The Butterfly and the Border Guard

Exodus 32:7-14

Psalm 51:1-11

1 Timothy 1:12-17

Luke 15:1-10

Having, losing, seeking, finding, rejoicing and making merrie.

Once a friend of mine was a singer in a band. Their tour took them across the top of the country, and of course it meant late nights and then pile into the bus to travel to the next gig. One night long after the show was over, and the bus had been traveling through the night for some hours, one of the musicians looked out the window and asked, why are the highway signs in kilometers instead of miles. And everyone knew. They’d strayed north of the border. They were in Canada. And they would have to cross back to the United States, at a legal port of entry. And there were some things on the bus that would not pass inspection. So out the window it all went. And the singer was a little happier because she knew that for a few weeks the band members would all be healthy. And then they came to the border. And they had some explaining to do. And it wasn’t going well, so my friend jumped up from the back of the bus and offered to explain it all. No, please sit back down, her bandmates said, you are dressed as a butterfly. And the explanations of a nineteen year old girl dressed as a butterfly on a bus in the middle of the night might lack some credibility to a border guard.

Borders were easily crossed back then. They just missed the sign. Or bumped over a change in the pavement. And there they were. Wrong side of the line. Oops sorry officer.

Not any more. Borders are not so humane anymore - though Canada’s still comes close.

Jesus dealt with some inhumane borders himself. Look at the line the experts drew in the law. They were grumbling among themselves, like the people of Israel grumbling about Moses’ absence - but rather than build a golden calf they built an idol out of rules. They said, he seeks them out! He receives them and welcomes them! Sinners! Even tax collectors! And we have to eat with them. For there they were listening to Jesus along with the rest, ready to hear what he had to say. And all were welcome at the Lord’s table. And this is what he said to them:

Ever lose something? Ever lose something and look for it really hard? Ever felt that desperate pang in your gut knowing that you’ve lost something - and may not find it? Ever give up?

God never gives up. God never gives up on you. God never gives up on anybody. God goes on searching.

Like a woman in a little house, no windows, dirt floor, dim light, who lights a lamp and searches and sweeps, until she finds at last the little coin, the glimmer of coin, that was rolled into an unlikely place. Or a shepherd of unusual extravagance - or confidence - who leaves ninety-nine perfectly good sheep standing in the wilderness to go after one - only one - woolly head beast that has got itself lost.

The Maine game wardens have a chaplain. She comes along on search-and-rescue missions. And sometimes they find the one they are looking for. And sometimes they are not in time.

Once a man, whose sister’s body had just been found, sat in the car with the chaplain. His sister had committed suicide. And he was wondering, will my sister go to heaven? Will she be welcome there? Would God give up on her?

I placed my authoritative hand on the console between our bucket seats as if it were a pulpit. “Dan,” I said. “Look around.” Obediently he peered through the rain-washed windshield, up the road toward the blurry outlines of half a dozen green trucks…. I heard my voice take on the sure and certain cadences of preaching: “The game wardens have been walking in the rain all day, walking through the woods in the freezing rain trying to find your sister. They would have walked all day tomorrow, walked in the cold rain the rest of the week, searching for Betsy, so they could bring her home to you. And if there is one thing I am sure of - one thing I am very, very, sure of, Dan - it is that God is not less kind, less committed, or less merciful than a Maine game warden.

(Kate Braestrup, Here If You Need Me, New York: LIttle, Brown, 2007, 112)

God always searches. God never gives up.

This is what it means to be human, in a way: to be sought by the one who seeks all.

What do the great religions of the world have in common? An elderly Sufi from Pakistan asked me that, one bright afternoon in the Berkeley Rose Garden. And I thought to reply: We are all seeking the same thing - and the same thing is seeking all of us.

Borders are human; what makes a border humane? It is human, all too human, to draw lines - us/them - the tribalism that infects our bones. And yet God crosses borders as blithely as a butterfly.

But knowing full well what he is doing.

Jesus breaks the rules. Jesus crosses the boundaries. He walks through the wilderness - until he finds us.

And then he gathers us in, scribe, Pharisee, tax collector, sinner, disciple: for we are all welcome at the Lord’s table.

The Lost

Some things were lost which should not have been forgotten. Deep in the caves of the Misty Mountains, far from the Shire, a little fellow called a hobbit wandered through the gloom. There in the dark fumbling around in the depths of the endless caverns, Bilbo found a ring. He came upon it - quite easily. He wasn't looking for it - it found him. But another soon was searching - with a howl of pain and scrabbling hands, desperately seeking - something precious.

Where could it have gone? Where could it be?

Bilbo put it on - and promptly disappeared. Perhaps he'll come back into the story later. But there, left behind, bereft and grieving, for its loss inconsolable, was the ring's old keeper, who mourned. It was not actually all that valuable in itself, was it? Its value was in its tie to its master - its true master, maker and owner, who sought it even more deeply with a darker craving than any other creature could conceive.

It was a bad thing that was lost - and found - there in the dark, in the tale of the Lord of the Rings that Tolkien told. There are good things lost too - by good people. Simple things, cherished things, beloved things: a ring, a photo, a coin. More importantly, a pet, a cat or a dog, a farm animal, a sheep or a goat. More important still - a beloved child.

Yesterday during my wife's company picnic I looked up one moment and noticed a mother looking around for her son. Where is he? I thought, and began to look too.

I got pretty far off and away from the rest of the gang but when I looked back, there way across the picnic ground, at the edge of the park, there he was: leaning against the fence, raptly watching a cement mixer pour its load.

He loves machines, his mother said. They walked back together to rejoin the rest of the party. I have to tell you, their absence was not much marked. Her child, like any child, I suppose, wanders off from time to time - who doesn't?

What we were doing - what they were doing - they until we rejoined the party - was playing silly games just for fun - mostly a chance to enjoy each other's company and cheer small victories and little feats.

There was a spoon race, a three-legged race, and a ball toss. Dress-up, a trivia quiz: all for the fun of it.

We didn't really miss out on much while we were away - this isn't a perfect fit to suit the gospel. Its two stories are halves of the one that Jesus told three times over.

If there were a sheep lost you'd go find it, wouldn't you? When you all were together again wouldn't you have a party for the sheer joy of it and the joy of the finding and the being together - restored to unity?

If a woman lost a day's wages, all in one throw of a coin, wouldn't she conduct a sweep-search until she found the missing piece?

And then wouldn't she be so glad she'd found it she'd call her friends to share the joy?

Much more so, much more so - what a party the angels have in heave to rejoice in the restoration of a lost child of God. For he is the shepherd who seeks the stray and carries her back into the fold, he is the housewife who turns the kitchen upside down to find what has fallen, and rolled, maybe here, maybe there.

He is the party-giver who invites us all to join in the fun.

But there is a problem here - a wet blanket who just won't dance, won't sing, won't laugh, wouldn't even cry if it came to that. No, no, no.

"This fellows," said the Pharisees to the scribes, "welcomes sinners and eats with them."

He extends the fellowship of the Table to unclean, impure, sinful people. Ecch!

At the picnic Saturday, Meredith Long pointed out a real difference between Jesus and his interlocutors. They perceived the 'sinners' as of no value, of lost value, forever stained by sin; Jesus saw them as people made in the image of God, an image that could be tarnished but never wiped out.

So it is that Jesus tells the story to them. Look at it:

- lost sheep, lost coin, sinner;
- found sheep, found coin, repentant sinner;
- rejoicing with friends, rejoicing with friends, grumbling and carping.

What gives?

When John asked you to mourn, Jesus says, you would not weep; when I asked you to dance, you stayed still.

It's as if they haven't received the news:

All are forgiven, all are restored, all are being brought back, all restored to life in the Father - by the grace of God in the love and faith found in Jesus.

What was impossible for humanity to accomplish, GOD has done.

Jeremiah speaks of a land laid waste, even the rocks in tumult. (As Meredith Long pointed out to me) All that God created is undone, the days of creation reversed, like a torn seam in a cloth all the sewing ripped away: where the city stood lie ruins, where orchards grew there is a wasteland, the mountains and the hills themselves are shaken; the land under the seas subsumes once more; as at the beginning all is without form and void - almost: for the holy Breath still sweeps over the face of the deep.

The light they cannot see for sinning still shines. It is lighting the darkest path, and the Lord will restore the fortunes of his people. They will rejoice and be glad.

They will no longer thirst by day, and by night they will fear no evil. For God will be their everlasting light, and he shall be their glory.

He shall be the mainstay of the poor, the hungry - and all who have fallen short of Glory he will bring back: to life, to light, to rejoicing in the presence of heaven.

This is the Lord's doing: no one can boast of it as his own achievement.

Paul tells Timothy that he was a sinner; he received mercy - and God's grace overflowed with love and faith: for Jesus came to save the lost - as surely as the woman went to seek the coin, as surely as any one would go find a lost one of their own keeping, as surely as a mother seeks a missing child, Christ comes for us.

Christ comes to us - and he calls us to come home; and he calls to us, as well, to come join the party: for what was lost is found.

When you are invited to dance, when there is a time of rejoicing, you are part of the welcome: the welcome-home to the lost sheep or coin or son or brother.

Come and join the company of angels: rejoice in the presence of the Lord.

You are welcome at the Table.

Blessed one, bless us, in the breaking of the Bread. Amen.

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