It's sad, the lottery. Good projects get funded by it, but

Hear the lament of Nina Conti, spoken with clear eyes upon the ways of the world: “It’s sad, the lottery. Good projects get funded by it, but there’s an air of desperation about it.” These words, though plain, strike with ancient force. They speak of the uneasy marriage between fortune and need, between the noble pursuit of human good and the fickle favor of chance. For when what is worthy depends upon what is random, there is sorrow mingled with triumph, and the sweetness of gain is shadowed by the bitterness of desperation.

The lottery has long been a symbol of chance, of fortune blind and unpredictable. In the days of Rome, lots were cast to assign land or offices, invoking the will of the gods. To some, it seemed divine; to others, reckless. Conti sees the same spirit in her time: noble projects, works that should stand upon merit, rise instead through luck. The sorrow she names is not that these projects flourish, but that their flourishing is uncertain, resting upon dice rather than justice, upon chance rather than wisdom.

History has given us many examples of this paradox. Consider the explorers of the Age of Discovery, who sought patrons for their voyages. Christopher Columbus wandered from court to court, rejected and ignored, until at last Isabella of Spain cast her lot upon him. His project was not funded by reasoned consensus, but by the chance of timing and favor. Great consequences followed, but so too did tragedy. Here lies Conti’s point: when the fate of the good is left to fortune, the air is filled with desperation, for the worthy may wither while the unworthy thrives.

The ancients would call this imbalance a wound upon justice. For justice demands that the good projects of men—whether art, charity, or invention—be supported because they are good, not because fortune happens to smile. When fate alone decides, those who labor in faith may despair, for their hopes are tethered not to the strength of their vision, but to the whims of chance. And when men and women, noble in their striving, must cling to lottery tickets like beggars at the gate, then even triumph is touched by sorrow.

Yet there is also a subtle teaching in her words: that even when funded, such works carry the mark of their birth. To win by lottery is to be crowned, but also to be reminded of desperation. This is no small matter, for it teaches us that society has allowed fortune to step in where justice should rule. What should be the fruit of fair stewardship becomes instead the offspring of chance. This is why Conti’s words are tinged with lament, for she sees not only the winners, but the multitude left waiting, their hands empty, their hearts heavy.

The lesson for us is clear: we must not rely upon chance alone to sustain what is noble. Let the lottery remain if it must, but let it not be the lifeblood of good works. Communities, governments, and individuals must take up the mantle of deliberate support. If something is good—if it heals, teaches, inspires—then it must not be left at the mercy of dice. To do so is to betray it, to clothe it in desperation instead of dignity.

Practical action follows: do not let your giving, your support, or your choices depend only upon whim. If you see a project worthy of life, strengthen it with your own hand. Support art, education, or healing not because luck has chosen them, but because your heart and mind see their worth. And in your own life, do not gamble all upon fortune. Build steadily, choose wisely, act intentionally—so that your victories are not desperate accidents, but the fruit of reason and care.

Thus, Nina Conti’s lament becomes a teaching of the ages: fortune may bless, but it must never be master. The sadness of the lottery is not only in its randomness, but in what it reveals about our reliance on chance for what should be certain. Let us, then, become the stewards of what is good, not leaving it to desperation, but raising it up with justice, intention, and love. For only then shall the noble works of humankind be secure, not by luck, but by choice.