No Fighting Birds

Some years ago, while traveling through the piedmont of North Carolina we came upon a little shop on the side of the road that was packed with all sorts of paintings, prints, and odds and ends. It was owned by a very colorful older man who, after we had perused what was to be seen (and there was much), pulled out a couple of Chinese paintings done on silk. The paintings came home with us and they now hang on a wall in our home. Both picture themes that we were trying to embrace at that time in our lives: peace, solitude, and quiet. One showed a man in red, at a distance walking up toward

a mountain pass. The other showed a man sitting on a river bank, fishing, while a village and mountains stood in the distance.

Both pictures contained some Chinese writing, and we were curious as to what it said. Not being fluent in any dialect of Chinese, nor knowing anyone personally living nearby who could help me, I took one of the framed pictures to the local Chinese restaurant. After explaining that I needed a translation along with my dinner, the hostess went through the kitchen doors and returned with a very old, very stooped, Chinese man. He looked at the painting, looked at me, read the words, and then laughed out loud as if to himself. "Beautiful white mountains, no people, no fighting birds, a man enjoys himself. I thanked him and left.

Not knowing whether his laughter was his bemusement at the painting or thoughts of a joke played on me, I took the painting to another Chinese restaurant. The story played out again with yet another older chinese man. The results were amazingly the same: the same translation AND the same laugh.

The point of the story is this: I could have asked any of my friends what they thought the words

meant. And, I might have gotten some good answers. Perhaps some of the answers would have been close to the truth. But, there would be no authority behind their speculations.

I really appreciated the "no fighting birds". We had spent some time at a monastery in the New Mexico desert where talking was not allowed. The sounds of the magpies was glaring in the silence of that place. They really were a distraction. And, they are a metaphor for anything that distracts us from what is truly important.

In the New Testament, there is adequate testimony that both the Lord Jesus Christ, and his post-Pentecostal disciples spoke with authority. Today, that authority still rests within the confines of the Orthodox Church. We speak of the tradition of the Church. If I want to know what the Bible means I know better than to trust my own speculations. I know better than to trust the words of the slickest, or most charismatic, or most persuasive speaker. I've "been there and done that".

I can guarantee that if you have a question about the Bible, or life, it has already been answered by one or more of the Church Fathers (past and present) in the Orthodox

Church. Like the blind man, who we commemorate this coming Sunday, we can also have our eyes opened to the truths of the faith. As we sing this Sunday, "I come to Thee O Christ, blind from birth in my spiritual eyes, and call to Thee in repentance; Thou art the most radiant light to those in darkness."

Oh, I don't hear the sounds of the fighting birds nearly as much anymore.