The Wild Goose

Christopher and I were out in the pasture the other day when a flock of Canadian geese flew overhead. They were low enough to the ground that I could hear the rush of wind they generated by the flapping of their wings. They were flying in their usual V shaped pattern, which increases their efficiency. Honking back and forth I knew that another one further back in the formation would replace the goose at the head of the flock. The lead goose takes the greatest impact of resistance and will tire. It is also a fact that if a goose is wounded or sickens and must return to terra firma a companion will see it safely back to land.
There is much to learn from geese and their corporate model is often used in organizational training, especially in the life of congregations. There are other characteristics of geese that must also be appreciated. The fact is that they are wild, and though we know that they generally fly south for the winter, their flight plans often seem random. I have watched flocks flying south and then seem to jag east and sometimes back north. They undoubtedly know what they are doing but it is far beyond the rational thought of most people. Goose guano makes great fertilizer but too much of a good thing can burn a field. Like chicken manure it is high in nitrogen and is too “hot” to put directly on plants and vegetables. (Composted chicken manure, on the other hand, is called “black gold,” and is great for vegetables.) Geese can also eat up the tops of winter wheat faster than it can grow.
Is it not interesting that the wild goose is a symbol/metaphor in Celtic Christianity for the Holy Spirit? We are used to seeing the metaphors of fire, wind, and dove to orient ourselves to the Spirit of Life in whom we live and move and have our being. Columba, founder of the Iona community in Scotland, adapted the wild goose as the metaphor for the Holy Spirit. (An Geadh Glas is how it is understood in many Celtic communities but the ancient Irish is An Gle Flain) Interesting that Columba’s own name in the old Irish tongue is Colun Cille, meaning “dove of the church.”
Why do you suppose Columba chose the wild goose? The symbol of the dove is much more popular, reminding us of the dove who brought a fresh branch to Noah and the dove who descended upon Jesus at his baptism. The dove adorns peace banners, bumper stickers, and Christmas cards. I think Columba chose the wild goose to remind us that the Holy Spirit is not always safe, demure, and peaceful. Like the wild goose the Holy Spirit is often unpredictable, messing thing up, and making havoc with our well-patterned schedules and electronic calendars. In fact the goose does not read the Farmer’s Almanac as to when the seasons are supposed to change according to solstice charts. The wild goose pays close attention to the movement of wind, fronts, and temperatures, moving with the reality of change. I dare say the wild goose leads the way.

Outside My Window

When I look outside my window I see God – or the Spirit of Life, or the Power of Life, or the Force, or the élan vital or whatever you need to call it. Ralph Waldo Emerson spoke of the universal currents that run through all of us. I resonate with that too.
Outside my window this morning the land was glistening with the sheen of thick frost. The grass and trees sparkled. The head of the Buddha on my lawn shimmered with the morning sun, refracted by crystallized dew. It caused me to look a little closer at this place where I live now through a renewed lens. Yes, I have seen frost on this same yard hundreds of times. But each time I am forced to pay attention and see the land in a new light. The same is true if it is a soaking rain that gives our micro-farm the name, “Soggy Bottom.” Snow redefines our habitat as well as the kind of heat that radiates off of rooftops in August. Kansas wind transforms all of these, exaggerating their character.
Honestly, if I had passed through Kansas in 1870, I doubt seriously that I would have stopped. There are plenty of stories about the people who lost their minds in sod houses. Their souls were afflicted by the constant wind, the push of blizzards, and withering drought.
Because I have lived in so many places I have learned to see the sacral nature of the earth. Sacral is an interesting word, meaning of or about religious rites, and also related to the nerves in the sacral region at the base of the human spine. Nerves are those fibers or bundle of fibers that conduct the impulses of sensation and motion between the brain and spinal cord, every limb and organ. They are the pathways of all that we see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. Without them we could not respond to the stimuli.
I believe there is something amazingly wonder-filled and profoundly religious in the sensation and motion of being human on the earth. I sometimes wonder if the Holy Spirit is the nerve of my soul and the creation. Sometimes it seems to flow out of me, coursing like a spider’s web toward fireflies. At other times it races out of morning dew or the evening sunset, enflaming my imagination.
The same would be true if you plopped me down in a city like Boston, a mountaintop in the Canadian Rockies, or a fishing village on the coast of Maine. I am at home in the universe, every time I look out my window.