Look at the birds

Jesus said to his disciples,

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”

Matthew 6.25-27

Jesus knows that his disciples are often preoccupied with worries – as we are. He doesn’t just tell them to stop worrying and trust in God. He says to them, ‘Look at the birds…’ He explains that these creatures, who they often fail to notice at all, are always held in God’s love – and so are we.

Maybe this isn’t just an illustration of God’s love. Maybe Jesus is telling his disciples to just look at the birds – to really look at them – to spend time enjoying them in all their wonder and variety…

On Sunday we went to see a murmuration. A murmuration is a huge gathering of one type of bird – starlings. They come together in their thousands for their evening roost. And they come together in an amazing way, a huge flock of birds swinging around the sky, making amazing shapes and patterns – sometimes like smoke in the wind, sometimes like a net, sometimes folding into themselves over and over.

We found this by going to Dobbies garden centre car park near Tewkesbury. But it took us right out of ourselves, and the images have stayed in my mind. This poem by Mary Oliver is about terns not starlings, but it sums up the experience well…

Terns  by Mary Oliver

Don’t think just now of the trudging forward of thought,

but of the wing-drive of unquestioning affirmation.

It’s summer, you never saw such a blue sky,

and here they are, those white birds with quick wings,

sweeping over the waves,

chattering and plunging,

their thin beaks snapping, their hard eyes

happy as little nails.

The years to come — this is a promise —

will grant you ample time

to try the difficult steps in the empire of thought

where you seek for the shining proofs you think you must have.

But nothing you ever understand will be sweeter, or more binding,

than this deepest affinity between your eyes and the world.

The flock thickens

over the roiling, salt brightness.  Listen,

maybe such devotion, in which one holds the world

in the clasp of attention, isn’t the perfect prayer,

but it must be close, for the sorrow, whose name is doubt,

is thus subdued, and not through the weaponry of reason,

but of pure submission.  Tell me, what else

could beauty be for?  And now the tide

is at its very crown,

the white birds sprinkle down,

gathering up the loose silver, rising

as if weightless.  It isn’t instruction, or a parable.

It isn’t for any vanity or ambition

except for the one allowed, to stay alive.

It’s only a nimble frolic

over the waves.  And you find, for hours,

you cannot even remember the questions

that weigh so in your mind.

As Mary Oliver says, we are often weighed down by our thoughts and concerns and sorrows, but by giving our pure attention to the beauty of the world in some way – birds, trees, clouds, water, flowers – we can find a freedom for a while, and our minds and hearts can be opened and lifted to God, in what feels close to prayer.

Last week we were thinking about listening, and as well as looking at the birds, we can also listen to them. It is very rare, if you are outside or near a window, for us not to hear any birdsong. But we often don’t notice it – maybe we have our headphones on our airpods in – maybe our heads are too full of the buzzing of our thoughts. But when you begin to tune in, then you hear the birdsong, and it takes you out of yourself. And when you pay attention you notice the different songs. Maybe you hear the sweet song of a robin, or a bird called a great tit calling ‘teacher, teacher’, or a blackbird singing at dusk like a man leaning against a wall, whistling.

I think maybe this isn’t too far away from prayer either. If we can learn to tune into the birds singing in the trees above us, maybe we can also learn to turn down the chatter in our heads and develop an awareness of God’s presence inside and underneath our lives, and hear him speaking gently to us.

So I encourage you to go for a walk some time today or tomorrow. It might only take ten minutes. Look at the birds, and listen to them. See what else you notice. Let the weight fall for a while from your shoulders and tune into the presence of God. (If you are at the university you will have another chance to do this on our Busy Person’s Retreat, coming up soon).

Bring to mind a time when you have been able to give your attention to the beauty of nature – a special place maybe, a view on a walk, the sea, birds, trees, flowers… Allow yourself to go back to that time and enjoy that memory…

God our loving creator, we thank you for the beauty of this world, which we can experience in so many ways. Help us to find time to look, and listen, and notice, and enjoy all that you have made.

God, our loving creator, we are often weighed down by many thoughts and many worries. Help us learn to let go of them, to place them in your hands, and to find a deeper trust as we feel ourselves part of this whole world which is held in your love.

God our loving creator, teach us to love your world as Jesus did, and may our love lead us to care better for this planet and for all that lives on it.