September 16, 2007

Back in the mid 1980's I participated in a study trip. I went with a large group of church folks to Mexico to learn about poverty and politics in Mexico and Central America. One day we toured a church in Cuernavaca, Mexico. It was an old building, at least by North American standards. It pre-dated the American Revolution, and stood proudly in that town for centuries.

Travelers always carry two things, cameras, and cash. I had both in my pockets. After the tour I discovered I only had one- my camera. No cash. I immediately thought of pickpockets, a vaguely racist thought, but I soon realized that the church had been completely empty. There were no artful dodgers milling around in that house of worship.

I soon figured out that by taking my camera out of my pocket time and time again, I had surely dislodged that money by accident. I retraced my steps. I informed the group. I went over the grounds, the gardens, the steps, the sanctuary aisles, under the pews, back up the bell tower. I no longer cared about the paintings, statues, stations of the cross. I was completely heedless of the very things I had carefully photographed moments before.

I was panicked. It was not all the money I had for the trip, but it was about half, and I was facing the prospect of having to pinch pennies every day, just to make sure I could buy my meals.

All thought of gifts and souvenirs were now crumbling. It would not be a wasted trip, but it would be dismal.

I re-traced every single step of the tour. No money lying anywhere.

I was certain someone had come along and snapped it up. After all, poverty was everywhere we looked. Imagine a poor Mexican arriving in the church and finding a wad of Mexican currency. CASH! Not a wallet, not traveler's checks, just loose bills folded together. Maybe someone counted it a miracle. That's it. Someone pocketed the money and called it the kind mercy of the Virgin of Guadeloupe.

When I returned to our lodging I was crestfallen. Defeated. Scolding myself for such carelessness. Wondering how much credit card debt I dare take on, assuming I could even find a cash machine that would work with my card- not at all guaranteed back then. We now know the mid Nineteen-Eighties was the stone age of electronic banking.

I went to the evening lecture in a blue funk. That night a woman from the group announced that during the church tour she had seen a wad of cash on the church floor. She decided it had to be from someone in our group, so she picked it up. She had been asking around and so far no one claimed it.

I noticed my overall mood changing.

Never mind the weird question of how I could miss telling her I lost some money- I thought I had told everyone twice. Never mind that she never asked me about money she found- she too would have sworn she asked everyone. I don't know how that happened. The group wasn't THAT big. Well All's well that ends well. I ate well on the trip, and bought home some nifty souvenirs.

As an aside, the Woman who found my money was a Roman Catholic. She proudly proclaimed that prayers to the Patron Saint of lost items, whoever that is, had obviously worked. I decided not to give her the Lutheran rebuttal- that we do not pray to saints at all. I thought it might seem ungrateful under the circumstances.

Lost sheep, lost coin, lost Mexican Money. God is good. The text is so clear, and so elegantly simple. Joy in heaven! Of course this is not about money. Not about sheep, which were a sort of money in the bank in those days- no! This is a declaration that God seeks and saves the lost.

I should say its Good News for you and sit down. I should. Really.

But wait a minute. No I'm not going to add gloom and doom, or some dark rebuttal. I want to amplify it for our time and place.

Notice that the shepherd leaves the ninety nine in the wilderness to look for the one.

What if I had lost one Peso, and then left the rest of my cash lying in the aisles while I went and looked for that one lousy Peso. Does that make sense? Do you even bother picking up a penny? And what if your next door neighbor came and invited you to a glorious party, and you say "What's the Occasion?" and she says, "I found a dollar in the laundry."

What kind of nut makes a big deal out of finding one coin? What kind of shepherd will risk the lion's share of his flock for one straying member? Maybe it would be more prudent to let that lost sheep BE the Lion's share, and stick around protecting the others.

The world of business sometimes says "Cut your losses." If I had lost one peso instead of half my money, I dare say I would not have looked, and really would not have cared. Why bother?

This text is a picture of the compassion of God. The message of Jesus of Nazareth is this- God will go to any length, take any risk, even walk into the jaws of the lion, even die on a cross, in order to touch and hold every sheep.

God will make an effort when others would not bother.

What does it all mean? In God's eyes you are the sheep. In God's eyes you are the coin. And the harsh truth is the world may not treasure you, value you, worry over you.

God sees. God treasures. God is restless and thorough in seeking, looking, valuing, gathering, finding, protecting.

God stops to pick up pennies.