This proverb is usually attributed to an anonymous modern source:
"If you spend your time chasing butterflies, they will fly away. But if you spend your time building a beautiful garden, the butterflies will come to you. And if they don't, you still have a beautiful garden."
For reasons both personal and Masonic, that proverb has always spoken to me. I was raised a Master Mason in Mariposa Lodge No. 24 in California. Mariposa, appropriately enough, is the Spanish word for "butterfly." Perhaps that is why this simple proverb has lingered in my thoughts for years. It captures, in a few sentences, a truth that Freemasonry has been teaching for centuries.
The butterflies are not the point.
The garden is.
Perhaps the greatest misunderstanding in Freemasonry is believing that our purpose is fellowship.
Certainly, fellowship is one of the great blessings of the Craft. We enjoy dinners together. We gather for barbecues. We hold social nights, pancake breakfasts, family events, and festive boards. We laugh together, mourn together, and form friendships that sometimes last a lifetime. These moments strengthen the bonds between Brothers and enrich the life of the lodge.
But they are not why Freemasonry exists.
They are the butterflies.
The garden is the man.
No barbecue has ever transformed a man's character. A steak dinner has never taught integrity. Ice cream socials, game nights, and potlucks may strengthen relationships that already exist, but they do not, by themselves, build better men. Fellowship is valuable, but it is the fruit of Masonry—not its foundation.
The working tools remind us of that truth.
The Common Gavel removes the roughness of our character. The Chisel develops our abilities through education and discipline. The Square teaches morality. The Plumb demands uprightness before God and man. The Level reminds us of our equality. Even the Trowel, so often associated with Brotherly Love and Affection, assumes that the stones have already been prepared before they are joined together.
An operative mason would never attempt to repair a cracked stone simply by spreading more mortar over it. Mortar binds sound stones together; it does not restore structural integrity to damaged ones. At best, it conceals the defect for a while. Eventually, time exposes what was always there.
The same is true in Masonry.
Sometimes we mistake activity for accomplishment. We become convinced that if we schedule enough dinners, enough family nights, enough social events, enough fundraisers, enough entertainment, fellowship will somehow flourish.
But butterflies cannot be chased.
They arrive because the garden is healthy.
Likewise, genuine fellowship cannot be manufactured through calendars filled with events. It grows naturally when men are sincerely engaged in improving themselves together. Men who are striving to become wiser naturally enjoy the company of other men pursuing wisdom. Men committed to honesty are drawn toward honest men. Men who labor side by side with the working tools inevitably develop friendships rooted in shared purpose rather than shared recreation.
Scripture teaches the same principle.
Christ said,
"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." (Matthew 6:33, KJV)
Notice the order. We seek righteousness first. Everything else follows.
The Psalmist offers a similar image:
"And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season." (Psalm 1:3, KJV)
The tree never chases fruit. It simply grows where it has been planted. Fruit becomes the evidence of health, not the objective of life.
So it is with Masonry.
When we focus first on building better men, fellowship often appears almost effortlessly. The laughter around the dinner table becomes richer because it is shared among men of character. Conversations become deeper because they are rooted in mutual respect. Harmony becomes genuine because it rests upon integrity rather than convenience.
Ironically, when a lodge begins chasing fellowship as its primary mission, it often loses both fellowship and purpose. Meetings become social clubs. Difficult conversations are avoided. Standards quietly decline because no one wishes to disturb the peace. The Trowel becomes a tool for covering cracks instead of binding together sound stones.
That is not the work of Freemasonry.
The Craft was never established to produce successful social clubs.
It was established to produce better men.
If we succeed in that work, the butterflies often come.
If attendance grows, wonderful.
If lifelong friendships develop, even better.
If the lodge becomes known for its warmth and harmony, we should be grateful.
But if none of those things happen—if the butterflies never arrive—we still possess something of immeasurable value.
We have built men of integrity.
We have strengthened fathers, husbands, sons, leaders, neighbors, and citizens.
We have contributed to society in the way Freemasonry has always intended—not merely by entertaining good men, but by helping ordinary men become better ones.
That is a beautiful garden.
And perhaps that has been the lesson hidden in both the proverb and the working tools all along. Stop chasing butterflies. Pick up the tools. Build the man. The fellowship may come, and if it does, cherish it. But whether it comes or not, the work has still been worthwhile.
After all, butterflies eventually fly away.
Character remains.
