By Rabbi Sara Adler, Staff Chaplain at the University of Michigan Hospitals, and Certified Michigan Naturalist
It’s 7:30 a.m. and the house wren pierces the air with his startling song. How can such a tiny body blast the morning open so loudly? The wren has been busy flitting through the branches of the old crabapple, bringing twigs through the openings of the bird houses our daughters painted at the JCC when they were little. He builds not one, but a few nests in various places around the neighborhood and is an oficianato of birdy real estate. He will find a mate and bring her on a tour of these possible homes to see what she chooses. I hope she picks ours. (I’ve planted goldenrod and wild bergamot to make it more enticing.)
I can’t help but be charmed by their antics. I’m also amused by the scientific name for the wren family— Troglodytidae, but they are anything but troglodytes. These house wrens are sassy and bold and throw frequent tantrums of song.
I watch the little guy pull more twigs through the door. If his partner says yes to the house, they will finish it together and fluff the nest with spider sacs. Spider silk is strong material, but there is greater wisdom in this choice. When the teensy spiders emerge, they will devour any parasites that might put young nestlings at risk. It’s an astonishing fact and I remain in awe of the deep wisdom of ecology. It’s another lesson in the balance and interdependence of all creatures.
As June leads us into summer, the days will be long and likely hot and tiring at times. We will soon read the story of Moshe’s weariness and burnout from carrying the full burden of responsibility for the Israelite community. God helps by imparting Moshe’s wisdom and spirit to seventy elders in the community, so he doesn’t have to do it all alone.
In this season when I crave wisdom for how to navigate this difficult world, it’s easy to feel isolated. But the wren is a reminder to look outward and recognize that God’s wisdom is shared and reflected in several places, including in the wisdom of wild things. In our own backyards, we can learn about partnership, interdependence, and perhaps feel less alone. May we all find encouragement and hope in the living world, that simply seeks to do what it knows is best.