Buried treasure

44 The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. 45 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, 46 who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it (Mt 13:44-46).

Most of us have heard or seen variations on the story of a genie who offers someone three wishes. It may be a beachcomber who discovered the bottle washed ashore. It may be someone who bought the antique bottle at a garage sale. 

He uncorks the bottle and out pops the genie in a puff of smoke. Materializing in Ali Baba garb, he will grant the surprised individual any (but only) three wishes. 

The fiction is appealing because it makes the audience prioritize. If we were in that hypothetical situation, what three things would we choose? 

The dilemma this fiction poses is that many of us have more than three wishes in life. So it would be hard to narrow down the list to just three items.  It's not merely that we wish for more than three things. It's that we equally wish for more than three things. We may be torn by the same degree of desire. 

Paradoxically, sometimes it's easier to choose one thing rather than three. Take a lovesick boy in high school who wants to marry Emily. He's been secretly in love with Emily since they were in grade school. His heart is set on her. He's holding out for her. Even though other girls express interest in him, he passes up their invitations.

Of course, if Emily marries another boy, he will be heartbroken. In that event, he will settle for a different girl. But at the moment, the choice is easy. There's no real competition. 

Or take a young man who's training to compete in the Olympics. That requires singleminded devotion. He puts his social life on hold. Puts his career on hold. Turns down promising job offers. Works odd jobs so that he can spend most of his time at the gym, working with his trainer. 

If he washes out, he will be disappointed, but he won't regret the effort. Even though winning is sweeter than losing, failing to win is better than failing to try. 

Sometimes the choice is even more austere. I read about a mother with three young daughters. The house caught fire. There wasn't time to get all three to safety. One choice was to save herself and leave her daughters behind. Another choice was to save one or two. 

When the firemen were sifting through the ashes, they found four bodies huddled together. The charred remains of the mother, embracing her three incinerated daughters.

Because she couldn't save them all, she didn't save any–including herself. She couldn't bring herself to choose one over another. Better that all die together than most survive, if that meant leaving even one behind. Although the story may be apocryphal, the maternal psychology is realistic. 

Not the decision a utilitarian ethicist would make, but I wouldn't fault her. 

When we want one thing more than anything else, when nothing comes a close second, then it's easy to pass on other offers. We're all in. We keep no chips in reserve. 

We may die waiting. Our treasure is buried in heaven.