A few weeks ago, whilst eating breakfast at our home in South Carolina, I was startled by the sight of a bird that I’d never seen before. Like me, it was enjoying its breakfast, eating the sunflower seeds from the bird-feeder on our deck. I stared transfixed at the novelty of its beauty, a configuration of colours on which my virgin eyes had never before feasted. It was large, about the size of a cardinal, and wore a resplendent red bib on its white breast. Its head was black and its wings, also black, were streaked with white. The newcomer did not seem to know the established rules of the pecking order, standing its ground when a cardinal, the customary ruler of the roost, sought to establish its dominance. The cardinal, bemused by this lack of decorum, gave way to the usurping upstart.

After the newcomer had flown off, I made for the Field Guide nestled amongst the cookery books. Browsing through its pages, I caught sight of the image of the bird I’d just seen. It was a rose-breasted grosbeak. Reading more, I realized that it was probably in the midst of migrating north and had only graced me with its presence whilst refueling for the journey. Sure enough, I’ve never seen it since that one solitary day.

On one level, I’ve been basking in the glory of that visitation ever since it happened. It was such a surprise, such a joy, such a vision of God’s grandeur shining forth from His creatures. And yet, more recently, the rare sighting has set me off on a more mystical and meditative train of thought. Why is it, I wonder, that our heart leaps for joy at the sight of the unexpected beauty and yet remains unmoved by the everyday beauty that surrounds us perennially? Why, for instance, do we take the cardinal for granted? Its beauty, it must be conceded, is at least the equal of the rose-breasted grosbeak. And what of the indigo bunting? Its beauty exceeds that of the grosbeak and, to be sure, its first arrival in the spring, though expected, is greeted with a joy not dissimilar to that which greeted the unexpected sighting of the transient migrant. Soon, however, its daily visits to the bird feeder lull us into a sense of complacency. We take its majesty for granted.

Taking majesty for granted. This is the crux of the issue. We take the beauty that surrounds us every day for granted. We do not see how good, true and beautiful life is – even when the goodness, truth and beauty stares us in the face on a daily basis. We are blinded by our sin-shaded vision from the fullness of reality. If we learned to see the cardinal with the startled surprise with which I greeted the rose-crested grosbeak, we would be living in the real presence of Creation and the Real Presence of its Creator.