Light and Purity? Urim and Thumim? How troubling? Why would a game of chance or worse – a form of divining – be used to make important decisions by a High Priest? It seems so antithetical to our tradition as we know it today, so offensive to our current sensibilities. Our modern compass insists that we find the right answers using our G-d given talents and abilities of logic, empathy, fairness, compassion. Moving from “why” to “when” helps. When might it make sense to use games of chance to make important decisions?
In elementary schools, educators often help students find the right answers to academic questions in the classroom using our minds and hearts. On the yard, we often help students see better solutions to social conflicts that arise and more humane methods of interacting with each other. When one person has hurt another, we help them figure out how to begin to make it right and make a plan for how to respond differently should a similar situation arise in the future.
Yet there are times when there is no right answer. When the ball in a four-square game lands in an indeterminate spot and no adult saw it; when two students would like to play with the same ball for two different purposes and run and reach it at approximately the same time; when students disagree about whether a soccer ball hit a player’s hand. There are myriad of these types of situations without a clear right answer. In these situations, we teach students to play rock, paper, scissors, a game of chance they can play with their hands. Most of the time, it solves these minor conflicts with no fall out. Before I knew this method for solving minor disputes, I saw small matters escalate to yelling and even to violence.
Consider that the beginning of many major sporting events – NFL games, tennis matches, basketball games start with the toss of a coin, because it just seems the fair way to determine slight advantage in a high stakes game.
I remember hearing about state legislators from opposite parties in yester-decades who would play cards at night to decide details of important legislation. I found this totally offensive. In today’s gridlocked political climate, though, it makes more sense. When people hold very different ideas about what should be, but agree that even the solution they like least would be better than no solution, a card game allows work to continue and constituencies to have faith that government can work even when principled politicians differ.
As adults, we often find ourselves agreeing with each other politely to avoid uncomfortable disagreements. How much lighter we might feel if we knew we could always speak truth because should agreement remain elusive, a system was available for deciding the matter? It might allow us to hold more closely the adage from the grandmother of my friend and mentor, Susan Audap: “If we agree on everything, one of us isn’t necessary.” When we allow this truth to outweigh our preference to avoid temporary discomfort, better ideas often arise that allow all parties to see matters in entirely new light.
Purity in this construction is not demagoguery but systematic progress despite disagreement with the potential for great light. Light is synergy that comes from thought partnership among those who see differently but trust each others’ wisdom enough to engage in moments of co-creation rather than antagonistic intellectual and emotional battle. The availability of a game of chance if the tide turns against synergy or if time-boundness requires a quick answer offers the freedom needed for this creativity. Chance when used as a tool then, paradoxically serves purity and the light of greater wisdom.