Thursday, January 02, 2020
The Surveillance of God
Wood Model of an Observation Tower designed by Thomas Jefferson for Monticello
"A man only ha[s] the right to count or number what belong[s] to him." - a simple but powerful statement (from the article, "Why was God so angry at David for taking the census?")
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. - Luke 2: 1
Does the juxtaposition between these two statements stir conflict in your soul? Ironically, I was similarly though less annoyed that the 2020 government census website showed up automatically with my Facebook post about this without my being able to do anything about it.
I recently got a (second) ticket from a representative of "Augustus" for not registering my car. The conflict was very real for me! The officers were even following or enforcing a “decree” that came down from a tower or palace of sorts. So, it’s appropriate to me that the next scene in Luke 2 is set by the image of a group of shepherds enveloped by darkness of night.
Because I was engulfed in darkness myself, it required some soul searching for me to realize that the reason I was so angry when they ticketed me was because of the violation of a natural and good desire. I think one of the officers even broke the bonds of our common humanity by lying to me. He said they couldn’t look up whether or not I had already gotten a ticket for the same violation, but, come to find out, I was sent to the very same courthouse for payment. At the very least, he didn’t CARE enough to look, which was precisely why I felt the way I did.
If I actually imagine myself in the position of one of the shepherds in the next scene, I am immediately struck by the simple fact that my immediate night time environment isn’t typically enveloped by overwhelmingly glorious light. No wonder they were terrified at first! Were they even paying attention to which direction it came from at first? They probably had no idea. They were just suddenly engulfed. We don't expect but are conditioned not to feel safe and cared for. Something quite foreign to what is normal for us was happening. We "tend" to be enveloped by a darkness that makes my compulsion to anger seem appropriate and normal, even unthinkingly habitual.
The light shines in the darkness, and darkness did not overcome it. - John 1
I have recently become attuned to the fact that my soul and its responses to the stimuli of the world around me are deeply shaped by trauma that drives me to vainly seek to overcome my fear of said trauma by working hard to avoid it. I had no idea that my fear was a burden of darkness until it was illuminated by the light of a beautiful and truthful light of grace, CARE, and tender mercy. I was, in prayer one night in a gathering of disciples, given the gift of a voice from the Spirit saying, “This love is greater than that burden.”
Here I was moving along as though I had the right to account for and own my own property. In this case, my car. The presumption that the Caesar of our land has the right to not only account for my car as though its an extension of his own body and, thus, as though he’s able to require me to stop whatever I would otherwise be doing (which, I confess, I think is more important) and go to his headquarters of the DMV to follow his decree commanding that I must offer him a sacrificial tribute to get “registered” under him violently brings me face to face with the question of belonging. To whom do I belong? To whom do I owe my allegiance? Who owns me?
And, whoever owns me has care over me, has a role in tending to my needs and desires, and supposedly sees to my flourishing and edification. I am dependent on them. The question of who this is raises the question of whether or not I trust them to fulfill that role with goodness, kindness, gentleness, and care. In a word, with love. Our quest for belonging is the same as the question of to whom we belong.
The fact is, I really don’t trust Caesar. I don’t trust Chesapeake cops. They’re known for being ass holes, actually. I told him I “wasn’t going to do anything,” because I respect his authority. But, I did ask him if he thinks it’s HUMAN to give me two tickets for the same offense like that. He looked flabbergasted, stuck, lost. He paused for a second with his mouth agape, almost as though his inner pouting 4 year old came out for a second. He seemed to be thinking, “Why would this guy put me in a corner like this by asking me this question?” For a brief moment, he seemed caught between two allegiances, between the respectful and caring demands of human decency and the controlling and mechanical voice of bureaucracy.
In the end, however, he fulfilled his role as the arm of an inhuman, bureaucratic Caesar. He handed me that second ticket. We were again aliens, strangers, foreigners visiting each others’ respective wildernesses. We could not SEE each other for who we really are. We were blind to one another, lost in darkness. While his blue lights came around the night in their regular rhythm for their reflection to blind me if I happened to be looking in the direction of my rear view mirror, I shook my head and said, “This is ridiculous.” Truth be told, I was angry. I was more than angry, actually. I was enraged.
That is, until, in a gloriously illuminated environment of grace during a sacramentally prayerful reading of Luke 2: 1-20, I came face to face with the rule of the desire that was fueling my anger. Here, in this sanctuary of steadfast mercy, “My love is greater than this burden” found an analogue: “My love is greater than this darkness.”
I had actually experienced deep fear. My soul knew that this is not the way it's supposed to be. I knew something was broken, but I didn't quite know what it was. But the angel said, “Do not be afraid for SEE…” The shepherds tending and overSEEING their flock in darkness went to see the one who tends and oversees us. The good and natural desire that fueled my anger at that cop was to be seen, cared for, and protected. Our quest for belonging is the same as the question of to whom we belong.
The above photo is of a wood model of an Observation tower designed by Thomas Jefferson. It is currently displayed until January 19th at an exhibit at Chrysler Museum here locally in Norfolk. The curator’s commentary tells us:
Caesar operates as a domineering god who sends out decrees from atop a Tower or Palace. But, the Light of the world whose sign was a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger “took the little children into his arms and blessed them.” “How I longed to gather you like a hen gathers her chicks…”
Caesar has us pay sacrificial tribute to him as though we are the property of his enclosed territory, extensions of himself. But Jesus enraptures us with his glory and then dignifyingly empowers us to not only “go and see” for ourselves but to go from that place of awe-struck, wondrous joy and SHARE the good news with others. It’s in his tender mercy that he “keeps watch over us.” He “sees” us.
This is why I am still slightly and appropriately annoyed but no longer enraged at Caesar, at the two cops who demanded that I offer a ridiculous repeat tribute for violating allegiance to and trust in their Master. This is how I took the time away from something else I needed to be doing and went to the DMV to get registered without resentment. This is why I followed the instructions on my ticket and paid the fee online in peace.
Caesar enforces his decree with the threat or force of violence. But Jesus comes among us “as one of the least of one of these,” submitting vulnerably before us as an utterly dependent newborn child in need of our care for him. His command, his “decree,” is love.
The surveillance of God is not like that of Caesar. He sees our plight and has come to rescues us. “Registration” before God is not like registering in the accounting books of Caesar. His inheritance is not protected by an enclosing threat of death but is life eternal.
And, the way Jesus “holds all things together” with his faithfully steadfast voice is not like the violent and coercive arm of Caesar. He is the Good Shepherd. We belong to him.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. - Luke 2: 1
Does the juxtaposition between these two statements stir conflict in your soul? Ironically, I was similarly though less annoyed that the 2020 government census website showed up automatically with my Facebook post about this without my being able to do anything about it.
I recently got a (second) ticket from a representative of "Augustus" for not registering my car. The conflict was very real for me! The officers were even following or enforcing a “decree” that came down from a tower or palace of sorts. So, it’s appropriate to me that the next scene in Luke 2 is set by the image of a group of shepherds enveloped by darkness of night.
Because I was engulfed in darkness myself, it required some soul searching for me to realize that the reason I was so angry when they ticketed me was because of the violation of a natural and good desire. I think one of the officers even broke the bonds of our common humanity by lying to me. He said they couldn’t look up whether or not I had already gotten a ticket for the same violation, but, come to find out, I was sent to the very same courthouse for payment. At the very least, he didn’t CARE enough to look, which was precisely why I felt the way I did.
If I actually imagine myself in the position of one of the shepherds in the next scene, I am immediately struck by the simple fact that my immediate night time environment isn’t typically enveloped by overwhelmingly glorious light. No wonder they were terrified at first! Were they even paying attention to which direction it came from at first? They probably had no idea. They were just suddenly engulfed. We don't expect but are conditioned not to feel safe and cared for. Something quite foreign to what is normal for us was happening. We "tend" to be enveloped by a darkness that makes my compulsion to anger seem appropriate and normal, even unthinkingly habitual.
“Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2)I imagine that this glorious light was such that, when the voice of the angel said, “This shall be a sign to you,” no one had to give any detailed theological EXPLANATION to the shepherds for them to associate the “sign for them” with the light in which they were engulfed.
The light shines in the darkness, and darkness did not overcome it. - John 1
I have recently become attuned to the fact that my soul and its responses to the stimuli of the world around me are deeply shaped by trauma that drives me to vainly seek to overcome my fear of said trauma by working hard to avoid it. I had no idea that my fear was a burden of darkness until it was illuminated by the light of a beautiful and truthful light of grace, CARE, and tender mercy. I was, in prayer one night in a gathering of disciples, given the gift of a voice from the Spirit saying, “This love is greater than that burden.”
Here I was moving along as though I had the right to account for and own my own property. In this case, my car. The presumption that the Caesar of our land has the right to not only account for my car as though its an extension of his own body and, thus, as though he’s able to require me to stop whatever I would otherwise be doing (which, I confess, I think is more important) and go to his headquarters of the DMV to follow his decree commanding that I must offer him a sacrificial tribute to get “registered” under him violently brings me face to face with the question of belonging. To whom do I belong? To whom do I owe my allegiance? Who owns me?
And, whoever owns me has care over me, has a role in tending to my needs and desires, and supposedly sees to my flourishing and edification. I am dependent on them. The question of who this is raises the question of whether or not I trust them to fulfill that role with goodness, kindness, gentleness, and care. In a word, with love. Our quest for belonging is the same as the question of to whom we belong.
The fact is, I really don’t trust Caesar. I don’t trust Chesapeake cops. They’re known for being ass holes, actually. I told him I “wasn’t going to do anything,” because I respect his authority. But, I did ask him if he thinks it’s HUMAN to give me two tickets for the same offense like that. He looked flabbergasted, stuck, lost. He paused for a second with his mouth agape, almost as though his inner pouting 4 year old came out for a second. He seemed to be thinking, “Why would this guy put me in a corner like this by asking me this question?” For a brief moment, he seemed caught between two allegiances, between the respectful and caring demands of human decency and the controlling and mechanical voice of bureaucracy.
In the end, however, he fulfilled his role as the arm of an inhuman, bureaucratic Caesar. He handed me that second ticket. We were again aliens, strangers, foreigners visiting each others’ respective wildernesses. We could not SEE each other for who we really are. We were blind to one another, lost in darkness. While his blue lights came around the night in their regular rhythm for their reflection to blind me if I happened to be looking in the direction of my rear view mirror, I shook my head and said, “This is ridiculous.” Truth be told, I was angry. I was more than angry, actually. I was enraged.
That is, until, in a gloriously illuminated environment of grace during a sacramentally prayerful reading of Luke 2: 1-20, I came face to face with the rule of the desire that was fueling my anger. Here, in this sanctuary of steadfast mercy, “My love is greater than this burden” found an analogue: “My love is greater than this darkness.”
I had actually experienced deep fear. My soul knew that this is not the way it's supposed to be. I knew something was broken, but I didn't quite know what it was. But the angel said, “Do not be afraid for SEE…” The shepherds tending and overSEEING their flock in darkness went to see the one who tends and oversees us. The good and natural desire that fueled my anger at that cop was to be seen, cared for, and protected. Our quest for belonging is the same as the question of to whom we belong.
The above photo is of a wood model of an Observation tower designed by Thomas Jefferson. It is currently displayed until January 19th at an exhibit at Chrysler Museum here locally in Norfolk. The curator’s commentary tells us:
“In about 1771, Thomas Jefferson designed, but never built, a classically inspired observation tower for Monticello, as seen in…the adjacent reconstruction model. Towers have a long history in villa architecture….They serve both as highly visible markers of an estate and surveillance structures…Some scholars note that a tower of this sort could have been used to monitor enslaved workers.”See, I tend not to trust my overseeing Caesar, because he has a long history of not tending to his workers very humanely. Notice how the Tower could pass for that of Babylon. But Jesus is present with us, as one of us. Emmanuel, God with us. The surveillance of God isn't surveillance at all! He is the Good Shepherd. We belong to him.
Caesar operates as a domineering god who sends out decrees from atop a Tower or Palace. But, the Light of the world whose sign was a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger “took the little children into his arms and blessed them.” “How I longed to gather you like a hen gathers her chicks…”
Caesar has us pay sacrificial tribute to him as though we are the property of his enclosed territory, extensions of himself. But Jesus enraptures us with his glory and then dignifyingly empowers us to not only “go and see” for ourselves but to go from that place of awe-struck, wondrous joy and SHARE the good news with others. It’s in his tender mercy that he “keeps watch over us.” He “sees” us.
This is why I am still slightly and appropriately annoyed but no longer enraged at Caesar, at the two cops who demanded that I offer a ridiculous repeat tribute for violating allegiance to and trust in their Master. This is how I took the time away from something else I needed to be doing and went to the DMV to get registered without resentment. This is why I followed the instructions on my ticket and paid the fee online in peace.
Caesar enforces his decree with the threat or force of violence. But Jesus comes among us “as one of the least of one of these,” submitting vulnerably before us as an utterly dependent newborn child in need of our care for him. His command, his “decree,” is love.
The surveillance of God is not like that of Caesar. He sees our plight and has come to rescues us. “Registration” before God is not like registering in the accounting books of Caesar. His inheritance is not protected by an enclosing threat of death but is life eternal.
And, the way Jesus “holds all things together” with his faithfully steadfast voice is not like the violent and coercive arm of Caesar. He is the Good Shepherd. We belong to him.
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