I have a
confession to make. Ready to hear
it? I play the lotto. Yes, I know that the lotto is declassé. It’s supposed to be an affectation of the
uneducated. Everybody knows that your
odds of winning the lotto are so small as to be statistically meaningless. And yet, I buy a ticket now and then.
A quick pick. I don’t even play
numbers that are especially meaningful to me.
I ask for a mini quick pick, fork over my seven dollars and change, and a
few seconds later I take the ticket. Not
every week; sometimes I forget or I am nowhere near the newsagent’s on Tuesday,
the day of the Oz Lotto. There’s a lotto
every day of the week, but the Tuesday Oz Lotto is the one I like. Why?
Because it has the cheapest quick pick.
Seven dollars and change is enough for me. If I’m not mistaken a quick pick for most of
the other days’ games is $11.
So once a fortnight or so, I remember when I’m at the shopping
centre. And I buy one. Even though I know it’s almost impossible to
win. But the truth is: Waddaya got to
lose?
Waddaya got to lose indeed? Seven
dollars? If I drop seven dollars for the
lotto, it doesn’t mean my important bills aren’t going to get paid. It doesn’t mean I won’t be able to retire
when the time comes. It won’t jeopardise
my children’s education. It might take
the money I would have spent on a couple of ice creams whilst out and
about. And though I do love a
nice creamy Magnum Classic now and then, I’m willing to sacrifice a
couple per fortnight for the little thrill of playing the lotto.
Yes, it is a thrill of sorts.
The day after the draw, if I can, I get myself down to the newsagent’s,
take the ticket out of my wallet, and insert it in the scanner device wondering
what would be the reaction if I were the multi-million dollar winner. Would it be bells and whistles? Most times, the machine tells me,
predictably: Not a winning
ticket. But who knows? Maybe someday!
Sometimes, I don’t get around to checking the ticket for a day or
two. On those occasions, I joke with
Clara whilst driving around that I might be sitting on a couple million or
whatever the jackpot was that week.
Okay, so I shouldn’t hold my breath that I’m going to win…but this
little thrill and entertainment is worth the seven dollars. Waddaya got to lose?
I think Wadday got to lose is a good watchword, a good mantra to
remember when taking little chances on doing little things that, like holding a
winning lotto ticket, could very well result in big gains.
I counselled a young officer once whilst I was a chaplain stationed in
Germany. He had just been promoted to
Major, and I gave the invocation at his promotion ceremony. A couple of weeks later, the guy came into my
office to talk. He was having tensions
with his wife. As happens to so many
married couples over time, they had drifted into a matter-of-fact relationship
where there was little overt affection for one another.
The young man told me that his wife had complained that he didn’t show
affection in the ‘little ways’ that would make a difference with her. Such as, for example bringing home flowers
now and then to show his appreciation for her.
So I decided to play devil’s advocate.
Why not bring home flowers once a week or so? I asked him.
“Well,” he replied immediately without having to stop to think, as if he’d
already thought this through. “She might not appreciate the gesture in the
end. After all, she herself suggested
it. She might think it insincere.”
It didn’t take me long to react to the man’s logic. “Waddaya got to lose?” I asked him. “What’s the risk if you buy flowers, and she
reacts in that way?” (BTW, and I
didn’t tell him this, I thought this possibility was quite far-fetched in any
case.)
“What do you mean, what’s the risk?” he asked me.
“What did you lose if she thinks your gesture insincere?” I clarified. “The
price of the flowers? The ten minutes if
took you to make the extra stop on the way home?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said after a moment’s thought.
“So this risk is ten minutes of your time, and fifteen dollars,” I said,
since that’s how much a bouquet of flowers cost then, at the little flower
stand in the Base Exchange. “She might not appreciate the gesture. So you lost fifteen dollars. I happen to know that you just got promoted to
Major. Fifteen dollars on a Major’s
salary – especially since you have no kids – is a pretty small risk.” Waddaya got to lose, indeed?
We do that, you know? I don’t
mean avoiding bringing home flowers. I
mean, we take small risks where the potential gain is huge, if unlikely.
Seven dollars for a quick pick. But on the other hand, we’re less inclined to
take similarly-small risks when the potential gain is far more likely. Fifteen dollars for a bouquet of flowers. And it’s far more likely that the investment
will yield a desirable outcome, than when buying a lotto ticket. Think about it.
Right now, we are in waning hours of the one day that could be called
the religious climax of the year for us Jews. The sands of time are spilling through the
hourglass. Soon Yom Kippur 5775 will be
but a memory. Soon we’ll be standing
around at the break-the-fast, enjoying a morsel of food and a laugh with our
friends. The day that many Jews consider
to be the most spiritually challenging – and most spiritually important – will be
over for another year. Some of you will
avoid coming to shule regularly until the next important holiday. Some of you will feel a bit of burn out. Some of you, while you continue to come
regularly, will come in such a mindset that you will not be spiritually moved
for some time. For all of the above, I
have a question. Waddaya got to lose?
What if you made a personal commitment to celebrate Shabbat in a deeper
fashion every week for the next year? What
if you committed to keeping your Friday evenings free to celebrate the onset of
Shabbat with your community here? And to
keep everyday concerns and tasks from encroaching on the rest of the Day of
Rest? Since we don’t have a Shabbat
morning service at this time, how about responding to Karen who is looking for
the level of commitment to a morning service, that yes, you are ready to commit
for starters to one Saturday morning per month?
And then, when your commitment and that of others in this room results
in such a service being offered, follow through and participate. Waddaya got to lose? A couple hours of your time and whatever
it was that you might otherwise have been doing then. For the possibility of gaining what? Well, in all honesty I think the potential
gain in the uplift you might receive is so huge that it is well worth risking
what you might have done with a couple hours of your time on Saturday morning.
Another example. In this week’s
congregational newsletter, you’ll be informed that I am going to start a
(Re-)Discovering Judaism class starting this month. It will meet Tuesday evenings at my new home. Soon afterward, a basic Hebrew reading class
will be offered for those of you who never learned or who need remedial
instruction. Waddaya got to
lose? The two combined, will cost
you three hours per week of your time to attend class, and a couple or three
more hours for the reading and other preparation. And a few dollars of your cash. And for what potential gain? That of being a literate and knowledgeable
Jew. Look, we all acknowledge that our
religious tradition is a very complex construct of texts, ideas, history and
culture. Most of us, whatever our
religious upbringing, at some point feel inadequately prepared to participate
fully. And if you’re interested in
converting, the classes will propel you towards that goal. That’s a small risk, for a substantial
potential gain.
And the likelihood of your realizing that gain, is far more than
the likelihood of winning the lotto. I’m
not asking for a show of hands, but I’m guessing I’m not the only one in this
room who buys a chance at the lotto now and then. Okay, I know I’m not the only one! It’s a small risk for a great potential gain,
even if the odds are infinitesimally small.
The likelihood of significant gain from making a deeper and more
literate Jewish life, is really more in line with the likelihood of hitting pay
dirt when bringing flowers home. Let me
ask you…how many of you bring home flowers for the Significant Other in your
lives? And how often, compared to how
often you buy a chance at lotto? No show
of hands, thank you just the same. But I
have to admit on this score. Chatanu
lefanecha rachem aleinu. I have
sinned before You, please have mercy upon me. Okay, I know flowers are more expensive now
then they were a decade ago at the BX in Germany. But still…the risk is pretty small because the
odds of not bearing fruit are much better than your odds of winning the lotto.
And what about the odds of gaining something significant from an
increase of time and effort in your Jewish life? To the point of attending Friday evening
regularly, trying to clear the decks for a relaxing Shabbat, committing to one
Saturday morning per month, and attending a few classes. Okay, if you did all those things it would be
a bigger investment than buying a quick pick once a fortnight or so. But your odds of gaining something
significant are much, much greater. And
frankly, what you might gain is far better than a paltry million dollars or
two. Far more transformative.
This is a good time to think about it and consider making such a
commitment. Now, as the sun sinks toward
the western horizon and one more Yom Kippur comes to its conclusion. Waddaya got to lose? Indeed, not much. And you’ve got so much to gain. G’mar chatimah tovah. May your final destiny be a good one!
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