Part of the advantage of having an elevator being installed two feet from my office door, is that I can easily listen-in on the construction crew's conversation. It echoes up from two floors below. It rings down the hallway. And in between the drilling, and the chain-rattling, and the pounding, and the sawing, comes some helpful theological reflection.

 

This particular conversation occurred between a man who was balanced on a 45 degree ladder over a 3½ story, open elevator pit, and the man who was assisting him. The man on the ladder (who gives me a greater appreciation for having been called to the ministry), asked for 4 bolts. His colleague said (and I quote), "I'll give you five; you need to have one to feed the pit." Translation: If you carry an extra, you won't feel badly if you lose one.

 

Now I can only surmise, that this wisdom has been hard won. People who work over cavities of open air have probably learned through experience about gravity. Objects fall. They will fall a great distance when there is nothing to stop them. Ergo: If you are going to suspend yourself over a deep pit, don't assume that everything will go perfectly. Don't assume that a nut or a bolt won't roll away. Assume that additional resources will come in handy. Acknowledge the challenging nature of the assignment. Take a relationship with the pit where you willingly and gracefully accept that it will occasionally need to be fed.

 

The alternative is simply too costly. To assume that things will go smoothly, that hammers won't drop, that nails won't bend, that parts won't wander, is to place yourself in special danger. Especially when your workplace is at the top of a ladder that is suspended over a 50 foot drop. Even wearing a safety harness (which is worn), it will make the work a lot harder if you get angry and frustrated and have to climb all the way down to get a replacement for what dropped. It is easier to carry an extra in your pocket.

 

I thought that the elevator construction man's grasp of the presence of chaos, unpredictability and imperfection, was instructive. Elevator pits are, by their very nature, a challenging environment in which to conduct one's life work. But there are all kinds of pits; metaphorical, as well as physical. And we are virtually guaranteed a lifetime of frustration and disappointment if we are unwilling to predict and prepare for the inevitability of loss and setbacks.

 

Pits are real. There are places in human existence which pose genuine danger. Illness, conflict and accidents can quickly take what we hold as precious. Some people advise, "Don't look down." "Pretend that nothing bad could happen to me or anyone I love." This is the "ignore the pit" school.

 

Another popular option is to "decry the pit." "Isn't it terrible that there are pits in this world?" "Ain't it awful that I have fallen in a few?" Many allegedly smart people have spent their entire lives arguing about why pits exist, and explaining how offended and angry they are that dangerous places continue to exist.

 

Some become profoundly unhappy when they discover how dangerous a pit fall can be. "What's the use…," they sigh, "…with so much destruction and unhappiness in the past, and so much possible misery in the future…why build at all?" They become paralyzed with fear.

 

But at the moment, I am drawn to the simple teaching of the elevator man. "Feed the pit." Right from the beginning, I need to expect to encounter danger, demons, difficulties and delays on the journey. I need to build into every life plan, a generous contingency fund; carrying a few extra rations in my pocket to offer to an unpredictable and hungry world.

 

I once had a dream where the elevator I was riding went straight up and out of a tall building; and allowed me to fly up into the heavens. I have not yet ridden the elevator at First Unitarian (soon, very soon). It is doubtful whether it will take us anywhere besides the new Sunday School, the main office and the Chapel. But I will try to remember what the pit itself will always offer as a teaching: "Don't forget that I am here. Don't forget to acknowledge the pull of gravity. Bring a little extra energy, kindness and hope. You will probably need to offer all you have."