yard, but the birdfeeder has definitely been an added attraction.  

I’ve also been well aware of the House Finches as they are a part of a flock that lives there year-round.  But it wasn’t until the bird-cam brought them all into closer focus, and with its built-in counter that I realized just how frequently and consistently they are a part of our backyard.  

Now the majority of the bird species I’ve seen in the past six weeks have visited our feeder anywhere from one time to maybe 20 times.  The Blue Jays and Magpies were closer to 200 visits each. But the House Finches have already reached nearly 4000 visits – in just six weeks!  Gratefully the bird-cam software keeps the count. ☺  And it automatically records and stores when a new bird is detected and photographed.  It’s a great gift, a great camera and recording device with a solar panel to keep it going.

But after only six weeks, I must confess it’s been hard for me to stay continuously interested in looking at all of them.  My phone goes off every time the bird-cam senses movement on the feeder, and it dings or vibrates to alert me - nearly 200 times a day.  And I know now, after just six weeks, that about 150 of those daily dings will be the House Finches, about 25 will be the jays or magpies, and about 25 will be the squirrels or raccoons.  So maybe 2 or 3 will be the more unusual or at least less frequent visiting birds.

I no longer look at every single video clip that the bird-cam takes, I just don’t have the time nor the patience for that.  So I scan them, looking for what might seem like something a bit different.  And I have already found myself saying, “oh, just another bunch of House Finches” and I hit delete to make room in the online storage.

So let’s return to this scripture passage with a different sense of awe and gratitude at the promise that God is not just paying attention to the beautiful Western Tanagers, Flickers or Bluebirds that only show up briefly, but also to the hundreds of times the jays and magpies show up, and the thousands of times that the finches show up.  God’s attention doesn’t stop or slow down after a few days or weeks, but keeps going day after day, week after week, year after year, eon after eon.  

The scripture declares that our value is not based on our financial worth or how colorful our plumage might be, but on our just existing, living our lives every day.  One of the Bible commentaries indicates that the normal translation is “not one sparrow will fall to the ground without the knowledge of God.”  But for us, the word fall connotes death. So Barclay suggests that a more nuanced translation from the Aramaic would be “not one sparrow will light upon the ground without the knowledge of God.”  Thus God knows and cares for each sparrow (who by the way now live across the world) and knows each time it lights and hops about on the ground throughout its entire life (which can be 3-11 years), and not just once as it may fall and die.  Back to the finches coming to my bird-cam lighting on it thousands of times!  Multiply that out by the number of birds around the world … it’s impossible to count!

It is here that I take up the contemporary reading that comes from a book that I came to love several years ago.  Listening Below the Noise: The Transformative Power of Silence by Anne LeClaire.  In the book, the author shares about her journey with silence over a number of years.  “It all began in 1992” she writes when she had set aside just one day for silence and decided that for 24 hours she would not speak.  She was clear that she would carry on with her life, but that she just wouldn’t speak or vocalize during those 24 hours.  She had no practice in doing this, but wanted to try it out, much to her husband’s confusion and chagrin.  

She describes that on that day, as they awoke, her husband said he loved her which was their ritual.  But she couldn’t say it back, so she reached across and squeezed his hand. Phones rang, she didn’t pick up or respond, although she listened to the messages.  She worked on the computer.  She prepared dinner in silence and congratulated herself on her success.  

But it wasn’t enough.

She longed for a more routine time of silence. After several trials she eventually settled into an ongoing practice to be silent for 24 hours on a Monday every two weeks no matter what was happening. 

It was the keeping on doing it that caused issues with others.  It was inconvenient for them, it was annoying, it was confusing for people who didn’t know what she was doing. It was problematic when she had to travel on that Monday or it fell during a conference she was attending or leading.  She couldn’t offer her opinions on discussions or explain or defend herself.  

People would project onto her their feelings or experiences of what silence had meant in their lives.  Occasionally it was positive, but often they felt she was giving them “the silent treatment”.

She also realized her being silent meant she had to listen to her own thoughts as they whirled around in her head … and so she began to examine all of this.  She began to sit with, unravel, listen, forgive, and understand more deeply what was happening.  Over time she began to feel more present and began to deepen her ability to listen to others, to herself, and to God - although she hadn’t intended for this to be a spiritual practice when she started.

It was during this process that she wrote about birdsongs and her experience with her friend Ann, a bird lover who could recognize multiple birdcalls without even seeing the bird. LeClaire reflects poignantly, “careful and attentive listening is a form of love. Are we our own bird watchers? How do we learn to recognize our own calls? … And how would the world change if we did?”

The scripture passage continues, and in it we hear a disquieting injunction from Jesus.

(Matt 10:34-36) “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.  For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother… and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household”.

Especially on Father’s Day, this is a jarring statement.  In our families we long for some sense of peace, stability, and deep connection.  We just finished the passage that assures us that the Father knows and care about even sparrows alighting on the ground.  Surely Jesus is asking that earthly fathers and earthly relationships mirror that kind of love.

But unfortunately, all of us have experienced in some way or another – sometimes in painful ways – that when we really stop to recognize our own unique birdsong, when we listen to what the call sounds like - when we stop pretending to be a more acceptable or “pretty” or comfortable-to-others bird – then we often run up against the ire of the people closest to us, the very people that we thought loved us unconditionally.  Our foes are members of our own household. We begin to experience the conditions, the hypocrisy, and wonder what is really true or real or right or loving.  

It feels familiar to some of our politics these days. 

And this is a spiritual not just an existential truth.  Peace, as Jesus references to it here, is not the deep well of knowledge and sustenance we long for but is more a ‘keeping the peace’ - a false submission to appease the status quo.  

Jesus is the one warning us against such a false submission that leads to damage, destruction, and a hollowing out of what should be a solid centering in God.  Jesus warns us that acknowledging the spiritual truth of who God is and who God has created us to be and how God wants us to really be sharing and caring and changing the world for good … is a truth that will often run counter to the culture of the prosperity gospel, the “pretty” gospel, dare I say the Christian Nationalist gospel?  

And indeed, Jesus warns that others (even other religious believers) may say that what we are trying to sing and work towards comes not from God, but from Beelzebul – that our birdsong is all a bunch of BS and that we are flies hanging around, well, dung heaps.  

We won’t always get it right of course. But the intent and practice of listening, listening deeply and honestly and respectfully to ourselves, to each other, to God, will help us to “listen below the noise” as Anne LeClaire says.  

And it is that deep listening, which will anchor us.  It is that attention to the subtle shifts in the birdsongs around us that will help us to recognize who is inside of us, who is around us and who needs our attention, whether we can actually “see” them or not.  We are called to pay attention.  It is that deep listening which fills us with a spiritual reservoir that will continue to nurture us, even in the challenging times in our lives.  

It’s no wonder that His Eye Is On The Sparrow became a significant song within the Civil Rights Movement.  Death threats were all around.  Listening deeply to the birdsong of who God created them to be, and how God wanted them to act in the world, meant going up against the political and cultural forces that kept, and continues to keep, people-of-color in an oppressed status.  And yet, despite the physical harm that is threatened and implemented, the song says “Why should I feel discouraged? Why should the shadows come? When Jesus is my portion … His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”

I think it is important to note that none of our resources for today – the scripture, the gospel song, the Blackbird song, the contemporary reading – none of them say that life will be easier if you will just follow God or Jesus.  

Actually each of them acknowledges that life will probably be harder, more complicated and complex, more dangerous, even life-threatening. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.  Take these broken wings and learn to fly.”  That is life.  

God is calling us to more, and is with us, and wants us to be a force for good, even with a clear understanding of the difficulties. Be courteous, generous, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers and cast out demons. But don’t be bluffed into silence by the threats of the bullies. Do not be afraid.  You are loved.  You are of value. You are God’s child.

Even as we honor Juneteenth this past Friday, the struggle continues.  Even as we celebrate Pride Month this month, the struggle continues. Even as we celebrate our fathers today – whether living or dead, biological or chosen – who have been loving and spiritually anchoring in our lives, yet for many the struggle continues.  Even as we come up to July 4^th and this country’s 250^th anniversary of its founding, the struggle continues.

Even if we feel unseen, passed over, or diminished because we are one of the masses of sparrows or house finches, or whether we are a Western Tanager, or even if we may be more like a squirrel or raccoon, may we hear deeply in our  bones that God sees and cares for each one of us.  May we hear that even in the midst of the struggle, we do not need to be afraid.  May we listen deeply and share freely the birdsong within each of us, recognizing its uniqueness and place in this world.  May the deep peace of Christ, not the false submission, keep you sustained and anchored, and nourished to sing your song.

Reflection Questions …

• How are you learning to listen to your own birdsong, and what has been painful or joyful in that process?

• What difference is that making in your own life and in others?

Benediction:

Postcript from Sparrow: A Book of Life and Death and Life, by Jan Richardson

There is no escaping the awful fact of it: the sparrow fell.  I know of no explanation, no justification, no meaning or larger picture that will make sense of it.  I will forever be gazing into that gap, that absence, tracing the shimmering outline of the broken sparrow, the brilliance that passed into this world and out of it. … 

What I know is that sometimes, something slips through the gap.  The absence sings, coaxing us to trust there is more than emptiness, more than an eternal void that opens where a life has been.

We are attended.  We are accompanied. We are asked to open our eyes, our hearts, to the grace of it, that we might bear witness not only to the fall of the sparrow but also to what follows it: the aching mystery that comes to sing in our bones, the presence that releases us into this living and into this world but also, with wondrous strangeness, goes with us still, making a nest in us and helping us find our way home.