All the Birds
Season of Lent, St. Hildegard on birds and the soul, and the way of Peace
For lo, the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.
- Song of Solomon 2:11-12
Predawn light, mist on my skin, and to the south, robin in the hedge: cheeri-up, cheeri-lu. Rooster ushers in the day, caroling to the sun. A rapid-fire succession of notes: junco? And now: a fly-by breeze. To the northeast the plum trees resemble an explosion of blooms, but the “flowers” are really lichen, almost glowing in the graylight. Closer inspection reveals reddish-purple buds. Plum’s cousin, the cherry, is already adorned in a white-blossom gown. The time of the true plum flower will arrive in due time.
Dawn enters, and nature has begun her morning song.
It goes without saying that our human landscape lacks such calm. Yet Lent urges us to step into the desert of whirlwinds and clamor (in our minds or surrounding us), to find, tend, and walk the grace of peace.
From this river or streamlet, we rediscover the generous gifts of openness and wonder, love and mercy, and surrender to them. Perhaps, then, we are able to listen below the windstorms and floods of outrage, anxiety, or despair, to the underlying child-cry. We are all small children at heart. In the midst of uncertainties, the small child longs for reassurance and a steady hand through the scary places.
For Christians, our loving provider is God, shepherding us in the person of Jesus Christ. You who rest in the sacred in other ways also have your understanding of compassionate love and guiding sanctity. I am heartened to witness a growing recognition that “division” is a devastating falsehood. We will not reach peace of heart, community, nation or beyond by continuing to write off or cancel friends, family, or neighbors who think differently on issues of fierce importance to us.
One friend and neighbor at a time, I witness or hear of individuals striving to practice the forgotten art of “agree to disagree.” Maybe we speak about our contentious issue, but, after an exchange of words (perhaps heatedly spoken) we find the strength and compassion to let those viewpoints subside, to sift into minds and hearts as God wills.
Even if I don’t change my stance, my thoughts and regard are expanded. Around the topic of disagreement, my speech shifts: “I know some people who feel differently about this. Here is a little of why they feel this way.”
The closer to peace in my own heart, the more I’m able to ask honest questions and understand better. The closer to peace you and I enter together, the more likely that we will experience an opening of ear to the living river that we long for. From these waters, creative responses arise, and - if not a solution or a next step, then at least the asking of “what if” or “I wonder.”
In this regard, the Lenten season and spring supports our renewal. The birds do as well.
The birds! If you are downcast or anguished, step outside at dawn. Lean into the soundscape, and listen – to one bird to the northeast, another the south, far in the distance, then close, and then to the many, everywhere. How awe-inspiring to experience the eastern approach of bird song, immersing our world as night gives way to dawn. If we take time to listen, our souls can’t help but recall themselves.
12th century abbess, visionary, physician, and all-around amazing woman, St. Hildegard of Bingen wrote about the relationship between the birds and the human soul.
“As long as it is in the body, the human soul, being airy, is lifted high and sustained by air, lest it suffocate in the body. It dwells in the human body with sensitive intelligence and stability. Since birds are lifted by their feathers into the air, and since they dwell everywhere in the air, they were thus created and positioned in order that the soul, with them, might feel and know the things which should be known. And so, while the soul is in the body it extends everywhere, elevated by its thoughts. ...”
- St. Hildegard of Bingen, Physica, Book Six: Birds
Cross-culturally and through time, our hearts have understood that birds are messengers, offering thanksgiving and praise, and carrying our prayers to God, the Creator. In movement between earth and heaven, bird flight and song serve as visible expression that our prayers are heard and heeded.
This Lent, let us sit outside with the birds, to face east and join our prayers with theirs at sunrise. As our souls uplift with the birds, we can in turn grow wings, becoming living prayers to God.
Then let us move into our day. May we listen for the bird song in each other, one walk, honest question, and conversation at a time.
In God’s spring glory I pray,
Amen.
