On a recent mission to the Amazon River basin of Brazil we were introduced to Rumplecacique (in Portuguese), otherwise known as the “weaver bird.”
Although I’m no ornithologist (I’m a Baptist ;-)), I have to say that I developed an unusual empathy for the male of this particular species. In fact, you might even accuse me rightly of being a male chauvinist when it comes to the females!
Once you’ve seen a weaver bird community, you’ll never forget it. A single tree is neighborhood to multiple families of weavers. You can identify them by their almost perfectly symmetrical, gourd-shaped homes that are suspended from tree branches.
The male weavers can be seen flying around like bats at high speed. Occasionally they will skim the top of the river for a throat-full of water, which is returned to the home and mixed with dirt and twigs to create their version of an adobe nest. The mud is then painstakingly molded smoothly into place with a single, small entry hole as access.
The males go to considerable time and effort to construct a home, all with the single-minded purpose of attracting a female. But the females are no push-overs. She will review the work of the males carefully. If she likes it, all is well in Birdville. If it doesn’t suit her tastes, she will become a “bridezilla”, remove her building-inspector hat in favor of a home demolition hard-hat and tear the place asunder. The poor male weaver can do nothing but start over again and, presumably, hope for a better product or less exacting mate in his future.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on the females. An evolutionist might take her side and argue that, were she any less of a perfectionist, the overall quality of their homes would suffer over time. The next thing you know, the weaver neighborhoods would deteriorate into slums!
As we go about building our little kingdoms here on earth, perhaps those female weavers are a good reminder that “unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” You see, the Spirit of God is not always guaranteed to descend on us like a dove with the olive branch of peace in its mouth. No matter what we’re constructing for ourselves in terms of bank account, job or community status, if the mortar holding everything together doesn’t include the things that are important to God, it is always possible that the “Holy Weaver” may have to swoop down and rip your house asunder!
Here at JMI, we have a wide variety of the kind of mortar I’m talking about. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for on our website aisle marked, “Sponsor a Child!”
304 44th Ave. N
