CHURCH

The injured little red cardinal rested in the palm of young Gabriela’s hand as she made her way to church that morning. She had found the bird beneath a tree, unable to fly because of what appeared to be a wing injury. Birds represent freedom, she thought—the freedom to take flight and flutter among the branches, seeking food, building nests, and finding shelter from predators. What could have caused the injury to this beautiful little winged creature?

Gabriela understood that without the ability to fly, the injured bird would be vulnerable to predators on the ground. As she made her way to church, it occurred to her that the house of God would be a safe place for the little red cardinal. The picturesque Neo-Gothic structure of Saint John’s Church would provide the perfect refuge. She felt good knowing she was helping the wounded bird and trusted her decision to bring it there. It was a beautiful spring morning, made even more beautiful by her act of compassion.

As she approached the large wooden doors of the church, she saw Father Benito standing at the entrance, as he usually did, greeting worshippers before the processional hymn that marked the beginning of the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. When Gabriela entered his field of vision, the wounded red cardinal cradled in her hand, he motioned for her to stop.

“I’m sorry, Gabby,” he said. He always called her by that affectionate nickname. “But you cannot bring that bird in here.”

Gabriela was stunned. Isn’t this the same church that offered the Blessing of the Animals on Saint Francis Day? she thought. How could a wounded bird be unwelcome?

The priest’s words left her dumbfounded and bewildered.

Father Benito, noticing the look of dismay on her face and being the softhearted man that he was, relented. Disarmed by her sadness, he motioned for her to come inside with the little red cardinal.

Gabriela was relieved.

As she made her way into the church, joy filling her heart, a large bird suddenly swooped down from nowhere and attacked the little red cardinal. It was an ugly brown-gray bird that had apparently been nesting unnoticed in the church—a fiercely territorial creature with a harsh, grating skreich. Before Gabriela could do anything to protect the tiny bird in the palm of her hand, the attacker had struck.

After the brief commotion, the fat old bird returned to its nest high among the church’s interior beams, and worship continued as though nothing had happened.

After a moment of shock, Gabriela lifted the lifeless little red cardinal from the stone floor and quietly left the church.

Devastated, she wandered aimlessly until she came upon a nearby park. She gently laid the little red cardinal on the ground. Having no tools with which to dig a grave, she gathered several stones and carefully placed them over the tiny red body.

Then, from the surrounding trees, a chorus of finches, sparrows, robins, cardinals, and other birds suddenly began to sing. Their voices filled the open green space above her. As she listened, warmth rose within her heart, and she thought to herself, Church.

When she looked back down at the cardinal, she thought she saw movement.

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Gabriela carefully removed the stones she had placed over the bird only moments earlier. To her astonishment, it climbed into her hand.

She lifted the little bird to eye level, and for a nanosecond that seemed like an eternity, they gazed into one another’s eyes. There, in the bird’s tiny eyes, she saw luminous life.

Then, in an instant, it took flight.

She watched in wonder as it disappeared among the trees. The chorus of birds swelled to a crescendo, penetrating the deepest chambers of Gabriela’s heart.

A peace unlike any she had ever known settled over her as she made her way home.

© Wilfredo Benitez, 2022