We worshiped outside yesterday...underneath the oaks and beeches of the parsonage back yard. Clear, blue sky. Gentle breeze. Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day...just glorious.
And just one problem. There's an oriole living at the wood's edge...and boy, can he sing loud. All the way through the prelude...all the way through the sermon...all the way through the entire liturgy...this silly bird was perched high up behind the altar, warbling like it was his day job.
More than a few folks commented afterward that it was wonderful, but a bit distracting. "Every time you opened your mouth, Pastor, that bird would just sing louder," was one comment delivered with a grin. Upstaged by a bird. Hmmm.
Or maybe not. Perhaps we were the ones intruding. The woods, after all, is the birds' home...not ours. It's probably foolish to think that we can set up shop out there as though we belong. Indeed...it may have been our songs...our words...that were the real distraction.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those "humans are no better than insects" kind of folks. Neither am I ready to give up our worship times in the back yard. But it would be a good thing for us to go into that space mindful of the One to whom it truly belongs...and to be ready to join in the worship that the birds, the flowers and the trees are themselves already busy rendering unto God.
We sing the canticle on Easter Vigil: "All you works of the Lord, bless the Lord." Maybe we need to be singing it (or at least remembering it) on those magnificent Sunday mornings when we get to sing with the birds.
