“How easy it is to judge rightly after one sees what evil comes from judging wrongly.”- Elizabeth Gaiskell.

The Red Hen reminds me to know good from evil and to take a position. There is no good and evil in the lives of chickens, they do not have our consciences, they can be neither good nor evil,  it is wrong to project our frailties and traits on them or other animals.

But animals can touch the deepest parts of ourselves, they can stir and mirror our own emotions and decisions.

The red hen is a solid citizen for a chicken, she has no name.  We do not name our chickens, too many things eat them. In chicken terms, the red hen is a refugee, a Rhode Island Red seeking asylum and sanctuary. She is gentle for a hen, and has the thoughtful and reflective quality I love about some chickens. She does no harm, seeks no trouble or territory, is not cruel or cheating.

The other hens are still rejecting her, still keeping her away from their food, still running her off when she seeks shade with them.  she is their Syrian refugee, the nameless other, the fear that must be kept away. Unlike humans, chickens evolve in predictable ways, they will soon forget what they are afraid of, soon will eat and peck and cluck their way to acceptance, because that is what chickens do, at least most of the time. If a chicken topples over and dies, the other hens will peck her eyes out in seconds, there is no mourning or grieving for chickens.

But while everyone is healthy, they mind their own business. Every day, our fat and imperious Brahmas seem a little less afraid of the red hen, they are learning that when all is said and done, she is a hen just like they are. They just want to to live in peace and safety.

Even though I know better, the loneliness and rejection of the red hen touches Maria and me. We worry about her, think about her, laugh at ourselves for worrying about a hen. She is a symbol of course, we see that.  See what animals can do, they make us feel. I wish to live in a world where people feel as much for the human refugees of the world and rushed to help and embrace them rather to reject and hate and fear them. It could be us, it often was us.

We live in the Cable News world, the age of the social media commentator and ranter, the nasty e-mailer, the enraged commentator. Every idea and feeling, every bit of right and wrong is an outraged argument. We are becoming a nation of outrage addicts. Pope Francis says the wise and thoughtful people of the world are being drowned out by media and technology, we can no longer tell the prophet from the fool. Except that the fool shouts loud to  get heard, the prophet is ignored or drowned out. Truth and reason and decency are not profitable in the Corporate Nation.

When you speak only to yourself or to angry mirrors of your self, when you rush to label yourself and others, you have no reason to think, any more than a dog who never leaves the yard or a horse with no work to do gets to think.

Martin Luther King, a man credited with doing some good, said that there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because his (or her) conscience tells  him it is right.

It is hard for me to do that, I do not have his faith or courage.

I am shy of telling others what to do. I am shy of others telling me what to do.

I have no wish to add to the angry din, my job is to remind people of the light and color and love of the world.

There are so many people shouting from the rooftops, writing angry messages on Facebook, judging and disliking one another, that so many us – myself certainly included – shrug our shoulders, turn away. We avoid taking positions that make it so easy to label us, that make us targets of rage and ridicule. We avoid taking positions that are neither safe, politic or popular, our voices just get lost in the raging river of righteousness.

So I don’t look out there for guidance. I look Inside of me. I listen for the voice that tells me if something is right, or something is wrong, if something is good or something is evil. It might be about the death of a dog, or it might be – rarely – about me when it comes the time to take a position.

One thing I know for me, the voice doesn’t come from commentators or politicians, from pundits or social media pages, it comes from the deepest part of myself, not from the left or the right but from the billions and billions of interactions, images, lessons, experiences and observations – from our own genes and mothers and fathers, grandparents and forebears, eyes and ears – that make up our unique and precious selves. The right thing is personal, individual. For me, there is nothing to argue about when it comes.

The red  hen inspires me to listen to that voice, to take a position. She reminds me to take a position on keeping my country a place of welcoming refuge for the weary and dispossessed. My conscience tells me it is right.