In Defense of Pigeons - Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

A thing to know about me is that I am a very slow processor, which means I’m a terrible debater. Even if I know you’re wrong and I’m right, it may take me 3-5 business days to arrange my thoughts in a coherent manner, and by that point, it’s usually too late. I’ll give you an example. Last summer, I went to the Gulf Coast with some family and friends. One afternoon, while sitting together with koozies in hand and toes in the sand, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by pigeons. Some of the little ones had fun chasing the birds around, and we overheard several nearby parents imploring their children to stop attracting the birds by dropping Cheetos, which made us laugh. But after a while, the beach did start to feel a little crowded.

In a fit of irritation, one of my friends announced that he hated pigeons, he didn’t understand what they offer to the planet, and he hoped they would soon go extinct. I felt that was a slightly dramatic response to the situation, so I suggested that surely if a species as prolific as pigeons were to go extinct, there would be a negative impact on the ecosystem. He whipped around, quick as lightning, and asked me point blank: can you prove that? Listener, I could not. My brain went totally blank and I had absolutely no response.

Never fear, your girl Hannah plays the long game. Seven months later, in my reading this week about the heavens opening and God descending upon Jesus like a dove at his baptism, I have unexpectedly learned more than I ever thought I would about pigeons. I have not forgotten last summer’s shameful debate and have prepared an entire sermon to defend these birds to my dear, argumentative friend.

At the risk of losing both your attention and your respect, I will summarize as succinctly as possible. The words “pigeon” and “dove” are the common - and interchangeable - English names given to several species of bird in the family columbidae. These birds are native to the eastern Mediterranean, notably Palestine. They are incredibly beautiful and incredibly intelligent, something that we humans took advantage of. Perhaps you’ve heard of the carrier or homing pigeon? Starting around 3,500 years ago, various civilizations began using pigeons to aid in covert military communication, which led to more domestic correspondence, and even to their use in entertainment, such as announcing the winners at ancient Olympic Games.

Pigeons were a vital component of the development of human society until they were replaced by newer technology. Following the invention of the printing press and then the launch of postal systems, and eventually the telegraph, telephone, and finally the internet, entire species of birds that had been domesticated were essentially abandoned all over the world, far from their native land, and predominantly in cities.

In the 21st century, these gorgeous birds have become synonymous with filth and are signs of overcrowding and urban decay. Meanwhile, our industrial and technological revolutions, once hailed as the pinnacle of human progress, have left us with a population explosion and a direly depleted planet. And in the midst of our struggle, who do you suppose is coming to our aid? That’s right. Pigeons. Pigeons are the number one way we study urban disease pathology and the effects of climate change on urban populations, because what happens to pigeons eventually happens to us. What would suffer, my skeptical friend asked, if pigeons went extinct? Humanity. The defense rests.

Now this same lovely bird appears many times in our scriptures, perhaps most memorably in the story we heard today about Jesus’ baptism. There are plenty of other members of the natural world that can and do serve as theological motifs, but in key moments in the story of salvation, God chooses a pigeon, one of the most mundane and ubiquitous features of life in first century Palestine, to communicate with God’s people. We know now that pigeons have practical value on our planet, but could they serve a theological purpose for the Christian faithful?

In his book, When God was a Bird, Mark Wallace explains that birds in scripture have something vital to teach us about our incarnate God. And yes, Ragan did loan me this book. Wallace explains that while the birth of Christ in human form may be the ultimate manifestation of the incarnation, or embodiment, of our God, we can see and understand this aspect of God in other places in the natural world, and birds are a fabulous example.

In today’s passage from Luke’s Gospel, we hear that “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.” In bodily form. Mark Wallace explains that this means God took on the form of a dove in the same way that God took on the form of a human, in order to reveal to us God’s presence and God’s blessing at the baptism of Christ. This challenges us to think and pray more deeply about what it means to worship an incarnate God.

At Christmas, we celebrate - quite extravagantly - the miracle of the birth of Christ. And over the next several weeks in this season after the Epiphany, our lectionary will take us on a journey of discovering what that birth actually means for us. If our God is incarnate, embodied, not a distant, ethereal being but fully present in the created order, what might that mean about how we take up space in our own bodies? How we value relationships with others? How we care for the world around us, particularly the mundane, the ubiquitous, and the filthy?

In today’s lesson about incarnation, the presence of God as a dove at the baptism of Jesus reveals to us that baptism and incarnation are profoundly connected. Our own baptism brings us into the embodied life of God, and our baptismal call is to treat ourselves, our neighbors, and the natural world better than we have historically treated pigeons.

If we are willing to pay attention to way birds appear in scripture, and come to consider this common animal as an instance of the incarnate God, then surely we can come to realize that we, too, are members of that same body. We, too, simply by virtue of being alive on this earth, are valuable and holy. This is what it means to worship an incarnate God.

If you are unable to look at pigeons or doves the same way moving forward, or if you, like I have, suddenly find yourself surrounded by pigeon content and references, I do apologize. But if I’ve learned anything this week, it’s that there are worse things to be surrounded by than this incredible example of the embodiment of living God. And maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all if each time we see a pigeon we recall the voice of God pronouncing, “you are my child, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Amen.