Tag: sparrows

Leviathan

You made Leviathan to play with,
delighting in the crushing depths,
and in his mass you placed your Spirit,
to fountain up with every breath.

The birds that fly beyond the sunrise
can never migrate from your sight.
Before the hatchling's feeble first tries
you plot the movements of its flight.

And if a sparrow falls from heaven
you mark the place where it goes down,
for you who numbered every feather
were with it in the air and ground.

Then when I turn and flee you headlong
you wait for me at journey's end.
Should I refuse your call and sending
you are beside me as I stand.

So Jonah found you in the gullet
and in the bowels of the whale.
You came up with him, wrack and vomit,
in the bright sunlight on the shale.

Praise God who made the whales and fishes,
who made the sparrows and the hawks.
Praise God who made me as he wishes,
my fins and feathers, starts and balks.

The Pistrix, the Sea Monster that swallows Jonah By Sergioizzo – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57892841

The Sparrows On the Rooftops

Jesus said to the Twelve:
“Fear no one.
Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed,
nor secret that will not be known.
What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light;
what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.
And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul;
rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy
both soul and body in Gehenna.
Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin?
Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge.
Even all the hairs of your head are counted.
So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Everyone who acknowledges me before others
I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father.
But whoever denies me before others,
I will deny before my heavenly Father.”

Matthew 10:26-33
The sparrows on the rooftops
or nesting in the eaves
sing out the grace their youth taught
from every gabled peak:
That God counts every feather
and sees them when they fall.
They fear no wind or weather
since heaven hears them call.

This is our song in sorrow,
when huddled in the eaves
and anxious for tomorrow:
that God our Father sees;
that all our hairs are counted
and all our hopes are known;
that love cannot be doubted
and mercy has not flown.

What we have wept in darkness
we sing out in the light,
that God holds every sparrow
in every moment's flight.
Though wind and war surround us,
we turn from dread and fear
to trust the God who counts us
and holds us ever near.

Alcalá de Henares By Draceane – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=116021850

As a Sparrow Finds Its Shelter

“The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.”

St. Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People
As a sparrow finds its shelter
from the raging storm outside
here amid the smoke and rafters,
guided by the fire's light,
yet it rests for but a moment—
for a moment and no more—
ere it flies out through the doorway,
from the storm into the storm,

so we all are born as sparrows,
come to light from the unknown,
and our moments fly as arrows.
Swiftly, swiftly, we are gone.
For the night outside still beckons
in the howling of the storm
with a sound that can't be reckoned:
Into dark, we fly once more.

God of light and God of shadows,
master of the shining hall,
plant this firelight in your sparrows
when we heed the stormwind's call.
When we fly from sound and fury
to the broad, unbounded night,
guide us on the homeward journey:
God of sparrows, give us light.

Venerable Bede in an illustrated manuscript, writing his Ecclesiastical History of the English People By http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v – http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77974574

Moar Birbs!

Your Spirit came down like a dove
beside the river Jordan
to point us to the one you love--
now birdsong fills the morning.
We see the lilies of the field,
consider well the ravens,
and know your goodness with us here
on earth as 'tis in heaven.

The gulls that glide upon your breath
still hover o'er the waters.
Wherever sparrows build their nests,
there you have set your altars.
The swallows clinging to the eaves
know you are their true shelter:
the shade and safety of the leaves
your fortress and protection.

And if a single feather falls,
your hand is there to catch it.
If death should silence all their calls,
new life awaits new hatchings.
So bird to bird calls out your name
and note by note rejoices,
and we who marvel at this grace
lift up our hearts and voices!

Painted tiles with design of birds from Qajar dynasty By Unknown author – davidmus.dk, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25157065

Fledglings

God knows the sorrow of the birds
for fledglings fallen from the nest,
the song that no more will be heard,
the empty place beneath the breast.

He saw the sparrow as it fell
and watched it growing cold in death
who wrapped it first within the shell
and counted every quickbeat breath.

And every year, of years on years,
he watches hatchlings fledge and fall;
no note is doubled to his ear,
no feather copied—firstlings, all.

And every sorrow of the heart,
and every nest bereft and bare,
alone stands naked in his dark
as one whole world beyond compare.

What is the weight of sparrowkind
in gravity's relentless pull?
A world ends in disrupted flight,
and still he carries each in full.

And for each one, a nest he builds
where sparrows rise up, ever spring:
his hands, with myriad feathers filled,
where nestlings fly and ever sing.

Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) By Cephas – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107680551

Farthings

Jesus sat down opposite the treasury

and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. 

Many rich people put in large sums. 

A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents.

Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them,

“Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more

than all the other contributors to the treasury.

For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth,

but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had,

her whole livelihood.”

Mark 12:41-44
Though your field lay fallow
'neath the sun and rain,
neither plow nor harrow
turned your ground to gain,
worked by none but sparrows
seeking fallen grain,
still Christ makes it hallowed
through the days of pain.

Bring him, then, your harvest,
yet more tares than wheat;
bring your merest farthing;
give him your defeat.
Your despair and darkness:
Lay them at his feet.
What the world has parted
he will make complete.

Come into his temple,
all you lost and least:
wounded, bruised, and tender,
tattered, torn, and creased.
You are still Christ's members,
prophets, kings, and priests.
Come into his shelter;
welcome to the feast!
A bronze mite, also known as a Lepton (meaning small), minted by Alexander Jannaeus, King of Judaea, 103 – 76 B.C.. and still in circulation at the time of Jesus[1] Public Domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2917434

I Am a Sparrow

I am a sparrow in your field,
a swallow in your skies.
I have no sword, I have no shield
when from the ground I rise;
no might or power do I wield
but songs and calls and cries.

Within the shadow of your wings,
no eagle but a wren,
who neither gold nor silver brings,
not fervent hearts of men,
who never hunts but only sings—
shall I be welcome, then?

Before your throne, is there a place
where I may build my nest?
Beside the altar of your grace,
the refuge of the blest,
shall I come there to see your face
and take, at last, my rest?

If you had wanted eagles, Lord,
then eagles you'd have made,
not sparrows gleaning on the sward
or nesting in the shade;
but you made me, and heavenward
I flutter, unafraid.
Song sparrow. Singing in Delaware USA By Keith – Flickr: Doing what it does best (Melospiza melodia), CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16142059SONY DSC

You Go To Make a Place For Us

Jesus said to his disciples:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. 

You have faith in God; have faith also in me. 

In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.

If there were not,

would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?

And if I go and prepare a place for you,

I will come back again and take you to myself,

so that where I am you also may be.

Where I am going you know the way.” 

Thomas said to him, 

“Master, we do not know where you are going;

how can we know the way?” 

Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. 

No one comes to the Father except through me.”

John 14:1-6

When the season’s readings dwell on the Last Supper Discourses, you get things like this:

You go to make a place for us,
O Christ who left the Father's side;
then teach us in that grace to trust
that we shall come where you abide.

The many mansions of your house,
the altars where your sparrows nest:
They call us on through toil and doubt
with hopes of shelter and of rest.

There is no bar upon the gate,
no lock upon the open door.
We come in each unhallowed state
and find that you have made us pure.

The bitter valley fills with springs
as you unfold yourself, the way,
and every step new comfort brings,
new truth, new life, in each new day.

And all who came forth from your love,
your blood and water mixed with earth,
turn back to where they started from:
the lifelong labor, second birth.

Come Lord, and lead us on the road,
O Christ the road, O Christ its end!
Come, gather us into your fold:
Eternal Shepherd, ever tend!
White-Crowned Sparrow / (Zonotrichia leucophrys). By Wolfgang Wander – Own work / http://www.pbase.com/image/83910026, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2564266

No Sparrow Falls

 No sparrow falls outside your sight,
 no nestless swallow calls
 but you, Lord, lift its wings in flight
 to shelter in your walls.
  
 And when your flock in sorrow wept,
 entrapped in Pharaoh's snare,
 from heaven down to earth you leapt
 their sufferings to share.
  
 And when the storm in torrents raged
 and oak trees toppled down,
 we wished again for Pharaoh's cage—
 you did not let us drown
  
 but lifted us above the flood,
 borne up on your own wings.
 You fed us with your flesh and blood
 who'd longed for lesser things.
  
 What are we, Lord, the human race,
 that you bear us in mind?
 Just sparrows winging in your grace
 who trust you to be kind.
  
 Then send us, Lord, a gentle air
 and blow us to your heart
 to shelter in your shadow there
 'til every storm depart.
Taken at Springfield, Oregon in early April, this photo probably shows M. m. cleonensis or a “phaea” hybrid By Walter Siegmund – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=767160

Two Sparrows

Inspired by the Gospel for the Feast of the Holy Family, but not closely based on it.

 Two sparrows for a widow's mite,
 and yet you see them fall,
 and you, who lift their wings in flight,
 O God, you hear them call.
 You make their singing your delight;
 you love the poor and small,
 and all their struggles you requite,
 for you are lord of all.
  
 Two turtledoves a son redeem,
 a mother purify,
 who trust the law and all it deems,
 who trust you will supply.
 And you, who made the waters teem
 and filled the empty sky,
 pour down your love in flowing streams,
 for you are lord on high.
  
 Two times the rooster cried the dawn;
 we weep now for our sin.
 Our pride and self-deception gone,
 repentance we begin.
 And you, who sent your only Son
 our lives from death to win,
 look down on every broken one
 and be our lord within.
Dove with an olive branch, Catacombs of Domitilla, Rome, Photo By Dnalor 01 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=32603350