Thought for the Day, 12 November 2009

Rhidian Brook

A few years ago, when I was out of work and struggling to pay the rent, a hand- delivered, brown envelope came through my front door. It contained a thousand pounds in cash and no explanatory note. As if that wasn't amazing enough it was almost exactly the amount I needed to pay my landlord. The anonymity of the giver left me with no one to thank but God - which was, I suspect, partly the point of the gift.

Watching the winners of Britain's biggest ever lottery haul receive their cheques this week, I found myself wondering who or what they would thank for the millions they had randomly won. For when that kind of money unexpectedly comes your way it feels like someone somewhere needs to be thanked. Would it be God, Lady Luck, Camelot - or the computer that selected their numbers? In the end, most seemed to favour a confusing syndicate of all four. Perhaps it's because it seems so unsatisfactory attributing such huge winnings to blind luck that we fill the void by constructing narratives that try to explain why particular people have won; stories that claim they somehow deserved it because of a humble background or difficult circumstances or because of the good things they intended to spend the money on. Anything but admit that lottery money is essentially money for nothing that doesn't come through love, kindness, hard work or generosity.

The lottery almost certainly transgresses the 1st 8th and 10th commandments; it encourages people to put their hopes in the god of chance; gamble, and perhaps covet the fancy camels and chariots the winners will inevitably buy with their new found money. But behind all these commandments lies the issue of who or what we put our hope and trust in. While lots were drawn in biblical times they were always a means of determining the will of god and underpinned by a belief that nothing in the universe is down to chance.

The faces of lottery winners are a compelling sight: caught as they are in a life changing moment, they are people experiencing a shocking unmerited favour - a kind of grace that must be close to being a religious experience. And yet, it's still a favour bereft of any real meaningful, relational connection - and a pale imitation of the amazing grace that scripture describes. For the source of this grace isn't a faceless, magical tombola distributing money to the few; but a God who whose grace is intended to make us all rich.

Whatever force lay behind the pushing of a thousand pounds through my letter box my guess is it wasn't prompted by the chance tumbling of numbers in a machine but by a considered act of kindness. I didn't deserve it and I still don't know who gave it to me - but it must have come from someone who knew me, cared about the detail of my life, didn't expect my thanks and believed that it's love not money that makes the world go round.