I took the long walk to Meeting the other day and passed a few churches that were holding Sunday services. I thought of how good it is that people have the opportunity to worship where they choose. I thought of what people get from their experience of attending church. And I thought of the chicken coop where I was headed; neither a church nor a temple, but a place of worship nonetheless.
I've passed car dealerships without feeling the need to go inside. I've passed by the cosmetics counter in department stores without looking for a hand-out. And I've passed food and ice cream trucks without succumbing to the smells and bells. But don't think, for a minute, that I would pass up an offer to check out a chicken coop at night.
Just the generated heat of huddled bodies incubating eggs warms my heart. The soft clucking of the hens, the peeping of the chicks and the roosters perched to rule the roost is germane to a German like me. A simple, silent shelter from the day's frenetic activity is where dwellers snuggle and sigh in the safety of the Planter's home. This is a place where those called chicken can find peace from the violent dangers of the wild. And a place where cracked eggs are seen as a gift and blessing to a humble brood of seekers.
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What could possibly come from a Quaker chicken coop? The nourishment and sustenance needed to feed and guarantee the world's growth in wisdom and grace for starters. Also, the peace beyond understanding, as orchestrated by the Prince of Peace, that settles and calms the nerves. This for the family that chooses to be Friends and Friends who, as a family, gather to be still and know God.
No sales pitch for your money, no church bulletins handed out and no enticing smells and bells - just us chickens seeing and standing against the historic sins of religious pride and power coming home to roost.
