There is often mixed joy and sorrow when traveling abroad, sometimes discovered in the journeying, sometimes found at the destination. Such a mixture was mine on a recent trip with Hizmet to India, where interfaith dialogue and its wonderful fruits across the many faiths of that subcontinent were very clearly evident, but that alongside increasing communal discord and even serious and extensive street violence in the face of protests against government policies of division and exclusion. Unfortunately, such social upheavals are today not limited to India; they seem to be spreading like fires in drought-stricken forests around the world, engulfing too many developing and developed countries, alike.

Early one morning around 2am, when sleep evaded me, I deeply felt the poignancy of this turbulent travel, while my mind drifted to recollect some stories often told of St Francis of Assisi preaching not only to human beings but to birds, as well as other creatures of creation:

When he drew nigh unto Bevagna he came unto a spot wherein a great multitude of birds of divers species were gathered together. When the holy man of God perceived them, he ran with all speed unto the place and greeted them as if they shared in human understanding. They on their part all awaited him and turned toward him, those that were perched on bushes bending their heads as he drew nigh them, and looking on him in unwonted wise, while he came right among them, and diligently exhorted them all to hear the word of God, saying: “My brothers the birds, much ought ye to praise your Creator, Who hath clothed you with feathers and given you wings to fly, and hath made over unto you the pure air, and careth for you without your taking thought for yourselves.” While he was speaking unto them these and other like words, the little birds—behaving themselves in wondrous wise—began to stretch their necks, to spread their wings, to open their beaks, and to look intently on him. He, with wondrous fervour of spirit, passed in and out among them, touching them with his habit, nor did one of them move from the spot until he had made the sign of the Cross over them and given them leave; then, with the blessing of the man of God, they all flew away together. All these things were witnessed by his companions that stood awaiting him by the way. Returning unto them, the simple and holy man began to blame himself for neglect in that he had not afore then preached unto the birds. [Saint Bonaventura, The Life of Saint Francis, 12.3]

And so I wondered (dreamed?), what might the birds tell us of their lives and struggles in this newly disruptive age?

The Birds: A Parable

Once upon a time, there was a bountiful flock of birds, all with iridescent blue-green plumage and a melodic trilling song of thanks through God for their heritage as a single community: together they preened, together they sang, together they lived and thrived upon the resource-laden land God gifted to their stewardship.

As time passed, other flocks were drawn to this same rich territory, as well, all with their varied distinctive plumage—fiery yellows and reds, subdued grayish-browns, and dazzling whites—and all with their individual God-given songs of praise.

The original flock generously welcomed all these newcomers, judging that sharing was better than selfish hoarding, opening better than closing ranks, and accepting different characteristics better than demanding uniformity in attributes. Together they fashioned a unity in their very diversity, sharing the riches of the land, extolling their variegated colors in songs to their Creator, generating a harmonious chorale that exemplified the Creator’s love for all of His making, as stewards of land and of one another, together…together. Generations passed in peace, colors and songs filled the land, and unity was manifested.

But a season came when a spirit of fearful possessiveness arose among some of the descendants of the blue-green flock, who began looking askance at those whose colors and songs differed. “What place have these foreigners amongst us? Have they not intruded into our way of life, depleted our resources and now threaten our very existence? Let them depart to other lands, apart from us, with their own kind.”

Though few in actual number in the beginning, these dissident voices seeded fear and discord, which took root and grew widely where once unity had thrived. For although the ones they called “foreigners” had passed many generations upon the shared land and even now comprised only a small proportion of the overall population, hardship borne of dissimulation had come to many of the birds across all the flocks. Stewardship of the land had been overshadowed by exploitation of resources for the benefit of a greedy few, and the detriment of many. Now, a scapegoat was needed to divert attention from the real causes of increasing distress and hardship.

Arbitrary hierarchies were manufactured and enforced, purporting to be inherent and according to “purity” of color and song. Only those deemed worthy now had a proper place in society, and their numbers were strictly circumscribed by documented ancestry via sole descent from the first flock. All others were relegated to some separate, ignoble status. And now, uniformity and unison in song, rather than harmony of distinctives, became the priority: “How else could the Creator receive proper praise? So-called harmony was really just cacophony, and no God could be pleased with that!” If the song were different, it had no arena, even when the song was echoing celestial praise; if the bird’s color and song were different, the bird was no longer welcomed, it had no place.

Unity was shattered, harmony disappeared, estrangement normalized. Jealously ostracizing others became the common rule. Harsh words became the norm…violence the ready remedy…destruction, injury and death the ultimate result.

More fully awake, now, I considered, “Can the birds recover themselves? Can they listen anew to St Francis’ call together joyously to offer praise to their Creator and so be content? Or is it too late?”

Perhaps more importantly, is there more than a fanciful story, here? what might these birds tell us of today’s challenges to our societies…to our very humanity? Can we, today, respond to the call of St Francis as did the birds of the field near Bevagna, to live together in peace unto the praise our Creator, seeking only His commendation?

When President Trump recently visited India, banners were emblazoned with the slogan that the world’s oldest democracy was meeting with the world’s largest democracy. Thomas Mann, in 1947 testimony before a U.S. congressional committee, noted a depressing increase in “spiritual intolerance, political inquisitions, and declining legal security,” that typically foreshadows an ultimate breakdown in democracy itself, which can only finally usher in a breakdown in societal peace and prosperity (subsequently realized in the fever of McCarthyism in the US, and the violent partition of India). Where there is no sense of the sacred through acceptance of difference and mutuality in dialogue, there is eventually only polarization: there will be those who agree to think the same way who are called friends; while all the rest are demonized as enemies. And where there are only friends and enemies, insiders and outsiders, “us” and “them,” civil war—metaphoric at least, actual bloodletting at worst—is inevitable.

So, can India recover itself? It was once the standard bearer of secular/multi-faith democracy in the developing world—or is it too late? Can we in the US recover ourselves? We were once the standard bearer of an immigrant-filled country grounded on practicing civil discourse in the developed world—or is it too late?

May the Creator grant that we all together comprehend and affirm His path of acceptance, affirmation, and peacemaking:

The Spirit has never ceased brooding over the waters … ever creating, superintending, re-creating, all that is, according to the counsel of God’s own purposive will. Together with the angels and saints, we rejoice in faith, hope and love, as the Only Holy One continually, eternally renews the face of the heavens and the earth.
Our Only Creator
through His creation
is creating us
is sustaining us
is provisioning us
is re-creating us
unto the restoration
of all His creation.

For the care of baby Zero, the numbers decided to take turns. Each number would hold the baby beside it. As the days passed, the numbers realized a puzzling fact. Those numbers who gave care in the right manner saw a never-seen abundance at home; everything would increase tenfold. The numbers who passed their turns superficially did not see any difference in their living. Was it a sign from God that the numbers could not grasp?

Days passed, and the numbers were expecting to see some developments in the newborn. It was supposed to make facial expressions, start uttering some meaningful sounds, make purposeful movements with its arms, and so on. But zero did not exhibit any of the expected qualities. The numbers thought, “Maybe it’s a late-developer.” But soon they understood that this number was disabled in many respects. It would not give any known response to any of the stimuli. It would not make a difference when used in summation or subtraction games. In the multiplication game, it would give a deep silence as the result, no matter how big a number it played with. And in the division game, no matter what number divided Zero, the result would be a hopeless reluctance to change. The numbers could not reconcile in their minds the miraculous abundance upon the proper care for Zero with its extraordinary disability. What was the deal with this baby?

Years flew by like a stream, and Zero entered adolescence. Now its body was not only growing very fast but was also assuming a more rounded shape, leaving its primitive seed-like dot form. With the rebellious instincts of adolescence, Zero discovered its ability to roll, instead of the step-by-step walk of the others. And soon it discovered that it was able to move much faster than the others by rolling. This unexpected burst of motor skills from Zero made the numbers very happy. They did not have to put burden themselves anymore to move Zero. Once a totally disabled baby, Zero was now the new roller in the numbers kingdom that even the wealthiest numbers could not catch up with.

The downside of this was that Zero was not able to stop. It had to hit another number for that, just like in the multiplication game. Maybe part of the wisdom of the apparent disability of Zero at the beginning of its life was that it needed to gain wisdom to control its super ability to move. However, especially within the first months of the discovery of its new skill, Zero just rolled, rolled and rolled. Even some accidents did not scare Zero from its attempts to roll farther and faster. After all, it had a proper justification for it, considering its long years of immobility.

As Zero grew even more, and as the numbers watched it closely, they realized it had another interesting feature. It possessed an enthralling beauty due to its perfect symmetry. How was it possible that such unparalleled elegance emerged in a number that was initially thought to be disabled? The numbers decided to consult the Savant One. One was the oldest among the numbers, was held noble among all others, and knew history very well. As knowledgeable and noble as it was, One was humble as well, as it would bend its torso to talk with children, instead of distinguishing itself among everybody by raising its head straight up.

Savant One said, “I have been looking at the ancient books about the signs of this number. As told, it was born disabled, and it was raised by its relatives; it then surpassed everyone else by its speed of motion and its perfect rotational symmetry. More than that, as Zero grows, it is assuming the shape that we observe in all heavenly objects. This young member of our community has more to teach us. We need to wait and see.”

After the numbers had left the house of One, Prime Minister Two could not hold back its words and raised its voice: “Could it be that the old guy is mixing things up due to its age? I mean, how do we know that the things written in those books are authentic? Zero is not totally different from us; it is just another number, anyway. Why are we bothering ourselves with something that no one has seen before? Are we going to leave the greatest numbers for the sake of this fledgling egg?” And then, Two burst into laughter. Some of the numbers joined it in laughing, and some others said, “We’ll see!”

As the years passed, Zero started questioning its existence, and contemplating its character as a number. It had heard the words of both the Savant One and the Prime Minister Two, but it could not come to an exact conclusion about itself. Maybe Two was right. Even if the ancient books did actually talk about someone, who said that it was Zero that was expected, anyway? So, with this mindset, Zero preferred a midway between that of Savant One and that of Prime Minister Two.

As Zero was leaving adolescence, something started bothering Zero from inside again. It was as if somebody were periodically disturbing its comfortable life by triggering emotions that were not satisfied with the daily stuff that Zero did. So, Zero started reflecting again. This time, it considered the things it had experienced so far in its unusual life story: its initial disability in life and the consequent burst of motor skill, its initial negligible size and the unparalleled beauty it exhibited as it grew, the words of the Savant One and those of Prime Minister Two, and so on.

It was one of those times that Zero felt a sudden shiver with the coolness of an inspiration that penetrated its whole body. Zero felt that its life was full of opposites, so that, by pondering over the respective non-existence and existence of its qualities, it might understand infinity. These thoughts motivated Zero to investigate infinity by talking to other numbers.

The answer that best resonated with what Zero felt was from Savant One: “I have not seen infinity, but I do know that I was the first one to exist among numbers. I feel that I could not have come to be out of nothing. And seeing all these numbers that came after me, I better understand that what made me is infinity. And, oh my little one, if you ask what one step before me was, the ancient books say that it is you who is going to reveal that.” And the answer that Zero did not like much was from the Prime Minister Two: “There is no such thing as infinity. No matter how great a number you imagine, by adding one, you can always obtain a greater number.

And, this is all there is about it; there is no one who has actually seen infinity, anyway; it is no more than a figment of our imagination.”

When alone, Zero thought, “I can understand Two because when it came to the world, it saw One already there; so, Two cannot comprehend coming to existence without an ancestor. But what I feel inside is more like what One tells me. One can realize the existence of something that triggered its existence because when it came to the world, there was none other than One.” After a silence, Zero mumbled, “If I exist, then you exist. But where are you? If only I could see you…”

Life had been very turbulent for Zero. First, disabilities that burdened it, then a sudden explosion of skills and emotions, then the painful questioning it went through without satisfactory answers, and finally a conclusion that brought peace along with a wish for homecoming. Soon after, not being able to stand the harshness of such turbulence, Zero fell sick. It started losing weight to the point that it almost returned to its initial state at birth. With this final sickness at such a young age, Zero had had enough of it here. Although everybody was sad about what was going on, at the same time they thought that the best thing for this unique number was to die.

And Zero died. They buried it under the quotient line. Roses grew on its grave, as beautiful as Zero, as noble as One. Thus commemorated was the phrase “one over zero,” in order to refer to this beauty. It was then that the numbers understood what Zero felt inside. And the numbers visited Zero from time to time, whenever they needed a glimpse of beauty stretching from infinity. As powerless as it was, Zero helped others understand infinity not by its existence among them, but by lying below them.

I imagined you travelling on the hills of my heart.

A mirage, I know, but it sufficed to calm the anguish of my heart.

As I mentioned you again, nothing else remained in my memory.

I wish I could move the whole of time with love of you,

and travel in your horizons, rising high like spirits;

I wish I, finding a way, could fly into your heart.

I wish I could move the whole of time with love of you.

I’ve come to understand that it’s too late to reach you,

I will lament continually for the pangs of separation;

Lamenting, I will wait with ever-fresh hopes of union with you.

I’ve come to understand that it’s too late to reach you.

My heart, like a pigeon’s, trembles following your footprints;

I beg you to give me a feather from your wing,

so that I might continue after you and reach you.

My heart, like a pigeon’s, trembles following your footprints.

O Rose, which changed dry deserts into gardens of Eden,

Come and, with your intoxicating colour, enter my heart!

It’s time that you smiled into my weeping eyes,

O Rose, which changed dry deserts into gardens of Eden!

Let me be your slave who, like Majnun, runs after you,

Spark such embers within me that I catch fire like a furnace,

and come out of this dream, enduringly bitter without you.

Let me be your slave who, like Majnun, runs after you.

I count how many days have passed without you,

and a gloom invades my soul, darkening it;

Let me see your face, as the sun is about to set.

I count how many days have passed without you.

Let my setting, the last moment of my life, be a new rising,

and my heart be invaded by the colours of your climate;

let lutes be played everywhere, and reed flutes heard.

Let my setting, the last moment of my life, be a new rising.

***