"Rockefeller" the Owl and God's Anawim

 

The Christmas Tree delivered this year to Rockefeller Center in New York City is being called scrawny. Perhaps its scruffiness signifies the vulnerability we find ourselves in these days of  Coronavirus Pandemic. On the other hand, the man who owned the tree says essentially, "Hooey, the tree is perfect."  Doesn't matter.

But after the tree was cut down in Oneonta, New York and delivered to the city, a tiny Saw-whet owl, no bigger than a soda can, was found inside the tightly bound branches. Bless the workman (pictured here) who discovered the stowaway and had the good heart and presence of mind not to flick the bird off, like a bug. Two hours later and thirty miles away, the little owl was delivered to the Ravensbeard Wildlife Center which rehabilitates injured wildlife. After suffering three days without food and water, (not to mention being snagged in the branches), we can't imagine the bird's condition. But  the team at Ravensbeard saw spark in him/her, and are fixing him up (named "Rockefeller). After the vet gives the go ahead, Rockefeller will fly free in a forest-d area where he should do well. 

The little bird's plight reminds me of the Old Testament anawim. Who Are they? They are the marginalized of the world, the left out, the vulnerable, the desperate, the socio-economically oppressed, the lowly ones. I would say the anawim are the little ones, who might be the Downs Syndrome baby in the womb, might be the many thousands of children in our fifty states who are food insecure, might be the folks who have lost jobs—who are on food pantry lines looking for something to eat for Thanksgiving and might soon be evicted because they can't pay the rent—while the legislators flew home for the holiday, might be the kids faraway who live on garbage mountain, the girls who aren't sufficiently valued to attend school...

I almost never use the word should, but we really should take the anawim seriously, as the Virgin Mary, whom we rightly extol as  Christ's first disciple, referred to herself as anawim. In her Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55)) she proclaimed before her elder relative, Elizabeth:

"My soul glorifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour. He looks on his servant in her nothingness; henceforth all ages will call me blessed." 

At Bethlehem, Jesus' first guests were the anawim-shepherds. It's not nice to say, but today, we might hear them called losers. How we persist in calling people names.

It is said that the best kept secret of the Catholic Church is its social doctrine. Well, shame on us for having justice as our top secret. Is justice our secret because the church is afraid people will runaway if that message is proclaimed? Is the church afraid of being called "socialist" or "communist" — even though we use these words foolishly, with no idea of their meaning? We weaponize words to garner votes. Instead, we satisfy ourselves with charity. At 11:00 A.M., "Well, I've done my good deed for the day," one elder, self-congratulating church lady said. But justice means cultural change—far reaching and deep. Justice means re-thinking, creating a new model that serves everyone. Justice means the lifting up of the anawim—bringing them out of the shadows, up from the last place to the head of the line—ahead of the high-rollers. Justice is scary for an entitled people.

So, bless the little owl and all the creatures, so vulnerable before our society that grinds up the living things—the plants and the animals. And bless those (like our Pope) who call for a new world order that many (including clergy) call naive. The genuinely religious people are always said to be naive. 

As wonderful and right as it is to take care of a little owl, may we learn how to take care of the little people of the world. But we are very far from that, aren't we? We can't even lock arms together in taking care of others by wearing masks during this time of devastating disease. 

The Nativity Icon in the Christmas Octave (Continued)

SOMEONE WROTE AND WISELY ASKED: Why in the Nativity Icon is the Mother of God looking away from her Son, in Western images she is fixed on him? It does seem curious doesn't it? But follow the line of her gaze. She is looking at the shepherds. And the shepherds are called the ANAWIM.

 

The anawim are those who in every time and culture are those who live on the margins, who have been pushed to the edge, the ones who are forgotten by the world. For the shepherds we might say, "Out of sight, out of mind." They were forgotten, ignored or perhaps despised because they worked away from the practice of the Law. They were not present to their families. They could be perceived as thievish - dirtied. In the icon the shepherds are even at the literal edge of the painted board. Any further and they'd fall off. And this is where Mary gazes. Her eyes echo the invitation of the angels - come and see.

The ANAWIM today? Damaged soldiers back from war who feel forgotten and lost in the system, the people after Katrina and Sandy and the recent Philippine cyclone and Japan after the tsunami and the reactor meltdown. The ANAWIM are the un-insured, un-educated, those without a clinic or dentist, the families who live off of garbage mountains, the young people disappeared, the country of Syria - the layers of division so complex it can't be sorted out.

Or we could say that the ANAWIM is that inner place, in each of us, that feels estranged, lost, deeply confused or un-resolved, at the end of my rope, exhausted physically or emotionally.

We might return to this central piece of the icon - the Mother of God resting. She's not day-dreaming, "What have I gotten myself into here?" But she is looking for each of us and all of us. We might place ourselves and the hurting world in her line of vision. That's a good prayer.