The race is not to the swift

“The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill, but time and chance happen to them all” (Eccl 9:11).

One of the sobering and fascinating features of life is that you can’t predict how someone will finish the race from how he began. Most of us, especially those of us who belong to the middle class or working class, are aware of the fact that life can be unfair. One of the running themes of Scripture is the way in which the rich and powerful frequently oppress the poor.

But Solomon is making a different point in this verse. He’s approaching the issue from the opposite end of the social spectrum. His point is that even folks who start out with every conceivable advantage may lose the race. And this goes to a more general theme in Scripture regarding the reversal of fortunes: the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.

Although Solomon’s observation was made some 3000 years ago, we can observe the same phenomenon today. On the one hand, some folks in life get a head start. They have every advantage, in terms of health, wealth, and education. Yet they fall behind.

On the other hand, there are other folks who must overcome one hurdle after another. And yet they take the lead and win the race.

You can’t tell from how people start out in life how they will end. Timing is everything. Providential timing. As one commentator explains:

“The NIV’s ‘chance’ (pega) is an unhappy choice of translation, since this word connotes an impersonal and random forced, whereas Qohelet is clear throughout the book that human fates lies ultimately in God’s hands, no matter how random and impersonal what befalls us may appear. The verbal form pg means ‘to meet, encounter.’ A pega is simply something we encounter on the path of life—a circumstance or situation over which we have no control,” I. Provan, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs Zondervan 2001), 183n2.

We might illustrate this principle by the path of two different sons: Bill Murray and Frank Schaeffer. Both have written tell-all memories about their famous parents.

Along similar lines is the biography of Bertrand Russell by her only daughter: My Father, Bertrand Russell, by Katherine Tait.

Before I discuss the specifics, I’d like to say something about tell-all memoirs. From a Christian standpoint, is this appropriate?

As a rule, I think that families are entitled to a measure of privacy from the prying eyes of the outside world. A family should be a place where we can let down our guard. Where we don’t have to watch our back. That’s where we’re most vulnerable. This is also true for friendships. As a rule, I think it’s a betrayal of trust to broadcast this material to the outside world.

Frank Schaeffer justifies his policy on the grounds of candor. And, up to a point, candor is a good thing. But we need to qualify that virtue. For one thing, I have more right to be candid about myself than I have to be candid about the faults of another, like a mother or sister or father or brother or my best friend.

And while candor is a virtue, so is discretion. There are times when it’s admirable to cover for someone else. By that I don’t mean we should lie for them. But there’s a big difference between telling lies and keeping secrets. It’s a breach of confidence to divulge embarrassing details about the private life of a friend or family member in the name of candor. To humiliate them for all to see. Make a public spectacle of every little indignity.

There needs to be a special justification for violating someone’s private life in this way—especially someone who’s close to us, someone we should treat with reverence and respect. Part of friendship is a concern to protect your friend’s reputation, unless there’s an overriding obligation to the contrary.

However, some people do this to themselves. Some people are famous because they seek the public eye. They hanker to be celebrities. They may even take the initiative in publicizing their private lives. In that case, they’re not entitled to the same degree of privacy, although it may still be none of my business how they conduct their sordid little lives.

On the other hand, some people are famous in spite of themselves. They may be famous because they’re born to famous parents. They may resent their fishbowl existence. They may try their best to avoid the paparazzi. These people are entitled to privacy.

Schaeffer not only talks about his parents, but his siblings and in-laws. What did they ever do to ask for that exposure?

It also depends on what you’re famous for. In some cases, the message is inseparable from the messenger. Both Bertrand Russell and Madelyn Murray-O’Hair took the position that religion was the problem, not the solution. Original sin wasn’t the source of the problem. Just the opposite: belief in original sin was the source of the problem. Atheism was liberating. As soon as we learn to cast off these guilt-feelings and Victorian hang-ups, we will lead happy, healthy lives.

In that case, the mismatch between their hortatory words and their miserable lives is a test of their words. What was the practical result of their emancipation from all things Christian?

It’s not quite the same thing in the case of Christian celebrities. For the message of the Gospel is not that if you become a Christian, you will lead a frictionless existence.

There is also a difference between the failings of a charlatan and failings of true believer. We ought to discredit a religious charlatan. He is pretending to be something he’s not, and exploiting others in the process.

But it’s quite possible fall short of an ideal you sincerely believe in. That is not synonymous with hypocrisy.

There are folks who turn to Christianity because they’re morally flawed. They’re acutely aware of their besetting sins. That’s why the embrace the gospel. They hear the gospel talking about them.

The very titles of the books by Frank Schaeffer and Bill Murray are revealing: Crazy for God v. My Life Without God.

Murray and Schaeffer began at opposite ends of the theological spectrum, and they traded places. Murray ended up where Schaeffer began, while Schaeffer ended up where Murray began.

To judge by this article, Schaeffer has completed his journey from faith to infidelity:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/frank-schaeffer/the-huckabee-win-is-ameri_b_80150.html

I’ve read Murray’s book. I haven’t read Schaeffer’s. I’ve read Schaeffer give interviews about his book. One of the justifications that Schaeffer gives for his exposé is that there wasn’t much privacy at L’Abri. This was already out in the open. Other folks who lived and worked at L’Abri can confirm his recollections.

A difficulty with that claim is that Os Guinness, for one, takes issue with Schaeffer’s version of events:

http://www.newstatesman.com/200710250048

So it’s a problem when Schaeffer calls on other folks in the know to confirm his story, only to have a lead witness impeach his credibility. Testimony is a doubled-edged sword.

But let’s assume, for the same of argument, that his account is accurate. What would be the best way to handle this? For one thing, he could point out that his parents made a common mistake: they were so busy saving the world that they neglected their kids. That’s something that needs to be said. A warning to like-minded parents.

Some missionaries can be absentee parents. They warehouse their kids in boarding school while they rescue the perishing. In the meantime, their own kids are perishing for want of proper parenting. That reflects a misguided sense of priorities.

But Schaeffer could have made that point is less than 300 pages. An essay would do.

He could also make the point that his father was preaching to others out of his own spiritual need. Francis Schaeffer was a deeply flawed individual. No one knew that better than Francis Schaeffer. He was preaching from his own experience. From his own desperate need of the gospel. One parched soul offering the water of life to other parched souls. It takes a thirsty man to truly appreciate a cup of cold water. Francis Schaeffer was leading other desert-dwellers to the spiritual oasis he had discovered. As oasis he needed as much as anyone.

The problem with Frank Schaeffer is that, instead of improving on his parent’s example, instead of building on his advantages, his own journey has been spiritually retrograde. He starts with his parents and then goes backward instead of forward.

And one point he converted to the Orthodox church. I guess he’s still a member in good standing. And that wouldn’t be difficult.

The Orthodox church is very tolerant of liberal, Greek-American politicians and apparatchiks like Michael Dukakis, John Podesta, Art Agnos, George Stephanopoulos, Paul Tsongas, Paul Sarbanes, and John Sarbanes. Why were none of these men ever excommunicated for their social views?
Clearly, Christian ethics is a dead letter in Orthodoxy.

Frank Schaeffer has made a career for himself by tearing down everything his mother and father dedicated their lives to. Torching the good they did for others—out of mean-spirited envy.

By contrast, Bill Murray has seen it from the other side. He’s been there. Unlike Frank Schaeffer, Bill Murray has tried to improve on his parent’s example. Murray did more with less, while Schaeffer did less with more. Murray turned his disadvantage to spiritual advantage, while Schaeffer turned his advantage to spiritual disadvantage.

Two men. Two paths. Two starting lines. Two men crossing paths. From first to last and last to first.