The Hymns in the Birdsong – An ePistle by Matt Hollenberg – DEVOTION: A Blog by Brethren Life and Thought

For as long as I can remember, my mother and father have had an incredible ability to identify any bird that they see. This includes all of the typical songbirds you find in rural Pennsylvania, chickadees, wrens, robins, etc; but also the occasional red-tailed hawk, falcon perched on a power line, or buzzard flying way too high in the air for any reasonable person to be able to see properly. Even though this trait is shared by both of my parents, I have tragically missed out on whatever biological wiring is required to tell a sparrow from a starling. For all that I know, birds are sometimes small and round, except when they aren’t. Or they will fly through the sky, except when they hop along the ground, and even at this point of trying to identify the striped creature perched on my birdfeeder I tend to give up.

As followers of Christ, we are often compelled to turn to scripture for help in solving our various dilemmas, but unfortunately, the Good Word is not very helpful when it comes to the identification of birds. In the book of Revelations, our author is at least able to identify the eagle flying above him, though I imagine its cries of “Woe, woe, woe!” somewhat clouded its majestic beauty. (Rev 8:13) A short part of God’s declarations in the book of Job also mentions the eagle, saying, “Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes his nest on high? On the rock, he dwells and makes his home, on the rocky crag and stronghold. From there he spies out the prey; his eyes behold it from far away. His young ones suck up blood, and where the slain are, there is he.” (Job 39: 27-30) This is a helpful reminder that not all of God’s creations are innocent of blood, as birds of prey have beaks and claws that put David’s finest bronze-workers to shame.

Perhaps I need to accept that ornithologists are not the Biblical authors’ primary audience. Even so, the Bible does have a fair amount to say about the relationship between birds, the Divine, and us. The authors of scripture are not alone in recognizing our winged friends as a useful analogy. There are many times when a bird is used to indicate the presence of God. During the ministry of Elijah, he foretells a great drought to king Ahab. This presumably goes poorly, as Elijah is then commanded by God to flee and hide near a small brook outside of the Jordan river, where he is not to worry, as God has commanded the ravens to bring Elijah food, in what I imagine is the earliest example of a meal delivery service. (1 Kings 17:3-6)

The use of a raven in this instance is particularly interesting to me. I’m sure that American readers, when asked about the literary use of the raven, will bring to mind the repetitive “Nevermore”-ing of Edgar Allen Poe’s raven, which, with its large black frame and wicked beak, is an apt metaphor for death. Though to be fair, you could throw a dart at a collection of Poe’s work and it is likely to land on a metaphor for death. Still, it is worth adding that the ravens likely present in this passage in 1 Kings would be the brown necked raven, Corvus ruficollis, whose habitat stretches from the west coast of North Africa all the way into the Levant. As it has such a wide distribution, it would be likely to have many references in the Bible, and we are not disappointed.

It is another appearance of the raven in scripture that I have become most interested in. In the twelfth chapter of Luke, Christ encourages his followers to avoid anxiety by considering the world around them. “Consider the ravens,” he says, “they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!” (Luke 12:24) Christ assures us that we are more important (to God, presumably) than the birds of the air. This is a comforting sentiment, particularly if, like Christ, you are poor in first-century Arabia, in which food insecurity is present even for the elite of the world. “Consider the lilies,” he goes on to say, “how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Luke 12:27)

These passages, along with all of Luke 12:22-34 are listed under the heading “Do not be anxious”. Perhaps you, like me, have struggled with anxiety in your life. If you have not, then it might be difficult to understand how frustrating it is to be told “Just don’t be anxious” or “stop worrying so much” or “it’s not a big deal”. If you are like me, you may think that Christ has a lot of nerve telling people to not be anxious, especially when it comes to how you will eat or whether you will have clothing to protect yourself from the cold.

Linguistic analysis provides no easier explanation. The word used for anxious, merimnaō, is used in 17 verses in the New Testament. 9 of those verses are here in this passage in Luke 12 and in its parallel text in Matthew 6. To be anxious, the translator suggests, is like unto being “troubled with cares”. Does Christ seriously expect us to not be troubled with our next meal, when it is not guaranteed that it will arrive?

Jesus was no stranger to hunger, I imagine. He grew up in a poor family, which was in a poor town, which was in a poor country under the heel of some of the world’s most lauded conquerors. He would know firsthand that the promise of God’s blessing is cold comfort to an empty stomach.

But here Christ is doing what Christ does best, cultivating hope where it seems there is none. When you are in the wildlands with those who trust you, when there is no place to rest your head, when you smell the hour of your doom on the air, do you tell those around you to despair? Absolutely not! Even Solomon, Christ says, had no robes or gemstones that rival the beauty of the lilies. I mean this lily, right here in my hand. And God has provided for them, here where neither Herod nor Caesar can reach. The birds, too. The Lord has given that flock their daily bread, and he will give yours as well.

Hope, writes Emily Dickinson, is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all. Christ sings the tune that does not stop. He encourages us to perch on the Provider, the one who clothes the flowers and feeds the birds, without barn or storehouse, without plow or hoe. He has fed the ravens since before humans started to select the better pieces of grain to plant, and he will feed them long after the last ear of corn is picked. But what does it look like when God feeds the birds? I mean, Elijah had bread and meat delivered directly to him, but God’s provision for our avian compatriots isn’t nearly so simple.

When scripture claims that God provides food for the birds, my first inclination is to ask “How?” What role does God take, direct or indirect, in the avian feeding cycle? Certainly, the Almighty need not pay tuppence a bag and then distribute birdseed by scattering. From my perspective, the birds are doing all of the work. Because of their high metabolism, birds need to eat up to half of their body weight per day to stay healthy, with some species such as hummingbirds needing closer to ALL of their body weight eaten per day. Birds spend a significant portion of their waking hours searching for food, whether that be through foraging, fishing, or hunting. So where is God in this process? Clearly, we must look deeper.

I find myself blessed with the delusion that I can read absolutely anything and have it immediately apply to my real life. But sadly, reading about skateboarding doesn’t keep me from falling in front of a bunch of teenagers at a skatepark, reading about Star Wars doesn’t get Mark Hamill to whisk me away in a starship, and reading about birds doesn’t get me any closer to being able to tell what that sparrow, bluejay, chickadee, or whatever on earth is at my bird feeder. But learning about the natural world gives me a glimpse into where God is present outside of our human-centric worldview.

The right tool for the job, you may have heard. Don’t use a screwdriver when you need a can opener, don’t use a knife when you need a screwdriver, and don’t use a can opener when you need a knife. Humans are set apart from the rest of the animal kingdom for many reasons, but one major reason is our ability to make and utilize tools. We are hardly the only organism with tools, however. The difference is that we build ours, but the birds have tools right on their bodies.

Over time, bird species have developed beaks that match their food needs. You may notice that the small seed eaters you see at your bird feeder have similar-looking beaks. They are usually cone-shaped, short, pointed at one end, and wide at the base where it attaches to their head. These short, structurally strong beaks are necessary for cracking through seed shells without injuring the bird. Birds that eat insects, such as warblers, have thinner beaks they use to sort through leaves and twigs to find tiny insects. Raptors such as eagles and hawks, on the other hand, have those distinctive, wicked-looking, curved beaks that give them the ability to rip and tear their prey into swallowable pieces.

Beaks aren’t the only tool that birds have modified to suit their uses. Cornell University categorizes birds’ wings into four separate categories. Passive soaring wings are useful for birds that soar using air thermals, pockets of rising hot air. Eagles and other soaring birds of prey utilize this wing type. Active soaring wings are better used for flying with wind currents, which is useful if you are a seagull or an albatross. High-speed wings are thinner than soaring wings, useful for birds who need to maintain high speeds for a long time, such as falcons or terns. Finally, elliptical wings are used for short bursts of high speed. This is the wing-type you typically see at your bird feeder, as it allows blackbirds and robins and sparrows and other such birds to maneuver among trees and other obstacles. The right tool for the job.

So, Matt, you may ask, did you write this piece just so you could impress people with all of the bird facts you know? First of all, absolutely. But second, understanding the complexity of the natural world helps us understand to what extent, if at all, we are active and present in what Mary Oliver calls “the family of things.” If we can see God’s active presence in our complex lives, do we also allow ourselves to see God’s presence in the parts of the world that have nothing to do with us? I certainly hope we can.

But, to return to our question, where is God’s presence among the diversity of beaks and wings? We could imagine God as a potter, molding birds and rock and trees and humans out of clay, be it figurative or literal clay. We could imagine birds being, to paraphrase the Psalmist, knit together in their eggs by an almighty crafts worker. The trouble with images and metaphors, though, is that we have to acknowledge that they are imperfect, something that I am not convinced the body of Christ as a whole is willing to do. Instead, I would encourage us to widen our perspective, to try to see where God is present in the process, where the hymns are in the birdsong, where the Almighty exists outside of our limited scope of human imagination.

We have been deceived, I think, by trying to anthropomorphize the Divine too much. This can be forgiven though, we have no choice but to see the world through the lens of human-ness, as it is the only lens we have. Not just us, but the prophets and the kings of Israel and the twelve disciples and, yes, even the authors of our scripture texts were imperfect humans who acted through the inherently skewed perspective of the human experience. We must be careful to remember that God, according to Genesis, created humankind in God’s image, not the other way around.

It is this resistance of the anthropomorphized Divine that helps us see how God provides for not only the birds but all of the natural world. Once God ceases to have a human face, we can start to see God in the changing beaks of the birds. Once we stop giving the Almighty five-fingered hands and five-toed feet, we see God in the elliptical or soaring wings, in the perching toes of the sparrow and the sickle claws of the kingfisher. And, sadly, once we see God in the wind and the snow, the bird and the fish, in the spring rebirth, autumn harvest, and winter slumber, we start to see how resistant to God we have been.

If God provides for the birds, humans certainly aren’t helping God do it. Humans are responsible for the destruction of so many of birds’ natural habitats. As humanity began to grow in population and spread across the map, we have inevitably moved our homes into where birds once roosted. Rather than attempt to coexist with humans (probably a good call), birds instead move their migration habits and their nesting areas. When humans take over, birds have less land in which to live, causing more and more birds to compete for the same amount of food and other resources. Additionally, when birds change their migration habits, they encounter species of birds they otherwise would not, which, like Europeans invading the so-called “New World”, introduces novel diseases into local populations.

Birds are not without natural predators, and so it is easy to ignore the impact our feeding habits have had on the bird populace. However, humans are by far the most efficient predator of birds. You may have heard of the dodo or the passenger pigeon, two well-known bird species that are now extinct due to hunting and other human influence. Yet they are hardly an exception. Endangered Species International identifies over 100 species of birds that have gone extinct since the 1600s, mostly due to overhunting and habitat destruction.

Humanity’s desire for meat has caused a boom in one particular species of bird, the domestic chicken. Global estimates of chickens are around 30 billion, making them the most populous bird species by far. Still, this is no great victory for the birds, as most chickens raised for meat live only around 6 or 7 weeks before being slaughtered. Human selection of more muscular chickens has led to these populations living in densely packed chambers, having bone, heart, and eye defects, and experiencing so much anxiety that they attack each other. So much for God’s provision.

It is ironic, perhaps, that I edit this after a holiday based around ritually cooking and eating a turkey. None of us are without bloodstains. Lux aeterna luceat eis.

These are ways that humans directly influence the avian world. Just as concerning is the indirect nature of human-caused climate change. The most obvious sign of larger climate change is the gradual upward shift in temperatures across the entire world. Privileged humans are able to navigate this situation due to our temperature-controlled environments. Birds, on the other hand, are less fortunate, and the shift in temperatures is another way that the migratory and nesting areas of birds change over time. This, as stated previously, causes the same amount of birds to compete for fewer and fewer resources. Climate change is also to blame for larger and more frequent wildfires as well as rising sea levels, both of which are responsible for the destruction of yet more habitat.

Purposely or accidental, directly and indirectly, we humans take from the birds. What the Lord giveth, we have taken away. Recognizing our own role and responsibility in the destruction and disruption of nature is a crucial step in repairing both our world and the rift that exists between the human and the Divine. But all is not lost. Hope, the thing with feathers, yet perches.

Amazingly, some birds have been able to adapt to this quickly shifting environment we have created. After hatching their young, many bird species will consume the broken eggshells for a burst of calcium and other nutrients. Pesticides we use on our crops have made their way into bird physiology, making eggshells thinner. So, birds have needed a separate source of calcium to bolster their egg-making abilities. Where do they find this calcium? They eat chips of paint off of houses. Birds have found a way, however imperfect, through which to soldier on. Studies on urban birds have found that, over time, the frequencies of their song have changed. Why? Because they need to compete over the noise of our cities. The birds have composed new music so they can yet hear one another over our racket.

Is this where the Lord is now providing for the birds? By helping them overcome the obstacles we have created for them? When we cease to imagine God as a human-centered entity for our human-centered planet, we find where God works against our human efforts for the benefit of the whole world.

We have built ourselves in stark contrast to the rocks and trees, the skies and seas of God’s sacred world. This is hardly the “dominion” over earthly things that God charges us within the book of Genesis. We are not separate from the birds, the trees, the air, the sun; we are a part of it. We were all formed from the same One-ness, and it is to that which all will return. When we listen to birdsong, it is the chirp of God calling out to remind us that we are here, here on this magnificent Earth, together. We are, all of us, composed out of the same two ingredients: starlight and patience. The birds are trying to remind us of that. Are you listening?