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.

Sleep, baby, sleep
Your father tends the sheep
Your mother shakes the dreamland tree
And from it fall sweet dreams for thee
Sleep, baby, sleep
Sleep, baby, sleep.^[1]

Babies are such cute bundles of joy. They are simply adorable and very innocent. The birth of a baby is a miraculous event, and all babies deserve to be loved, no matter where they are born.

Lullabies are love songs written for them. Parents sing lullabies to their precious loved ones to send them sweetly into their dreams. In almost every culture, lullabies are inspirations and prayers for precious little children. Such songs hand down the hopes and dreams of parents, from generation to generation.

“Hush-a-bye” is a lullaby with a story behind it. It was collected by Alan Lomax, who learned it from his mother, who took it from North Carolina to Texas after the Civil War^[2]. It was originally sung by an African American slave. The “lambie” symbolizes the slave-mother’s child, for whom she is unable to care because she is too busy taking care of her owner’s child, to whom the song is being sung. The lullaby’s sourness is cleverly hidden in the comparison between the two children: one is a protected white child growing up privileged and the other is a black baby, left defenseless in nature^[3].

Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake, you’ll have cake,
And all the pretty little horses.

Black and bay, dapple and grey,
Coach and six little horses,
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby,
When you wake, you’ll have cake,
And all the pretty little horses.

Way down yonder, down in the meadow,
There’s a poor wee little lamby.
The bees and the butterflies pickin’ at its eyes,
The poor wee thing cried for her mammy.

Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake, you’ll have cake,
And all the pretty little horses.

Other than being musical stories, lullabies are also beautiful gifts from a parent’s heart to a baby’s ear. Every parent around the world sings a delightful lullaby in her native tongue to relax their child. Lullabies are great examples of how we show love in similar ways all around the world. There is no difference between us and the people on the other end of the world when it comes to our affection for our babies. We all love our babies and open our hearts to them with these songs. There are different lyrics or different rhythms, but they express the same love, support, and concern for the little human beings.

For example, in an Armenian lullaby, a mother says:

The south wind rocks you back and forth
Let the stars converse with you
And the sun and moon calm you
The wild deer will offer its milk
Sleep, sleep.^[5]

And an Azerbaijani lullaby goes as follows:

Every passing bird, every river
Says lay-lay to you my baby
In our most joyful and beautiful motherland
You are my pride and joy
You are my soul that is within my own soul
Your breath is so clean and innocent
Like the light wind in the field.^[6]

Although there is a long history of conflict between the two south Caucasus countries, there is no difference in a parent’s compassion and warm wishes for their children. They both pick nature up as their babies’ playmates and want them to grow up within that nature. Both of the lullabies can comfort a baby with a familiar voice.

Below are two lullabies from Israel and an Arabic country, Morocco. Would you be able to tell which one is from which country?

The first one is:

Sleep, my little girl, sleep
Sleep, my darling one, sleep
Daddy has gone off to work.
To work, to work he’s gone.
He’ll be back when the moon rises
With a gift for his little one.^[7]

And the other one is:

Sleep my baby
Until the meal’s ready.
And if it isn’t,
The neighbor’s will be.

Sleep my baby
Until your mommy’s arrived
The bread is on the table
The sweets are on the tray.^[8]

The former is from Israel and the latter from Morocco, but universal love is embedded into the message of both lullabies. They both touch our hearts. They are both very special in every way. No stereotypes, no wars, no hatred is passed on to babies; only love, and peace, are fostered in lullabies. Thus, lullabies provide an excellent tool to teach children to love all creatures. They allow the sharing of emotions that are filtered and softened by mothers’ heart. When people comfort their babies or make them feel more secure by singing them a lullaby, they also teach them the biggest life lessons. Lullabies smoothly whisper the essentials of life, the common needs of all human beings to babies’ ears.

Talking about the essentials of life, the adversities in life are a fact that the children must also be prepared for. But even when talking about the negative aspects of life, lullabies introduce them gently. An intelligent lullaby from Turkey passes along good wishes to a child, but also teaches a valuable lesson.

Dandini dandini dastana
Into the garden the calves did stray.
Gardener quickly chases them away.
Don’t let them eat the cabbages,
Huuu huuu huuu

Dandini dandini danadan
A moon is born from a mother’s womb,
God has not withheld anything from him
May God protect him from the Evil Eye
Huuu huuu huu hu

Dandini dandini danayli
May our pots be coated with tin
May my daughter be a bride in a mansion
And my son dwell in a palace
Huuu huuu huu hu.^[4]

In this lullaby, a mother’s desire for her son not to get married to a girl she does not approve is hidden beneath the lyrics in an amazingly clever way. The calf symbolizes the son and the garden represents life, while the gardener is the father, and cabbage is the girl that is not approved of by the boy’s mother. So the mother wants the father to keep that girl away.

There are lullabies like the one above that are very personal and private, in which the narrator expresses how she really feels and thinks about certain issues while telling her stories. Such songs can help a parent express their own emotions more clearly, too, especially when they are unable to share them with others. Thus, lullabies soothe and help not only the babies but also the adults.

Lullabies are helpful to put babies to sleep and are useful for adults to enjoy the time that is spent with their children. A lullaby’s magic comes to life in a parent’s voice. These gentle melodies allow parents, who are a child’s first teachers, to impart valuable lessons in a soothing way. A personal message or story is planted elegantly into the lyrics. A loving parent embraces their precious baby with a beautiful lullaby. Plenty of joy, peace and love fill up the room at night when a loving voice smoothly sings:

Goodnight moon, goodnight stars and goodnight my little angel,
Close your eyes and open them to sweet dreams my sweetheart…

References

¹ http://www.romantic-lyrics.com/lullabylyrics/sleepbabysleep.shtml

² http://kids.niehs.nih.gov/lyrics/prettyhorses.htm

³ http://www.robertbohm.com/publications/3.html

⁴ http://lullabiesofeurope.wetpaint.com/page/Lullabies+(Turkish)

⁵ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lullabies_of_Armenia

⁶ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lullaby

⁷ http://www.hebrewsongs.com/song-numinumi.htm

⁸ http://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=1249&c=168

The merchant asked: ‘What gift may I purchase for you, my pretty pet, and carry back for your pleasure and delight, all the way from India?’

The parrot spoke straightaway, as though he knew he would be asked and so had prepared an answer: ‘I will not ask that you bring me back any gift, but I would ask a favour of you, a task to perform for me in India.’

‘Ask, my pretty pet,’ said the merchant, very curious, ‘and if it is in my power to do what you ask, I will do it, God willing.’

‘Well, then,’ said the bird, ‘when you reach India and you see there many parrots like myself, address to them this speech. Say:

“So-and-So Parrot sends you his greetings. He longs to be with you, but he cannot be. He is, by the decree of Heaven, a prisoner of the good merchant who brings you this message, a slave in a cage, locked up.,,

Then convey to those parrots from me. “So-and-So Parrot begs you to remember him. Remember him, imprisoned in his cage, when you fly about freely in gardens of fragrant roses. Remember him, alone and without the company of his fellows, while you go about with one another, cheerful and jolly.”

Add also this plea to your speech, since the one who will understand it may be listening. Say: “What! Have you forgotten your friend so soon, that you can fly about happily in the company of others? It may be that I was at fault in my service of you, and you are punishing me by forgetting me in this way. Is that as it should be? Is it right to answer a wrong with a wrong? Would it not be better to answer a wrong with a right?

“And yet, because it is you, still you, who have turned away from me, your turning away is dear to me. It arouses my love the more. Even your anger, your revenge on me, is dearer to me than my own life. Your anger is fire, and it burns me with love. If that is the affect of your fire, how must your light be? If I ever escape this cage, I swear I shall make straight for your rose-garden. There, I shall sing songs of desire like the nightingale. The nightingale’s songs gather the thorns as well as the roses, the bitter as well as the sweet, in the same joyful embrace. In the songs of the nightingale, love surpasses the pleasures and pains of love, and is entirely and purely itself.”

The merchant listened to every word and promised to deliver his pet’s complaint as best he could.

Towards the end of his journeying in India, he came across a rose-garden in which were a company of parrots like his own pet bird. To them, according to his promise, he faithfully recounted the parrot’s words. One of the parrots who had been listening began to tremble and shake, then fell from its perch in the rose-tree, and lay on the ground, dead. The merchant was deeply upset. He said: ‘I have been the cause of that poor creature’s death!’ and he regretted that he had kept his promise.

On returning home, the good merchant gave to all the servants in his household the gifts that they had asked for. To the parrot, he said nothing. But the parrot demanded of him: ‘What of me? Did you not do what I asked? If you did, tell me what you saw and heard.’

‘I did do it,’ said the merchant, ‘and how deeply I regret that I did. I wish I had kept silent and not conveyed your words.’

‘Why do you repent of keeping a promise and fulfilling a trust?’ asked the parrot. ‘What has caused you to be so remorseful and upset?’

‘I conveyed your complaints to the parrots where I found them, and one was so touched by your pain that she trembled and dropped down dead.’

As soon as he heard this, the merchant’s parrot also began to tremble, then he seemed to lose balance, and fell onto the floor of his cage, cold and senseless.

The merchant was now so struck with grief and despair, he began to tear his hair and clothes. ‘My dear, sweet companion!’ he cried, ‘My singer of sweet songs! Keeper of my secrets! Ah, what shall I do without you? How shall I live without you?’ Then, in his great sadness, not knowing what else to do, the merchant took the corpse (as he thought) of his beloved pet out of the cage and laid it gently on the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, the parrot awoke and flew, through the open window, to the safety of the high branch of a tree in the garden. The merchant was relieved to see his pet well. He looked up into the tree at the bird and said:

‘Dear friend, explain to me the meaning of what that Indian parrot did, which enabled you to devise this trick to escape from your cage.’

‘She gave me excellent advice’, answered the parrot from the tree. ‘By her dying, she conveyed this advice to me: ‘Your own fine voice is the cause of your being in a cage. You are held in that way so that you may entertain people with your singing and your speech. Their praise and the flattering love of your master are the walls of your cage. Renounce your cage-renounce your voice and your master’s affection. Become dead as I am dead, and find freedom.’

‘Go in peace under the protection of God!’ said the merchant. ‘You have shown me the way to a far country to which we must all go, sooner or later. That is the great journey and I must prepare for it.