simplicity

Story: Sometimes It’s Simple; Sometimes It’s Not

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

April 28, 2024

Acts 8:26-40
1 John 4:7-21

The i’iwi eats nectar. Human beings tend to complain about a diet that is mostly liquid, but we might complain less if it was mostly nectar. I’iwi don’t complain about it. Their long curved bill works really well for getting nectar from flowers that other birds like the ‘apapane can’t reach.

I’iwi have a neat trick for feeding from some flowers which open down. One will hang below the flower and poke its beak up into the nectar reservoir. There are other birds on the island that do this, but the i’iwi do it most often.

One young i’iwi came to believe that, because this was a hard-won skill, she had to use it all the time. On every flower. Whether they opened downward or upward.

Believe it or not, it sort of worked. It worked very well on those downward flowers, of course. That’s why i’iwi developed that technique.

It worked on sideways facing flowers, though it was more of a strain to get her neck into the right position. She kept at it, though. If she was going to do something, she’d do it right. And as with many things, constant practice meant that she did, indeed, get better and better.

It was more of a struggle, though, with flowers that opened upward. A lot of ohi’a blossoms, for example, open upward, and i’iwi sip a lot of ohi’a nectar. Still, ohi’a is a pretty open flower, without a lot of petals to get in the way. She managed.

Then there were the flowers with upward petals and, well, those didn’t go well at all.

Her mother came for a visit one day as she was flitting about from tree to tree. She didn’t say anything when she hung upside down for downward facing flowers. She didn’t say anything when she reached up for sideways flowers. She opened her beak but didn’t say anything about the ohi’a flowers she sipped from beneath.

But when she tried to get at a big hibiscus blossom from underneath, she said, “What are you doing?”

“I’m eating,” said her daughter.

“No you’re not. You can’t get at the nectar in that flower from down there.”

“Sure I can. It’s just a matter of technique.”

Mother watched daughter struggle to get her curved beak around the petals and to the nectar at the flower’s center. Eventually the younger bird, with a glance at her mother, perched just above and to the side and took a good long sip.

“You don’t always need to come at things from underneath,” said mother.

“Isn’t that the i’iwi way?” asked her daughter.

“The i’iwi way is to fly, eat, deal with the neighbors, get a good sleep each night, and be the most stylish birds on the mountain,” said her mother. “Nothing says you have to do something the hard way all the time.

“Sometimes things are simple. Sometimes they’re not. Doing simple things in a complicated way doesn’t get you fed, or flying, or sleeping. Doing complicated things in a simple way doesn’t get any of those things done either.

“When it’s simple, do it simply, daughter. Save the complicated techniques for when it’s hard.”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I write these stories ahead of time, and tell them from memory – which means that I improvise at the same time.

Image of an i’iwi feeding upside down by Bettina Arrigoni – Iiwi | Hakalau NWR | HI|2018-12-02|13-43-26-2, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=75174870.

Story: Simple Song

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

January 29, 2023

Micah 6:1-8
Matthew 5:1-12

Male ‘amakihi sing a very simple song. They also have a more complex song, and the female ‘amakihi sing that one, too, but when a male ‘amakihi is looking for a female ‘amakihi hoping that they’ll build a nest and a family together, he sings the simple song.

It’s basically a series of tweets strung together.

Not what you’d call complicated.

Ages ago, though, I can imagine that it might have been… more complicated. In those days the ‘amakihi would have sung songs that rose and fell, that stopped and started, that got louder and softer. Those are things that the ‘apapane do to this day. In those days, I imagine the ohi’a forest ringing with songs, echoing from the trunks and the branches, sometimes in harmony, sometimes in cacophony, and rarely quiet. Can you imagine that?

The thing is, it would also have been confusing. With ‘amakihi singing complicated songs, and ‘apapane singing complicated songs, and who knows what other birds contributing their own complicated songs, I can imagine ‘amakihi finding ‘apapane and ‘apapane finding ‘amakihi. It’s not a big issue, briefly embarrassing for both of them, but I can imagine that there was one young male ‘amakihi who decided he was tired of being mistaken for an ‘apapane.

“What about if I come up with something different from the ‘apapane?” he asked his elders.

“No one would come to you,” said the elders.

“Nobody is finding me now,” he told the elders. “I won’t be losing anything by trying something else.”

Some of the elders got huffy, which happens sometimes when they’ve been caught not thinking clearly.

“I’m going to try it,” he said,” and some of them huffed at him. With a complicated song, of course, and an ‘apapane turned up to see if there was somebody looking for her.

The young ‘amakihi found a good branch and began to sing his simple song: just a note repeated several times. It was loud. It was bold. It was impossible to miss even with all the complicated ‘apapane and ‘amakihi songs about. A couple of female ‘apapane turned up, intrigued. But best of all, along flew a young ‘amakihi hoping to find a husband and build a family.

“Nice song,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m glad you kept it simple,” she said.

“So am I,” he said.

I don’t know whether anything like this ever happened among the ‘amakihi and the ‘apapane of Hawai’i Island. To be honest, probably not. Still, the simple song of the ‘amakihi has worked for them for a long time, and there are simple things that people can do that would work pretty well for us as well: Honesty. Caring. Fairness. Respect. Faith. It’s amazing how often we make it all complicated, and find that things fall apart, when Jesus’ words to “Love one another” are simple, clear, and would do so much to make a better world.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

The story was told from memory of this text. Predictably, memory makes… differences.

Photo of an ‘amakihi by Bettina Arrigoni – Hawaii Amakihi (male) | Palilia Discovery Trail | Mauna Kea | Big Island | HI|2017-02-09|12-21-50.jpg, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=74674240.

Story: Details, Details

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

October 9, 2022

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
Luke 17:11-19

The three ‘amakihi chicks had emerged from their eggs over the course of a day, and they promptly set out to do what newly hatched chicks do: they grew. Mother and father brought them food and cleaned the nest and did the things that ‘amakihi parents do. After a couple of weeks, they set out to teach them to fly.

This turned out to be complicated.

The three stepped up out of the nest along a branch and took their positions, ready to fly. “Get your wings ready!” called mother, and that’s where the instruction began. Two of the chicks extended their wings, but the third on the branch just looked confused. “How do I get my wings ready?” he asked.

Mother and father both extended their wings and spread the feathers along them. The first two chicks had been pretty close, though not perfect. The third one hadn’t apparently been paying attention to seeing his parents fly. It took a while, but he got those wings out and open and spread.

“Now open up your tail feathers,” said father. This time was the turn of the second chick to look confused. “Tail feathers?” she asked, as her two brothers both their tails into the shape of a fan. Father and mother demonstrated, and finally her tail took the proper shape.

Everybody managed to get the next section of the flight lesson, hopping up and down and doing some gentle wing flaps. All three managed to get in more and more wings beats before settling back down onto the branch again.

“Very good,” said mother. “The last thing to remember as we take your first flight to that branch over there” (she pointed with her beak) “is to lift up your feet and tuck them up to your belly.”

Now it was the first chick on the branch to look confused. “Shouldn’t I leave them down to grab the branch?” he said.

“No,” said father. “Your balance will be off if you do that.”

“No,” said mother. “You’ll reach out with your feet when you’re approaching the branch.”

That last chick looked uncertain and confused, and sure enough, when he and his brother and his sister took off, his legs weren’t properly tucked up. They flew fairly straight to the branch their mother had showed them, but he veered wildly up and down and from side to side before seizing that branch a good distance from his brother and sister. All of them were panting, but he was panting the hardest.

“That’s a good start,” said mother.

“This is really complicated!” wailed the chick who hadn’t tucked his feet up. “Really complicated,” said the sister whose tail was still working at stretching out.” “There’s so many things to remember,” complained the chick who hadn’t known to stretch out his wings.

“It’s all little things,” said father, “but you’re right. There are a lot of little things.”

“Put the little things together,” said mother, “and you’ll fly with safety and delight.”

It’s the little things, and the little things put together, that make us able to do the big things, like flying, and friendship, and love.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

Technical problems today have delayed the availability of the video, and unfortunately there were audio problem with the recording. You’ll notice that the volume is very low at the beginning of the story and gets much more audible about half way through, at 12:55. We regret the errors.

And, of course, the story as told is not quite the same as the story as written.

Photo of an ‘amakihi by Bettina Arrigoni – Hawaii Amakihi (male) | Palilia Discovery Trail | Mauna Kea | Big Island | HI|2017-02-09|12-21-50.jpg, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=74674211.