 Dr. William A. Ritter Senior Minister |
Chutes
and Ladders, Revisited
Sermon:
Scripture: |
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I’ve
been to Boston (as the song says). Plenty of reason to go
before. Very little reason to go again. For the kid is
done….with Harvard, I mean. MBA behind her. Job in
California before her. Proud parents beside her. Graduation
was wonderful….and wet. Ten minutes into the outdoor
ceremony, the heavens opened and it poured. Leading one parent
to proclaim: “…. it’s not enough that they soak you for
tuition….” Fortunately, I took two suits. Kris took two
dresses. And between us we took two hearts….both of them
bursting with pride. For while the day couldn’t have dawned
any worse, her future couldn’t look any brighter. Actually,
graduation was three days’ worth of events. There were
dinners and parties and receptions. Having met Julie’s
friends on previous visits, we now met her friends’ families
on this visit. And they met us, with all of the attendant
tellings of stories and sharings of histories. One of the
stories even merited national attention. Graduating
from business school with Julie was Cheryl Kozlowski, whose
family was no less proud of her than we were of Julie. Except
that on what should have been Cheryl’s day in the sun, it
was her dad who commanded the headlines, given that, 24 hours
before his daughter’s graduation, Dennis Koslowski was
accused of evading more than $1 million in sales taxes on
purchases of artwork….forcing his resignation as CEO of
Tyco, a $38 billion conglomerate. Which led Tyco stock to fall
20 percent overnight, effectively wiping out $5.4 billion of
investor value. This being the same Dennis Kozlowski who, in a
graduation speech he delivered just three weeks previous, told
the graduates of New Hampshire’s St. Anselm College that
“they would be confronted every day with questions that
would test their morals and would force them to think
carefully, so as to do the right thing rather than the easy
thing.” If Dennis attended Cheryl’s graduation, I missed him. I also missed Wayne Taitt’s mom, although she was very much present….albeit miraculously so. That’s because last September 11, Wayne’s mom was fiddling with her new cell phone, trying to get it to work, which made her late to work….by five minutes….for her job at the World Trade Center. Which explains why she was walking through the revolving door on the main floor when the plane hit the building, rather than getting off the elevator on the 85th floor when the plane hit the building. Meaning that not only was she glad to be in Boston for Wayne’s graduation, she was glad to be anywhere. And
then there’s George Cantor, popular Detroit News
columnist. George was at Harvard last week, too. Not because
of a kid graduating from Harvard Business School, but because
of a kid graduating from Harvard Law School. George’s kid
took a full class load….completed it with
honors….co-produced her law school musical…and became
engaged to a young man named Mike….which would seem to be
the stuff of which fairy tales are made (that is, if you
factor out the thyroid cancer she contracted last fall). This
being the same George Cantor whose other daughter fell to her
death through an open window at the University of Michigan a
few years previous. Concerning Jaime Cantor’s cancer, George
(who writes both candidly and movingly about everything) said:
“I didn’t write about it until now because, what with
everything else that has happened to my family, it kind of
reduces our lives to a Country Western song.” Five
years ago, I wouldn’t have compared anybody’s life to a
Country Western song. But I would have compared it to a board
game. In fact, I did. This one, to be exact. It’s called
Chutes and Ladders. I played it as a kid. But I’ve lived it
as an adult. On one side of the box, it’s labeled “age
appropriate for 4-8 year olds.” Which applies to the playing
of it. As concerns the living of it, you have to be at least
50 to understand it. Last
year, at some northern Michigan antique show (which was
probably a dressed-up version of a flea market, or maybe a
barn sale), Kris bought me a very old version of the game. But
I left it up in Elk Rapids and didn’t feel I could justify a
day just to go retrieve it. In the antique version, there are
still ladders. But there are no chutes. Instead, there are
snakes (as in “snakes and ladders”). Which may be more
biblical. But we’ll save that for another time. For those of you who can’t bring yourselves to believe that some of us once played games without benefit of batteries or computers, perhaps a review is in order. The Chutes and Ladders game board has 100 squares, numbered from top to bottom. After throwing the dice, each player is permitted to advance by the number of squares indicated on the dice face. The goal, of course, is to reach the 100th square, thereby winning the game. The
twist consists in the fact that certain squares are marked by
ladders….others by chutes. Ladders can propel you ahead of
your competition. Chutes can drop you behind. You can be
trailing miserably with no hope of winning. Then you hit a
tall ladder that catapults you into the lead. Or just the
opposite can happen. You can open a terrific lead, finding
yourself 20 squares ahead of everyone else. There you sit on
square 81. Only 19 squares to go. Then you roll a pair of
threes. You move six squares. You land on square 87. Horrors!
Square 87 is the launching pad for the longest, nastiest chute
on the board. When you are done sliding, you are all the way
back at square 24. The
problem with the game is that there is no law governing
timing. You know that there are ladders out there. But you
don’t know when one will be there for you. Ditto for the
chutes. You can ride up the ladder, one play….and back down
the chute, the next. Or you can play a game where you land on
nothing but ladders. Just as you can play a game where you
slide down nothing but chutes. But
life’s like that. I’ve seen households where the whole
family got on a roll and piled up one victory after another.
Everything they touched turned to gold. But I’ve also seen
families where the whole lot of them would have been better
off staying in bed for an entire year, given that everything
they touched turned to….well, something less than gold. Is
it fair that some should get everything….some shouldn’t
get anything….and that a few (like the Kozlowskis) should
have the wind fill their sails one day, only to have it kicked
out of them the next? Of course it’s not fair. But when was
life ever fair? Little
kids don’t know this. Which is why little kids run around
pointing out (usually quite loudly) every violation they spot
against life’s rule of fairness. They live under the
illusion that life is an apple pie which will always be
equitably divisible. Then one day they learn that the only
rule governing fairness is that there is no rule governing
fairness….and that whatever business God is in, it is not
the business of equitably distributing blessings and burdens
(so that no one is treated unfairly). If
I have heard it once in my ministry, I have heard it 550
times: “Bill, I have had more than my share.” Now I have
to tell you that on 549 of those occasions, those individuals
were talking about burdens, not blessings. Only once (well,
maybe twice) did someone tell me that they had had more than
their share of blessings. But whether they had more or less of
anything, whatever led them to think….whatever leads any of
us to think….that burdens and blessings are parceled out as
“shares,” and that sooner or later (if we just endure long
and complain little) everything is going to even out for
everybody? Maybe it will. But there’s no law that ensures
it. Sometimes
chutes and ladders come remarkably close together. I recall a
friend standing in my office, resplendent in his tuxedo,
thrilled to be awaiting the wedding of his firstborn son. His
wife, equally thrilled, is affixing a boutonniere to his
lapel. Suddenly, a cell phone rings in his jacket pocket. It
is not for me. It is for him. I listen as he hears the news
that his father is dead….of a heart attack….not totally
unexpected….but terribly timed. Yet,
it can work the other way. I know a young divorcee….two
kids….old house….older car…. old dog that gets sick on
the rug, five mornings out of seven. She is driving home from
work during rush hour. Rain is falling. She is trying to make
it to KinderCare before the late charge kicks in. One more
late charge and they might refuse to keep her kids any longer.
Suddenly she is rear-ended on the roadway. A quick survey of
the damage gives her reason to expect that the adjuster will
take one look and write the word “totaled.” But it is not
the adjuster who approaches her. It is the other driver. And
rather than writing the word “totaled,” he writes his
phone number. But she doesn’t need to call him. Because he
calls her. Later that night. To ask her out. For coffee. And
courtship. I marry them a year or so later. How
do I explain that? I don’t. And neither do you. In terms of
theology, I am probably speaking to ten closet Calvinists this
morning who believe that God’s hand is behind everything
that happens (meaning that, for them, everything is willed).
And those ten are balanced by a second ten who believe that
God’s hand has no causative connection with anything that
happens (meaning that, for them, everything is random).
Meanwhile, the rest of us look at life and see some things as
being providential….other things as being accidental….and
then spend the rest of our religious lives trying to discern
which is which, and what it means. That’s
what people of faith do. They try to figure it out in the
midst of living it out. And if you are going to find any peace
in life (or take any joy from life), you are going to have to
put it together in fragments. That’s because you are
unlikely to get 24 smooth hours in a row. But the wonderful
thing is that the Bible understands that. For the Bible was
not written by some relaxed scholar in Hawaii, lathered up
with sunscreen, sitting under a beach umbrella drinking
lemonade. Rather, the Bible was written by people who had to
put their lives together….and put their faith
together….out of short pieces of string. Some of the pieces,
frayed. Some of them, smooth. Many of them, tangled. A few of
them, knotted. All of them, short. The
older I get, the more frequently I revise my list of favorite
biblical texts. Of late, it has become clear to me that I must
make room for the observation of Ecclesiastes, when the author
(whoever he is) writes: “Again I say that the race is not
always to the swift….nor the battle to the strong….nor
bread to the wise….nor riches to the intelligent….nor
favor to the skillful. Rather, time and chance happen to them
all.” So,
how does the writer suggest we deal with such uncertainties?
Well, says Ecclesiastes: “Eat your bread in gladness. Drink
your wine in joy.” Savor whatever sweetness life may
produce. Seize the moment. Hold fast to it….to the God who
is in it….and to the memories that flow from it. Don’t
overlook or postpone it. For the sweetness you taste today
will prepare you for the bitters you may drink tomorrow. All
of which came to mind when, concerning Harvard, his daughter
and her cancer, George Cantor wrote: “The night of
graduation we took Jaime and Mike out to a great dinner. We
laughed a lot, told stories and drank to life.” Which sounds
like Ecclesiastes (who was a Jew) as told by George (also a
Jew). But we three (Kris, Julie and myself) did exactly the
same thing…. same night….same town….same occasion….and
I am not a Jew. Which proves nothing, save for the fact that I
am decently grounded in the scriptures and that (in more ways
than we realize) biblical faith transcends any number of
boundaries. But
textually, I press on. Trampolining through the New Testament,
I land first on 2 Timothy who literally shouts: “Persevere.
Hang in there. Ride it out. Run the race. Fight the good
fight. Finish the course. Keep on, keeping on.” That’s
good advice. To
which the writer of Hebrews adds: “Yes, by all means
persevere. But don’t sweat the outcomes. Life is not
measured by outcomes. Besides, winning and losing need to be
measured on a bigger board than a mere hundred squares. The
faithful have never been made perfect in this life. In the
short run, nobody wins. Neither does anybody receive
everything that was promised.” That’s good advice. Jesus
seemed to say: “Look, ladders are going to pop up in the
most unlikely places….for the most unlikely people….at the
most unlikely times. Such ladders are called ‘grace.’ My
father is going to place them wherever He wants. Don’t try
to figure it out. Don’t begrudge my father’s generosity.
And don’t look a gift ladder in the mouth.” That’s good
advice. But
Jesus also seemed to say: “The closer you get to me, the
more likely the possibility that you will go down the chute
with me. That’s what the cross means. But did you ever think
that maybe that’s how you win? By going down the chute with
me?” That’s good advice. And
then there are several friends who say the only way you can
survive this crazy game board of chutes and ladders, valleys
and mountains, downs and ups, is to “cling very close to
each other, tonight”….holding on for dear life….to dear
life….rejoicing with those who rejoice…. weeping with
those who weep. That’s good advice. But
I somehow keep coming back to Paul and these beautiful words
that he tacks onto the end of his letter to the Philippians.
He likes the people of Philippi. They have responded to his
needs. They have given him money. He is thanking them. Then he
adds that he is not merely talking about the money. “For I
have learned in whatsoever state I find myself to be content.
I know how to be poor. I know how to be rich. I know how live
when the pantry is full. And I know how to live on those days
when I go to the refrigerator and there is nothing there but a
half-eaten jar of pickles and some seven-week-old cheese.
There is no life situation I cannot rise above, given the
strength I find in Christ.” Only then does he add: “By the
way, I did appreciate the money.” Don’t
get me wrong.
No,
Paul cares passionately. As do I. As do you. Which is why I
think Paul is saying: “You know, if you open yourself to the
possibility that life’s roller coaster is a
two-seater….meaning that you do not ride it
alone….you’ll make it. You’ll make it.” Kris
and I have rolls of pictures of graduation week at Harvard.
But one of them is priceless. Ask Julie and she’ll show it
to you in the narthex. It was taken on that wet and wild
Thursday morning. Graduation is history. Julie’s cap and
gown are history. My suit is history. Kris’ dress is
history. Three heads of carefully combed hair are history.
Looking like drowned rats, dodging puddles of pond-like
proportions, we take temporary refuge in a hole-in-the-wall
pizza place in Cambridge. The guy who tosses the pizzas
recognizes our attire and suggests posing for a picture with
Julie. So she goes behind the counter, Kris gets out the
camera, and the rest (as they say) is history. Following which
we scarf down three slices of Sicilian, chasing them with a
trio of Cokes. Which, as moments go, was as special as they come…..as sweet as they come….and maybe (for those with eyes to see) as sacramental as they come.
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