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July 9, 2023: Are We Good Parrots of Jesus?
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The one animal I would never have wanted to have as a pet in younger years, or even now in mid-age approaching elder years, is a parrot. Why, you may ask? Are not parrots fun to have hanging around the house. If there’s a fire in the house, the parrot can yell out "Fire! Fire!", making sure that everyone gets out safely. If an intruder breaks in, the parrot can mimic the voice of its owner and say, “Excuse me intruder, are you feeling lucky today? Click, click.” Or if the dog rips apart the $2,000 dollar couch while the family is away for the day, the parrot can be the perfect tattle tale and say to you when you open the front door and find the unwanted surprise, “Fido did it. It was all his ravenous work. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen to a parrot.”
I guess my first reason for not wanting a parrot in my residence is fear of the parrot repeating some of the things I say, especially when I have politics on the mind. If I had God on the mind all the time, which I’m still working toward as I approach the end of my sixty-second year on Mother Earth, then I wouldn’t be overly concerned about having a parrot hanging out in a cage with its rabbit ears, not far from where I do my self-speaking. Maybe if I ever arrive at thinking and speaking all things God, the first action I’ll take is to go out to a pet store and purchase a parrot. That way I can carry the parrot around after teaching him – or her – a large number of Biblical verses the bird can speak on my behalf. And, when the Scriptures are recited in the presence of a secular person who can’t stand religion in public places, which is many such people today, I can always say, “He said it, not me. Blame the church-going bird.”
I know a person or two who, by habit, like to repeat some of the things I say. I suspect they do so because they like what they hear, so they repeat it without pondering the words. For example, if I spoke in their presence the refrain for this Sunday’s Psalm (Psalm 145), “I will praise your name for ever, my King and my God,” this person would very likely respond in kind, “Yes, I will praise your name for ever, my King and my God.” And I would say, “I just said that.” And they would say, “Yes, you just said that.” And I would think (not say), “This guy cannot come up with his own thoughts. How would he like it if I repeated everything he said to me! How would he like it if I parroted him? He probably wouldn’t even pick up on it.” Can you see why I don’t want a parrot in the house? I’ll take my chances with the fire or intruder.
Fortunately, some things in this God-forsaken world are worth repeating. We all parrot each other every time we say the Our Father together. As one. One body of Christ. We repeat the words of Jesus after the disciples asked the Lord how to pray, and Jesus said, “This is how you are to pray; Our Father, who are in heaven…” We all parrot each other when we recite the Nicene Creed given to God’s Church through the Holy Spirit at the Council of Nicea in 325, which was not a synod. Such a beautiful prayer we say in unison. “I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth…”
When I attend Mass while on vacation in another state, and the point of the Mass arrives for the recitation of the Nicene Creed, while remaining focused on the words of this great prayer, I like to “cheat” a little and tune my ears to those sitting around me to hear how pronounced they are speaking this glorious prayer. Let’s just say, it’s nice when I can hear them. We all know how Catholics like to voice ourselves softly when praying, responding, or singing, which is not always good. I remember one Mass at a previous Parish when it seemed the congregation as one sang and recited the prayers like it was their last Mass on earth. It’s the one Mass I’ll never forget because of how well they parroted each other. It didn’t hurt that the Mass I refer to was a New Year’s Eve Mass in honor of Blessed Mary, the Mother of God. We all love Marian hymns like Immaculate Mary and Hail, Holy Queen. Those are hymns that can raise the voices of a congregation to fever pitch, causing a priest to levitate in the sanctuary. We can use more of such parroting in most Churches around these parts.
The word “parroting” in normal usage of the English language refers to imitation. Imitation is a word strongly connected to flattery, at least on a strictly human level. But maybe also on a Divine level too. Do we consider the possibility of God being “flattered” by our imitation of his Son? This image of imitating and parroting Jesus is very much a Scriptural one. More than once does St. Paul write, such as to the Philippians in chapter 3 of that great Epistle, “Imitate me, as I imitate Christ.” It would be most accurate to say that after Saul became Paul, after the Apostle was knocked into his senses, not out of his senses, a knockdown that led him to the Kingdom of Heaven, it would be accurate to say that St. Paul was a parrot. A parrot of Christ. Paul the Parrot. It has a nice ring to it.
After Paul imitated the devil, parroting the perfect persecutor prior to his personal meeting with Jesus where he could only hear the voice of Christ risen, after his violent, wayward stance against Christianity and against God, Paul quickly became an imitator of the One he persecuted in his persecution of God’s people in Christ. If St. Paul was a parrot in my house, I would never get rid of him. I would feed him the best bird food I could find on the market. St. Paul, as imitator of Christ, reached the height of parroting, if you will, in his Apostleship for the Lord. God’s grace was at work in him, and he was open to God’s grace working through him. Can we say the same about ourselves? Are we good parrots of Jesus, or are we lukewarm parrots of Jesus, or are we near the bottom of the barrel of parroting Jesus? It’s a fair and honest question we do well to ponder for more than just a moment.
St. Paul’s “parroting” of Jesus’ life, his imitation of Jesus was so spot-on (and Paul knew it), that he could write – and did write – to the Christian communities he established in Jesus’ name, for those believers to imitate him – Paul – because his life was now a well-toned imitation of his Lord. His life wasn’t perfect by any means. His life was unlike the perfect life of Blessed Mary, whose entire life from conception to natural death to her Assumption into heaven was in perfect union with that of her Son. But Paul’s life became one of near perfection, enough where he could say to those people he brought to Christ in another part of the empire, “Imitate me, as I imitate Christ.” Paul, the parrot of Jesus, not only spoke the words of the Lord, but more importantly, he learned to live them, knowing his reward would be great in heaven.
The question remains, “What are some of the ways Paul imitated Jesus, like the person I know who parrots my spoken words?” We can look to this Sunday’s 2nd reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans for one particular way that remains central to our imitating (parroting) Christ in the 21st century. First, when St. Paul was gracefully struck down on his mission to Damascus to persecute Christians, he was, in a real sense, living “in the flesh.” His persecution of God’s faithful people led to their bodies being assaulted, undoubtedly, in some cases, to the point of death. His intention was to stop the “false worshipers” of Jesus, as Paul saw them, by way of preventing their bodies from praying to Jesus, worshipping Jesus, receiving Jesus in the Eucharist, and giving their all to Jesus. The way to accomplish such a feat was to destroy them in their bodies. This is one way of how Paul lived “in the flesh.” Now, after Jesus carried Paul to his Divine way of being in the world, Paul reminds the Roman Christian community that they “are not in the flesh” as believers in Christ: “On the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you.” For Paul, his use of the word “flesh” means all that leads to sin, and his use of the word “spirit” equals holiness.
In order for us to imitate and parrot Christ, we are not to live “in the flesh,” as so much of our culture presently does. Those of us who worship – and I do mean worship - our bodies, our sexuality, our false gender, such are living “in the flesh,” and not in the spirit of God their Creator. This is how far away our culture has moved from God in these bodily areas of our human makeup. Replacing or relegating worship of God with the strangeness of worshipping something that’s going to die is not Christian. And if it’s not Christian, then we know who the false worship is in communion with.
Thus, the few folks I know and love who love to parrot whatever I say at times (not always, for even parrots will stay silent at times), they’ve taught yours truly an important religious lesson about my Lord and Savior. The lesson, of course, is to parrot Jesus in his words and actions, trying to make this world a more wholesome and loving place to reside, while drawing deeper and deeper into the life of Christ. Personally, I have a ways to go if I wish to complete the task and be somewhat successful at the concept of Christian parroting, which is nothing less than what Jesus calls forth from all his disciples. So, when I get parroted in the future by those I’m in the presence of, I will do my best to reconcile such parroting with my faith in Christ, reminding me of what they are doing to me, I must do to Jesus.