For weeks now, as I pace along on my early morning walk, I
have seen flock after flock of birds flapping their way
southward. I look up, I see them and I say "Wow!" Each time,
the sight of their V-shaped unison arouses me. They appear
suddenly out of the dawning blue sky and just as suddenly,
they disappear from view. One time a flock was flying
particularly low in the sky and I heard, I almost felt, the
whooshing power of their flapping wings. What, I wonder, can
I learn from such an awesome sight?
I have seen these flocks for weeks now. Why, it's a wonder
that there are any birds left in Eretz Yisroel. Yet even more
of a wonder were those first flocks I saw. A few weeks back
there was no slight chill of an evening. The trees were in
their full succulent leafy green coats. Insect life was
rampant. Summer was here and it felt as if it was here to
stay. What did those birds notice that made them scuttle off
to warmer climes? What subtle clue did they pick up to cause
them to take action and fly away from the winter's imminent
return?
Day by day, I'm sure that many of us go along as if "summer
were here to stay." The day by day routine is similar, week
by week. Sunday's routine is like this, Monday like that. We
go on, as I once heard in a shiur, as if we were in
the desert, with its flat, same-ish landscape going on for
miles and miles. Yet we know things will change. If we
remember ourselves a few years back, we will see how things
have changed.
The birds are like the Seeing Eye in Pirkey Ovos. They
see the consequences of that subtle climatic change that I
didn't even notice. They see it and act upon it. They deal
with the potential change before it causes any damage. They
don't sit back and wait for the colder weather and then take
flight.
Life is always full of changes and challenges. In that
selfsame shiur, I learned that Hakadosh Boruch Hu
didn't put us here to live in a desert. If we do, He will
often give us a wake-up call.
Perhaps the flocking, migrating birds can wake us up instead.
Their flight proclaims the need to be more attentive to the
subtle signals of impending change. They call on us to act
swiftly, in good time before things happen. They remind us
that summer can never last forever. Their V-shaped unison
shows us how helping each other, with a wing uplift, for
example, we can also help ourselves.
While still thinking of those birds, I realized what a tiring
task they face in migration. During the summer, they do
indeed fly around the place, but not for hour upon hour. They
must be exhausted and have aching muscles at the end of their
day-long flight.
Someone I mentioned this to was reminded of a thought
expressed by HaRav Brevda, quoting the Vilna Gaon's
explanation of why Bnei Yisrael are compared to the
dove/pigeon. All other birds, when tired, find a perch and
rest. Not so the yonah. "When she is tired, she stops
flapping one wing and goes on. Her progress is much slower
but she never stops. A Jew also never stops, or stands still,
although he might have to slow down a bit to gather up enough
strength for the next task ahead."
The summer bird visitors are going away. Flock after flock
wave goodbye for another year. Yet our Land will not empty
out of birds. The winter visitors are coming in and settling
down. Our indigenous birds are getting ready for the
approaching winter. The yomim tovim have come and
gone. Perhaps we need to coast along on only one wing, as we
rest after all that soul searching, so that we can flap both
wings together with all Klall Yisrael.
What a whooshing we could make! What an awesome powerful
prayer we could send heavenward as we begin to settle down to
another New Year.
