Blue flashes on grey skies
blackboard mist
swoop
swing
swish
slash
Swatches of blue
now streak the sky
now flash among trees
My eyes pursue
dart
dash
dip
dive
Just like my eye doctor instructs:
look up for me
look up right
up left
down right
down left
All the way up. All the way down.
So I follow until her light
stops
settles
sets
sits
See
Two blue flashes at rest
large and small
squat and tall
Having blue fun
Father and Son.
* * * *
This Sunday is the first Sunday of Epiphany in Christian churches. According to ancient story and biblical tradition, the Messiah has been born and recognized as the anointed One. It’s a very exciting day, often honored as Holy Family Sunday, a time to celebrate the big three—Jesus, Mary and Joseph—lovingly, or in a cuss phrase after you’ve mistakenly, bashed your finger with the hammer and called out: JMJ. Often we have Baptisms on this Sunday to celebrate in solidarity with the Baptism of Jesus in the Temple. On this day he will begin his spiritual life as a human being.
None of this of course is literal history, but all of it has profound meaning in terms of the Christian understanding of values like family, children, parents, and the sacrament of Baptism by which, with water and the Spirit and promises made in their name, little ones become Christians. They join the fold, the flock, the following. Dramatically, each usually-howling, infant is “sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever” with blessed oils. The whole congregation says AMEN. Often there’s applause as the priest holds the infant up, sometimes, depending on the volume of protest the infant exerts, even walking up and down the aisle with her or him. Hey kid, you’re one of us now. We try to follow the ways of Jesus the Christ who walked, talked, and loved as Jesus of Galilee did.
I can think of worse gangs to join.
* * * *
Back to the swooshing Jays. They are passerine birds, which means they are distinguished by feet adapted for perching. They know how to grasp onto a branch quickly and sturdily. They are also noisy, preachy, excitable birds, songbirds intent on making their mark on wintry skies in the northeast where I live.
The biblical meaning of seeing the Blue Jay is that the birder will communicate well, be persistent, and plan for the future. I try to do that—without being too annoying or preachy as some Christians can be. The male Jay has a reputation for being aggressive and downright disagreeable as he asserts himself perch to perch. Still, the Jay symbolizes protection and fearlessness, also monogamy. Blue Jays often chase off large red Cardinals, rivals at feeders. Politically telling in 2021, eh?
I have a bright blue shirt on today.
I could be an aging, failed monogamist, still perching like the Blue Jay, full of vision and blue passion for the lost—also for those newly found or found out.
Some of this of course is human projection, yet I do think that it could be true as I listen and watch the little masculine duo dart about taking possession of the territory.
The females, less flashy, contrary to human females, are I presume at home in nests resting and brooding and pondering about avian life in general just as Mary might have: Whose son will my baby boy be? Some say Father God’s. Some say Father Joseph’s. I say mine.
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