One last thought about those birds.
Mixed among the gravel just off the northeast corner of the parking lot is a
Killdeer nest. It is nearly invisible; marked by neither twigs nor leaves, just
three eggs, gray with black speckles, nearly the same color as the gravel in
which they lie. You can only tell it's a nest by the presence of the Killdeer
itself, sitting atop the eggs she's laid.
She will sit there perfectly still, till you step out of your car or walk too
near, and then she will squawk at you unmercifully. You'd think she'd just sit
there and hope you'll not see her and walk away, but her goal is clearly to
distract you by drawing you near. If you back off, she'll immediately fall into
silence. If you draw closer, she will hop away, stop and flop about, her right
wing collapsed as though broken. Here I am, she seems to be saying,
I'm an easy target. I'm vulnerable, I'm weak, kill me instead.
Whenever we celebrate the Lord's Supper we celebrate the death of Christ, and
every time we remember his death I wonder why it was that Jesus had to die.
Lately, engaged in that strange ritual with the Killdeer, I have come upon an
answer. I have come to believe that for us, Christ is a Killdeer. He is the
one who waits with us, while evil would draw near to swallow us up, feigning
weakness, as if to say I'm broken, I'm vulnerable, kill me instead.
We live in a world where power and violence are not the last resort but the
first, not an exception but the norm. Whether violence spawned by powerful despots
of foreign nations or despotic CEOs of multinational companies, whether attacks
by planes driven into twin towers in New York City or cancerous cells run amuck
within the bodies of innocent children or dear friends, it is all the same.
It is invasive, it is nonnegotiable, it seeks to swallow us up - and in resisting
it, we are prone to resort to the very violence we abhor, to become that very
violence itself.
Yet there is a Killdeer among us who holds violence at bay, who shelters us
with his own body, who lures away death by offering his life in our place, who
shows us what strength there is found in weakness. One day the Killdeer dies,
whether of old age or a prowler's snare - but the Christ surrenders life to
offer us his resurrection. We live in that promise, even as summer will turn
to fall, even as children become old men and women, even as Killdeer nest in
church parking lots, we live in that promise.
Pastor Jim
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and
stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children
together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!
Matthew 23:37
From the Shepherd's Song Newsletter -- July 2010
Copyright 2010 by Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
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E-mail your comments and questions to Pastor Jim in care of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church at good.shep-holland@sbcglobalnet.