Chirp
Dear Friends -
It’s been just over six years since I started The Avian Rebbe. Hard to believe. That inflection point was a realization that there was a different perspective to take on looking at birds. Thus the tagline, “The Avian Rebbe teaches Jewish wisdom seen in the beauty of birds.” I’ve always liked that encapsulation because it’s short, sweet - and totally unexpected. It’s the kind of statement that makes someone sit up and notice, precisely because it doesn’t follow the anticipated path of their previous thinking.
Earlier this week, I had another such inflection point gifted to me. Chirp. It’s just a single word. And anyone who has suffered through been around me for any length of time knows how much meaning there can be, and can be elicited from, a single word. Chirp. Let’s unpack it a little bit.
I’ve written tons about birdsong over the years. I’ve explored morning prayers. I’ve contrasted “bird watching” with “bird hearing.” I’ve looked at birds and Torah together as song. What I hadn’t thought about before is this lovely little Chirp. The gift I received was the idea that birds will periodically through the day send out just a little chirp, nothing major, nothing complex, but it’s their way of just touching base with a mate or the flock. Just a little check in to say, “I’m here. Are you there?” It reinforces connection.
I’ll get to the context in just a minute, but this seemingly small recognition has made me start thinking about hearing birds in a completely different way. Rather than these sounds being background music, they’re now more like a call & response. Rather than these sounds being a collection of individual expressions, they’re part of a community tapestry. Rather than these sounds being something that birds do, I’m now hearing them as a model for behavior where I’m deficient.
As I say, this has been a truly powerful shift in perspective - not least for being completely unexpected. I’m tremendously thankful for getting this gift.
Last week we celebrated the Seders of Pesach. For the second night, I went to a Seder with a group of people I know but hadn’t seen in a long time. Some folks were happy to see me, and it was nice to reconnect. But what struck me was that after a long absence, the overwhelming number of “reconnections” were blasé hellos as if there had never been any time apart. To be clear, I’m not describing the delightful phenomenon of seeing an old college chum and picking up after decades like we’d just been in the dining hall together yesterday. Instead I’m describing a social agnosticism, a tepid smile, a quick nod. Nothing that indicates any meaningful concern about us not having seen each other in years.
Where have the Chirps been?
The obvious answer of course is that this is just about me. Have I not done the work of integrating myself in the community? Certainly possible. Or have I affirmatively done something that has actively pushed me out of the community? Also possible. But I don’t think so. Anecdotally, I’ve unpromptedly heard from other members of this flock that they too feel like the Chirps are missing. It all makes me wonder.
Ironically Jewish tradition is all about community and living within community. There are prescribed traditions literally from birth to death and every daily occurrence in the middle. Eating, praying, family events, education, every bit of it is done in a communal fashion. There is conversely nothing in Jewish tradition about the Lone Individual, the Solo Journey, etc. that are so important in other traditions. In fact, arguably the worst penalty prescribed in Jewish law is karet, being cut off from the community and cut off from a spiritual connection to God. It’s a living death sentence.
I’ve been thinking intensely about Chirps the last few days and what I wanted to say about them. The easy thing would be prescriptive, telling everyone you ought to check on your people. Go Chirp at them. But that’s not really my bag. What I will do, though, is hopefully illuminate a shadowed spot in life. Point out something that’s been otherwise flying under the radar. There’s an opportunity here to make the world a better place, and who doesn’t want to see that?
Chirp!
Be Grounded. Fly High.
The Avian Rebbe