Befriending Crows

What the blackbird can teach about building trust as Christians

Each year, I try to establish a whimsical resolution. That is the requirement- it must have whimsy! None of this, lose five pounds, self-improvement bullshit. My goal for 2025: befriending a crow.

I love crows. They are smart and witty. I love their shiny iridescent feathers and their territorial caws as I walk under their tree-homes with my dog in the late Summer afternoons here in New Orleans. Here, in the aviary respite that is our bowl of a city, many birds rest in between their migrations. Throughout the seasons you’ll catch various fowls as they move in their flocks north and south. In my backyard, by the feeders I’ll trace owls, parakeets, wrens, bluebirds and cardinals, mourning doves and an assortment of small brown birds that move with skittish aversion to the larger.

I’ve begun naming the crows that come. Their eclectic personalities and strange pecking for worms in the grass delights me. Russell Crow, Jim Caw-rey, Edgar Allan Crow and Wing-ston Churchill. There was one with an injured wing that hung around for a month or two, but I haven’t seen since. Such is the way in nature. You learn to appreciate the moments you have.

The crows are always lingering nearby. Sure, the birds themselves switch in and out. There are so many here. One nests in the large oak tree above. They caw at me and my dog every time we step into the backyard and let us know their preference to our being inside. But sometimes, one or two will fly down, and come closer. I’ve begun leaving sunflower seeds on a tray for them, where they can safely land, and singing a song every time I leave treats so that they may know my song and be beckoned.

(One of my regular crows- Edgar Allan Crow)

Still, rarely do they come close. It has been disheartening, as their trust feels impossible to gain. I’d heard that with patience, these birds can grow attached to you and leave you sparkly presents like coins and tinfoil. They are so intelligent they recognize faces and cars even, and if loyal- will alert you to unrecognizable faces in their territory. I’ve kept patient for 8 months and was recently rewarded with an old fashioned glass marble left in the treat tray. Since then, the crows seem to come a few branches closer when I’m in the backyard- still keeping their cautious distance. But we are making progress. I haven’t yet passed their test.

I keep their gift marble in my home as a reminder that trust takes time to build. It’s a lesson I need to remember. Part of me forgets that’s deep, meaningful connections can’t happen overnight, or even over a year or two.

Being in ministry is much like this song and dance with the black bird. There is no guarantee of mutual trust and support between the pastor and the congregation we are called to serve, if anything, now there’s more a hopeful distant observation period to see how things play out. There’s an internal wondering on either side- will you say things that hurt or help me, can I share with you what my family is going through? Will you come visit us before surgery? The most common in my head is… if I preach this verse, will you still come back next Sunday?

Being human means we, like the crows, are open to risk and vulnerability of unsuspecting ambushes from the unseen. And as a Christian, I find myself flying up more and more into the metaphorical treetops, dreading these oft-harangued encounters. Peering over the foliage of others experiences, building up my own safe nest from the rest of the world which feels so divisive and angry right now.

I’ve felt uncertain on how to operate as a Pastor during these times. Once during self-introductions in a secular setting, I said, “I work as a Pastor.” Following up with a line explaining, “I’m cool, not a jerk, non-judgmental… not here to convert anyone..” and fell into a state of insecurity. How do I label myself as a follower of Christ when people who also are using that label are using it for egregious power grabs? Can I even say that or is that being too political? The slope feels slippery and the rules ever changing.

I've begun to feel as if in order to build trust, I have to show a roll of credentials and then sit in silence while others silently evaluate if they’ll trust me with their own precious glass marbles. I have to prove I’ll cherish them. And I hope that I will. Because trust is an incredible gift.

The crows teach us that we cannot retreat from the world forever. We can enjoy our thousand foot views from our observation posts and take time to nurture our spirits. But withdrawal is meant to only be temporary. We must be active participants in the world, spreading the Gospel of Christ- which is a message of abundant love and inclusion.

Our hearts must beat with resilience and purpose, otherwise, we have stopped living.

Books for Curious Christians- Here's what I've been reading this summer....

1. The Guide for Nonviolence- Personal Action Handbook by Michael Nagler.

   1. This short guide covers the principles of Satyagraha (Ghandian thought) and MLK’s practice during the Civil Rights Movement.

2. The Sisters of Sinai- by Janet Soskice

   1. A fun read that reminds Christians that curiosity and education go hand in hand. This is a great book that covers two trailblazing sisters who go to Egypt and use their inheritance to chance modern religious scholarship.

3. Hood Feminism- by Mikki Kendall

   1. A tough, call it like it is read on how often the greatest adversaries of women’s rights are women themselves.

4. Micro Practices for Justice Ministry- by Tex Sample

   1. At least once a month, a book is left on my Pastor’s desk. Sometimes an email is later sent from the gifter or a note is tucked in its pages. This book came without any further explanation and is truly a gift for anyone who is navigating Christianity in 2025.