Bee Sense

Don’t just look to your own interests.  Consider the interests of others’ – Philippians 2:4

I recently spent some time in a community garden watching bees and butterflies.  Pollinators are amazing to observe, and I filmed several video clips and took even more pictures as they drank nectar from flowers.  One thing the pandemic era has taught me is to appreciate the simple things.  Enjoying God, the company of family and friends, and the beauty of the earth are pretty much all I need these days to be content, so spending an hour or so with my daughter and mother-in-law in the garden watching bees and butterflies was a kind of bliss. 

It wasn’t long after this experience that I serendipitously read an entry concerning bees in Peter Wohlleben’s, The Inner Life of Animals.  Bees are fascinating creatures, necessary for the health of our planet, but also capable of teaching lessons.  One such lessons struck me as I read Wohlleben’s discussion of how bees stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  In the summer months, the intense activity among bees can raise hive temperatures considerably, which could prove fatal to the colony, but bees have found ways to stay cool.  Worker bees bring water into the hive to cool things down, and the fluttering of wings produces breezes.  In such ways, the hive is climate controlled, and the bees don’t overcook. 

In the winter, warming measures are undertaken.  If it gets cold enough, the bees of a colony will huddle together in ball.  The queen, who must be protected at all costs, is of course placed in the center of the ball where it is warmest.  Moving out from the center, the temperature of course drops, placing the bees at the outer rim in peril of freezing to death, except for one thing: the bees take turns.  They take shifts on the ball’s surface, allowing each crew to take a turn closer to the center and warm up before returning to duty on the outer edge.  In this way, the colony, and each bee within it, has a chance to survive the winter. 

One wonders what motivates bees to look out for one another in this fashion.  Perhaps it is too much to suggest they care for one another (then again, perhaps they do).  It seems more likely that they simply understand that the success of the hive depends on the success of each bee.  If they lose even a single member of the colony, the ability to stay warm collectively is diminished.  Essentially, bees know that they need each other.  Each individual bee therefore considers the interests of the others along with their own.  Each bee knows that unless they look out for the other members of the colony, no one will make it. It is of course natural for bees to feel this way; they are inherently collectivists, not individualists.  They don’t live their lives in terms of ‘me’ and ‘I’ but ‘we’ and ‘us.’  They value one another’s contributions to the collective, and are willing to sacrifice, in this case, a little bit of warmth, for the sake of saving the whole. 

I could run in a thousand directions on this, most of which would produce controversy.  This would only prove the point of this post, but honestly, I’m just too tired to deal with it at the moment (I’m on vacation).  Suffice it to say that we humans could learn from bees.  It breaks my heart, and makes me more than a little frustrated, that some people (I won’t say most, although I confess, I’m tempted these days) can’t seem to understand that we need to look out for each other.  They can’t seem to understand that each one of us has value, and that we need to look, not just to our own interests but to the interests of others.  They can’t seem to understand that if we don’t look out for one another, say, by taking a shot in the arm or wearing a mask (okay, I just went in one of those potentially controversial directions), we will all be impacted detrimentally.  They can’t seem to understand that we should be willing to make sacrifices, for the sake of saving both the vulnerable among us and our society as a whole. 

Perhaps bees are just programmed to act the way they do.  Perhaps they don’t think nearly as much about their behavior as I have suggested.  But to my way of thinking, that only makes things worse.  We human beings have been gifted with the ultimate grace: we have been made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27).  We have the ability to reason, to think things through, to feel compassion for others, to experience community, to love.  Those of us who claim to be Christian claim not only these extraordinary graces, but the power of God to activate them fully.  How sad then, when we neglect our birthright and ignore the gifts we have been given, when we, instead of considering the needs of others, choose to only, and shortsightedly, consider our own. 

I leave it to you, reader, to consider the myriad of circumstances to which this lesson may apply.  Like I said, I could take this in a thousand directions.  All I choose to say in closing is this: its time we started acting a little more like the bees.

It’s time we all got a little bee sense. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Bird and the Weasel

A parable, inspired by a photograph taken by Brian Le-May

Once upon a time there was a Bird who lived in a forest with his wife and a nest full of eggs.   

One bright morning Bird said good-bye to his wife, who was sitting on their eggs, keeping them safe and warm, and set off in search of food. Bird was a good provider for the ones he loved.

Bird flew to a clearing and began to look about. He was careful, for the forest was full of wily predators. He swiveled his head from side to side and pirouetted from time to time to make sure no one snuck up from behind. But he became distracted for just a moment.  And in the forest, even one moment is enough for a wily predator to strike.

Weasel was one of the wily predators in the forest. He too had a family to provide for, and he too was a good provider for the ones he loved. Weasel saw Bird dancing in the field and stealthily crept toward him. He waited patiently for his moment, and with a mighty lurch, leapt onto Bird’s back. 

Bird’s instincts shouted, ‘Fly!’  He thrust out his wings and took to the air. He was of course terrified to have Weasel on his back. But no more terrified than Weasel as he soared into the sky on the back of Bird.

After the initial fright, Weasel spoke into Bird’s ear. ‘That was a smart move Bird. But you are nonetheless through. I have you right where I want you. My jaws are near your neck. I can bite at any moment. Land now and let me go, or I shall bite you now and you will die.’

Bird thought quickly.  ‘You dare not Weasel.  You know, or at least you should, that the moment you bite, I shall fall. Then you will die too.’

Weasel, having never flown before, had not considered this. He thought a moment. ‘Well then Bird. It comes to this. You can’t fly forever. You will eventually have to land. And when you do, I will bite you then and you will die.’

This flummoxed Bird for half a second. But he was a wise bird and found an appropriate response. ‘If that is your plan Weasel, then I will fly higher and higher until I can fly no more. Then I shall fall, and you will fall with me. You will die as well.’

Weasel grunted, ‘Drat!’  He felt trapped. And indeed he was. What would he do? He was a wily creature, but this seemed beyond him. He looked over Bird’s wing to the earth far below and considered his dilemma anew. He nearly passed out.  The situation seemed hopeless.

Bird, sensing Weasel’s distress, spoke into the silence. ‘I suggest we make a deal. For good or for ill, our lives are now bound together. Neither of us can live without the other.  We can no longer think in terms of ‘me,’ Weasel.  We must think in terms of ‘we.’’   

Weasel wondered what Bird meant and asked, ‘What sort of deal do you propose?’

Bird answered, ‘This: I will promise to land us safely, and you will promise not to bite me. Then we will go back to our respective places in the forest and continue our lives.’

Weasel was doubtful. ‘How do I know you won’t try a trick move as you land and throw me off?’

Bird told it straight. ‘You don’t. Just as I don’t know you won’t bite me when we land. We will have to trust each other.’

Weasel thought of this. Birds and weasels had never trusted each other before.  Could they trust each other now?

Bird, who was growing tired (it is hard to fly with a weasel on one’s back) hastened the conversation along. ‘Time is ticking Weasel. What do you say?’

Weasel realized he had no choice. ‘Okay Bird. I will take the deal. If you will promise to land us safely, I will promise not to bite you.’

‘I so promise,’ replied Bird.

‘And I as well,’ answered Weasel.

Bird circled around and headed back to the clearing. He knew he could not fly much further. As he came in for the landing, he feared Weasel would not keep his promise. He was after all, a weasel.

Weasel was also frightened. Would Bird keep his promise and land safely? But he knew Bird was right. Their lives were bound together. There was no choice but to trust Bird.

His trust was well founded. Bird landed in almost the precise place where Weasel had jumped on. Weasel jumped off just as quickly.

Bird and Weasel looked intently at one another. Both were exhausted. Bird from flying with a Weasel on his back, Weasel from, well, flying at all.

Bird was the first to speak. ‘Well Weasel, I have kept my promise. Will you now keep yours?’

‘Yes Bird,’ replied Weasel.  ‘A promise is a promise. Our lives were bound together, and perhaps they still are.’  Weasel smiled. ‘See you around Bird,’ he said, and with a sociable wink, scampered merrily away.

Bird took to the air. He was still tired, but flying was easier without Weasel on his back. He went home to his nest and wife, who was still sitting on their eggs, keeping them safe and warm.

Photo by Kevin Jansen courtesy of Unsplash. To see Brian Le-May’s original photo, click here.