Thank Goodness the Scrub Jays were Yankees Fans

 There’s a scrub jay sanctuary in Rockledge that I like to go to.  If you have ever seen a Florida Scrub Jay, don’t dismiss the sighting as you would with a pigeon or a crow.  The Florida Scrub Jay is the only species of bird endemic to the state of Florida.  You will only find it here.  And it is a threatened species.  The scrub jay is not going to impress you like a bald eagle or even an osprey or hawk.  It does not stand out in a crowd like the cardinal.  It doesn’t demand your attention like the mockingbird.  It is a small blue bird who is most known for being incredibly friendly.

In fact, there are signs up all over the sanctuary warning guests not to feed the scrub jays.  You will find pictures online of scrub jays eating out of peoples’ hands.  I’ve never been tempted to feed the scrub jays, not just because I’ve been warned not to, but because as much as I love taking pictures of nature, I’m not interested in getting hands-on with nature.  I really don’t want a wild animal to touch me.  I am no Dian Fossey.

In the dozens of times though that I’ve been to the sanctuary, the scrub jays have kept their distance, hopping along the ground in front of me, or flying to a nearby branch.  They have seemed completely uninterested in me—which is fine.

Last week, I returned to the sanctuary for the first time in several months.  At first the sanctuary was silent.  I saw no birds, but then I saw something flutter in a tree across a small pond from me.  I lifted my camera to get a picture and the next thing I knew, a scrub jay was flying right toward me—and I mean right at me, so close that I stood frozen for a second, before finally ducking.  The scrub jay missed my head by six inches.

  

“Wow,” I said to myself.  “Wow, that is going to make some story.”  That scrub jay had been so close, I could feel the whoosh of air as he passed over my head.  I tried to see where the scrub jay had flown to, but it had disappeared into the brush.  I walked some more and again, was disappointed when I didn’t see any birds, let alone scrub jays, but then on the way back, I noticed another scrub jay, hopping through the grass, digging up worms.

Again, I lifted my camera and again, before I could even get a decent picture, the scrub jay took off through the air, flying at me and this time—this time, landing right on my head.

I admit I may have let out a small shriek, something that only a few neighborhood dogs might have been able to hear.  I also admit that I may have started frantically waving my arms like you might do after walking into a massive spiderweb. 

The scrub jay flew off.

I immediately located it a few feet away, sitting on a branch and I took its picture.

“Well, look at you,” I said.  And then I laughed.  And then I doubled over, hands on my knees and laughed some more.

There is nothing quite so humbling in all the world than having a wild bird land on your head—humbling because that bird doesn’t care who or what you are.  Apparently, I looked like a thin, scrubby piece of pine, or maybe the scrub jays were attracted to my Yankees cap.  Considering my Yankees cap remained unblemished after my encounter, I have to assume the scrub jays were Yankees fans.

I have been humbled many times in my life.

To be humbled is a precious thing.

To be humbled means we are given a glimpse at just where we stand, for good or for bad, in this world.

Often when we think about being humbled, we think it’s about being brought down.  It’s about that scrub jay showing me that I am not anything special just because I’m a human being.

But I think, to be humbled, doesn’t necessarily mean to be brought down. 

To be humbled is to be shown simply that you are a child of God and sometimes that may involve bringing you down, but most times, that’s going to mean raising you up.

Let’s look again at today’s Gospel reading from John.  It’s a Holy Week story we should all be familiar with.  Jesus washes the feet of his disciples.  At first, Peter doesn’t want this at all.  He thinks that by Jesus washing his feet, that Jesus is lowering himself, is doing something beneath him. 

But Jesus, as always when it comes to Peter, pauses and takes time to explain, saying in verses 14 and 15, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

Peter thought that when Jesus washed his feet that Jesus was lowering himself, but in reality, what Jesus was doing was raising Peter and the other disciples up. 

This is who you are, Jesus was saying.  This is how I see you.  You are a child of God.  

But—and this is key—that doesn’t make Peter special, it doesn’t single him out as being more important than anyone else.  Jesus is pulling Peter up.  He is raising him up as a child of God and at the same time instructing Peter to do the same for everyone else.  Jesus wants Peter and the disciples to see the rest of the world as he, Jesus, sees them.

We are all children of God.

This is our place in the universe.

Jesus raises Peter up and it’s the ultimate humbling experience.  We are all equal and beautiful and special—in the eyes of God.

And if this is what humbling means, to be raised up in God’s eyes, to be shown to all the world, to the universe as a beloved child of God—then I pray something humbles me each and every day, even if the message arrives via a scrub jay landing on my head.

I’m open to that. 

So long as the scrub jay is a Yankees fan.

Amen.