At our church, we have a couple of hens, affectionately named Hope and Charity. We call the coop at the corner of the property our "Amen Corner," and anyone who has seen the Morning Prayer streamed from the garden know that they are sweet and affirming ladies who definitely have their preferences. There was a third hen named Faith, but as 2020 would have it, she encountered some illness or injury and died earlier this year in the affectionate and caring arms of our parish nurse. One of our favorite hymns is "All things bright and beautiful," and we strive to live fully into our care of creation.
These hens represent a resurrected attempt to nurture our Amen Corner. Last year, Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (reference Psalms 23, of course) graced us with their presence until a carnivorous creature took more than just eggs from the coop. Only one survived the attack: Goodness, and she was placed in a witness protection programs at the farm whence she came.
Both then and now, we've been honest with the children and adults of our congregation about the deaths of our hens. Folks smile with delight when they find or receive eggs from the nest and watch with a sense of peace and contentment as the hens peck at their treats. (Hope and Charity are especially fond of watermelon and clover leaves.) Last year there was shock when hearing of the massacre that took place in the coop, and this year there was sadness when they learned the pretty gray hen had succumbed to her illness. However small it may seem, there is connection, a sense of relationship.
As the pandemic lingers, protests occur with increasing frequency, and the chasm of the political divide deepens, I wonder what affect it all has on our relationships with one another and Creation -- and especially on our relationship with God, if we have one at all.
This Sunday, our gospel reading comes from Matthew, reminding us of our greatest commandment to love God with all our heart, soul and mind and to love our neighbor as ourselves. The Gospel according to Luke follows the instruction with the Parable of the Good Samaritan in response to the lawyer, focusing particularly on who counts as our neighbor. Before we puzzle about who others are, perhaps we can first wrestle with who we are in relationship to God. Who are we when we are whole and wholly loved?
When we experience that wholeness, I truly believe we are more inclined to realize our own vulnerabilities and cultivate the compassion and empathy that compels us to extend that love we have received and the nurture and nourishment that we need ourselves to others, whether they are neighbor, stranger or "other." Taking time to care for some aspect of creation -- whether it's a bit of earth or a couple of hens -- reminds us of our call to care for others. It's not a huge leap to go from caring to loving, and if you need faith to see you through whatever leaps you need to take right now, rest assured that faith doesn't die but waits patiently for us to find our way back.
The Rev. Sara Milford serves as Vicar of All Saints' Episcopal Church in Bentonville. You can reach her at mothersara@allsaintsbentonville.org, especially if you'd like to visit the hens.