reform

Story: The Sorry I’iwi

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

June 7, 2026

Hosea 5:15-6:6
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Last week an oma’o had to learn that he couldn’t judge an entire species of bird because of the bad behavior of some of them. Specifically, he had to abandon his idea that all i’iwi are evil.

It’s a pity that this week’s story is about an i’iwi that, well, had the bad habit of behaving badly. This was one of the i’iwi that would have given that oma’o some support for his mistaken belief.

In the defense of this i’iwi, he knew he was over the top. Mind you, he firmly believed that the right way to be an i’iwi, and not just an i’iwi but a honeycreeper, and not just a honeycreeper but a bird, was to protect the things he thought were his from anyone and everyone. What did he think was his? Well, any ohi’a tree in blossom. Any mamane tree in blossom. Any koa tree in blossom. Actually any blossom that might have nectar.

The photo up there isn’t a great one, but it’s two i’iwi, and one of them is trying to frighten the other one away – successfully, I might add.

This i’iwi was quite good at frightening other birds away. ‘Apapane? Fly away! ‘Amakihi? Get going! Oma’o? Take off!

As for other i’iwi? Well, there’s a reason I chose that photo. He’d chase them away, too.

If all that sounds pretty evil, well, there is something I haven’t mentioned yet. He had the bad habit of bullying other birds. He had the good habit of apologizing. He realized, a little deeper in his heart, that they weren’t his blossoms, they were the flowers of the tree and offered for everyone. After he’d chase a bird away, especially an i’iwi, he’d perch on “his” tree and call out, “I’m sorry! I overreacted there! Do you forgive me?”

He’d keep calling that until the other bird, especially if it was an i’iwi, said, “Yes, I forgive you.”

But if that bird or any other bird returned to “his” tree, he’d chase them again.

Fortunately he had the good sense not to chase his i’iwi grandmother, so when she settled down next to him one day he simply greeted her and didn’t flutter his wings at her.

“Grandson,” she said, “you’ve got to stop apologizing when you don’t mean it.”

“What do you mean, Tutu?” he asked. “Of course I mean it.”

“If you apologized and meant it,” said Tutu, “you wouldn’t chase the bird away the next time. Or any other bird. An apology doesn’t mean anything if you keep doing the thing you’re apologizing for.”

“Are you saying I should stop saying I’m sorry?” asked her grandson.

“I’m saying you should stop doing the things you apologize for,” said his grandmother. “You being sorry doesn’t do anybody any good. The other birds feel bad for being chased. You feel bad for doing something you’re sorry for. So change the thing that makes you both feel bad.

“You already know that you don’t need to chase everyone away. Work on that. Make everyone see that you’ve apologized by not repeating the thing you’ve said you’re sorry for.”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I write these stories in full ahead of time, but I tell them from a combination of memory and improvisation. The story as written does not precisely match the story as I told it.

Photo of two i’iwi by Eric Anderson.

Story: Start with You

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments
A nene (Hawaiian goose) walking along a road.

December 15, 2024

Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:7-18

The nene (a Hawaiian goose) was going to change the world.

He wanted to change a lot of things. Some of them, he thought, might be more difficult than he could actually do. He wanted ‘ohelo to grow more evenly through year, for example. Without learning how to plant and cultivate, which is hard to do when you have wings rather than hands, he didn’t think he’d get that accomplished anytime soon. Still. It’s nice to have a goal.

Mostly, though, he had ambitions to change the way that creatures interacted with one another on Hawai’i Island.

Most creatures in the forest don’t bother one another very much. Yes, the i’iwi gets possessive about flowering ohi’a trees sometimes. Yes, the ‘apapane get touchy around their nests. And there are mongoose that eat eggs. The nene thought that could change, too, but like the ‘ohelo idea, he thought it would take some time to persuade the mongoose to turn vegetarian.

What he most wanted to change, however, was the careless actions of human beings.

Other creatures don’t bother nene much, but human beings do. They come walking up where nene are feeding, they pick food the nene need to eat, and worst of all, they drive fast through places where nene walk and rest. I’m afraid that the biggest danger to a nene these days is getting hit by a car.

So our ambitious nene developed a plan to stand by the side of a road and talk to the people driving by. Or, well, honk at the people driving by. Yell at the people driving by.

I’m afraid it didn’t go well. The cars went by at the same high speeds they had before. A few of them stopped instead. One person even got out and went over to try to pet the nene, who decided that flying away was the best thing to do.

He watched for some time as the cars raced by at the same high speed with no change at all.

It made him sad.

Another set of wings fluttered next to him. It was a curious ‘elepaio. “What were you doing?” she asked.

The nene told her he was trying to get people to drive more carefully.

“That takes a lot of doing,” the ‘elepaio observed. “There are a lot of people to persuade. How is it going so far?”

The nene admitted that it wasn’t working so far.

“There’s an easier place to start,” mused the ‘elepaio. “What if you started with yourself?”

“What do you mean?” asked the nene.

“It’s right to be concerned about what others do,” said the ‘elepaio, “and to get them to change it. But the first step and the easiest step is to do what you can about yourself. Step back from the road. Walk further away. Do what you did a few minutes ago, and fly away from foolish people.

“You’ve got to start somewhere,” said the ‘elepaio. “Start with you.”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I write these stories ahead of time, but I tell them on Sunday mornings from memory and improvisation. What you have just read is not exactly what you’ll see in the video.

Photo of a nene by Eric Anderson.