The Lidless Eye

Maybe it's the poet in me, but I love the Psalms.  And I think my very favorite is in the lectionary for Sunday, Psalm 139.  That's the one that starts:

O God, you have searched me and known me.
  You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.

Maybe it's kind of funny that it's my favorite.  After all, that psalm kind of makes God sound like Sauron and his all-seeing Eye.  Or maybe Big Brother watching you.

Or this classic restroom prank!

But that's not how I read the 139th Psalm.  I actually find it comforting, not creepy!  For example, when I have the opportunity to pray with a group through the sharing of joys and concerns we frequently respond to each little prayer with words like, "God of Grace, hear our prayer."  When the people are done voicing their prayers out loud I like to end with this thought, "The Psalmist tells us that God knows what we are going to say before the words can even form on our tongue.  And so we know.  We know that God has heard our prayers, both those spoken out loud (or typed into Second Life chat) and those spoken in the silence of our hearts..."  I don't know about you, but I find that comforting.

But that's the pastoral perspective more than a geek perspective.

When I look at Psalm 139 as a geek, I'm struck by the idea of labels—of identity.  The word "geek" probably has Germanic roots, "geck" meaning "fool" or "freak."  The word eventually came to be synonymous with a certain kind of freak show act—one where people did insane things like bite the heads off of live animals.  (I don't condone that, by the way.)  I don't know how it came to mean somebody who loved something so much—be it comic books or video games, or the work of J.R.R. Tolkien—that they're considered socially retarded.

But the first person to watch someone wax poetic about the work of Jack Kirby and say, "What a geek!" can't have meant it as a compliment.

And despite the whole geek chic phenomenon, that pejorative still at the heart of what it means to be a geek.  I know I've quoted her before, but I still think that Felicia Day said it best:  

The substance of what it means to be a geek is essentially someone who’s brave enough to love something against judgment.  The heart of being a geek is a little bit of rejection.

So, what happens when it's you that people are comparing to the freak that can only make a living biting the heads off animals?  What happens when it's you that Julie Smith is accusing of being:

...a bright young man turned inward, poorly socialized, who felt so little kinship with his own planet that he routinely traveled to the ones invented by his favorite authors, who thought of that secret, dreamy place his computer took him to as cyberspace—somewhere exciting, a place more real than his own life, a land he could conquer, not a drab teenager's room in his parents' house.

The only positive thing you can do is stand up and define yourself as something worthwhile.  As someone who grew up Christian, I was able to do that by turning to scripture like Genesis 1:27 or Psalm 139 and define myself as created, declared good, and unconditionally loved by God.  So when I read this psalm, I didn't see Sauron or Big Brother.  It's more like reading that my best friend and biggest fan will always, always be there.  It's like hearing the truth of Fred Rodgers's ministry:  God loves you just the way you are.

That truth made it so much easier for me to do what every geek ends up doing.  You see that people are going to judge you for loving what you love.  And you love it anyway.  And then you stand up and say, "Yeah, I'm a geek.  And I'm proud of it.  And I don't care if you judge me for it."

God loves you just the way you are.
Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
011315

1984

So, I recently ran across this article on Wired concerning a high school in Texas kicking out one of their students for refusing to wear her student ID.  So why was Wired covering the legal battle?  Because at first glance, the heart of the story was radio-frequency identification (RFID) technology.  You see, like many state-funded schools, their budget is tied to their attendance.  Requiring their students to wear RFID badges allows the school to count every student in the building as present—not just the ones who were in their seats when the teacher was looking, but also the ones in the guidance office, or making out in the stairwell, or smoking in the bathroom.

I have to admit, when I scanned the first paragraph of the piece, I expected to see words like "Big Brother," "invasion of privacy," or "treated like a beloved family pet."  The last thing I expected to see was the phrase, "Mark of the Beast."  As soon as I saw those words, I had to read on, even though I had several knee-jerk assumptions.  The first assumption was that somewhere in there would be the kind of Biblical interpretation that sets my teeth on edge.  The second was that I'd see at least one book of the Bible misspelled.

As it turns out, I might have only been half right.  I did indeed see a book of the Bible misspelled.  Again.  I freely admit that this irritates me to no end.  The Bible is widely considered to be one of the most, if not the most, widely circulated book, well, ever.  How hard is it to lay ahold of a copy, crack it open, and read the words "The Revelation of John" or, simply, "Revelation?"  Singular.  One revelation to one guy.  Not, in other words, "Revelations."

There, I said it, I feel better now.

Where was I?  Oh right, Biblical interpretation.  The phrase "Mark of the Beast" comes from Revelation, one of the most commonly abused books of the Bible.  It describes a vision—a dream, if you will—and it has all the illogic and fantastic imagery you would expect.  I don't know about you, but I don't tend to take dream imagery literally.

I once had a dream that a friend had been buried alive and that I had a shovel.  Was the dream true?  Yes.  My friend needed my help.  Was she literally buried alive somewhere?  Of course not.  The dream requires interpretation because it's a dream.  The same is true of Revelation.  This is one of the reasons why I say that I take the Bible too seriously to take it literally.

So when I see that someone is taking a moral stance on an issue based on their interpretation of the situation being "the Sign of the Beast," I'm concerned that they are of the "literal and inerrant Word of God" school of interpretation.  But as I said before, I felt the need to keep reading.  It turns out that the young lady was siting Revelation 13:16-18, which reads:

Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is six hundred and sixty-six.

So, numerology aside, this seems to be a warning against allowing yourself to be cataloged, so...  I might actually be with the student on this one.  I mean, it's not a warning that I would apply to the census or a student ID, but I would stand against Senator Kelly's Mutant Registration Act. And as a proud American citizen I uphold her right to refuse based on her sincerely held religious beliefs.

Now, if only the media would stop portraying all Christians taking a stand based on their beliefs as the vocal lunatic fringe, maybe we could all get somewhere with this.

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
012113