“Bird-Watching”
Mark 1:9-11
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
July 14, 2013
We’d only gone a few steps up the trail when Kokee stopped short. He whistled–long-short-long, with a little flourish at the end. Then he listened. “Over there,” he said, pointing way up in the canopy of branches. “It’s a slaty-backed nightingale thrush.” He whistled again, listened again, looked through his binoculars. We looked through our binoculars. We waited. Finally a rustling of leaves, and a slate-colored bird zipped from one branch to the next. A fleeting glimpse of a beautiful bird.
We were in the cloud forest in Monteverde, Costa Rica. The cloud forest is dense and complex and sometimes actually in the clouds–rainforest with more rain and a higher elevation. Each tree, Kokee taught us, is its own ecosystem, with moss and fungi, bromeliads and orchids and strangler figs growing on its branches, because that’s the only way they can get the sunlight they need to thrive.
Birding anywhere requires patience and attention to detail. Birding in the rainforest requires even more, for there are so many layers of leaves and branches and vines, and the trees are so tall. Even with the keenest eye and the strongest binoculars, it’s next to impossible to sight the birds.
Fortunately, we had Kokee with us. A native of Monteverde, Kokee learned about the birds as a teenager working for researchers studying migration patterns. His job was to carry their equipment and help them keep records. He absorbed everything he saw and heard. Now, after seventeen years as a nature guide, he knows hundreds of bird calls, and can imitate them so precisely it makes you pull out your binoculars and start scanning.
Kokee took four of us–a young couple named Andrea and Chris, along with Fran and me–on a walk across a series of hanging bridges, which allowed us views of the different layers of the cloud forest. Kokee pointed out fascinating plants and described the amazing interconnected web of life–all as he helped us search out beautiful, elusive birds.
Birdwatching in the cloud-forest begins with bird listening. Just as he had with the slaty-backed nightingale thrush, Kokee would hear a song, imitate it precisely, and elicit a response–a conversation amongst friends. Sometimes he’d pinpoint a spot and we’d catch a glimpse of a colorful bird. If we were really lucky, we’d get a picture; often the birds moved too quickly. Other times we never saw a thing, but we knew the birds were there.
At one point, birds way up in the canopy started making a racket. They’re giving a warning, Kokee said. Maybe there’s a hawk or even a snake in the branches. He left the path to get a better view. We waited.
“There’s some big bird over there in that tree,” our new friend Chris commented. Even though Chris had never done any birding before, he was sure he’d seen something. As he tried to describe the location–“go up the trunk, take a right at the fork and then follow the left branch and look behind it”, the bird flew. A bright flash of color, it flew high into a tree on the other side of the path. Chris had spotted a bird-lover’s find–one of the most glorious, colorful, hard-to-spot birds in the cloud forest. It was a female quetzal–turquoise back, a hint of scarlet under the long tail feathers. A glory to behold.
***
Our gospel reading this morning tells the story of an entirely different experience of bird-watching. Jesus came to the Jordan River not to watch birds but to be baptized by John. He was immersed in the water, and when he emerged he saw something like a bird—a dove, the Holy Spirit descending upon him. And he heard a voice, “You are my son, the Beloved, with you I am well-pleased.”
Each of the gospel writers tells this story in a slightly different way. In Luke’s gospel, everyone gathered at the river saw and heard what happened. But in Mark’s gospel, this encounter with the Spirit was personal. Only Jesus saw and heard, and in that moment he recognized his calling as a beloved child of God.
It makes me wonder. Not just about Jesus, but about all the other people John baptized. John had called them to receive a baptism of repentance—to choose to change their ways and to sanctify that choice by cleansing themselves in the Jordan River. They came, seeking a new beginning, a renewed relationship with God. Did the heavens open up when they emerged out of the water? I wonder whether the Holy Spirit, like a dove, descended from heaven and alighted on the shoulders of a young woman who was determined to change her life—only she was so busy drying herself off that she didn’t notice. I wonder if an old man who longed to be close to God heard a voice, but decided it was just the water in his ears. Did the Holy Spirit come upon each person who came to the river seeking new life, descending to tell them that they too were beloved children of God?
In our service of baptism we proclaim boldly that the Holy Spirit is at work in our sacrament. We pray: “Holy Spirit be upon you, child of God, disciple of Christ, member of the church.” We believe the heavens do open up and the Spirit of God does descend like a dove, to rest upon the one we baptize. Through this sacrament, the voice of God does speak—“You are my child, my Beloved.”
Of course, we don’t see doves flying around the sanctuary. Instead the Holy Spirit rests on a newly baptized child through the hands of the people at coffee hour who ask to hold her. And the voice of God speaks through the words of the congregation, proclaiming Ava to be God’s beloved as we promise to offer our care and nurture.
The Spirit’s activity in Ava’s life isn’t limited to today. Always, the Holy Spirit is moving through her life–through our lives, flying around us and alighting upon us like a dove. The voice of God is speaking to each one of us, over and over again, calling us to a new life and reminding us of our status as beloved children. The heavens open up to us, inviting us to draw closer to God.
Most of the time, though, we don’t notice a thing. We go through our lives as though we were walking through the cloud forest with our ipods on. No matter how long we have been at this business of trying to be people of faith, most of us still qualify as novice dove-watchers, people who long to recognize the Holy Spirit but rarely notice the doves and voices and the opening up of the heavens.
So how do we train ourselves to recognize the Holy Spirit at work in our lives? Perhaps my bird-watching experience in the cloud forest can offer some clues.
That morning in the cloud forest reinforced some of the things I already know about bird watching, and taught me some more. The only way to see birds is to look for them—to walk through the forest and ask the question, “Are there any birds in these trees?” Once we begin to ask, once we begin to want to notice, our eyes open to a new world of beauty. And so it is with the Holy Spirit. The first step is simply to start asking the question: Where is the Spirit of God at work in my life right now? Once we ask, we will start to notice the Spirit moving through our lives. We will awaken to beauty and blessing.
A second lesson from birding: it is good to go together. It was amazing to have Kokee as a guide–someone with training and experience who could help us listen and look. And it was Chris who found the quetzal. Sometimes we need skilled guides to lead us in the direction of the spirit. Other times we simply need a friend who can point us to something sacred happening in our lives. We are blessed with a church community filled with potential companions–guides and friends– on our Spirit-seeking excursions. Don’t be afraid to ask one another to come along; it makes for a much richer journey.
A third lesson from the cloud-forest: bird-watching is about relationship. We didn’t just stand there and wait. Kokee spoke to the birds–called out to them. And then we listened for the response. Similarly our search for the Spirit is about relationship. It’s about calling out to the Spirit–singing out songs of joy, daring to lift up our hopes and dreams, fears and regrets in prayer–and listening. Sometimes we’ll hear a clear response; sometimes we’ll catch a glimpse of the sacred; sometimes we’ll simply know the Spirit is in our midst and trust clarity will come later.
So let’s go Spirit-watching. Let’s start asking the question, not frantically but persistently: where is the Holy Spirit at work in our lives right now? Let’s go together, pointing out a flutter of holy movement for one another, helping each other listen. Let’s call out–melodious songs of praise, awkward cries of longing–trusting that the Spirit longs to be in relationship with us.
The Holy Spirit is at work in your life. The heavens are open to you, inviting you to a closer relationship with God. The Spirit is resting on your shoulder. The voice of God is speaking to you—“You are my child, my beloved.” May God bless us all with eyes to see and ears to hear. Amen.