What A Bird Taught Me

Just as the sky was brightening one morning last week, I was awakened by a songbird outside the window.  The song was captivating, and I continued to listen, expecting to hear another bird respond.  But there was no response, and the songbird continued to give a solo performance. 

My first thought was that if I hadn’t been listening, no one would have heard the bird’s ode to joy.  When my sleepy mind cleared, another thought came to mind, the saying of Jesus that God is mindful of every sparrow.  If that is true, then the bird’s song that morning had another listener—God.  

Jesus went on to say that what is true of birds is even truer of human beings.  Many of the world’s religions agree that a Divine Being is the creator and judge, but those religions also agree that there is another characteristic of God and that is that God pays attention to our lives.  God is a constant listener, and, more than that, God is a merciful listener.  

The current estimate of the world’s population is eight billion people.  That’s a lot of stories being lived out, each a one-off song of joy and sorrow, gain and loss, hope and despair.  Think not just of your life story, but the story of the refugees risking everything today to cross a sea or a dangerous border for a new life.  Think of those hunkered down in Ukraine at this moment as Russia’s missiles rain down on their feeble shelters.  Think of every person you pass today as someone living out a story that has never been lived out before and will never be lived out again.  

But the question is, who is listening to these stories?  Who is paying attention to these eight billion dramas, who listened to the billions of stories that came before us, and who will listen to the billions of stories that will come after us?

The media pays attention to a small fraction of the stories being lived out today.  Future historians will weigh all those stories and record for posterity only a fraction of that fraction.  It seems likely that ninety-nine percent of all the unique and fascinating moments being experienced across the world right now will be forgotten in a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade, or a generation at the most.  That truth raises the question “Do our human lives matter?”   

We might be tempted to answer that question with a “no,” to conclude that the stories we are living out are written in water, dramas lasting a brief moment before the next wave of time washes them away.    

Many of the religions of the world offer a different answer.  There is One who is paying attention to everything—even the smallest events—in our lives.  And that Being, according to these religions, is not just paying attention, but hopes and, if given the chance by us, will act to heal the broken parts of our stories and lead us to our stories’ intended fulfillment.  That’s an unprovable thought, but believing it gives meaning to the most ordinary moments of our lives and the lives of those around us.  

An 18th-century Hasidic master offers a bit of wisdom that I will always remember.  When we appear before God in heaven, God will not ask us why we weren’t another Moses.  Instead, God will ask why we did not become ourselves. 

In a recent interview, I was asked whom I would want to play me in a movie of my life.  I passed on the question, judging it to be supremely egotistical.  But now I think the Hasidic master would have given an answer.  There is only one person who should play our roles in life, and that is ourselves.  So as we live our lives today, let’s believe that God is watching with great mercy and hope and is urging us to become the persons we were always meant to be.     

-DC