The Parable of the Three Crows:
A sermon regarding the difference between a peacemaker and a pacifist.
Welcome, and my thanks for taking time out of your evenings to come hear a very green acolyte wax philosophical. I think it is pertinent that I begin first by introducing myself, because there are quite a few unfamiliar faces before me this evening, which is doing wonders for my nerves... My name is Seraphine Dhamarov, and I am an acolyte of Waylumi. I won't abuse your attention by sharing anything further about myself except to say that this is my very first sermon, so please be gentle with me!
I'd like to start today with a short tale that someone once told to me. I hope I can do the telling justice, because he was a very good weaver of words indeed. A single disclaimer: I bear no ill will toward crows, or birds of any kind, in fact. They exist simply as a metaphor within my tale, so if you're some sort of crow activist, you can relax.
For tradition's sake, I feel the need to start my story as all such stories begin. Once upon a time, there lived a very kind farmer. His farm was situated in a valley between two rolling hills, and the land here was lush and green, the soil so rich that everything he planted grew tall and strong beneath the sun and was soon ripe for the picking. Our gentle farmer thanked his lucky stars every planting season, for his crops never failed him. Peas, corn, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes - a veritable rainbow of legumes could be seen adorning his lands from fence to fence.
I'm making myself hungry...
Some might attribute his agricultural triumph to mere chance; others might cite his adept choice in location a key factor, or perhaps, they said, it was just raw skill. But the majority of the people in neighboring towns were convinced, with good reason, that it was simply his reward for being so incredibly GOOD all the time. He was arguably the most placid man to walk the world in eons: he was generous, soft-spoken, and above all, he was a peaceful man. He would slaughter neither cow nor chicken, and kept livestock only for milk and eggs, and even to these beasts he was kindhearted. One rumor started about town that he was so gentle, in fact, that he would let mosquitos bite him without swatting them, for he was always good-naturedly itching one bump or another.
One season, as the harvest neared, he noticed a trio of crows circling overhead. The crows called to one another day and night, cackling back and forth as they watched the gentle farmer’s crops grow to fruition. The farmer, who was not a stupid man, mind you, saw the threat these crows posed and set to work erecting a series of scarecrows. He named the scarecrows - Bill, Bob and Tim - and gave to each a handsome straw-brimmed hat and one of his own pipes, and set them amidst his gardens to keep watch.
Though they were the most attentive of scarecrows, the three scavenger birds were clever, crafty beasts and entirely undeterred by them. The winged triad had never before seen such a smorgasbord; the farmer's vibrant, healthy crops were laid out before them like a buffet, and they dove right in! The farmer, who could not fathom raising his hand against another creature, left his pitch fork leaning against the barn door and simply watched, hoping against hope that the crows would have their fill and leave.
Their fill, it turned out, was nonexistent. The birds ate and ate until they were round as balloons and went into birdy food comas. By the time harvest came to pass, there was nothing left but husks and ghosts in those empty fields. Shortly thereafter, the winter winds came howling and with them came relentless snow and ice. Because he had been unable to harvest much at all from his crops that season, and because the roads were too snow-drenched for travel, he had no access to food beyond the scraps his crows had left behind. And so the gentlest farmer starved to death that winter.
Perhaps not the most uplifting ending to a tale, admittedly; when I tell it to children, I edit the ending and note that the farmer is miraculously saved by a traveling merchant who freely gave some food, so if you prefer that, we can pretend... But you are not children, and I think you deserve this truth, harsh as it may be. Those who wish to call themselves protectors cannot lead fully gentle lives. But let us discuss what this actually means.
When I first approached this topic, I found it difficult to reconcile the fact that my path – a faith founded at its very core upon principles of mercy and compassion – also had a place within it for things like violence and battle and war.
And yet, when I look to the Parable of the Three Crows, I am reminded that while peacemakers are undoubtedly blessed, they are also very limited in what they can do when faced with true darkness. It’s not a perfect parable by any means – we could spend our evening poking holes in it, but we’d ultimately be missing the most basic point I am driving at, which is that there will always, always, always be people in this world and in others who cannot and will not live within the light. It is most likely that you already know a handful of them. And sometimes, most unfortunately, these individuals will seek to do harm to you or to others whom you are sworn to protect.
Think back to our good farmer – his love of peace is beyond admirable. It is inspiring. Yet he had fatally confused peace with passivity. He lacked the wisdom to understand that being a creature of peace does not equate to allowing the world to walk over us and leave us crushed in it wake. It never has. Being disciples of peace means knowing when conflict is a necessity and when it can be avoided. Knowing when to fight and when to fold.
It is our Lady's tenet of Love that call us to 'show compassion where compassion must reign, but know true when the time has come to fight. Be as the dove with mace in claw. A path of peace you walk, but always must you be prepared to defend the Light and the cause of the Divine Lady.' Even a goddess whose name is Mercy, whose mantle is Peace and who is crowned with Love, acknowledges the need for battle, so long as all alternatives have been exhausted first.
But how do we know? When is the time for Love and when is the time for blood?
To fully master the concept of the mace in claw, the seamless coalescence of peace and war, one must look to the tenets of Wisdom and Honor. If Vigilance is the sword that Waylumi wields to protect herself and those who cannot protect themselves, then Wisdom and Honor must be the arm that guides her blade. If we lack keen and honest eyes that see the world around us as it truly is, we cannot make well-informed decisions; we cannot discern whether we are faced with evil or with someone who is but lost, and we are also unable to accurately gauge our own intentions. Without Wisdom to guide our decision making, we risk falling prey to ignorance. Without Honor, we are vulnerable to vices such as wrath, greed, and bloodlust.
And these things, my dear friends, are the shadows that obscure the illuminated path that lies before each and every one of us.
So if there is anything I might hope you take away from my words when you leave here, it is perhaps a better understanding of my faith and my Lady. I hope you can leave with the knowledge that we, as a whole, are called to promote peace in this world; this is paramount in what we are and what we do, and we strive for it day in and day out. But I want you to know, too, that we are not and have never been pacifists. We promote peace. We are not hamstrung by it.
I would like to close with a quote that my mentor imparted upon me, and his mentor before him - one that has helped me to gain a better understanding of the innate and necessary connection between peace and violence, as unlikely companions as they may seem. 'I do not love the mace for its sharpness, nor do I love the arrow for its swiftness, nor the Knight for his bright sword. I love only that which they defend.'
Thank you for your time, and your attention - you were truly fantastic listeners. I am more than happy to take questions now, and if you have none, please feel free to introduce yourself or just cram some snacks in your pockets and flee.