Whose Image Do You See?

I got a whacky "prayer rug" in the mail from a cult the other day. I was supposed to stare at the face of Jesus emblazoned on the purplish 11x17 paper until his closed eyes opened, pray about something, and then open a sealed prophecy. After that, I was supposed to send the "rug" back to the church/cult/business venture for someone else to benefit from. It was an elaborate, though obvious religious shell game of some sort.

The mailer was impressive in several ways. First, that it found me at all: the mailman apparently would almost rather die than get close enough to my cave to toss mail in my general direction. Second, the envelope was stuffed with various and sundry materials, seemingly printed with no regard for standard typographics. Every other word was capitalized. Every third word was underlined. It was a full-fontal assault.* Third, by way of building confidence in the reader, the cult emphasized that it was a "57-year old church" in no less than four places throughout the cover letter. Because, apparently, once a church passes the 56-year mark, it carries an air of legitimacy that is above reproach.

It goes without saying that I have a begrudging alliance with other trolls. We are rarer than you might think. Internet trolls (you know, the kind who post to message boards and blogs with completely off-topic, irrelevant and always annoying materials or sales pitches) are beloved here. I "feed the trolls" because I understand that it isn't "humane" to starve them of the attention they desire.

I respond to spam, because I know that the criminals who perpetuate it on the world are really, at heart, just lonely people in need of, not just my mailing address, social security number and bank accounts, but my unconditional love, too. Real humans get short shrift around here, but autoreply devices? Those trolls are gold in my book.

But cults who figure out ways to get an actual, postage-paid, semi-personal letter in the form of a veiled test of my devotion to our Lord have evolved to a new plane of existence. They are King Trolls, OgreLords, the Ghasts of Hopetown.

I acknowledged their literature fondly as it found its way to my garbage heap of honor.

But I'll give them this credit: the spooky "prayer rug" caused me to consider not only an image of Christ, but the "image of God."

I considered this more later when reading Matthew 22. When the pharisees ask Jesus about paying taxes, He asks them to identify a coin.

Jesus said to them, “Whose image is this, and whose inscription?” They replied, “Caesar’s.” He said to them, “Then give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (Matthew 22...something. Sorry. I'm doing my standard rush. Go read it for yourself. You do have a bible, don't you?)

I've always read this to mean, simply: pay your taxes, but don't withhold from God, and I don't think that is a wrong lesson to draw.

But this time, the term "image" stuck in my head.

The image of Caesar is on the coin, denoting Caesar's authority over the coin. But the way Jesus worded his response, it also begs the question: where is the image of God?

On us.

God's image, like Soylent Green, is people. God's image is not on a coin, but on human beings. I may be misreading this, but is Jesus accusing the pharisees of blocking people from receiving God's love and authority? Is it possible that Jesus says to us "Render unto Caesar this stupid coin, but render unto God His precious people?"

I'm going to think about this more.

Do you think I need to ask forgiveness for comparing His children to Soylent Green?

*No, I didn't not spell "full-frontal" wrong. I meant what I spelled.