The Truth About Luck

“Luck is the residue of design.” (John Milton, attrib.)

When we experience the kind of luck that transforms our fortunes, we sense that God’s light of grace is upon us. It illuminates and clarifies the path ahead, the future seems bright, and we exude an optimism that is contagious. In such emotionally effervescent moments, we rarely deconstruct the experience, disentangling the peculiar variables that led us to success, or what we did at just the right moment to catalyze and seal our happy fate.

I have always believed that what we call luck is an abstract placeholder to justify events in our lives, whether they are astonishingly helpful or depressingly unfortunate. In the case of the former, it is a flattering sign of modesty, and in the latter, a deception we employ to avoid responsibility.

That we more frequently invoke it when misfortune strikes tells you something further about happenstance and human nature: in such instances, we prefer to believe that “It just wasn’t my day,” or “Some things weren’t meant to happen.” Those sentiments tie a nice emotional bow on our failure or mishap, so we can, as the Bing Crosby song goes, “…pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.”

Delving deeper into the complexities of luck, we examine an excerpt from Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man, published in 1734. [The spelling of “spite” was “spight.”]

All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chance, Direction which thou canst not see;
All Discord, Harmony not understood;
All partial Evil, universal Good:
And spight of Pride, in erring Reason’s spight,
One truth is clear; “Whatever Is, is RIGHT.”

Pope’s poetic meaning reflected 18^th century sensibilities, which believed that the apparently inexplicable occurrences in human affairs and nature–which we find either objectionable or morally corrupt–mask an underlying harmony. In the case of luck, which he calls “chance,” the ostensible fortuity of the event deceives our mortal eye, beneath which is a silent hand directing it in beneficial ways we “canst not see.” His last line captures the essence of his philosophy: whatever the outcome, it was correct, and, by implication, was intended to be that way. Events in that regard will always be provided a kind of reassuring safe harbor.

In that view of the universe, adversity, discord, and evil are like the misdirection shadows in Plato’s Parable of the Cave, and we can take solace in the hidden reality, which brings an ameliorating balance and certitude to an otherwise chaotic world.

Next, we turn to an illustrative quote from John Milton’s Comus (1634), wherein a character cogently argues that chance events do not exist.

 Against the threats
Of malice or of sorcery, or that pow’r
Which erring men call chance, this I hold firm,
Virtue may be assail’d, but never hurt,
Surpriz’d by unjust force, but not enthrall’d;
Yea even that, which mischief meant most harm,
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.

This defense of virtue is especially persuasive because the forces arrayed against it, the “threats,” are characterized as impotent. If Milton is correct, that chance is a fiction which is governed by a “pow’r” (which he itemizes along with malice and sorcery), what precisely is that power? We are not told, but he does assure us that regardless of the assaults, “glory” will nonetheless prevail.

Early in J.D. Salinger’s novel, Catcher in the Rye (1951) Holden Caulfield is talking with one of his professors, a Mr. Spencer. Despite the professor’s efforts to reshape Caulfield’s callow recalcitrance with heartfelt advice, warning him of the challenges of adulthood, the youth cannot be reached. As he exits Mr. Spencer’s inner room, the following occurs.

After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at me, but I couldn’t exactly hear him. I’m pretty sure he yelled “Good luck!” at me,  
I hope to hell not. I’d never yell “Good luck!” at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.

We are not told why Caulfield felt that way, but we can surmise. When we say “Good luck,” whether casually or seriously, beneath the veneer of bonhomie lurks the belief that the person likely needs a measure of luck to succeed. That is what irked Caulfield because, as he was being forced out of the prep school due to his indolence and poor grades, he knew an athat bundance of luck is exactly what he needed.

Now we cast our light on the nature of good fortune, luck’s closest friend, the pursuit of which fuels superstition. In nearly all civilizations, archeologists have unearthed curious amulets and talismans, which records reveal were deemed lucky charms. We have all “knocked on wood,” which takes us back to pagan rituals intended to invoke the presumed blessings of “tree gods.” Further, in a recent poll, 72 percent of respondents said they have a good luck charm. Holy Scripture expressly prohibits superstitions (2 Kings 21:6), astrology (Deuteronomy 4:19), and fortune-tellers (Isaiah 2:6).

Our avoidance of the number thirteen, which is believed to be mystically unlucky, can be traced to Christ’s Last Supper, where thirteen men were seated, one of whom was the betrayer, Judas Iscariot. Moreover, you would never walk under a ladder because you know the potency of the myth that it brings bad luck. But did you know that superstitious tradition holds that a ladder against a building forms a triangle which represents the Holy Trinity, and passing underneath fractures the Trinity, causing grievous misfortune?

Our superstitions are efforts to position ourselves in the light of good fortune. They are potent and enduring because we are incessantly, if subtly, imbued with their messages that convince us of their veracity, putative evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.

Yet it is not, if you will, coincidental that the word “coincidence” is used only once in the New Testament, and it was by Jesus Himself in the parable of the Good Samaritan. In Luke 10:31, Jesus said, “And by a coincidence, a certain priest was going down in that way, and having seen him, he passed over on the opposite side.” The word “coincidence” is translated from the Greek word synkyrian, which is a combination of two words: sun and kurios. Sun means “together with,” and kurious means “supreme in authority.” So, a working biblical definition of “coincidence” would be, “what occurs together by God’s providential arrangement of circumstances.”

We begin to see the inklings of Milton’s notion of design, which is a tacit refutation of the argument for the randomness of events. The irony is that taking refuge in the notion of “coincidence” or “luck” for events good or ill, as opposed to delighting in God’s omniscient design of events, betrays a kind of spiritual cowardice, to which we are all prone.

Now we will illuminate a seminal Christian teaching, known as the felix culpa, or the “blessed fall or fault.” St. Augustine wrote on the matter, stating that God brings good from evil, which is why He does not forbid evil from existing. The quintessential example is Adam and Eve’s sinful fall in Genesis, which, Scripture assures us, was in no way coincidental, and which allowed evil to enter the world. That, of course, led to a far greater good, the birth, death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, our savior.

Was it bad luck that Joseph was kidnapped and sold into slavery by his brothers? Recall that it led to him becoming a high-ranking official in Egypt. What appeared to be an unmitigated tragedy was used by God to preserve Joseph’s family and an entire region from famine. Joseph stated: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good…” (Genesis 50:20). This narrative illustrates that even severe hardships serve a greater purpose under God’s sovereignty.

Proverbs 16:33 characterizes the Bible’s understanding of the notion of randomness: “The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.” In ancient Israel, certain decisions were made by casting lots because of the inherent bias in human judgment. This quote tells us that despite that process, the actual outcome was always attributed to God’s guidance, which is yet another rejection of “luck.”

Not unlike the truth in many other areas of human agency, when we meticulously examine the commonly accepted notion of “luck,” it becomes clear that appearances fail to match reality. That affirms the purposeful nature of God’s influence on our lives, and that we are wise to exploit what appears to be bad luck, because it is so often an opportunity that the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ has lovingly provided for our benefit.

Philip E. Mella